#One day i will snap and i hope by god and universe and whatever. That it never comes i dont want to talk tp them

[whoviandoodler]

asked my mother to make my Favourite Meal bcs ive been feeling nostalgic and occasionally i succumb to the instinct to be loved by my parents but shes ruined it shes ruined any Joy i hate it here it wasnt worth it

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"Gimme...just one second, okay?" the villain asked. They coughed up blood, felt it trickle down their throat. It was warm and thick and the villain truly believed they could never get used to that feeling, even if that wasn't the case. They couldn't get rid of the hope either. The hope, the desperate and dumb hope that all of this could end one day.

"You're awake..." the hero said, their voice not even above a whisper. It was sort of comical how their lips curled into a sweet smile. Their relief warmed the villain's totally failing heart. They kneeled beside them and their hand found the villain's dislocated shoulder. "I really thought this was it."

"You're way too optimistic," the villain said. They were choking on their own blood, drowning in it. It was madness.

"You're way too dramatic," the hero answered. They pushed some hair out of the villain's face. Soft fingers touched bruises and cuts. The villain couldn't tell if it was a gift or another cruelty from the universe. Seeing the hero, feeling their touch. The villain had hated them for years.

Had loathed their perfect teeth, their bright smile. Their dumb comments.

"If I asked you..."

"Yes," the hero said. "I would say no."

The villain let out a long and laboured breath. But the hero had broken into their heart of concrete, had managed to make the villain smile even on bad days.

"It would put my mind at ease."

"You would suffer," the hero said. "And I like to avoid that."

Something popped in the villain's torso and the familiar feeling of a rib snapping back into place overwhelmed them a little. They could never get rid of this curse.

"But what if I never die?" they asked. They squeezed the hero's hand as the cut on their arm healed. It was painful and even more annoying than being sliced open.

"Why won't you see this as a blessing? Think about all the things you can accomplish. All the subjects you can study. All the people you'll get to know."

Again, the hero's hand touched their cheek gently, as if the villain could break any second.

"And what about the people I will lose? What about you?" The villain spit out some blood and sat up, their body slowly getting all its functions back. "What if you grow old alone and I have to watch? Has it ever occurred to you that I want to do that with you?"

"Believe it or not but life expectancy among heroes is pretty low," the hero said, smiling sadly.

"God, then please just try it. Shoot me, cut my head off, whatever..."

"I am not going to do that," the hero said. They kissed the villain's forehead. "It isn't easy for me either. I want a long life. You don't want eternity. We don't get what we want."

"I have to protect you, then," the villain decided. "And find a way to heal like a normal person. I need to do experiments, I need to-"

"My love."

"-find a way to injure myself without healing within seconds. I need to find my weakness, I need to find something, anything-"

"My love." The villain stopped and stared at their hero. "It's alright."

"No. But I will make it alright."

That was also some sort of madness.

[ussgallifrey]

Meeting Point

✦ Summary: In a world full of soulmates with destined meeting points, Steve Rogers' mark had always been a point of heartbreak. Until he woke up in the 21st Century; that's when his hope was rekindled.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 1,815

✦ Author's Note: Do you ever have a dream that just fully re-alters your brain chemistry? Yeah, I had a killer dream last night that sparked my love for the Soulmate AU to return. Prepare to be bombarded by soulmate stories over the next few weeks.

The mark on Steve Rogers’ wrist starts to make a lot more sense when he wakes up in the 21st century.

It came back to him, slowly at first, after he was returned to SHIELD’s headquarters. After he was subjected to a myriad of tests from doctors and a few uncomfortable conversations with an in-house counselor. When, only after Director Fury sent him upstate to a place called The Retreat - until the media attention dies down, Captain. I’m sure you understand - that Steve even had a second to think about that silly old mark on his wrist.

For the first time in five days and some technical sixty-seven years, Steve is alone. Not surrounded by agents or doctors or scientists. Not a single camera or reporter in sight. It’s just him and the cabin he was delivered to.

When he pulls off his jacket and finally catches a glimpse at the familiar black marking there. That’s when he allows himself a second to actually slow down and think about it. The chaotic world of the twenty-first century finally fades away from the edges of his peripheral, and he sees the one grounding thing that still remains in his life.

There, in elegant script reads a simple date:

06. 29. 2019

And for the first time in hours, days, years, Steve can feel the hint of a smile trying to turn up his chapped lips.

He could have never imagined. Not all those years ago, back in Brooklyn. There was an honest-to-God chance now. 

So, he draws his fingers along the familiar trace of numbers and sets to work.

Back when those numbers first appeared, Steve had only felt immediate heartbreak. His Ma’s pitying eyes had been the only thing keeping his chin up at that point. At least he had someone out there, even if he would only get to spend a short time with them. And maybe that was what kept his head above water through all of his childhood illnesses and bouts. The fact that he would survive this hell because it was literally destined that he would live to 100.

Oh sure, the other kids on his street had the normal marks.

Six years more, three weeks, two days. That was the typical lay of the land. So, when kids started asking about his date, his numbers, Steve would just curl up his wrist and clamp his right hand down over the text. It was no one’s business but his own.

But now that date finally made sense. He was only twenty-six, no matter what his actual birthdate was. He was physically still just a young man. He wasn’t going to meet the love of his life on his deathbed. Maybe this was just the universe’s way of apologizing to him; for making him lose everything else, but in return he would get the one thing anyone ever really wanted.

Seven years. He could wait seven years.

It’s a sick sort of relief when he sees those numbers still engraved on his wrist after the Snap. He’s not entirely sure if he expected them to fade away when half of the universe was turned to dust, but it’s probably the only bit of hope that’s keeping him from drowning under the guilt and sorrow that the rest of the team is.

Never one to stand down, to give up the fight, Steve keeps himself going in whatever way he can. Whether the people still want Captain America’s help is another story. But he finds different ways to assist, to be a help, to make up for the wrongs.

And soon the calendar months are passing by and life continues on within the aftermath of near-total destruction.

Only Natasha and him remain behind in the old compound. The others have moved to make their own paths in the new world marred by their own collective failures. He stares at the desktop calendar in front of him as Nat wraps up another weekly virtual conference with the team outside of New York.

Okoye, Rhodes, and Danvers disappear in a shimmer of cascading blue light. Nat’s too focused on writing down notes to notice that Nebula remains silent, stoic, observing them both.

Steve sits up, “Was there something else?”

The assassin beside him looks up, finally noticing the alien.

She raises her chin, “We’ll be returning soon. Within the week. He says he found something of value, worth looking into anyway.”

He glances over at Nat, who merely nods, “Okay. We’ll plan for that then.”

And then she’s gone, stepping away from the camera as the lights dim and the two are drenched back into the light of the otherwise empty compound.

Natasha clicks the pen against the table a few times before she merely rolls it away from her notebook, settling back into her chair with crossed arms.

Steve rubs at his left wrist.

Nebula and Rocket arrive late Friday night. Steve’s only just gotten back to the compound - fresh out of a shower after removing shards of glass from his bicep. While half of the population had disappeared a year ago, crime hadn’t gone away. Hell, it probably got worse, in all honesty. And Steve had the nasty habit of throwing himself into everything and anything without backup around these days.

Tonight had been no different. Another wannabe small-time crime lord in the making, building an empire through the streets of New York. Steve liked to remind them that there was still at least one person on the planet who noticed.

He should have taken it a little easier on himself though, with tomorrow drawing near. That was the day, the destined date of his meeting. And he probably shouldn’t look like a complete mess on the day he’s set to meet his soulmate. His other half.

As he flexes his knuckles, peering down at the bits of dried blood under his nail beds that hadn’t come clean in the shower, the entire compound begins to quake. He looks at his reflection  in the mirror above the sink, a familiar sinking feeling settling deep into his stomach as he recalls the night Tony and Nebula came to Earth.

Without a second thought, he nabs his shirt from the edge of the sink and takes off toward the courtyard. Their ship is already parked there, with Rocket on the ramp and Nebla looking up toward the stars with Nat. Steve slows his pace as he moves to join them, staring up in slight wonder at the yellow and blue ship descending above them.

The seven wings of the ship spread out in a pattern that looks almost star-like against the deep black background of the night sky. The wheels settle into the grass as the engines hum into powering down.

“ - in the Draconis Sector,” Nebula continues whatever it was she was previously saying to Nat. “Only Star Blaster in sight.”

Steve stares up at the impressive ship. The wings give it an added height over the Benatar that’s parked next to it. It takes a minute for the pilot, the person they told them would be coming along with them, the person that could be of use, to exit the ship.

He straightens up as the armored figure comes into view. Royal blue and gold metal, with radiant lights that remind him of the Arc Reactor, light up the space around them all as the person draws near.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

Rocket sneers in return, Nebula looks surprisingly amused as the woman moves to grab hold of the alien’s hand.

“Not a bad place,” she then addresses Natasha.

And then her helmeted face turns to assess the supersoldier. She takes a step forward, then another while Steve settles his hands on his belt.

Grabbing hold of her matching blue and gold helmet, she pulls it free from her head. Steve can feel an actual breath escape his lips.

“And you must be…?”

He swallows, extends his hand, “Steve.”

Her smile wanes and her grasp on his hand loosens to the point that she merely drops her hand back to her side. Steve wonders if he’s made some kind of faux pas as she tucks her helmet against her left hip.

“You know…” she shakes her head, a smile beginning to reform, “I was really wondering when I’d get around to meeting you.”

She looks up at him with playful eyes as she begins pulling back the sleeve on her left hand.

“Rogers, right? Steven Grant Rogers?”

He kind of gapes before forcing himself to nod as his eyes travel down to her now-exposed wrist. She twists it around for him to see, and sure enough, there in a familiar scrawl of handwriting sits his name.

His own left wrist itches in anticipation as he wordlessly lifts it up for her to see the date of their meeting - now sometime after midnight on the 29th.

“Huh,” she quips, dropping her hand in favor of taking hold of his as she peers at the numbers. “Must be a fluke - different world, different systems. Alien names.”

He just nods, again, as all words have seemingly escaped his reach. And then he looks over at the others, Rocket with a tilted head and Nat with her knowing smirk.

But you’re not plexed, as you continue to investigate the date - your fingers tracing the lines of each number, “When you grow up on a world full of Kerlaans and Vastalls, Steven’s kind of out there, you know?”

Then you drop your hand after suddenly taking stock of the captive audience around you. Steve craves the ghost of your touch as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. “I’m Velariun Kaal, ex-Centurion of the Nova Corps. And… I’m just here to help in whatever way I can really. Meeting you was just the bonus,” you finish with a wink.

“It’s good to finally meet you too,” he finally says at last, eyes drifting across the soft features of your face.

“So,” you smile, gently moving away from the others - toward the compound. Steve’s in step with you just a beat later. “How long have you had those numbers there?”

He can’t help but chuckle, the first real laugh in nearly a year. “You honestly don’t even want to know.”

“There’s a story there,” your eyes find his in the darkness of night. Glistening starlight illuminates your irises, like swirling galaxies.

He nods, “There is.”

“Worth the wait though?” you ask, with a clinch of hope in your voice.

Steve stops where he is.

You fall back a step to meet him.

He reaches his hand down, slowly entwining your hands together. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the slow and steady pulse of your beating heart.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs.

[raimoka]

— " (I'M) WAITING FOR THE SUN "

｡ ㅤꕤ ㅤ PAIRING: dazai osamu & reader.

SYNOPSIS: it was just a single string, so thin it could easily be cut with scissors, however, with just that mere red thread, it tied you to him.

tags ➜ alternate universe — modern, no abilities, painter!reader, writer!dazai dreams, pining, generally a fluff, soulmates trope, catching feelings, open ending, named reader — only last name though, dazai osamu is bad with feelings implication. ‹𝟹

⋆ author's notes: I wanted to try something new and the first thing that came in my mind was soulmates trope.

send an order!! → guide ❀ flowers ←

You have always been a dreamer.

Oftentimes you would drift away from your surroundings into an imaginary world, your sense of reality blurring away.

In that world you would feel relaxed, happy and at peace even if it's for merely a few minutes. A world where you could erase everyday from your mind and form an illusion of something you were unable to grasp, a world filled with colors and beauty.

It's bittersweet.

And although it's painful knowing these are nothing more but surreal fantasies, hopes and dreams it's worth it in the end.

However—as of late, your daydreams changed into a one singular daydream that, for whatever reason, keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Day or night, in the painting room or in the peace of your room, whenever you close your eyes, be it a ten minute nap or eight hours of sleep the same scenario will play in front of your eyes over and over again.

Sun will shine its way through the grass as your fingers brush against your creamy white lace dress. Birds will sing their song to which you'll hum under your breath as the fruity smell of just bloomed flowers lingers in the air.

You'll sing and dance and laugh as if you're the only one in the world.

Then after a while you'll approach a big cherry tree in bloom, and suddenly you won't be alone anymore. There, in front of that very tree, will stand a person with chocolate colored brown hair carried by the wind, wearing a white button up shirt along with black trousers.

They'll look in the distance, seemingly unfazed and each time and even after twenty times you've seen the ending, you would approach them slowly when—as if on cue the person will turn around and you would freeze up at your spot, your heart skipping a beat because in front of you will stand the most beautiful human you have ever encountered. For a moment, they'll lock eyes before they vanish into the air, leaving no trace behind.

Then you'll twitch, snapping back to reality.

bleary and cloudy, immense hues of darkness lay hold of your sight, then as the starch gradually settles to the bottom and the skim rises to the top, at last your eyes wearily open—unable to remember his face.

It's as if when their eyes lock everything fades and your brain stops. It's weird and the more times it happens the more annoying it gets.

The person in your dreams feels familiar yet so out of reach. Like you've known them your entire life but hasn't even met them yet, as if the two of you were tied by a red thread of fate.

His presence is strong. Unique. Strange.

You can remember the way the smell of carnations surrounded him, the way his chocolate colored brown hair rode on the breeze, the way they were so tall you almost felt embarrassed standing near him but you can't, for the love of god, remember their face.

You feel their stare on your face. You know that your eyes lock each time and that each time they do your heart skips a beat. You know it and yet you can't pinpoint even the most obvious things, like their color.

You want to know more and everytime that you feel like you're getting closer to discovering something, you would get pulled out of the state of unconsciousness, snapping you back into reality.

It was as if it was mocking you, laughing at the anger it was giving you.

Your eyebrows knitted together, hands balling into a fist.

You ha—

The sound of wood splitting in half brought you back into reality, disrupting the scrambles of thoughts beginning to form within your mind.

huh ?

You lift your head, met with the sight of your paintbrush splitted into two. The other half of the paintbrush falls, accompanied with the sound of thud.

Your lips, which were previously formed into a thin line, parted.

"nazoki, did you just break your brush?"

you tense up. you feel everyone's eyes shift to your frame, hushed whispers accompanied with snickers filling the room. sweat builds up on your hands as the giggles continued, and you bit down on your lip, hovering your gaze on your thighs.

"It can be easily fixed but remember, that's not your own and you need to learn how to be careful with the brushes."

meekly, you dipped your head in response.

"yes ma'am..."

❀

It was already late when you arrived back home.

The sun had gone down, and the skies embraced by hues of warm colors had turned into vast of blackness already.

You didn't change out of your clothes, with the fatigue beginning to overtake your body, you didn't bother to do so.

You gently unlocked the door to your room and slipped inside.

you were greeted with pure abyss, which was anticipated since it was already night. however, there was still some disinctive things within the shadows, like the books sheltered on the shelves, the roses in the vase on the nightstand, and the paintings in the corner of your room.

you perk up.

you moved, walking towards to the empty canvas at the corner of your room.

In front of you, you laid down an empty white canvas and some newly bought paint from few days ago. without a second thought you started painting. You didn't know what you were going for just yet but you settled on just letting your hand move freely across the canvas.

One stroke then another—you paint sky, petals and a silhouette.

So far it's turning pretty decent but the more you draw the more anxious you became. The brush in your hand starts shaking as you reached out to paint the silhouette's face.

...

What now?

Cold sweat runs down your face and you had to take a moment to snap back to reality. Suddenly your stomach fills with dread and you had to take a break from painting.

The face. You couldn't remember the face.

You didn't finish the painting that day.

❀

There is no need for you to open your eyes because when you came to your own senses, feeling grass beneath your palms as the sun beams directly in your face, you knew exactly where you were.

Despite going to sleep in a bad mood you can't help but feel strangely relaxed now that you're here.

Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and took a look around. Nothing, as far as you're aware, has changed. It's still the same dreamy place you visit everyday (sometimes even multiple times).

Birds are still singing, the sun is still shining and the flowers are still blooming.

After a short walk you find out the unknown person is also still here, simply staring at the distance.

You freeze in place and simply admires them from afar, staring at their back profile.

They stand there unbothered.

You take a big risk of walking up to them—not too close but not as far in an attempt to get a better view. Nothing.

You're scared.

Then you get a crazy idea.

Now you're terrified.

Quickly, before you get a chance to make a cowardly decision and back up, you ran towards the person and grabs their wrist, not giving them enough time to turn around.

First thing that you felt is warmth. Their skin is warm.

You lift your head head and meets their face that is now painted with a shocked expression, lips parted. When your eyes meet you felt fear, surprise, shock, happiness, anxiety all at once because you've finally caught them.

Then all emotions swirling within your chest dulls and the person slips away, disappearing from your grip once again.

❀

First thing, you did when you woke up is rush towards the canvas and frantically attempts to copy down the face, that expression of surprise and alarm, as similar as possible before eventually it too leaves your mind.

However it doesn't turn out anything like you've seen just a few moments prior. The expression on its own looks pretty amazing and the face is really unique, not quite like anything you've drawn before, but it's not his.

Shit.

Why? why couldn't you do it?

You were so close and yet—

You slipped up.

You didn't get it. You needed to remember. You didn't know why.

All you knew is that this person drives you crazy.

❀

Surrounding you, there was variety of pages of papers, canvas, multiple art supplies.

You pull out canvas after canvas messing up, repainting, scrapping, breaking, trying again, over and over again but nothing feels right.

Before long, what little memory of the person's face is left in your memory vanishes leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your chest. You fall to your knees, gripping the paintbrush in your palm firmly, cursing yourself. Why? Why couldn't you remember?

It continues like this for a while. After every nap you would pull out your sketchbook, which has by now found its new place under your pillow, and try to sketch the face but each and every time you'd be met with another failed attempt.

It felt like a curse of some sort. Wanting to remember but not being able to. Wanting to know but not being able to meet. Wanting to understand but not being able to learn.

You've tried many different ways. You tried jumping him. You tried running into him. You tried approaching him slowly. Sometimes you'd lock eyes with him, sometimes he'd disappear the moment they establish physical contact. You'd sketch day and night but you just couldn't nail it.

Slowly but noticeably a pile of crumpled up paper in your trash can started increasing. So far you've ruined three canvases and wasted almost an entire sketchbook which gave her an confrontation from your roommate, both from the trash and the one canvas you borrowed from her.

"If you need canvas, please just buy one for yourself. I'm gonna get scolded by my mother."

"the trash can in your room is starting to overflow with trash... some of the trash are even on the floor already, please dispose of them if you can. I don't know what you're trying to do but you should give it a little break, it doesn't seem like you're getting anywhere either way."

you've apologized multiple times for it, but in spite of her intentions being different, the painful truth behind her words pierces through your heart like an arrow. You weren't not getting anywhere that much is right but she's trying.

you were trying so hard because for the first time in a while you had a goal set in mind.

That night you didn't bother the guy. Instead, you sat down leaning on that big tree watching him stand just a few meters ahead of you.

You haven't given up of course but god you were tired. you sigh, releasing the tension in your body, closing your eyes beneath the tree's shadow.

You didn't know what you expected but someone snapping you out of your thoughts you sitting next to you was not it.

For a moment, you were too scared to look aside because this is a rare opportunity and you couldn't mess this up and yet at the same time you could wake up at any moment so if you were to waste this it would eat you up from inside for days. Anxiously, you moved your head and catches sight of the brown haired individual's side profile. It's the sight so dazzling you suck in your breath and bites your lip and just stares.

Every time you visit, you noticed a small detail you haven't before. Like how they shift from one leg to the other when the cold breeze brushes against their concealed arms, you wondered if it was really that cold for him, or how messy his hair was, you could've presumed he didn't take care of himself.

Today, you notice his eyes are shimmering brown, bright and full of life, no . they weren't full of life, they were filled with pure abyss, barely reflecting any source of tiny sparks. He was tired, lonely, and empty. You wondered how long they spent in this realm. Does he have a home? What's his story and how did he end up here? Just now after you take a good look at them, you started questioning all those things. Up until now all you knew was that they were here each time you fell asleep and that your face gets red and your heart skips a beat whenever you get near.

For the first time that you stared at them for more than two seconds, you started noticing all the little details. His bone structure, every single lash on his eye, even how messy his hair was. You take a mental note of it and stares for so long that you didn't even realize he might've feel awkward until they cough and move their face to the side, hiding their face a little bit further with the locks of his hair.

"I'm sorry."

You speak up slowly.

You wonder if he was even real.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable, cold, suffocating silence.

He gives her a side eye but don't say a word. You, not knowing how to react, just stares. You stare back, drowning in their eyes, not even realizing how close they've gotten to each other.

You have drawn many portraits of many different people up until this point in your life. The beauty of it all is that every person is different, unique and beautiful in their own way. Each painting you did is special because it's not like any other. That's, in your opinion, the beauty of this world. Even now, this person that might be nothing more than a fragment of your wild imagination is unlike any other you've met.

They are so beautiful it made you sick. Not just their physical appearance but their aura and their company. The way when their hands touch it sends an electric shock through your body or the way you get all warm and fuzzy inside when you were near him.

you swallowed down a thick saliva, forcing yourself to speak again, you didn't know what you were gonna say but with the tense atmosphere between the two of you, you wanted to ease it up, thus allowing the words in your throat to carry out.

"Hey."

The boy shifts his gaze towards you upon your call, moving his head along his gaze. You feel the hue of light red beginning to adorn your cheeks as soon he turns his head to your direction.

You fidgeted with your fingers, "You're a very pretty person."

You could feel his stare on you, but he didn't utter a single word.

"When I say pretty, I don't mean it just at that... you're so pretty that I could be with you all day just to watch the cherry blossom tree's bright pink light glow on your skin and how it brings out a million subtle sparks of color in your eyes, and In the evening, I could draw you all night long until I have no more strength, and when it's finally night with the moon, I could close my eyes to remember the day going by as a reflection of you."

as you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how close your faces were with just a few centimeters apart from each other. you two were so close, It distilled a warm fuzzy feeling within your chest.

"you're quite talkative."

for once within several dreams, he finally uttered a single word, and just the mere sound of his voice made you speechless. he leans his head slightly closer and you couldn't help but think that your faces will crash. you were sure your faces will crash and you're scared if they do the universe as we know will explode but the world collapses before you could get a chance to blink and suddenly you were panting in the pitch dark of an all too familiar room.

❀

They say everything comes with its good and bad sides so you presumed the same must go for this entire situation too.

If it were up to you, you'd say the good thing is you finally finished your painting. After so much time and effort you have finally created something you're satisfied with.

Bad, or rather unfortunate, thing is that the next time you went to sleep you didn't dream at all. At first you thought it was a mistake so you pulled her blanket over your frame and went to sleep again despite the morning sun desperately trying to climb on your bed through the closed windows and your roommate gently knocking on your door.

Nothing.

After a few more times of not being able to wake up in that imaginary world of yours, you started to freak out a little. It was understandable though. When you spend so much time somewhere, so much that it turns into a habit, it's only natural to get worried when it abruptly stops with no sign whatsoever.

For now you'll just have to learn to adjust to your new reality.

❀

It has been a year since you last dreamed of that dream.

you struggled to accept the truth, occasionally glancing at the painting you've finished right after your last dream. however, as time passed by, you managed to divert your attention to much more important things, slowly forgetting the world you would often dream off.

you didn't know whether you liked it or not but you supposed it was fine since a lot of great opportunities were beginning to appear to you.

"That's why nazoki-san, we would love to invite you as a guest artist for our next gallery showcase!" Words were ringing in your ears like an echo. There were thousands and one emotion flowing through her body. Excitement, joy, disbelief, anxiety and so much more.

Finally, It's finally happening. You couldn't help but think to yourself. All that hard work and effort is finally paying off.

When you got a call from a nearby gallery asking for someone with your last name, you presumed it was for your mother, a professional artist who had few of her works showcased there, that's why the first thing you felt when they said it's you they needed was confusion.

You've been drawing for years, joined many different art courses and took many drawing classes, participated in many events but getting an offer to have some of your work showcased in a big, professional and well-known gallery for one of their events was something new—a step closer to achieving your dream.

Of course, you didn't hesitate and swiftly agreed to the offer.

It's only when it came time to choose your best work you got a tad uncertain about which paintings to pick.

You decided to go for one landscape drawing, one abstract and one portrait.

Choosing a landscape and abstract was easy, you simply chose your most recent work, a work which, by chance, was seen by her classmates and some teachers and received tons of compliments.

Choosing a portrait was a bit harder though—there was just so much diversity between your models you'd feel bad choosing one out of many other, just as beautiful, ones.

You dig through the canvases in an attempt to find a perfect one when your hands suddenly brush against the beige fabric pulled over one of the canvases, hiding it from view.

A drop of cold sweat rolls down your neck as you uncover the familiar painting. It's still the same as you left it a year ago.

When your dreams stopped you felt as if you lost a part of yourself. Being unable to face the painting you worked so hard on, you ended up covering it up and leaving it to collect dust in the pile of canvases.

Even now when you looked at it, a part of you feels like sinking but the feeling of dread is easily outshined with the feeling of nostalgia and warmth.

you decided which portrait to bring to the event.

❀

More people have visited the event than you had originally planned, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Almost. All the praise you got made up for it.

You would be lying if you said you didn't like to be praised. You loved the words of affirmation, to hear someone from a higher level acknowledge her efforts and make sure you're on the right track.

You were silently lurking in the crowd the entire day, starting conversations when you'd get the chance, giving speeches about her art.

You talked and talked, over and over again, repeating what you've already said over twenty times by now and every group so far would listen carefully. Seeing them genuinely interested in your work made it all worthwhile.

Soon enough, night fell and people started leaving one by one, saying their goodbyes. It's a shame that the day has come to an end but if you're lucky maybe you will get more chances like this in the near future.

"nazoki-san!" One of the gallerys workers approaches you, "Would you mind picking up your work? I still have some guests to see off."

"Alright! Thank you so much again!" You bow down your head before you make your way to the hall where your work has been showcased up until now. It was a part of their agreement that when the event is over you'll get to bring your paintings back home.

When you step foot into the room, however, you find you weren't not alone. Almost like a deja-vu, in front of her stands a familiar brown haired person with their back turned towards you, in his hand, he held a book, it seemed like he was looking for some inspiration.

Your heart sinks.

Immediately, you stop in your tracks.

How?

Blood in your veins freezes as the cold sweat starts dripping down your face. It can't be…could it?

"E-excuse me-e—" you tried to speak up but your voice breaks in the most embarrassing way possible.

The person twitches in surprise, turning around with a startled expression on their face and it's the same damn expression you saw that day when you first grabbed their hand. you swear it is. It has to.

The person points an index finger to himself, tilting his head to the side, "Me?" as soon as you heard that voice, you knew damn well it was.

For a short moment their eyes lock. It's the same chocolate colored eyes holding the same lonesome warmth and oh you want to rush towards them at full speed and tackle them to the ground but youi calm yourself down and continues to talk, "We're closing."

Your voice comes off stronger and steadier this time but the hint of nervousness can still be distinguished.

"Oh… I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."

So much happened today. You talked a lot, you walked a lot and on top of that you woke up early with only three hours of sleep the night prior, perhaps you're just imagining things. Maybe you're daydreaming again. But his voice sounds so real and you can see them so vividly even with you vision blurry from exhaustion.

There is so much you wanted to know, how, why, what, when, huh?? you heard stories about people's dreams coming true, about how some met people in their dreams but you never imagined anything so…extraordinary happening to you. But here you were with so many questions lingering in your head and so little time so you decided fuck it no matter what happens this time, no matter what kind of story your faith is writing, whatever happens in this timeline you weren't letting them go again.

The chocolate haired person gives you a warm smile, although, It looked a bit forced, you didn't say anything as he turns back to glance at the painting in front of them one last time.

"I was just thinking about how this painting looks a lot like me."

Your knees buckle up underneath you.

Weak .

you felt weak.

but you couldn't even focus on that, all you could focus on was how the person you've been longing for was indeed right in front of you.

and with that, the interlude halts.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ taglists are open everytime.

2024 © reposts are prohibited with/without permission... plagiarism is prohibited. don’t translate my work without my permission. i will take measures of reporting you. reblogs and likes are appreciated.

[aliorsboxostuff]

I LOVE THE MIGUEL FICS SO MYCH OH MY GOD

Could I request a fic where Miguel gets flustered over you kissing him and showering him with love and you tease him about it?

WOWWWIE I GOT CARRIED AWAY W THIS ONE GHJDFGLKSH left it on a cliffhanger cuz i wasnt hmmm….. ‘Ovulating’ as the girls says it LMAO anyways hope you enjoy this anon!!

Skittering Touch

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Spider Society, No Smut, Kissing , Fluff, Reader is another spiderman, Tease!Reader, slight OOC, teasing, suggestive content

Maybe teasing Miguel that much was worth it. 

—

It’s been half a year since you began going out with Miguel.

Half a year of subtle touches, short pecks on the lips and cheek and stealing glances at each other. Obviously, as time moves, so does a relationship and your relationship with the Spider Society leader is no different. 

The funny thing is, despite Miguel's hardened exterior, you never miss to spot the man melting whenever you give him the slightest affection. Whether it be holding his hand, suddenly giving him a peck on the cheek, or wrapping your arms around him he would immediately halt whatever he was doing and turn into a red, stuttering mess. 

You've used this advantage over him too many times to count. Most of it was used whenever you found the younglings getting scolded by Miguel, usually just out of his irritation, but you knew it’d affect the teen’s mood for the rest of the day. As you watch Miguel, hands on hips with his annoyed tone towards Miles and Gwen, you can't help but snicker at the plan brewing in your head. You swing down from the beam you were hanging on and stop behind Miguel before slithering your arms around his narrow waist. You practically felt the sudden jolt of his body, Miguel’s arms half extended like a bird's wings. 

“With that the two of you should've-” He choked, feeling your familiar warmth behind him. 

“Awhh honeeey, have mercy on these kids would ya’? I'm sure they didn't mean to do whatever it is they did,” You pout, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Why don't you two excuse yourselves and head over to Margo, hm? I bet she has some stuff you two can work on,”

Despite the same confused expression on the teens’ faces, they both hurry to swing out of the area, leaving you with a flustered Miguel in your arms. 

“Sweet heart why would you…” You giggle at his groaned-out response, finding the much larger man adorable while his complexion turns a deep red. 

“Sorry Miguel, I just couldn't resist your tempting hips, they’re just built for my arms,” You smirk as the man turns around, his arms around your neck. Miguel huffs as he's unable to hold the smile that creeps up his lips. That triples his current cuteness and you couldn't help but bring him closer to press your lips against his. Miguel returns the eagerness, a deep chuckle rumbles through him.

Other times, it was to help Miguel out instead of teasing him in front of the other Spideys. 

Whenever a mission does a number on him, you could find Miguel burying himself in work and suddenly too deep into surveying the myriads of universes scattered across the webs. It digs a deep worry into your heart seeing him in such a distressing state. Sometimes it takes you a while just to call him down to have dinner together. But there is one way to snap him out of that s[iral of overworking himself.

You’d swing yourself atop his platform before softly landing beside him. With a steady hand on his shoulder, you pull his chin towards you and leave a short peck on his cheek. Miguel would blink once, twice before inhaling sharply as his blush spread through him. 

“Carino,” You’d call, earning Miguel’s full attention now. “It's getting late, let's have dinner together,”

You smile as you press the ascent button on the platform, slowly leading Miguel towards your shared sleeping living quarters where a warm dinner is waiting. 

After dinner you’ll coil around him and bring him to bed, patting his soft curls while he lets off steam with whispers of a rant or simply bask in your warmth, engulfed within your arms. At these times, you cherish how big and cuddly Miguel truly is, especially how he keens when you scratch a certain spot on his nape. Your boyfriend resembles so much like a big panther it’s hard to find him intimidating, you thought with a giggle. 

“Why’re you laughin?” He glances, propping his chin on the expanse of your chest. You shake your head, a smile still evident on your lips. 

“Nothin’ love, what were you saying about Gwen again?” And he’ll continue his rambling.

Other times, you do it well… just because. When you have the most respected spidey in the compound by the tips of your finger, why won't you play with him a little, you know? 

It's been a week of nonstop onslaught towards Miguel. Swinging past him while he talks with Jessica and smacking a kiss right on his forehead, making him halt with an immediate blush over those high cheekbones. Then wrapping your arms just for a minute while he reviews mission files, making him drop the holo-tablet with a clang before you jump away. Or the day when you kissed the back of his hand, squeezing it, before leaping into a portal into the dimension you were assigned, making him stand blankly while Miles's group snicker before they jump into their portals.

When Lyla informed you that Miguel was waiting in your shared living space, you quickly ran from finishing your mission and into the directions of the room. Miguel must have been in a sour mood to have Lyla tell you he’s expecting you instead of shooting a text himself, but you thought it must have been another misbehaving spidey or a mission gone sideways, so when you entered the room to find it empty your brows raised in question. 

“Miguel?”You call into the ghostly room with nothing to reverb an answer. You take a step inside, pulling back the cover to, obviously, no one. Tilting your head, you figured Miguel won't be hiding in the bathroom if he ever was hiding. The only possible conclusion would be Miguel is waiting for you in the other room, a small office space you usually hole up to read or do your other hobbies. 

The door slides open with a hiss, the room inside engulfed in darkness. You take a cautious step inside. “Miguel, Lyla told me you-”

Your spidey senses weren't triggered by how fast Miguel pinned your waist to the wall. His claws gather your wrists above your head, and another sharp nail dances over the fabric of your suit.

“You…” He growls, eyes a bleeding red as it bores into you. Hot breath ghosts over your pulse as you gulp, you anticipate the sharp sting of Miguel’s fangs. 

“You’ve been teasing me this whole week, you little-” He huffs, taking a lungful of your musk, before another low growl breaks out as he straightens to meet your eyes again. His breath is labored, eyes almost frantic with either arousal or anger you couldn't discern. 

“Take resposnisbility.” Miguel bites before he releases your hands, now those claws reach around your body, pawing at your suit, which you quickly pry off of yourself.

Maybe teasing Miguel that much is worth it. 

Reblogs are appreciated <3

[wreckedandpolemic]

what baking can do - matty healy

(mdni) in which you try your hand at baking for your husband, but he comes home early and ruins you the surprise. part of the white and gold universe and promptober75 2024. 2922 words

warnings: unprotected sex, slight degradation, praise, mild dumbification, breeding kink, slight cumplay, a very inappropriate use for whipped cream lol

You’re humming to yourself, singing along to the song playing tinnily out of your phone’s speakers when Matty comes home. “Oh! Hi,” you gasp, setting the mixing bowl down on the kitchen counter so you can fold yourself happily into his arms. “Is it six already? I must’ve lost track of time.”

Matty kisses the top of your head, pulling you close with a relieved little sigh. “Hi, gorgeous. Nah, it’s just gone five, my last meeting got cancelled. Had a fucking shitter of a day, though,” he adds, cool palms cupping your cheeks as he leans down to kiss you.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Are you feeling alright?” you say, eagerly returning his kiss, long and sloppy with tired affection.

He smiles, wandering a hand down to grab your ass. “I am now. Can’t stay mad with you around,” he adds, eyes liquid with an adoration that turns your heart to mush. “What are you making?” he asks, hooking his thumbs into the strings of your apron to hold you close.

“Pumpkin pie,” you grin, dipping your finger into the filling and holding it up to his lips. “Was supposed to be just out of the oven when you got home,” you add with a teasing little pout. Matty wraps his lips around your finger, sucking delicately and flicking his tongue in a way that’s deliberately reminiscent of how he teases your clit.

He releases your fingers with a lewd little pop and smirks down at you. “So sweet,” he says, and you can’t tell if he means the pie filling or you, but you’re inclined towards the latter. “God, I’m so lucky,” he murmurs. “Comin’ home to my gorgeous wife cooking for me, lookin’ like this?” His fingers toy with the hem of your little lace skirt, barely longer than your apron, and brush against your thigh.

You shiver, swatting him away with a smile. “Behave, or I’ll never get this finished.”

Matty shrugs, now fiddling with the top of your stocking, snapping the strap of your garter belt (okay, maybe you got yourself a little dolled up in the hopes he’d come home in this mood) against your skin. “I can live with that.”

Squirming, you carefully extricate his hand before he starts touching you properly and your mind melts. “Let me finish cooking, and you can do whatever you want while it’s in the oven, okay, Daddy?” you smirk, savouring his choked little inhale at the epithet.

Blunt nails dig into your hips, the heat of Matty’s body soaking into yours as he presses against you. “Alright, princess,” he says, stepping away as you reach up for a pair of wine glasses. “You need any help?”

You shake your head, retrieving two bottles of wine; malbec for him and rosé for you, and pour two healthy glasses. “No. Just relax and look pretty for me, okay?” you grin, taking a long sip of your wine and gazing lovingly into Matty’s eyes as he does the same.

Dumping the can of pumpkin purée into the bowl, you stir it through carefully, suddenly conscious of Matty watching you. “What?” Matty laughs, cupping your cheeks and pressing his forehead against yours.

“I can feel you watching me,” you whine, pressing your legs together when he catches your lips in a slick, messy kiss. “Stop it,” you giggle when you break apart. “I’ll never get done if you keep kissing me like that.”

Matty’s lips fall to your neck. “Like I said, princess, I can live with that.”

You roll your eyes teasingly. “You’re always telling me to be patient. S’your turn,” you pout, letting him steal one more sweet kiss before you back away to retrieve the heavy cream from the fridge. Matty’s still watching you as you cook, smiling and sipping wine and occasionally handing you spices to stir into the pie filling.

He comes up behind you as you bend to put the pie into the oven, grabbing your waist and grinding his hips against yours. “Finally,” he groans, spinning you around and untying your apron in one swift movement. “Thought you were tryin’ to break some kind of record for the longest time spent on one fucking pie,” he teases.

“Longest case of blue balls suffered by a thirty-six year old man, more like,” you retort, and he pinches your ass in response.

“Don’t be a smartarse,” Matty says, an edge of dominance tracing lightly over his tone.

You moan into his mouth as his hand slides up your skirt. “You love my ass,” you tease, lifting your apron and letting it slide to the floor. Greedily, Matty paws at your tits through your top as you kiss at his jaw and let his stubble brush your lips. He whines softly when you break away and waltz up to the fridge, confused until his eyes catch on the cool canister in your hands. “Got it for the pie, but I don’t see why we can’t open it now.”

Setting the can down, you hop up onto the kitchen table and let Matty pull your top over your head. He leans down to kiss your tits where they spill out of your bra, unhooking the garment and tossing it away somewhere over his shoulder. He picks up the can of whipped cream, presses it against your neck just to make you shiver. “Gonna make you even sweeter,” he grins, popping the lid open.

You groan. “That was awful. Don’t know why I let you have sex with me.”

“‘Cause you love me,” Matty teases in an echo of your earlier words, presses the nozzle of the can against your sensitive skin. He sprays the cream across the top of your tits, and you gasp at the coolness. “Jesus,” he mutters, pulling back a little just to stare as it starts to melt. “You’re a walking wet dream, you know that?”

His tongue runs sandpaper-rough over your skin as he laps up the cream, and you giggle and squirm under his attention. “Daddy,” you whine playfully, threading your hands into his hair as he kisses and licks at your nipple. He pulls back, eyes gleaming wickedly, and shrugs off his jacket.

Gently, Matty presses your body back against the table. “Lay down for me, princess,” he murmurs, tracing gently around the curve of your boob with one hand and sliding his jacket under your head with the other. “Good girl,” he praises, trailing featherlight touches over your hips and waist, your muscles tensing with need. “So pretty,” Matty coos, drawing a sticky line from the valley of your chest down to your waistband.

You writhe under him as he runs his tongue along your body, hands at your hips pinning you still. He looks up at you with lust-blown eyes and presses a kiss just below your belly button, laps at the skin there, laughs softly when you wrap your legs around him. “Please,” you breathe, your cunt pulsing with need. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, just melting into a desperate little puddle in Matty’s hands.

“You want me to take you to bed, sweet girl?” Nodding frantically, you reach for him and tug him in by the collar, teeth clacking together as you kiss him, deep and frenzied. “C’mere, darling, hold on,” he says, scooping you up and letting you bury your head in his neck and breathe deep as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“You smell good,” you mutter, half-dazed with lust and the blunt pain of Matty’s nails digging into your ass. A happy sigh escapes you as you fall on top of the sheets, your hands instinctively falling to pull off your skirt and panties in one motion. Matty watches you greedily, his own shirt now discarded on your bedroom floor, his familiar tattoos exposed for your viewing pleasure. “Need you,” you whine, spreading your legs to give him space to kneel between them as he tugs off his suit trousers.

Brushing a stray piece of hair out of your eyes, Matty leans down to plant a soft, affectionate kiss to your lips. “How do you want me, princess?”

“Please fuck me,” you murmur, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, flushed and dripping and beautiful. “Need you inside me, Daddy, please.” Your head swims, already picturing it so clearly you can almost feel him deep inside you, a sudden daze of thick lust enveloping you.

The memory of him buried in your ass swims to the forefront of your mind, then of his dick so far down your throat you could barely breathe, of his cum splashing on your tits. “What are you thinking about, angel? Y’miles away,” Matty says, palms rubbing circles over your body as he teases your hole with the tip of his cock.

You grin, a filthy, sleazy thing you know you’ve learnt from him. “Was thinking about you fucking my ass, Daddy,” you say as innocently as you can. He swears under his breath, mutters soft, filthy words that can’t seem to stick in your head as Matty draws slow circles over your clit and pleasure seeps stickily into your bloodstream.

“You ready for me, princess? You want Daddy to fill up this pretty, sweet cunt?” Matty coos. Jaw slack, you nod, arching desperately up towards him. “Yeah, that’s my good girl,” he says, pushing into you in one fluid motion and groaning as he bottoms out.

Whining, you clench your cunt around him, sinking your nails into the smooth, bare skin of his back. “Stay like this,” you moan. “Please. Just for a minute. I need to feel you.” Matty groans, buries his head in your neck, murmurs perfect girl into your skin. You stretch, pleasure coiling in your belly, moaning happily and luxuriating in the feeling. Pressing a hand to your stomach, you gasp as you feel his cock buried deep inside you.

Grabbing Matty’s hand, you rest it in the same spot, smiling stupidly up at him. “Shit,” he breathes. “I’m in your fucking guts, princess, fuck,” he groans, cock twitching inside you as he fights to stay still and not thrust messily into you. The vulgar words wash over you, dripping between your legs and grinding what was left of your brain into dust. “Such a good little slut for your Daddy, yeah? Always take my cock so well, baby. Y’look so pretty full of me, wish i could keep you all cockdrunk and happy like this all the time.” Long, calloused fingers trace over your cheek, electricity sparking between your skin.

“You feel so good,” you groan, rocking your hips up against his. “I almost don’t even wanna fuck, feels that good just like this. Almost,” you giggle, locking your legs around Matty’s waist to urge him to move.

He starts a slow, sweet pace, eyes wide with adoration as your own roll back in your head. “That’s my good little girl,” he murmurs, rolling his hips and filling you impossibly deep. “Always so pretty for me, love fucking you like this, princess.” Matty leans down, catches your lips in a messy, spit-slick kiss, moans lowly into your mouth. Gasping, his name falls from your lips in a needy whine. “Sweet, dumb little girl,” he coos, pouting down at you. “Can you open up for Daddy, baby?”

Obediently, your jaw falls open, letting Matty spit in your mouth and swallowing greedily before he even has a chance to tell you. The sticky slide down your throat makes you grin dazedly, and you clench around Matty’s cock as he keeps fucking into you. He kisses down your neck, sucks a little bruise into your collarbone as you moan into the air between you. His lips wrap around your nipple and he sucks greedily, his moan a visceral thing that rolls over you. “Perfect fucking tits,” he groans, burying his head between them and kissing at your soft skin. “Perfect cunt, perfect body, perfect fucking girl.”

Thick, calloused fingers trail down your body, a burst of dizzying pleasure coursing up your spine when they find your clit. “Daddy, please,” you whine, rolling your hips up to meet him. Ecstasy floods your body, your cunt pulsing around Matty as you writhe under him.

“Please what, princess?” he teases, rubbing tight little circles into your sensitive nerves. “You gotta tell Daddy what you want, yeah?” You whine, pouting up at him until he kisses you, moaning happily when his tongue sweeps greedily into your mouth. “You wanna cum for me, darling?”

Nodding helplessly, you arch up towards him. “Yeah. Please. Need you to make me cum, Daddy, wanna make you cum, want you to make me yours, fuck,” you whine, pleasure coiling tight in your belly. Matty slams into you so hard you can barely breathe, rough pace utterly foreign from the gentle, sweet smile on his face.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Whenever you’re ready, princess.” Pure, molten desire drips down your spine, pooling between your hips and dripping out onto the mattress. Matty kisses your neck, pinching your clit harshly and hitting your g-spot in the same split-second, and you’re fucking gone. You wail his name, echoing off the walls as your cunt pulses around him and ecstasy hammers between your legs. Eyes rolling back in your head, you ride it out, helpless under Matty’s deep thrusts.

An overstimulated whine falls from your mouth as Matty slumps on top of you, slack lips finding yours as he groans through his orgasm. “Fuck, so fuckin’ good, princess. Takin’ Daddy’s cum so well, darling, that’s it,” he moans, lifting his fingers, still wet with you, to his lips and sucking pornographically. “Taste so good, baby,” Matty sighs.

Pouting as Matty pulls out, you curl into his arms, sweaty and sated. “Love you. M’sorry you had a shitty day,” you say, giggling as he presses a kiss against your forehead.

He grins down at you. “Love, if you think I give a shit about what happened at the fucking office anymore…” Matty teases, tracing his fingers over your hips and wandering his hand down to your ass. “Y’so fucking beautiful, baby. Always take me so well, look so good full of my cum. Drive me fuckin’ crazy, pretty girl.”

Matty’s fingers are skating over your swollen, messy cunt, and you catch his lips in a sloppy kiss as desire drips out over his hand. “You can finger it back into me. I know you want to. Keep me nice and full, make sure I’m knocked up, yeah?” you breathe against his lips. 

“Jesus, princess,” Matty murmurs, slowly filling you with two thick fingers. “Such a little cumslut, god. Y’love Daddy’s cum, huh?” Nodding helplessly, you let a wave of pleasure overtake you, riding it out until you regain the strength to speak.

“Mhmm. But… m’serious, too.” Matty makes a soft, curious noise. “I wanna have your baby. Not right now, but… soon,” you murmur, biting your lip in trepidation at your confession.

Matty’s lips part in awe, eyes shining like you hung the moon. “God, every time I think you couldn’t get more perfect,” he groans, burying his head in your neck and sucking a harsh bruise into the skin there. “Are you sure?” he adds, rubbing softly over your belly like he’s imagining it already.

You whine as his thumb swipes over your sensitive clit, your cunt throbbing around his fingers. “Yeah. M’gonna— fuck— gonna come off the pill, n’you— shit, Daddy, please— can just keep makin’ sure I’m nice and full of you, yeah?” Ecstasy is pooling at the base of your spine, Matty’s pace slow and insistent, fucking his cum so deep inside you that it won’t drip out.

His fingers curl up, brush your g-spot, and you wail, the burst of glowing pleasure that ripples through you bone-shakingly intense. “Is that the spot, princess?” Matty teases. You gasp out something that must be an intelligible yes, because he grins down at you. “Good girl. Pretty, perfect girl. You wanna cum for Daddy, baby?”

“Please,” you whine, arching up as he crooks his fingers again and that same, mind-numbing pleasure washes over you. A few more slow thrusts and a long, messy, spit-slick kiss are all it takes to topple over the edge, a wail of Daddy spilling from your lips as euphoria floods your body. Your mind goes blank, your vision whiting out; all you can feel is Matty. His breath on your lips, his fingers still buried deep inside you, the heat of his body tangled up with yours.

A sleazy little grin paints Matty’s lips when you come to, and you stretch up to kiss it off. He lifts his fingers, still slick with both of you, to your face, gently prises your mouth open. You suck them into your mouth happily, swirling your tongue and moaning at the heady taste. “Good?” he teases.

“Try for yourself,” you giggle, rolling on top of him to press your mouth against his, licking greedily into his mouth as he takes your jaw in his palms. Panting and slightly dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you break away, curling up against him and resting your head against his chest. Your eyes slip closed as Matty traces gentle patterns on your shoulder and his heart thumps steadily, soothingly in your ear.

The sound of your smoke alarm screeching wildly snaps you out of your daze as Matty sits bolt upright. “The fucking pie!”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. “Shit.”

[umuulandito]

burnout (teaser) | jeon wonwoo

SYPNOSIS. 11 years. you’ve been loving wonwoo for 11 years. you’ve loved and supported him since you were 16. and you’re starting to wonder if you can keep living like this. PAIRING. idol!jeon wonwoo x writer!reader GENRE. angst, it’s mostly just angst. NOTES. english isn’t my first language !! para sa mga filipino, inspired by "i'm drunk, i love you" and sugarfree's "burnout". reader has done like 3 different jobs + went to college. multilingual!reader, writer!reader. WORD COUNT. (estimated) 13k DAY OF RELEASE. (estimated) august / september

“In two days, your new drama comes out. This is the… what is it?”

“12th.”

“12th drama you’ve written that’s somehow about Wonwoo.”

“And?”

“So, when will you finally confess to him?”

It’s not the first time someone’s asked you that– or specifically, not the first time Jihoon has asked you that. He’s been asking you that for years now. You can only look into your glass, staring into the abyss of soju and beer because you don’t have an answer. 

You’ve never had an answer to it.

“I don’t know. Never? I’ll get over it eventually, probably,” you say. His eyebrows raise and he can only scoff and snaps his fingers in front of you, drawing attention to his face. “Eleven years,” Jihoon remarks. “You’ve never gotten tired of whatever–” his hands point vaguely at you, “this is.”

He gives you a once over and, you don’t have it in you to be offended when he says, “And you look like you don’t plan to stop. You have had every–”

“Not every.”

“Yes, every, chance to confess but it just seems like you keep delaying it.”

Jihoon gives you that look, the look that says ‘Well?’ and you can’t say anything (again). When he lifts his cup up to drink, he looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised and ready for your response. But it’s just silent.

“Am I wrong?” He asks.

“You’re crazy,” you say rolling your eyes and taking a sip of your own glass. 

“See! That’s not a no,” Jihoon laughs. “Well… it just seems kind of a waste,” you laugh tracing the rim of the glass. “We’re good friends… Ha! We’re good friends.”

“But?”

“But…” You sigh, “But he doesn’t love me back.”

When you look at Jihoon, he’s smug. His face says smug but his eyes say pity, they always have. Every time you have this conversation, he always reminds you of this, and well, who doesn’t like to be right? But you can always tell he pities you. 

“Timecheck!” Jihoon shouts, you flinch at the sound, what the fuck was that?

“It’s been 11 years, somehow your hopes are still up and nonexistent at the same time,” he says and you roll your eyes, snarky… as always. 

You tap your wrist with a scoff, “I know it’s been 11 years. I can read the time, Jihoon.”

He sighs again, “But that’s why it’s so… I don’t think you realize really how long you’ve been hoping.”

That kind of stops you because fuck, he has a point. 11 years… That’s a decade, probably 1/7th of your life– you spent your youth loving Wonwoo, your college years still loving him, and your adulthood continuing to love him. When you think about it, so much of a person can change in 11 years, no one is the same person they were 11 years ago. He’s changed so much over 11 years, you’ve changed so much.

And yet here you were, still loving him. Loving every version, every iteration.

It’s kind of crazy.

Confronted with the reality in your hands. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

You’re confronted with this insane reality and all you can say is…

“Give me time.”

When you meet eyes with Jihoon, he’s looking at you like you just said you plan on quitting writing forever. His eyebrows are raised, eyes wide as saucers, staring at you in absolute shock at your audacity.

“GIVE ME TIME?!”

There we go. You close your eyes letting yourself sit and just absorb the lecture he’s about to give you.

“What type of nonsense is ‘give me time’?!” Jihoon asks. “You believe in the cosmic powers or whatever of the universe–”

You mumble, “It’s called fate–”

“Fine! Fate. God, I feel like I say this every time. You believe in the cosmic supernatural possibilities of whatever fate and the universe have given you E L E V E N years! The universe gave you all the time you could need and yet, here you are!”

You let out a small huff, fiddling with the handle of your glass. Yet here you are. 

“I don't know why,” you take a small sip again of your drink, “like, I even made like… 12 dramas about him!” Then you take a larger gulp, “Why are they all about him?!”

Jihoon can only shrug, “Maybe you’re a masochist.”

He was expecting you to deny that actually, you can get so defensive about this sometimes but you’re actually thinking about it. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in concentration as you revisit every drama you’ve made in the past 5 years. 

When you look back at him, your brows are still furrowed and you say “You know, I might be. Like, what sane normal person writes Twenty-Five Twenty-One?”

“Or Hotel del Luna. Even worse, that was your debut. So from the start, it’s really all been him.”

It’s always been him. “Everything’s always about him, like, my youth revolved around him and whatever he revolved around.”

“Because he was Seventeen, your youth was Seventeen.”

“My youth was Seventeen… Do you think he knows that like for four years straight he was singing songs about himself?”

That one brings a laugh out of Jihoon, your former partner in crime in writing. One of the only people to witness every step of your writing, which involved staring a lot at Wonwoo. “I don’t think he knows, you’re surprisingly not obvious.”

“Everything’s about him… God, maybe I AM a masochist.”

“Okay, let’s just put it this way, let’s do this differently. Let’s enumerate what your and him’s relationship was for those 11 years, each of those 11 years.”

You can only sigh, as if you haven’t done that several times this night, again when he raises his glass triumphantly. “When did you and Wonwoo first meet?”

“You ask this question but I’m sure you know the answer.”

“Should that stop me from asking? It’s about consistency.”

“Fine. Let’s start from the beginning.”

[cowgurrrl]

I Wish I Was

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: yay for creative energy coming back!!

Summary: Murphy’s Law dictates… [3.1k]

Warnings: art talk, discussions of a deceased parent, probably incorrect blueprint talk, a cliff hanger 😈

Temperatures rarely dip below the thirties in Central Texas. It's not impossible, as evidenced by the below-freezing temperatures ravaging much of the South in the final days before returning to school, but it's still rare. Nobody really knows what to do when there's the threat of the roads icing over, so they just decide to shut most things down, including your bar. You feigned disappointment when your manager called to tell you when, in reality, you were digging through your box of acrylic paints to find the one shade that's been calling your name. With the sudden free time, you get to work on your half-finished canvases and listen to the same record repeatedly in the hopes that your brain will zone out enough for you to make something good. 

It could be The Mamas and The Papas record spinning or the dark blue winter light shining through your blinds, but you actually like the piece of art unfolding on your canvas. It's undeniably different, a little more vibrant and a little more abstract, but it feels good— sustainable, at the very least. You feel less self-conscious about them and even snap pictures to show them off to Andie. You've finished three other canvases and sent in images of them to a local art collective that takes gallery submissions twice a year, and they've moved you on to the next part of the acceptance process. It's not a definite yes, but it's not an immediate no. You haven't told Joel about the submission or anything, really. You've just holed yourself up in your apartment to paint and sporadically respond to his texts with lots of apologies typed with yellow or purple fingertips.

He knows you're not ignoring him, and you know he's a busy guy. He has better things to do than sit around and wait for you to text him back, but you feel bad about not being as present as you were before. "It's all part of the process, I promise," you said. "Then, when I get my own gallery, you can hear all about it while you fix up my classroom." He reminded you that "pride goeth before the fall" but didn't doubt or pressure you to break your flow. The only thing he consistently texts you about is making sure you're drinking water, stretching your wrists, and, at least, looking at a vegetable during your long sessions. Otherwise, he leaves you alone to work. Everyone else, including the stack of looming emails in your inbox, gets deliberately ignored so you can live in your bubble for just a little longer before school drags you back into session. 

That's why you jumped and furrowed your eyebrows at your ringing phone when his contact photo appeared unexpectedly, breaking you out of your concentration. You wipe your hands on your old pair of too-big jeans (universally known as your work pants because they're covered in different colored hand prints) and swipe to answer him before the silly picture of him with one of your scarves on his head can go away. You hear him shuffling around when you put it on speaker and almost hang up, thinking it's a butt dial before you finally hear his voice.

"Hello?" He greets.

"Hey, what's up?" 

"Did I leave my jacket there?" He asks. You let out a relieved sigh that it's nothing too dramatic, but the lingering panic his phone call caused sits in the back of your head as you glance down at said jacket. You adjust the palette in your hand, suddenly hyper-aware of the wet paint and thanking whatever God is out there for not getting any on his clothes. You can't imagine things would go over well with the guys if he suddenly showed up to job sites with pink paint on the sleeve of his jacket.

"No..." you say, extending the vowel, and he chuckles. 

"Do me a favor. See if there's a ring of keys in the front pocket?" He says. You gently put the palette on your coffee table and wipe your hands again to ensure there's no wet paint on them before digging into both front pockets and feeling the keys in his left pocket. You pull them out and find the set of keys with a baseball keychain and a keychain with a picture of him and the girls on it. 

"I've got 'em," you say. "The Astros? Really?"

"D'you mind bringin' 'em to the office? I forgot I needed 'em." He ignores your jab, and you look down at your outfit. Clad in your work pants, a sports bra, Joel's Carhartt jacket, and your unwashed hair in a clip, you are not prepared to leave the house today, let alone go see Joel.

"Um..." 

"Somethin' wrong?" He asks, and you wince. What are you gonna say? Sorry, I know you have to do your job and all, but I look and feel like shit, so I can't bring your keys to you? He's already seen you in disarray from the school day, but that was a cuter, more socially acceptable version of disarray. This version gives credence to the messy, mentally ill artist stereotype Freud introduced however many years ago. 

"No, nothing's wrong. I just..." you sigh and rub your face. "I wasn't expecting to see you today. I kinda look crazy." 

"That's it?" He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Baby, I don't care how you look. You could show up in a potato sack, and I wouldn't care." 

"Well, lucky for you, I don't own a potato sack, but I'm pretty sure that would look better than this."

"If it makes you feel better, the office is empty."

"Then, why are you in? It's fucking freezing."

"I needed to make sure the pipes didn't freeze over, and I left some blueprints here," he says. "I can grab 'em from you and just come back to the office."

"No, I don't want you driving more than you have to," you say, already stretching out your stiff legs. Your knees creak in protest, and fatigue seeps into your bones. God, how long have you been sitting here? "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"I think it'll take a lot more than some messy clothes to scare me off, darlin'," he says, and you roll your eyes at his charm. With a quick goodbye, you throw on a clean enough sweater and leggings. You debate running a brush through your hair before remembering what he said about the empty office and decide you don't have the energy. If he really doesn't care what you look like, then you're not going to stress about it. 

You're a little worried about driving in the weather, even you aren't immune to Southern weather panic, but the roadways are mostly clear, and things aren't expected to get really bad until later on. Still, you drive slowly and white-knuckle the wheel against strong, frigid winds. By the time you get to Joel's office, the sky is more grey than blue, and radio announcers warn you that there might be flurries within the next forty-eight hours. You doubt they'll stick to the ground and amount to nothing more than some black ice, inconveniencing everyone in the state, but still. You leave the relative warmth of your car and walk as fast as you can into the building, clutching Joel's jacket close to your body and sending a wave of his smell over you. 

The office itself is small, with a couple of desks here and there, mostly for meeting with clients and explaining building plans. A coffee pot and water cooler sit in the corner next to the receptionist's desk, which is currently empty. It's eerily quiet in the space except for the sound of the heat rumbling somewhere in the walls, and you almost wonder if Joel left without telling you when you hear grumbling and the tell-tale sound of his boots against the tile. He doesn't notice you at first. Instead, he scowls at a paper like it owes him money and mutters under his breath. Whatever is annoying him is wiped away the second he sees you there. 

"Hey, baby," he lights up as he walks over to you and kisses you, abandoning the paper on one of the desks so he can hold you close. He tastes like coffee and the beeswax chapstick Ellie got him for Christmas. You didn't realize how much you missed him until now, and you smile against his lips. "You got my keys?" He asks as he turns to walk into his office, grabbing your hand and bringing you with him. He lets go of you to close the door behind him, and you dig the keys out of your pocket and toss them at him. He catches them in mid-air easily and walks over to the filing cabinet.

"You intentionally leave your keys with me, or is this just a happy accident?" You ask, and he smirks. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

"Sneaky," you say as you walk around his space while he searches for the correct blueprint. 

It's a relatively normal office with eggshell walls and bad fluorescent lighting, but once you step behind his desk, you get a good idea of the man who works here. His desk is old and made of some type of wood he probably knows more about than you do. It's filled with little knick-knacks and things that get him through the day: family pictures, a painted gecko from Terlingua, stress balls, and a desk calendar with his all-caps handwriting. There are even some drawings done by Ellie pinned on the corkboard behind his chair, her skill visibly improving as she gets older. 

One particular picture on his desk catches your eye. It's older than the rest, and it takes you a minute to recognize Joel's eyes in the greying man. Joel, Tommy, and their dad smile at the camera with identical grins. Tommy can't be older than ten while Joel towers over them both, his broad shoulders taking up lots of space. You pick it up to look at it closer and Joel doesn't stop you. Instead, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

"'S this your dad?" you ask, and he nods. "You guys look a lot alike." 

"You think?" He asks like he doesn't see it, and you look at him. You take a second or two to let your eyes trace his features and compare them to his dad's before nodding.

"Yeah. Same eyes," you say as you look back down. "And smile." He hums happily at that. Joel's face hasn't changed much now that he's a grown man. If anything, he looks more like his dad, with the grey at the temples and the beard framing his face. You see bits of their father in Tommy, too, but you assume he probably looks more like their mother. "How old were you in this?"

"Mm, fifteen? Maybe sixteen." Right before his dad died, you think. You wonder if he's thinking the same thing or reliving the day over again. Before the clutches of grief can sink you both, you smile to yourself and hold the picture a little closer.

"I would've been obsessed with you if we'd gone to high school together." 

"Really?" He asks incredulously, and you giggle at the thought. 

"Oh, for sure. Look at you!" You point to his little broody half-smile as if it's evidence. "Those eyes, that hair, the attitude. I mean, c'mon, Joel!" He laughs at your praise and takes the photo out of your hands.

"Alright, alright, that's enough objectification for teenage Joel." 

"I'm not objectifying you! I'm just stating the obvious." 

"Mhm," he hums, and you laugh. You continue walking around and looking at his things as he frowns at the blueprint he trekked through the cold to get. "Shit." He mumbles, reaches for a pencil, and scribbles something on the plans. 

"What's wrong?" You ask, perching yourself on the edge of his desk and leaning over to look at the intricate design. It looks like a big house with lots of elaborate details written on the margins. It's a big build. No wonder he needed to get this copy.  

"This client decided they wanted a bigger kitchen, but I don't know how to do that without eatin' into another room and changin' the whole plan," he sighs. "We're supposed to be back on the site once this storm blows over, and I gotta have an idea of how we're gonna do this by then." 

"Can't you just tell them no?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Can’t you just tell your principal no?

"Point taken," you say. "What about pushing it into the backyard a little? Then you could use this area over here to make a sunroom or something," you suggest, gesturing to the weird leftover space that would make the house look wonky. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks.

"Then what should I do here?" He asks. Together, you go back and forth, discussing dimensions, perspectives, and measurements. You never realized how similar these designs are to art. They have to have more of a purpose and fit specific parameters, but other than that, they have the same idea: create something out of nothing. It's cool to see Joel in his own element, doing mental math and estimates that would take you ages to do and writing down his findings as you figure them out together. He's not just good at math, he's good at sketching the new designs. 

Almost seamlessly, he flips through the floor plans and layouts, adding a window there or changing the flow of a room with a singular erasure. He adds the perfect depth to see the idea clearly without crowding the space and making it seem too busy, allowing the clients to picture their furniture in the home. When you bring up an idea, he's quick to rotate the plans upside down to imagine how it would look and if it would impact the building process, his brain running through every possible solution and flipping it without even thinking. Ellie does the same thing when she gets stuck on a drawing. You see where she gets her skill from, even if he'll never admit it. 

For someone who has always struggled with math, you enjoy the balance between math, engineering, and art in the plans, but you like working with Joel the most. It's nice to feel like you're helping instead of distracting him. You're not sure how long you worked together, reconfiguring things this way and that, before you finally reached a viable solution, but you know that Joel has the biggest smile on his face when he looks away from the blueprints. 

"You mighta missed a callin', my dear." He says, and you laugh, shaking your head.

"My college algebra professor might disagree, but I do think this is interesting." 

"Well, if you ever want a job..." he trails off as he rolls the blueprints back up and secures it with a rubber band. You smirk and tug at his belt loops to bring him closer to where you're sitting on his desk. 

"You just want me to get more tattoos." You accuse, and he chuckles as he tosses the prints somewhere behind you, his hands coming up to frame your face. 

"I'm just sayin', Miller Contracting don't have a policy against it like the school district does."

"Mm, what about dating? That might get a little dicey." 

"Is sleepin' with your boss better or worse than sleepin' with a student's parent?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"They're probably in the same realm of bad."

"Then, we've got nothin' to lose." He says as he leans down to kiss you. You open your legs just enough for him to step in between your knees and get as close as he can. He's trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him, but the stubble still scratches deliciously against your skin, making you sigh. He breaks away enough to tip you back onto his desk, narrowly missing his clutter, and you giggle when he kisses your neck.

"How long have you been plannin' this one?" you ask, your years in Texas showing through in your breathless voice. He smiles as he meets your eyes. 

"I dunno what you're talkin' bout."

"Oh, so getting me alone and on top of your desk was just a coincidence?"

"Happy accident." He muses, sliding his hands up your shirt as he gets lower and lower. Your hands play with his hair, occasionally tugging on the strands just to hear the sound he makes. You would've been happy to do that all day if your phone ringing through the suddenly too-warm air of his office didn't interrupt. Joel groans and drops his head to your sternum, his hands pausing their journey up your body as you wiggle your phone out of your back pocket. Your heart drops the second you recognize the phone number.

"Who is it?" Joel asks like he's reading your mind. You sit up slowly, and he takes his hands off you without malice or frustration. You're stuck staring at the number until it disappears off your screen and goes to voicemail. 

"Um... someone from work. I should probably call them back." You say, unsure of yourself as the words fall from your mouth. Joel looks confused but doesn't push. 

"Oh. Right, yeah. School starts back up on Monday, right?" 

"Yeah, she probably just wants to talk about lesson plans or something," you say, standing from your spot on the desk. The air has changed between you, and suddenly, things feel clunky and awkward. This is the worst possible timing. "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll walk you out." He says sheepishly. You don't say anything as he opens the doors for you and gives you a quick kiss and a reminder to text him when you get home. You just nod and immediately speed walk to your car even though you're not that cold. Joel watches you pull out from your parking spot and leave the strip mall, waving before you can turn out of sight. 

You wait until you're five minutes down the road before you dial the number back as if Joel would be able to hear the crackly voice through your speaker if you were any closer. Your heart beats fast in your chest, and your palms are sweaty on the wheel as the phone rings. When the dial tone finally ends, and your call is answered, the anxiety is replaced with frustration.

"What’s up?" You ask through gritted teeth, and you hear her take a breath.

"We need to talk about Ellie’s dad."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

[goddess-in-heaven-and-hell]

One does not joke about the Bodleian (BR) Pt. I - A modern Gwynriel One-Shot

In this first part of my next little mini-series, Gwyn and Az face each other as academic rivals in a university setting. I hope you like it :)

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none

Gwyneth Berdara never thought she’d say this, but if she has another coffee, her brain will explode with a 87% probability.

She knew she should have consumed her first cup exactly 90 minutes after waking up, like her professor and podcast-god Dr. Huberman told her to, but something about her roommates blaring the radio at six in the morning had convinced her otherwise. The second cup right after on her way to class hasn’t helped, and the third in-between lectures had her hands shaking and her eyes twitching. Then, the heavy lunch that followed contributed plenty to her tiredness… which left her nervous system frantically switching between wired and close to death.

“Gwyn, some space please.”, a slightly annoyed voice from beside her commanded, pushing a stray note back into her periphery. Gwyn grabbed the piece and stuck it to whatever folder she held in her hand – genomics – before returning the heavy study material to her backpack.

“Sorry, Em, but I can’t seem to find the assignment.”, she murmured, leafing through the stacks of paper in front of her and resolutely refusing to adhere to her friend’s command. The prestigious and extremely well-funded university of Oxford liked their students to hand in printed assignments in addition to electronic ones. Apparently, they liked to pretend they were still in their founding century.

Emerie leaned into her field of view completely which left Gwyn to examine her friend’s scalp instead of her notes. “I’ve literally just seen the thing.”

“Aha!”, a triumphant Emerie sat back up, the missing assignment held up in victory. “Now you can collect yourself another 95% and the cry about the five missing-“

Emerie was rudely interrupted, Gwyn’s assignment ripped straight out of her hands. “Jack!”

With a grin that showed more teeth than friendly banter, Jack Irwin leaned back in his chair behind them, the pieces of paper completely out of reach for both women.

“I will be holding these hostage until you finally set a date to go out with me like you promised.”, his deep and honeyed voice explained, eyes boring into Gwyn’s bright teal ones like that might elicit a nice response. Beside her, Emerie sighed out a long breath, anticipating the everlasting and borderline painful conversation that was about to start.

Just like it did every week around this time.

“Jack, keeping me from my assignment isn’t going to get you any points in my book.”, Gwyn explained to him slowly, reaching out her hands for him to hand it over. If he behaved like a toddler, she’d treat him like one.

Jack pretended to think about that for a second, his bland face scrunched in concentration. “Nope.” The popped ‘p’ grated on Gwyn’s nerves more severely than his smug expression. Why did he have to make every exchange of words so damn difficult? She felt a headache starting between her brows and it wasn’t even two in the afternoon.

“I give you exactly five seconds before you’ll see me empty out my water bottle over your MacBook”, the redhead levelled him a glare, trying to convey the severity of this situation by staring a hole through his useless head. Today really wasn’t the day to test her.

Jack stopped balancing on his chair, leaning over his desk and coming really too-damn-close into her personal space. “It’ll be all worth it if I end up taking you out this Friday.”

“Let it go!”, she snapped, lunging over the table separating them and nearly ripping her assignment in two as she snatched it back, “It won’t happen, no matter how hard you try to guilt-trip or blackmail me.”

She felt more than she saw the atmosphere between them change. Jack’s previously playful and cocky air darkened. His mouth was just about to form a reply when he was thankfully interrupted.

“Good afternoon, class.”

Gwyn turned around with a relieved sigh, shooting an apologetic look at her now crumpled papers. I’m so sorry you were tainted by unworthy hands. For a second, she could have sworn the ink winked at her – that’s when she decided to quit coffee for good.

Her professor had made his way to the front of the small lecture hall, preparing his lesson while students started to file towards him. Emerie and Gwyn soon joined them, checking in on the attendance list, turning in the assignment and dutifully ignoring the dirty looks Jack shot their way. But as Gwyn finished her weekly signature, her gaze snagged on something peculiar.

You see, the lecture and course were so intimate that it was possible to know every student by name. After all, not many were suicidal enough to enroll in Oxford’s biology M.A. program. Therefore, when another student joined the course, people usually noticed immediately. And as Gwyn stared at the table containing their names, her brows drew together in confusion.

Definitely too much coffee.

She snorted to herself, finding her place and slumping back into it next to Emerie.

“I seriously need to watch the caffein.”, she started, leaning over to her friend and lowering her voice, “Can you believe I read one of the names on the attendance list as ‘Azriel’?”

She snickered, not noticing how Emerie had to bite down on a broad smile. “I mean, what kind of person is named like that? An angel? A fucking warrior prince from ancient times that turns into a dragon every full moon?”

In her head, it was kind of funny. And Gwyn would be lying if she didn’t immediately think of her usual, private reading material and all the kinds of things someone named ‘Azriel’ might be up to.

Emerie shrugged, getting her notes and laptop ready for class. “You probably read it wrong. I bet his name is Andy or something.”

Gwyn made a noncommittal noise while copying Em as their professor looked around the room expectantly.

“Has anybody seen a Mr. Hawthorne?”, he called into the void of sleep-deprived students. Some people shook their heads while others just stared back blankly, waiting for him to get on with it and not caring in the slightest for whatever happened with the guy. As Gwyn didn’t know an answer to the professor’s question, she made a mental list of names that ‘Hawthorne’ went with.

Andy Hawthorne sounded weird, the family name too overpowering. Andrew Hawthorne might have a nice ring to it, but then it also gave off a pretentious vibe. Aiden, Alexander – it definitely wasn’t Alexander – maybe Austin? Austin Hawthorne?

The door swung open, interrupting the opening words of the professor as well as Gwyn’s encyclopedia of names. And in the doorway, nearly filling out the whole damn thing, stood the most beautiful man Gwyn did ever see.

“Ah”, the professor noticed him as well, hurrying over to the attendance list as roughly thirty-five pairs of eyes switched their attention on the newcomer, “Azriel Hawthorne, biology M.A.?”

No. Freaking. Way.

The stranger nodded, quickly signing the form and thanking the professor quietly before his gaze fell onto the rest of the class in search for a seat. And Gwyn could have sworn a faint sigh left every female in the room collectively.

His face was carved from the gods. Angular, sharp, symmetrical. Full eyebrows framing the most glowing brown eyes a human ever saw. Dark strands of hair falling onto his forehead while the sides and back were shaven neatly. Muscles – Gwyn had to swallow to save her dry throat from suffering irreparable damage – and more muscles that bunched over his tight black shirt.

And from her place way too high up in the stands, Gwyn had to witness how her classmates flung themselves out of the way to offer him more seats than he could ever place his butt on, even if he switched every time they had the lecture until the end of the semester.

Azriel chose a seat in the second row, nodding his thanks to the blushing blonde who’d nearly sacrificed her friend’s well-being while forcing her to scooch over.

And when he moved to pull out his laptop, Gwyn’s idealist image of a man was complete. He had tattoos covering his whole arms, their inky swirls peeking out from underneath the sleeve.

“You haven’t blinked in like a full minute. It’s not healthy.”, Emerie whispered from beside her, amusement shining from her face as she seemed to be the only person with a uterus to not be too phased by his existence. And let’s face it, even some of the guys shot him more than curious glances.

Yet, all Gwyn could do was stare like a total creep, ignoring for the first time since starting university what the professor was lecturing about.

Emerie was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to ramble some kind of justification to conceal her embarrassment. It didn’t come. Gwyn’s brain had suffered a short circuit.

Put simply, the woman was too stunned to speak.

“Oh, Lord save us all.”, Emerie muttered before dutifully turning her attention to the professor. And as her friend concentrated in order to learn about cell biology and signaling, Gwyn was quickly learning that she had a type.

…

“So, what did he do to have all your panties in his power within one lecture?”, Nesta asked Emerie and Gwyn as they met in the cafeteria that evening, exchanging the latest gossip over their pasta. And no other topic was ever more news-worthy than the arrival of Mr. Azriel Hawthorne. In fact, Gwyn was sure it was discussed thoroughly at every single table containing at least one biology student.

“Tell her Gwyn,” Emerie was already laughing beside her, drawing way too much malicious joy from this situation.

Gwyn faced her spaghetti. “Well, he kind of… just walked in, took his seat, then left.”

Nesta’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “That’s it? Did he have some magical pheromone perfume? No guy is just that attractive.”

“Who is attractive?”, a booming voice saved Gwyn from further scrutiny. Cass, Nesta’s boyfriends and physiology student, slumped into the seat next to her and delivered a smacking kiss to her cheek. “Talking about me again Nes? You’ll make them jealous!”

Nesta observed him for a moment, her usually harsh eyes turning softer. “Actually, we were discussing the new Adonis gracing Gwyn’s and Emerie’s class. What was is name again?”

But before Gwyn could respond, Cassian interrupted the women with a long-suffering expression. “Please, not you too!”

The girls exchanged a look before turning their full attention on Cass.

“How is every single woman in this whole college obsessed with the guy? He has been here for half a day. Half a day! And I overheard some girls in all of my classes talking about strategies to get him to go out with them.”, he scoffed, angrily assaulting his bread roll with his teeth. “I meam – wats fo cool abowt him?”

Nesta quickly shushed him before he could grace the women with a full view of corroded bread.

“Stop being so butt-hurt. You’re still our number one guy.”, Emerie reached out to pat his hand while he shot her puppy-eyes that clearly spoke of how much he needed to hear that. But for all the love she felt towards Cassian, Gwyn found herself hesitant to agree.

And it was so stupid. She didn’t even know him, only stared at the back of his head for the better part of an hour. Mind you, it was a very nicely shampooed head. But for all she knew, he could be a complete jerk, smelly, aggressive, or even worse – negligent in his studies.

He hadn’t seemed like it in class though, typing away on his computer, eyes never straying from the board. And if that wasn’t the hottest thing about him, Gwyn didn’t know what to think anymore.

With a tad bit of overexcitement, Roslin fell onto the chair beside Gwyn, slamming her tray of food so forcefully it rattled the whole hall. “I’ve got news everyone!”

“Finally Rosi, feed me some fucking gossip that isn’t to do with the biology bloke.”, Cassian leaned towards her, happy now that the center of attention shifted.

Or not.

“Azriel Hawthorne has a girlfriend!”, Roslin exclaimed with wide eyes, causing Cass to fall back on his chair dramatically while Nesta broke out in laughter. But Gwyn wasn’t laughing. Decidedly.

“How do you know?”, she asked, voice lowering into a whisper.

“Well, you know Amy from biochem?”

Gwyn nodded, the faint image of a short haired, petite girl forming in her mind.

“Apparently, she was paired with him for their practicals earlier today. And since she was the first girl to tie him down into a conversation, she wanted to make her move quickly. Asked him out, but he politely declined with that explanation. I just met her in the hallway. She’s mortified.”, Roslin rattled down the story with the speed and intensity of a news-moderator.

And with that information, Gwyn’s excitement exited her body in a big swoop, leaving her mentally and physically exhausted. Which was ridiculous – never in a million years did she imagine herself going up to him, or even talking to him, really. But the daydream was nice while it lasted.

“Amy said he was super nice, though”, Roslin continued while now focusing her attention on her food as well, having delivered the most interesting piece of news, “He pulled out the chair for her. And went to clean her pipette and scales without her asking. Not much of a talker, but very focused on his studies.”

Something shriveled up and died inside Gwyn, and it might have been her hope for a guy who encompassed exactly these qualities. Because how likely was she going to find two of those in a lifetime?

Gwyn stabbed into her pasta with new rigor, willing to bury her emotions with carbs.

And just as she stuffed her face full with them, angrily chomping with sauce getting caught in the corners of her mouth, she heard his voice again.

Right behind her.

Saying her name.

“Gwyneth Berdara?”, the deep and velvety soft voice of Adonis-Azriel Hawthorne filled her ears and before she could just stop herself to think for a second, she already rotated in her chair to stare up at him, face still full of pasta.

“Mhough?”, she choked out, nearly killing herself in her eagerness to engage in a conversation with him. In hindsight, she kind of wished that a piece of pasta went into her respiratory tracks then and there.

Azriel’s gaze flickered from her reddening face to a piece of paper he held clutched in his hand while Gwyn fought the hard battle of chewing as fast as she ever chewed in her life.

“I realize it’s a bad time and I’m sorry to interrupt. But Professor Huberman gave me your name in the hopes you could catch me up on the lecture so far.”, he explained, perfectly reasonable and calmly while the woman in question lived through a serious fight-or-flight response.

She swallowed at last, swiping her hands over her mouth in the hopes to save some of her appearance. But really, what was there to save after a whole day of lectures and seminars?

“That’s absolutely fine.”, Gwyn tried a small smile, praying to the pasta-gods that her teeth were clean, “We can meet up tomorrow after class. I’m free after 4.30 pm.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could just send me your notes via email. I only transferred, so I should know most of the stuff.”, he replied evenly, handing her the piece of paper that held his email address.

So, that went well.

“Oh, sure. That’s fine with me too. Super.”

Super? Who said super?

“Great. See you around then.”, and with a friendly smile directed at everyone at the table, Azriel strode away.

Gwyn’s eyes shut closed for a moment, her head falling into her neck. What was that conversation and how did she manage to fuck it up so completely?

She turned around towards the table again where Emerie already shot her an apologetic look. “Well, if he has a girlfriend anyways, you don’t have to worry about your prospects with him.”

 Gwyn just nodded in a trance. Azriel did in fact smell really good. And he looked even better up close. And he already knew most of the lecture contents for gods sake!

Gwyn was left to ponder her life’s choices, starting with her carb obsession and ending with selecting biology as a major. But she wasn’t the only person shook to her core at the table.

Cassian stared after Azriel, his eyes boring into the back of his head before he blurted out, “Is his bicep bigger than mine?”

…

After some well needed time of consideration, Gwyn decided that she in fact does not have a crush on Azriel Hawthorne.

The compiled list of arguments against his person was long and ever-growing: it started with him having a girlfriend and ended with his stupid dragon-lord name.

The whole thing was a lie, of course. A gentle sort of gaslighting… only against her own conscious. Every day after their encounter in the lecture and cafeteria afterwards Gwyn scolded herself fiercely whenever she daydreamed about him. Imagining him being mean to his girlfriend, kicking a puppy, ripping out pages of a book…it didn’t make him any less attractive objectively, but it helped.

And as she sat her stressed ass down in her lecture seat exactly a week later, she was all but convinced that Azriel Hawthorne was a conniving, dastardly, and arrogant prick who was probably a fuckboy and lived off his daddy’a trust fund. And that he was stupid.

Honestly, it gave her enough peace of mind that she didn’t turn into a puddle beneath the table when he walked in (punctual) while nearly every other girl in this class did.

“Oh, he looks handsome today, doesn’t he Gwynnie?”, Emerie whispered her venom next to her, wiggling her eyebrows in her direction.

“He looks fine.”, Gwyn replied evenly, smiling at Emerie who narrowed her eyes as the unexpected answer, “Actually, his t-shirt looks about two sizes too small. He probably doesn’t know how to do his own washing.”

Or it was the fact that his muscles greatly outnumbered those of all other guys in this class combined.

Her friend didn’t let her off the hook, though. “Did he do something? Last week around this time I had to slip tissue paper on your laptop to keep it from being drooled on.”

But Gwyn just scoffed, mentally scolding herself for her weak moment. She blamed the caffein anyways. “Nope. Never heard from him after I sent over my notes.”

And maybe that was the part that stung, too. Her lecture notes were first class, only second to the ones her professor had himself. Why Mr. I’m-so-bulky-Hawthorne hadn’t been in a hurry to thank her for that, she couldn’t fathom. But if he has the nerve to do better in the exam through using her notes, she’d throw hands.

Emerie made an unimpressed face. “What, not even a thank you?”

“Silence.”

Gwyn made herself busy pulling out her laptop and selecting the right script. Maybe the message didn’t get through – no, it did. He was just an asshole.

And only five minutes until the lecture began, said asshole lifted himself out of his seat and made his way towards Gwyn.

“He’s coming, he’s coming.”, Emerie murmured, repeatedly tapping Gwyn’s thighs as if she hadn’t noticed a six foot something god coming her way.

But it didn’t matter, because he didn’t like him.

“Hey Gwyn.”, Azriel greeted her quietly with a little nod towards Em. He crouched down in front of her table, stabilizing himself with his tattooed arm. Which Gwyn was not looking at.

“Hi.”, she replied, pretending to be busy writing down a note in her diary. Because she absolutely refused to give into his pull.

Azriel observed her for a moment, his eyes tracing her face and hair, before speaking again. “I wanted to come over to thank you personally for your notes.”

Oh.

Gwyn looked up, her pencil suspended above paper, and couldn’t help the small smile that slipped past her lips. “You’re welcome. If you have any questions about them, feel free to ask.”

Adonis smiled back at her, nodding more to himself that to her. “Actually, there was one diagram you drew in your microbiology section that made me pause.”

Gwyn leaned forward, now more than ready to leave all her negative feelings and even her crush for him aside in favor of talking about her favorite topic.

But then he had the nerve to say, “I’m sure it was just a slight oversight on your part, but the order wasn’t right. You might want to correct that before you memorize it wrongly.”

And suddenly, with the intensity of a raging tsunami, all of the previously fake reasons why she didn’t like him became very real.

“I highly doubt that.”, she replied through a clenched jaw, “I only copy the diagrams from the board. They can’t be wrong.”

Azriel smiled at her still, “As I’ve said, it was probably just a blunder. The rest of your notes are okay.”

Okay?

Emerie was the only thing anchoring her to reality as she burst out into a coughing fit next to Gwyn, whose undiluted rage filling every inch of her veins.

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”, all of her strength went into those word. And that she didn’t spew fire with them. Right at his condescending face.

“I owe you a coffee, or whatever you like to drink. Maybe we can do that sometime soon?”, he asked, straightening himself up to his full height again. Gwyn added another con to her list: can’t read the room.

“Sure, sometime.”, she smiled a tight-lipped smile at him as he turned, saved again by the arrival of her professor. Or rather, the professor has unwittingly saved Hawthorne’s ass. An ass which her eyes shot daggers at as she watched him go down the aisle to his seat once more.

Beside her, Emerie tried to school her face into neutrality, forcing the corners of her mouth into balance when Gwyn knew they desperately wanted to jump up.

“Well, at least he’s attentive.” She said evenly, looking her best friend up and down and trying to assess the damage done.

“Attentive.”, Gwyn repeated, practically spewing fire, “arrogant, big-headed, patronizing.”

Emerie nodded, still fighting a losing battle with the corners of her mouth.

Gwyn went on while her professor called up the first slide of his presentation. “Aloof, domineering, tactless.”

“Gwyn Berdara: the pocket-sized Oxford English Dictionary.”, Emerie murmured, pulling up her own notes on her iPad. But Gwyn might as well had earplugs stuffed into her skull. She didn’t hear a word as Dr. Huberman started his lecture, nor did her eyes focus on any of the bullet points.

“Vaid, rude, Azriel.”

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 28.4k

❧ warnings: cursing, the b-plot pretty heavily references a drowning incident (but it’s not explicitly described), uhm that’s about it for this one!

❧ genre: fluff, slow burn, one (1) idiot and one (1) tease to lovers, modern magical creatures au, college au, fairy jungwoo, human reader, ft. various other magical ilichils and human johnny, spring break au

❧ author’s note: ahhh here it is! i love this one so much, it was so much fun to write, and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it!!

❧ spotify playlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

Just as you were about to turn around and smack Dongyhuck for real this time, Jungwoo grabbed the back of his collar and pulled the shirt over his head. You willed yourself to look literally anywhere else, but your eyes embarrassingly kept watching as he tossed the shirt to the side, laughing at something that Johnny had just said. This was entirely unfair, was he actually, literally, sparkling in the sunlight? Or was that just you?

There’s so much you’ll never know about Jungwoo, you thought to yourself as you snuck a glance his way. You could ask him a million questions every day for the rest of your life and still, you’d never know everything. But you want to try. You want to know what his favorite song is every day, what he had for lunch, what he looks like when he wakes up after sleeping in on Sunday mornings, and what his lips taste like. Strawberries… probably, was what you had decided upon after an embarrassing amount of daydreaming and speculating that you’d sooner be waterboarded than admit to.

And it wasn’t the fact that he was a fairy that fascinated you either, you had been around magical beings all your life. Your own best friend was a dryad, so you didn’t even blink the first time you saw Jungwoo sneeze and his hair flashed pink for a moment. There was something about Jungwoo that made you want to know even more about him, take notes, put him on a slide under a microscope in the lab you two had together, and bottle him up if you could.

Jungwoo readjusted the frames that had slipped down his nose as he worked on his assignment— a lab report, he was a Chemistry major like you. Did fairies even need glasses? They couldn’t magic away bad vision or something? You did manage to ask him that, the first time you’d seen him bring them out at a study session. Turns out they were blue light filtering ones, not prescription; looking at screens for too long strained his eyes.

You’d finished your own lab report thirty minutes ago and had been meandering through some assignments for next week in an admittedly pathetic attempt to prolong your time around him. The rest of your group that you were with all left for a vending machine break about ten minutes ago, and the study room had been just you and Jungwoo since.

Jungwoo hadn’t let up working on his report in that time, and you didn’t want to distract him by trying to take this opportunity to talk to him or anything. So instead, you just randomly clicked things on your computer, looked at Jungwoo, read a couple pages of your textbook, looked at Jungwoo, scrolled on your phone, looked at Jungwoo, drank some of your water, looked at Jungwoo, rinse, and repeat.

Today he was wearing a light pink crewneck sweater that was way oversized even on him, the neck of it slouching down far enough to one side to show his collarbones— you snapped your eyes back down to your keyboard and took a sip of your water. God, you needed Jesus or Pan or whatever other deities your friends had; you’d take anything at this point. After a few more moments, you risked another look at him. His brown hair that always looked so soft looked extra bouncy today, and you wondered if he’d showered and dried it right before coming to the campus library. You had a sudden want to know what shampoo and conditioner he used, and were so glad that you had one iota of common social grace to quite literally bite down on your knuckle to stop yourself from asking him that. You were going insane sitting in here alone with him, you needed to go.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat as you stood up. The force with which you had stood up pushed your rolling chair back with such a velocity that it crashed into the wall behind you, and you cringed at how loud the sound was in the dead silent study room.

Jungwoo looked up at you with round, curious eyes, slowly taking one of his lilac wired earbuds out from his ears. Your skin was practically on fire, and you could hear your blood roaring in your ears as you grabbed your metal bottle, “I’m going to refill my water.”

You didn’t wait to see if he had any sort of reply, fleeing the room.

Donghyuck found you curled up on yourself in a study cubicle ten minutes later. He presumably was able to follow the smell of your self-pity and agony. As a dryad, he was in tune with nature, and, as he so stubbornly reminded you, humans were included in that whole nature thing.

Your friend leaned against the side of the short cubicle wall, resting his cheek on his forearm as he looked down at you with an eyebrow raised, “Were we disturbing you? Had to come get your own little study nook?”

“No, I finished all my work a while ago,” you mumbled.

“I know.”

He tore open his bag of chips, popping one into his mouth then holding it out to you. The two of you shared the snack in a silence devoid of conversation, but full of mutual understanding and the sounds of crunching chips. When all the chips were gone, Donghyuck tilted his head back to dump the remaining crumbs in his mouth before tossing the bag in the recycling bin.

“Alright, come on, Yuta says he’s got a big announcement for all of us.”

“Oh, joy, a Yuta summons,” you stood up with a sigh. “Always a good sign when the siren calls.”

Donghyuck started leading the way back through the narrow library aisles, “It was actually Jungwoo who sent me out looking for you, said he was worried that you might be sick.”

“Shut up, that’s not funny.”

“You’re right, it’s not. That’s like, the lamest joke ever. No set up, no punchline. Not even in the format of a joke. That’s how you know I’m being serious.”

“Oh God, I was being such a little freak.”

“Y/N, you’re down astronomically bad for a fairy, and are friends with a dryad, siren, and basilisk, to name a few. And you’re worried about being a freak?”

“By comparison I pretty much am.”

“Mm, can’t argue with you there.”

Back in the study room, you and Donghyuck took your two empty seats right next to each other. The room was abuzz with chatter now, feeling much livelier than it had before.

“There you are, we were about to send out another rescue mission,” Johnny greeted the two of you brightly. He was the only other one of your friends who was a human like you.

Mark’s forked snake tongue flicked out to test the air, “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah, got distracted looking at some books,” you fibbed, well aware that at least a third of the creatures with you could hear any jump in your heartrate, one could practically smell (taste?) fear, and another quite literally always knew if you were telling the truth or not. Taeyong never exposed you when you lied, nor held any against you—not that you lied to him often. Forgiveness kind of came with being a unicorn and all, you figured. Believing in a pure heart or whatever.

“I found her wandering with her nose stuffed in a book. Had to drag her back kicking and screaming,” Donghyuck followed your lead with a casual eye roll.

Yuta clapped his hands from where he was standing at the head of the table, immediately drawing everybody’s attention to him and quieting down the room. “Anyway!”

The siren pushed back his white-blonde hair from his face, making piercing eye contact with each of you in turn as he paused for dramatic effect. The iridescent scales visible under the skin of his cheekbones at certain angles shimmered from blue to purple to pink in the fluorescent lights and his silvery eyes flashed as the large pupils met yours before moving onto the next person.

“Tell us or I put a blabbermouth hex on you, Yuta,” Doyoung drawled, readjusting his many crystal and worn leather bracelets around his wrists.

“For the love of Hecate, not again, Doyoung!” Taeil, another witch, scolded him. He was in a big hoodie that had your school’s name proudly emblazoned across the front, so just the edges of his ritual tattoos peeked out on his neck and hands. “Sirens and blabbermouth hexes are practically death machines!”

“Yuta and blabbermouth hexes is hell on Earth,” Jaehyun deadpanned.

Johnny rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously, “Yeah, I almost died last time, Doyoung. I was only just able to go to the pool again like two weeks ago.”

“Which is perfect,” Yuta cut into the rabble, ceasing their squabbling once again. “Because we’re all going to Cape Solaria for spring break.”

“You seriously want me to go around you and water again?” Johnny asked in disbelief.

“Oh my god, you nearly drown your friend one time and you never hear the end of it!”

“One time?”

“Okay, one and a half times! And really, it was Doyoung’s fault, he put the blabbermouth hex on me, I couldn’t stop! Why aren’t you getting pissed at him?”

You and Donghyuck exchanged looks as the volume in the room rose once again.

Spring break was still a month away, and you admittedly didn’t have any plans yet. Cape Solaria was a gorgeous beach a few hours away, and despite the proximity to your college town, surprisingly wasn’t a very popular spring break destination. It was a sleepy little seaside village that hadn’t done anything to attract tourists, and if anything, actively warded them off, especially college students. There wasn’t much to do in the area except the beach itself, which didn’t have any public access points, only residents could use it. All in all, didn’t sound half bad for a siren, of course. Or nine other college students with nothing better to do.

“Come on!” Yuta’s sonorous voice broke through the din of the bickering. “My parents’ friends have a beach house there, they’re out of town until the summer and said we can use it! There’s a firepit on the beach, and a cute little downtown, and I pinky promise to every single god, goddess, and incorporeal abstract deity that we all have that I won’t drown anybody!”

Everybody was looking around the table at each other, clearly suspicious of Yuta’s too good to be true plan, and waiting for somebody else to cast the first stone.

“Sure, Yuta, I’ll come,” Taeyong smiled up at him. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“I’m bringing a spear gun, don’t think I won’t use it,” Johnny warned him.

Eventually, everyone had given their yeses, to varying degrees of enthusiasm, until there was just one left.

“Of course I’m coming,” Jungwoo grinned, his eyes meeting yours for just a flash before looking up at the siren. “It sounds like fun!”

Jungwoo caught up to you as you left the library that evening. Donghyuck had stayed behind to check out some materials for a class, and the rest of your friends were walking out in a large, amorphous blob.

“Hey,” he greeted you from over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you echoed, looking behind and up at him briefly. It was times like this that you were reminded just how big the fairy was, underneath the oversized sweaters, fluffy hair, and pouts. He was one of the tallest of your friends, magical or otherwise.

His glasses had been pushed up on top of his head now, the frames keeping some of his bangs from falling across his face. With his book bag slung onto one shoulder, he looked almost like your average human college student, except if you happened to look a little closer—which you always were—you could catch the faint flecks of gold in his otherwise warm brown irises. As you passed under the lampposts along the pedestrian walkway, the golden flecks would catch the light and gleam unlike anything that could exist in humans. Not quite starlight, more like craft store glitter, the kind that you’d accidentally spill and continue to find in every square inch of your house for years to come. Which was a comparison that as soon as it had clicked in your brain, only endeared him even more to you.

“So what do you think? About going to Cape Solaria?” Jungwoo asked, those big, glittery eyes focused down on you.

You thanked… something godly that he apparently wasn’t going to ask about your disappearance from the study room earlier.

“Oh, uhm, I’m actually pretty excited. I know Johnny’s nervous after the whole Yuta-Doyoung-blabbermouth hex-drowning thing that happened last semester, but I think it’ll be fun. I haven’t been to the Cape since I was little, it’ll be nice to see how much has changed, if at all.”

“You went when you were little?”

“My parents used to take us on day trips as kids in the summer. Still don’t know how they put up with us in the car for that long.”

“How far away is it?”

“Uhm…” You frowned as you tried to think of as accurate an answer as you could for Jungwoo. “I don’t remember exactly. Three hours? Four, maybe? Hold on.”

You had reached into your pocket to bring out your phone, fully intending on looking it up on your maps app right then and there, when a hand covered yours, a light giggle that sounded like the tinkling of bells rang out right next to your ear, and you damn near dropped your phone.

“That’s okay, Y/N, I was just curious,” Jungwoo reassured you, letting your hand fall from his as you went to stuff your phone back into your pocket. “I’ll just find out when we drive there.”

“Right, of course,” you muttered, casting your eyes down to your feet. “So, uhm, have you ever been? To the Cape?”

As soon as you said it, you wanted to smack yourself in the face. He literally just asked you how far away it was. If he had been there before, he would know that.

“No, this’ll be my first time.” Jungwoo bit the tip of his thumb, and you could feel how your eyes were glued to the action.

“Jungwoo!” Taeil called for him from the front of the group, Doyoung beside the older witch. The three of them were roommates, and were presumably all going home together.

“Coming!” The fairy replied. He focused a cheery smile down on you, “Well, see you, Y/N!”

“Bye, Woos…”

As the three roommates left, you desperately blinked yourself out of your Jungwoo-induced trance, trying to remember where you had parked your own car. Taeyong saved you from yourself, looping his arm through yours, “Come on, Y/N, I saw your car over by Jaehyun’s.”

“Oh. Didn’t even realize you guys had parked by me. Thanks, Yong,” you tried to reply as casually as possible, which was utterly pointless when dealing with Taeyong and his vampire roommate. Said vampire was walking on Taeyong’s other side, entirely silent.

When you first started hanging out with Taeyong and by extension Jaehyun, you weren’t able to get a good read on the latter, mostly due to the fact that he said next to nothing and emoted even less. But when he did finally say something, it was usually so entirely out of pocket that you either ended up in stitches laughing or were sent into an existential spiral. Judging solely from the thousand-yard stare on his face, you’d think he wasn’t listening to any of your conversation most of the time, except you knew that his supernatural senses made it impossible for him to do anything except hear everything: conversations, the wind rustling through the leaves, air conditioning, the blood pumping in your veins. You were surprised to find out that he wasn’t several centuries old, only in his mid-twenties; he’d been turned just a couple years ago. (This had prompted a hushed conversation with Taeyong: “So… he’s just like that?” “Like what?” “…Never mind.”).

You knew that Taeyong was Jaehyun’s primary food source, though you didn’t ask for many details aside from one that your morbid curiosity wouldn’t let go of: It doesn’t hurt Taeyong and feels generally pleasant. Since Taeyong’s a unicorn, Jaehyun doesn’t have to feed as often as he would if he were feeding from humans, and that is when you had put your headphones in during that little impromptu Q&A session during a study group. Renjun, the Magical Creatures Studies major who had tagged along with Donghyuck that day, could go ahead and listen about Jaehyun’s favorite places to bite Taeyong or whatever, you had much rather wanted to do literally anything else.

“I’m worried,” Taeyong confessed, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“About?” You asked, concerned.

“Johnny going to the beach.”

“Oh, Taeyong, I don’t think he even knows where to get a spear gun, Yuta will be fine.”

“No, I know Yuta will be okay. But I do think Johnny’s worry comes from a real place of distress.”

You saw the deep sorrow reflected in his features, your own heart hurting too as you recalled what happened to your human friend. “Well, yeah, he did almost drown himself in the guys’ bathtub at our non-denominational Friendsmasgiving as collateral damage in one of Yuta and Doyoung’s spats. Don’t tell any of the others this, Yong, but Johnny couldn’t wash his own face for a month after. I went over and did his skincare routine for him. I don’t even want to know how he showered or washed his hands.”

“Johnny must trust you a lot, Y/N.”

“I actually didn’t know him very well before that,” you admitted. “I think he just asked me because I’m the only other human out of all of us. I was the safest, you know, in his mind.”

Before that Friendsmasgiving at Taeil, Doyoung, and Jungwoo’s place, you had only seen Johnny at a couple group movie nights here and there, so you were honestly surprised to have gotten a text from him asking you to come over. You were mentally prepared for it to be a weird premise for a hookup and had all your usual rejections ready to go in the back of your mind. But no, he actually did just need you to help him wash his face. His hands trembled every time he tried to turn on the tap, and he absolutely couldn’t submerge his nose or mouth— he needed to breathe.

Unlike you, Johnny didn’t have any firsthand exposure to magical beings like your friends until he went to college. He grew up in a small town that was entirely human, and while he had a very open mind about it all, nearly drowning himself under a siren’s spell would understandably take a while to process.

“Oh…” Taeyong breathed out, and you could see his lilac eyes beginning to water, the tears themselves having an iridescence to them. “Oh, Johnny…”

“Shit, sorry,” you shook your head to clear your mind.

Unicorns were highly empathetic, and ruminating on an emotional memory for too long around them would project that state onto them. It wasn’t quite mind reading from what you understood, Taeyong couldn’t access your memories directly right now or anything, but he could get the gist of the feelings and emotions that your memories contained. So he and Jaehyun were honestly a match made in magical weirdo heaven.

“No, it’s okay,” he reassured you as the three of you slowed to a stop at your car. “I’m going to talk to Taeil and Doyoung, see if they can do anything for Johnny.”

“Doyoung should be moving fucking mountains to help, this is partially his fault.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.” Taeyong squeezed your arm before letting it go. “Have a good weekend, Y/N.”

“You too, guys,” you gave them a wave as they headed off in the direction of Jaehyun’s car.

SATURDAY

Spring break had snuck up on you. Between studying for midterms, working part-time at the campus bookstore, and maybe possibly sort of avoiding Jungwoo as best you could outside of your shared chemistry lab, you didn’t have the brain capacity to really be cognizant of the passage of time, only your constant state of stress and panic. So you had packed your bags just last night, and were now running around your apartment to get together the last of your things that morning. Johnny had texted a few minutes ago that he was on his way to pick you and Donghyuck up, meaning that you had maybe five minutes left before he arrived.

You ducked under the vine hanging at the entry to the bedroom hallway, and skirted around the monstera that marked the beginning of the jungle that was your living room. Donghyuck generally kept the plants to a lush but tasteful amount, and you liked the greenery, but with both your focuses on midterms week, they had gotten a little unruly without the dryad’s usual careful tending to them.

“Hey, Hyuck?” You called out to him from the kitchen.

“Yeah?” Came his reply from where he was reclined on the couch.

“You seen my sunglasses? I thought they were on my dresser but—”

“You loaned them to Mark last week when he accidentally petrified Johnny. He said he’s bringing them to give back to you.”

“Oh, right,” you stopped your frantic searching, joining your roommate in the living room. “Thanks.”

“Speaking of—” Donghyuck stood up from the couch with a big stretch, a couple small vines reaching out from the very tips of his fingers before receding back in when he dropped his arms. He focused his dark green eyes on you pointedly, “Johnny said they’re here. You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be at this point,” you sighed.

“Cool. So where’s your phone?”

Realizing that you hadn’t seen Johnny’s text yourself, you patted your pockets fervently. All empty.

“Shit!”

“I’ll call it.”

After retrieving your phone from inside the freezer—you didn’t even want to know how you’d left it in there—you and Donghyuck grabbed all your bags and rushed down to meet your road trip crew. All ten of you weren’t going to fit into one car, so you were splitting up between three in order to have a reasonable number of vehicles in town for the week: Johnny’s, Taeil’s, and Yuta’s.

Johnny was leaning against the trunk of his old SUV, and pushed off it to give you each a hug, “Hey! Ready to road trip?”

“Sure, Johnny,” you chuckled as he popped the hatch on the trunk. “Thanks for driving us.”

“Of course, of course. Always glad to be team dad for three magical creatures and a human,” he ruffled yours and Donghyuck’s heads as you each loaded up your bags on top of the ones that were already in there.

“Three?” You asked.

Johnny was struggling trying to pull his hand back from the leafy tendrils that had wrapped around his fingers when he went to muss up Donghyuck’s hair. When he’d finally gotten the limb back, he answered, “Oh yeah, Mark and I picked up a stray, so someone will have to sit with someone. Mark’s already got shotgun, sorry.”

The human opened up the back door, and Donghyuck and you peered in, just in time for Jungwoo’s head to pop up from the very backseat, cell phone in hand.

“Finally! Thought this was lost to the ether down there!” He said triumphantly, then his gaze fell on you and your roommate. “Oh hey, Y/N, Donghyuck!”

“I was planning on napping, actually,” Donghyuck took advantage of your stupefied silence to declare. “So I’ll take the middle row.”

“D—”

“You always complain about my moss when I nap on you, Y/N. You’ll be free of me this time! It’s perfect!”

And so you ended up in the backseat with Jungwoo, staring out the window as Johnny pulled away from your apartment building.

“Y/N? Could you please hand me my pillow from the back?” Donghyuck requested sweetly.

You narrowed your eyes at him before twisting around in your seat, rummaging around in the trunk until you were able to secure the pillow. Turning back around, you offered him a sarcastic smile as you practically smacked him in the face with it, “Here, Hyuck.”

“Oof!” He fell back, settling long-ways across the entire middle seat. “Thanks, Y/N!”

“Shut up and take your damn nap.”

You heard a jingling giggle from beside you, and looked over to see Jungwoo covering his mouth, but you noticed the telltale crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“I know I’ve said this before but,” he paused to let out another giggle, “you two are funny.”

“Glad we can provide in-flight entertainment for you, Woos,” you slumped back in your seat, shimmying your shoulders around for a moment to settle in for the long car ride ahead of you.

Johnny’s car didn’t have Bluetooth, so he had a CD of his playing over the speakers. Only one speaker in the backseat worked at all, and it crackled and popped at random intervals. Because of that, the sound controls were set so that the music played only in the front seats. You didn’t mind, you kept your focus on your own music playing through your headphones, eyes trained on the passing scenery. Until your wireless earbuds died.

“No, no, no,” you held the buttons down in a fruitless attempt to resuscitate them. “Damn it!”

“Are you okay?” Jungwoo asked you quietly.

Johnny and Mark were singing along to a nostalgic pop song in the front seat, and you were tempted to ask them to turn it up, until you caught sight of Donghyuck. He was covered in a literal blanket of moss, clover, and small white flower buds from his feet to his arms. His eyes were closed and his shoulders rose and fell with each breath he took. So he really was taking a nap.

Not wanting to disturb your friend for your own entertainment, you snapped your earbuds back into their carrying case. Which was also dead, because in your great planning for this trip, you had forgotten to charge that too.

“No, my headphones just died, and we have like, three more hours left,” you groaned, dropping your head back onto the headrest.

“Oh, here!” Jungwoo held out one of his wired earbuds to you. “You can just share mine.”

“Woos, that’s okay, I’ll just…” You desperately wracked your brain for a reasonable way to finish that sentence.

“Do you really not trust my taste in music that much you’d rather stare out the window in silence for three hours?” He had a playful pout on his lips.

In the back of your mind, you knew he was joking around, but also he was quite literally batting his eyelashes at you—were long eyelashes a fairy thing or a Jungwoo thing? Something else you wanted to ask him—and suddenly you were saying yes, the headphone was in your hand, and Jungwoo was happily scrolling through his music library. He’d found something satisfactory, and you put the earbud in to listen along.

“Y/N, you can’t be all the way over there, the headphones are gonna fall out!” Jungwoo scolded you with an exasperated sigh.

You looked at the empty seat between the two of you in bewilderment, where the headphone cords were pulled near taut. You were way too focused on trying to figure out if he actually meant for you to move to the middle seat to realize that Jungwoo had undone his own seatbelt instead—until his arm was sliding around your shoulders, long legs crowding yours in the small space of Johnny’s backseat, and the entire length of his side pressed up against you.

“There we go,” he said brightly. “Now the headphones won’t get tugged out of our ears if we want to look out the window.”

Your gulp was comically loud as your eyes were trained on your blank phone screen in your lap, “Right.”

“Oh, you’ve got a much better view over here,” Jungwoo leaned in front of you to peer out the window.

He seemed to radiate the warmth of a soft spring day, and while you still didn’t know exactly what kind of shampoo he used, you swore you could smell the faint, sweet scent of strawberries as he hovered just millimeters in front of your face. There was a single small diamond earring in his lobe, and it sparkled as it caught the light filtering in through the window he was looking out. He turned his head to look from the passing scenery over to you, holding your (surely alarmed, wide-eyed, maybe even terrified) gaze for a moment. The corner of his lips curled, and then he reclined back into his new seat beside you.

You hoped that Mark was too focused on their music up front to be regularly checking the scents in the car, or if he was, that he was going to keep his forked tongue to himself. You knew that you were oozing panic from every pore right now, you didn’t need a basilisk blabbing that to the whole car. Taking a deep inhale through your nose, you desperately tried to calm your heartrate back down. Fairies didn’t have super hearing that you were aware of, but with how close you two you were, you wouldn’t be surprised if Jungwoo would be able to hear your heart hammering anyway.

“So how did you end up riding with Johnny?” You asked him quietly, hoping that some light conversation would distract you from how hyperaware you were of every square centimeter of you that was in contact with him. “I thought Taeil would’ve been taking you.”

“Yuta was taking Jaehyun and Taeyong and didn’t have enough room for all the extra beach stuff in his truck. Johnny would’ve had enough room, except he was bringing you and Donghyuck, and we would’ve all been much more squished in Taeil’s car. So I got voted off the island and Taeil’s bringing Doyoung and the extra beach stuff.”

You chuckled, the tension in your body easing as you could perfectly imagine how that conversation went down between your friends, “How tragic.”

“I don’t mind, I like you.” Jungwoo’s breath washed over the shell of your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your shoulders jump a little. Which he could definitely feel.

“Oh!” The squeak in your voice was audible. “Yeah, we— we all like you too, Woos.”

“So do you like it?”

“Huh?”

“The music.”

You admittedly hadn’t even been paying attention to any of the songs playing in the headphones you were sharing, all too focused on your proximity rather than the alleged reason for it. Taking a few seconds, you listened to the song that was playing at that moment. It was a softer indie-sounding track, and you found yourself nodding maybe a little too enthusiastically, “Oh, yeah, yeah, it’s good.”

“Good,” he offered you a gentle smile. “You can pick the next album. I want to know what kind of stuff you listen to.”

Only two tracks into your chosen album, Johnny announced that he’d be pulling off at the next exit for gas, so any snack purchases and bathroom breaks would need to happen now as well. You gave him a weak thumbs-up in the rearview mirror, the only part of his face visible in said mirror being an inquisitively raised eyebrow. As Johnny slowed the van to a stop at the gas pump, Jungwoo slid away from you as casually as he had slid over, leaning over the seat to try to wake Donghyuck up.

“Donghyuck,” he cooed at him. “Donghyuck, wake up. Y/N and I need to get out.”

“That’s not going to work,” you sighed, hunching over the seat as well. “You have to resort to violence with Hyuck.”

“He’s covered in plants,” Jungwoo pointed out. “I’m not a dryad but harming nature still isn’t really my thing.”

“I didn’t say set him on fire or anything.”

“Then what—”

Mark had already hopped out of the car at that point, and opened the door to the backseat then. You and he made eye contact, nodded once in unison, then he grabbed one of Donghyuck’s ankles and yanked on it. The basilisk jerked his hand back before vines could wrap around it. But it worked, the dryad shot up, head whipping around as he looked around for the culprit, and his hands coming up to rub at his eyes sleepily.

“Who—”

“Gas station, Hyuck,” you told him as all the plants on him closed up and disappeared. “Can you move so we can get out please?”

He let out a heaving sigh, scooting across the seat to do so, “Fine, I suppose. Only because I need to pee.”

“Thank you for letting me know that you’ve been hydrating.”

With Donghyuck out, Johnny helped you finagle the fold-down middle row so that you and Jungwoo could climb out of the back, then gave you his card to buy him a soda from inside. You found Mark in front of the refrigerated section, and he dug a hand into the pocket of his shorts before pulling out your missing sunglasses and handing them to you.

“Here. Thanks for letting me borrow them.” His voice slightly drug out the sibilance of his ‘s’ as he spoke, slitted pupils just visible through the tint of his own pair of sunglasses he was donning now. He stuffed his hands back in his pockets as he looked over the drink options.

“Yeah, of course, Mark,” you perched your sunglasses atop your head, then quietly scanned the fridges for Johnny’s soda request.

Mark had come over to your apartment last week to study with Donghyuck for some class they had together, and Johnny tagged along so that you and he could have a little self-care night before the hecticness of finals week. Doing face masks together just felt natural after you had washed his face for an entire month. Johnny had been keeping you up to date on how his roommate was handling the onset of his powers lately. Basilisks, unlike other mythological creatures who were born as such, came into their powers comparatively much later in life, within a year after their first molting. Mark just had his last summer (the details of which Johnny had thankfully spared you but did let you know was awful to have to clean up around the apartment), and had been slowly but surely developing his various basilisk abilities since. One of which, petrification, hadn’t come on at all yet.

Until Johnny had stepped out of your bathroom that night with a green clay face mask on to grab his phone from the living room, turned the corner, and had startled Mark so bad that with just a split second of eye contact, he’d been petrified. Thankfully, not properly turned to stone, just paralyzed more so. He’d remained entirely fleshy and regained full use of his limbs within ten minutes, but Mark had kept your sunglasses on for the rest of the night just in case.

Mark suddenly spoke up again, pointing at a specific row off to your bottom left, the complete opposite direction from where you’d currently been scrutinizing, “Johnny asked for dragonfruit Fanta, right?”

You followed his gaze to a magenta bottle, “Oh! Yes, thanks!”

“No problem.”

“How’d you know?” You questioned as Mark grabbed his own drink, then turned around to peruse the snacks.

“He always tries to cut out caffeine on school breaks since he goes so hard on the coffee during the semester,” the basilisk sighed. “Which means he’ll be right back on it by Monday morning at the latest. If not, tomorrow. Do you see those firecracker things Yuta likes? I made the mistake of telling the others we were making a snack stop and got a whole shopping list.”

“Oh, the ones enchanted to literally pop and sizzle in your mouth?” You wrinkled your nose, remembering when he had let you try one at a movie night. Never again. “Uh… there!”

“Thanks.”

“I’m guessing Taeyong wants his usual too,” you grabbed a holographic box of gummy candies.

After grabbing a few more things, you and Mark paid then headed back out to the SUV. Donghyuck had already beaten the two of you back out there and Johnny was done refilling the gas, meaning that you all were just waiting on Jungwoo to return. Mark and Donghyuck waited in the car with the AC blasting, splitting their snacks between them while you leaned against the side with Johnny, enjoying standing up while you could. There were still at least two more hours left in your drive, not accounting for any traffic.

The human beside you cracked open his soda, holding it out towards you, and you clinked your drink with his before taking swigs in unison.

“So.” Johnny said.

“So.” You repeated.

“What’s uh�� what’s up?” He took another drink of his dragonfruit Fanta.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “I don’t know, not much. What’s up with you, Johnny? Finals go good?”

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N,” he gave you a pointed look.

“Then what did you mean?” You asked, bringing your drink up to your lips.

“I meant the romance novel that’s been playing out in my backseat.”

To your credit, you didn’t do a spit take. You did choke on the sip you’d just taken to the point where Johnny felt the need to give you a couple good slaps on the back. When you’d recovered and were upright again, you shook your head.

“Johnny, that’s not— My headphones died, Jungwoo was sharing his and—”

“That’s like, the stupidest excuse I’ve heard in a while. I am actually offended that you think I’m that dumb, Y/N,” Johnny cut you off with a shake of his head. “But fine, you don’t want to tell your best human pal Johnny about your secret relationship, that’s cool. Little tip though, maybe tone down the PDA, then.”

Your tongue felt too big in your mouth as you tripped and fumbled over it trying to correct Johnny’s understanding of the situation. The grin on his face belied that he wasn’t actually that hurt and was instead delighted to know this “secret” information, as he smoothly got you in a loose headlock, affectionately mussing up your hair again.

“Johnny!” You squealed, ducking out from under his arm, not looking where you were going as you scrambled to get away.

And proceeded to stumble right into someone else. Mortification filled your veins as you went to apologize to whatever other patron of the gas station that you’d just bumped into, the words once again getting stuck in your throat as you looked up into familiar brown eyes. Jungwoo held your gaze with a tilted head, not even acknowledging Johnny as the fairy’s mouth turned down into just the slightest frown.

“I’m so sor—”

“Your hair’s all messed up, Y/N,” he informed you matter-of-factly, one hand reaching up to adjust whatever strands were out of place.

You imagined this was what Johnny had felt like last week when Mark accidentally petrified him in your living room. All your muscles were frozen in place, eyes unblinking as Jungwoo dutifully fixed your hair.

He gave the top of your head one last gentle pat, “There.”

“I’m sorry.” You finally managed to finish your thought from earlier. “For uhm, for bumping into you.”

Jungwoo let out a soft chuckle, and you realized that the two of you were still practically chest to chest.

“That’s okay, Y/N. Better you almost knock me over than someone else and we’ve got a pissed off dragon or something on our hands.”

“Hey,” Johnny called out, and you whipped around to look at him. He was still leaning against the car, spinning the keys around his finger as he gave you a knowing smirk. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yep!” The fairy answered cheerily, holding up the strawberry Fanta he’d bought inside.

Finally, after two more hours, many rousing car games led by the now-awake Donghyuck, and several full-car sing-alongs, you’d arrived at the coast. The vast highway gave way to meandering residential roads filled with small, colorful houses clustered together, each with a different quirky mailbox in front of it. Johnny rolled down the front windows, and you could smell the salty ocean air immediately.

A few more twisty roads later, and he slowed to a stop at the dead end of a line of houses in front of a periwinkle colored one, with a familiar small silver hatchback sedan parked out front by the mermaid-shaped mailbox.

“Huh, I thought we’d be the last ones to get here,” Johnny commented, putting his car into park as all of you starting unbuckling and getting ready to get out. Taeil and Doyoung climbed out of their own car to greet you all as well. “The others left before us, and we had to pick Y/N and Donghyuck up.”

There was definitely one vehicle missing, the driver of course being the one who had the key to let you into the house.

“Hey, guys!” You hopped out of the SUV, eager to be out of the cramped backseat again. Your legs weren’t quite ready for your leap, though, but Doyoung thankfully caught you in a half-hug, half-save.

“Hey, Y/N, careful,” he chuckled. “It’s gonna be a shitty spring break if you twist your ankle on the first day.”

“What, you and Taeil couldn’t magic me better?” You teased, righting yourself to give the other witch a hug hello.

“Not this time,” Taeil sighed, patting your back. “We’re a bit tired.”

“Oh? Why?” You pulled back from him to look between the two of them with concern.

“Because they made me this,” Johnny suddenly appeared between Taeil and Doyoung, slinging one arm around Taeil and using the other to hold up something around his own neck. It was a single pearl hanging from a leather cord, and he tucked it back under his shirt after he was sure you got a look at it. “An anti-Yuta charm.”

“Ahh, gotcha,” you smiled at the three of them. “They should really hand those out at orientation at school.”

Johnny let out a hearty laugh at that, giving Taeil and Doyoung each a head ruffle before heading off to see what the others were doing with the luggage in the back of his SUV.

After you were sure he was out of earshot, you turned back to the two witches, “That must be a pretty powerful charm to have made the both of you so tired.”

“Well, it’s a bit hard to tell a unicorn no to their face,” Doyoung rolled his eyes. “Especially Taeyong, he’s got those big round pouty eyes, you know? He asked us to make it for Johnny, said the guy was nervous about coming, even if he wasn’t showing it.”

Taeil added, “And Taeyong was right, it is your fault that even happened to Johnny. You put the hex on Yuta in the first place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Doyoung waved his friend off, paused, then added, “Thank you for helping, Taeil.”

“Speaking of Yuta,” you said loudly, spotting a familiar vehicle in the distance, at the bottom of the hill.

The whole group burst into noisy jeers and complaints at the old blue truck as it got nearer and nearer, until Yuta had pulled all the way around and parked in the space Taeil left empty for him in the driveway. The heckles finally quieted down when the siren climbed out of his truck to glare at you all.

“Alright!” He held his hands up in a quiet-down gesture. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting. But we’re here now.”

“What took you guys so long?” Johnny asked, starting to help the three newcomers unload the bed of the truck.

“You get lost or something?” Donghyuck teased.

Yuta immediately whirled around on the vampire, “Jaehyun, I swear to God, snitches get stitches.”

A silence fell over everybody, so quiet you swore you could’ve heard a pin drop if not for the quiet background noise of the ocean. Jaehyun was standing on the opposite side of the truck bed, holding an umbrella with one hand to cast a shadow over his face, maintaining Yuta’s eye contact with entirely neutral features.

One.

Two.

“Yuta got pulled over.”

Raucous laughter erupted around you, you yourself cackling so hard your sides hurt.

“That’s it! I’m not inviting you in!” Yuta waggled a finger at Jaehyun, then threw his hands up as he kept ranting. “Hang upside down off the roof and sleep outside for all I fucking care!”

You were doubled over now, lightheaded as you grabbed your knees and tears sprung to your eyes. Taeyong covered his mouth as he giggled, Johnny was leaning against the side of the truck for support, Donghyuck had sprouted bright yellow marigolds along his arms, Mark was rolling around clutching his stomach on the asphalt—which you imagined would’ve been too hot for anybody who wasn’t cold-blooded, Doyoung and Taeil held onto each other to stay upright, and when you looked at Jungwoo, you saw that his hair was flashing back and forth between brown and light pink like a twinkling star. Your cackles lightened up to soft chuckles as you couldn’t help but be transfixed by the image of the fairy’s head thrown back in joy, eyes crinkled into delighted crescents, and laughs that sounded like music reaching your ears.

“What— What did you even do, dude?” Johnny managed to ask.

“I was going like two over the speed limit, okay?” Yuta huffed, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it was only ‘like two,’” Donghyuck snorted, standing over Mark as he waited for the basilisk to finish recovering from his laughing fit. The dryad offered out a hand to help yank him back onto two feet again.

“So did you get a ticket?” Taeil called out as he grabbed his luggage from his car.

“Nope!” Yuta announced proudly.

“Oh please tell me you siren charmed your way out of a ticket,” Doyoung said hopefully, hoisting a bag onto his shoulder.

“I would never!” The siren cried out in offense, then pointed to Taeyong. “Taeyong cried a little. Cop felt so bad he let us go with a warning!”

“Is this what those legendary unicorn tears are for? Skirting traffic laws?” You laughed, following everyone up towards the entry.

“I can’t believe you’ll cry to get Yuta out of a ticket but you won’t give me one little vial of your tears!” Doyoung shook Taeyong’s shoulder as he complained.

Taeyong elbowed the witch in the side, “Yeah and this is why! You don’t know how to ask for things nicely!”

Doyoung truly had a special talent, being the only person you’d ever met who was able to rile up the normally patient unicorn so quickly. As their usual bickering escalated into jabs and slaps and kicks, you went to try to duck away from the fray, being directly between and behind them, right in the line of fire.

“Hey, you two! Watch my face!” You warned, holding up an arm defensively in front of you.

“Do I need to come back there and separate you three?” Johnny warned from where he and Yuta were standing at the front door. The rest of you were in a line of some sort leading down the wooden walkway onto the drive.

“Three?!” You repeated indignantly. “What did I do?”

“No, Johnny,” Taeyong mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Whatever,” Doyoung huffed, letting up on the little fight too. “Bet your tears would make weak ass potions anyway.”

“Oh my God, you’re actual children,” you whispered to yourself. With their backs to you and each other, you were free to mimic like you were strangling them, “I’m gonna wring your goddamn necks one of these days.”

There was a giggle from beside you, and you hadn’t even realized that you’d ended up squished next to Jungwoo until right then. When you looked over, he was already looking at you with a smile on his face, and the split second of eye contact warmed you even more than the sunshine.

“What’s the hold-up, Yuta?” Donghyuck yelled from the very back.

“Door’s— just— a— bit— stuck—” Every word from Yuta was punctuated by the siren ramming his shoulder against said door. “God— fuckin— Oh!” He suddenly stumbled forward as the door finally gave way. “There we fuckin’ go!”

Everyone rushed in, stopping just inside of the living room. Well, almost everyone.

“Yuta.” Jaehyun was still standing on the welcome mat outside.

“Did you think I was kidding, you little tick?”

“Yuta,” Taeyong sighed.

“Fine,” Yuta huffed, dragging out the word. “Jaehyun, please come in.”

As Jaehyun lowered his umbrella and stepped in, you looked around where you would be staying for the next week. It was cozy, the beachy aesthetics perfectly encapsulated in the kitschy décor that was plastered all around the living room and attached kitchenette that you’d landed in. But it was kind of… small.

“Hey, Yuta?” Taeil turned to the siren.

Yuta shut the door behind Jaehyun, “Yeah?”

“There’s enough space for all of us to sleep, right?”

“What? Of course… I think.”

“Feels like we’re kids again,” Donghyuck sighed wistfully. “Twin beds, no privacy, I get to listen to your snoring all night.”

“At least we got beds,” you pointed out, heaving your suitcase up onto your own narrow mattress.

You two had been given what looked like a kids’ room, two twin beds on white wicker bed frames with matching nightstands, and a mural of fantastical sea life painted on the walls with friendly, animated faces. Some of the others weren’t so lucky. Taeil and Doyoung got a similar setup to you and Donghyuck, bunkbeds, with Jungwoo on an air mattress on the floor; Taeyong and Yuta were sharing the king bed in the master bedroom; Jaehyun and Johnny had bravely taken the couches (Jaehyun rightly pointed out that he didn’t sleep much anyway), with Mark’s air mattress on the living room floor.

“And nobody on the floor that we have to worry about stepping on in the middle of the night.”

“You know what we should do?”

Donghyuck looked at you with a conspiratorial grin, “Sleepover protocol?”

You nodded firmly, “Sleepover protocol.”

And a succinct ten minutes later, your beds and nightstands had been pushed together, the sheets pulled taut over the posts and lamps, vines and branches supporting the construction where needed: a blanket fort, the form of which had been perfected over years of sleepovers growing up. As you laid inside shoulder-to-shoulder with Donghyuck, you looked up at the ceiling of the fort, watching as he sprouted flowers and leaves along it.

Once he’d finished, he held up his hand expectantly, and you immediately gave him a satisfyingly snappy high-five.

A couple soft knocks came at the open bedroom door, followed by a voice, “Hey, Y/N— Woah!” Jungwoo’s sentence stopped short as he took in the scene before him. “You two got that up quick.”

Donghyuck looked over at you, a mischievous smirk already on his lips, before he innocently replied to the fairy, “Oh, and you should see the inside! Here, Jungwoo, I was just about to go see if Mark needed any help with his air mattress anyway!”

You darted your hand out to pinch him as he sat up on his knees. He hissed in pain as you managed to get some skin, swatted your fingers away, then crawled out of the fort. A second later the entire room mysteriously got darker, then Jungwoo’s head popped in at the entrance to the fort, playful glint in his eye, “Is there a password?”

You shook your head as best you could lying down, “Hyuck and I didn’t get to make one before he just ditched me.”

“What kind of blanket fort is this with no password?” Jungwoo clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he scooched into the empty space your friend had created, his right side now pressed against your left.

“Well then help me think of one, in case anyone else comes barging in,” you nudged his arm that was beside yours.

“I didn’t come barging in, I knocked.”

“Mhm.”

“You know what else this fort needs? In addition to a password.”

“What?”

“Some lights.”

“Okay well Donghyuck apparently turned the lights off on his way out, don’t fault the fort for that.”

“I was thinking something more like…” Jungwoo raised his left hand, and you watched as his fingertips danced across the flowers on the ceiling of the fort. In their wake, small dots of glowing golden light were nestled between the petals and leaves of the plants. You couldn’t help the small gasp that left your mouth at the utterly enchanting sight above you, it looked like a sea of tiny, twinkling stars had been captured and put in a field of flowers just for you.

You’d never really seen Jungwoo do much magic in the time that you’d known him. Sure, he owned the odd magic item here and there, pretty much all your friends did thanks to Taeil and Doyoung, or by way of their own magical community. And of course, the changing hair color, but that seemed more accidental or incidental rather than intentional. But you were hard pressed to think of a time that Jungwoo had really put his fairy powers on display in any distinguished capacity in front of you.

“Woos, this is… It’s unbelievable. Just beautiful…” You sighed out, reaching a hand up towards one of the flowers directly above you—a pink carnation—before you dropped it back down to rest on your stomach, thinking that touching the mysterious magical light might be a bad idea. Turning your head to the side, you looked over at Jungwoo, only to nearly jump out of your skin when you saw him already looking at you. Your noses were nearly touching, and you jerked your head back a tiny bit to regain your bearings.

You snapped your gaze back up to the ceiling quickly, “Uhm, so, what were you coming to our room for? It sounded like you needed something.”

“Johnny and them wanted help unpacking all the cars, so I was sent to get you and Donghyuck. But if he went out there looking for Mark, Johnny definitely found him, so…” Jungwoo shrugged. “I think we can stay here for a little while longer.”

It wasn’t until late afternoon that everything was finally together enough for you all to head down to the beach. Most of the group had taken off by the time you’d emerged from your room in your swimsuit and coverup. Jaehyun was still in the living room, standing at the little breakfast bar that separated the couches from the kitchenette. He was rubbing presumably sunscreen onto his skin, the tube set onto the counter beside him. As you walked by him towards the fridge, you were able to spot the little cartoon vampire fangs on the black bottle—special formula to keep him from burning to a crisp.

The fridge was empty save for some mysterious jars filled with a glittering purple liquid which you chalked up to Doyoung and Taeil, and therefore opted to leave alone.

“Did the others bring a cooler down with all the drinks?” You turned around to ask the vampire.

He nodded as he went to get his ears and neck next. Most of him would be covered by his t-shirt and swim trunks, at least.

“Don’t forget the tops of your feet.”

“Thank you.” He bent down to slather up from the knees down as well.

“Are we the last ones?”

Jaehyun nodded again.

“Alright, ready to go? Need anything else? Hat? Sunglasses? Umbrella?”

He grabbed a pair of dark, mirrored sunglasses that were also on the counter, his sunscreen, then gave you a nod. You nodded back, slid on your sunglasses, and shouldered your bag of beach items before moving to open the back door for your friend. Jaehyun hissed as soon as he stepped out, and you squinted your eyes as you did too. You could see your friends all along the beach already. A couple large umbrellas were set up with several beach chairs, folding chairs, and towels under them; a volleyball net was being put up; a firepit was in fact a little further down the beach; there were some little dots in the water that could be heads bobbing along with the waves; and a couple figures were chasing each other in the surf. From this distance, you were pretty sure those last two were Donghyuck and Mark.

“You know, Jaehyun, you don’t do much to dispel those vampire stereotypes,” you patted him on the back as you started down the boardwalk-lined walkway. “Hissing when you see the sun, being the weirdest fucking dude in the room.”

“I’m not trying to dispel any stereotypes,” he deadpanned. “The Sun hurts my eyes.”

“Why did you come to Cape Solaria then?”

It was then that one of the people who had been sitting down under an umbrella turned around, and you were able to identify them as Taeyong, who gave the two of you a big wave paired with an even bigger smile. You waved back. Jaehyun lifted his hand for a moment before dropping it back down by his side.

“All of you were coming. And I think… I think it would’ve made Taeyong sad, if we weren’t all together.”

You looked over at the vampire thoughtfully, and saw that same blank expression as always. But this time you decided that you could see some kind of fondness there, for Taeyong, for you, for all of your friends. You always joked about Jaehyun being emotionless, but you knew that he was human just a few years ago, had all the same mushy stuff churning inside him then as you did now. He didn’t talk a lot, so when you got to hear these rare moments from him, you were reminded of that fact. And you had to think that no, he wasn’t emotionless, he just felt it and expressed it differently than you were expecting him to.

“I think you’re right, Jaehyun,” you grabbed his forearm to steady yourself to take off your flip-flops now that you’d reached the sand. You let out a sigh at the warm sand between your toes. Giving his cold limb an appreciative squeeze, you then let it go, “Thank you, for coming with us. I’m glad you’re here, and I know Taeyong and the rest of the guys are, too.”

The vampire was quiet as the two of you finished your short walk to join the others who were under the two colorful umbrellas. Taeyong had saved a fully-shaded chair for Jaehyun. You plopped your bag down on a towel that you recognized as Donghyuck’s.

Taeil was on a reclining beach chair, floppy hat brim pulled slightly down over his face as if he were taking a nap. In just a pair of swim trunks, the ritual tattoos on his torso, arms, and neck were on full display in all their inky blackness. Thick, bold, intricate strokes that reminded you of tree branches winding across his skin. What you did know about them was mostly gathered from context clues, what the two witches had freely brought up in conversation. Taeil relied a lot more on grounding and building his internal power through long, studied rituals, which you figured was why he had more tattoos than Doyoung, who favored quick incantations—i.e., hexes, charms, and curses. The latter was magic that could be drawn from external magical sources like certain crystals or metals, hence Doyoung’s usual menagerie of jewelry.

The cooler was at the witch’s feet, and you flipped it open to root around through the ice before securing your drink of choice. Turning around to face the ocean, you took in a deep breath of the salty air. It really was spring break. Mark and Donghyuck were splashing each other in the shallows, about shin-deep in the water. A little further out, you could now see that Doyoung was treading water, watching another figure that was moving around with a speed and agility that made you stop and look with awe.

Yuta was fully in his element here, quite literally swimming circles around Doyoung. Holding up a hand to block out some of the Sun and get a better look, you swore Yuta’s legs were gone, and replaced by a… yep, that was definitely a tail, long, thin, and powerful. It was the same silvery iridescent that you had seen peeks of with his other scales, catching blue, purple, and pink in the Sun when it popped up out of the water. Two large fins were at the end of it, and a dorsal fin went from his still-human back down through where it turned into the tail.

You slowly walked towards the water to get a better look, mindful of Mark and Donghyuck’s splash war that had now turned into water wrestling. As Yuta slowed to instead do some rather ominous circles around Doyoung, you noted more fins had grown along his forearms as well. It looked like some gill slits were on his neck, too.

“Yuta, if you drown me, I swear to Hecate, I will become a ghost and haunt your fishy ass,” Doyoung went to splash the siren, who simply dove underwater, then popped up behind the witch.

“And I promised to everybody possible, including Hecate, that I wasn’t going to drown you,” Yuta pointed out, beginning to circle him again, an absolutely devilish grin on his lips. “That doesn’t mean I can’t play with you a little.”

“Ugh, you make everything sound so weird, can’t you just say that we’re swimming?”

“Nope!” Yuta dove down again with a flick of his tail.

“Shit! Where’d he go?!”

You laughed, taking a sip of your drink before there were suddenly two wet hands over your sunglasses and you let out a screech, “Jesus Christ!”

“Close!” A familiar voice said cheerfully. “Guess again.”

“Hyuck!” You jutted an elbow behind you, satisfied when you made contact with wet skin, and heard a grunt.

“Correct!” He wasn’t as cheery this time, hands still over your eyes. “You know, that would’ve hurt if it weren’t for my six-pack that I’ve been honing at the gym all year.”

You snorted, “Your what that you’ve been honing at the where?”

“Fair,” your friend sighed. “Anyway, are you ready?”

You were immediately on edge for whatever he was about to do to you. Splashing you, throwing you in the water, pushing your head underwater, any number of things immediately came to mind.

“For what?”

His hands suddenly clamped down over your head as he forcibly turned you around, and you grabbed onto his arm for support as you yelped and protested this, the sand underneath you uneven, especially with you currently being blinded. Donghyuck’s voice was closer to your ear as he whispered, “Well, to see Jungwoo shirtless, of course.”

“Oh God, Hyuck! Shut the fuck up!” You blindly threw a hand back in an attempt to smack some part of his face, but just found empty air this time. “We’re not in middle school anymore! I can handle seeing a dude at the beach!”

“Ok-ay…” He replied in a sing-song voice, clearly not believing you, at the same time that he finally took his hands off your face.

You had to blink your eyes a few times to readjust to the brightness of the sunny afternoon. Donghyuck had pointed you straight at the volleyball net that was now fully constructed, where Johnny was on one side. The human was holding a volleyball against his hip with one hand as he conversed with Jungwoo on the other side of the net, who was in a pair of yellow swim trunks and a white tank top.

Just as you were about to turn around and smack Dongyhuck for real this time, Jungwoo grabbed the back of his collar and pulled the shirt over his head. You willed yourself to look literally anywhere else, but your eyes embarrassingly kept watching as he tossed the shirt to the side, laughing at something that Johnny had just said. This was entirely unfair, was he actually, literally, sparkling in the sunlight? Or was that just you?

“Hey, Y/N!” Johnny waved at you.

If this were a teen movie, there would be a record scratch right here. Your stomach plummeted as you frantically tried to calculate how long exactly you had been staring in their direction. You gave a meek wave as Jungwoo spun around to look in your direction too.

“Y/N!” Jungwoo called out, this time waving you over. Oh great, no getting out of this one.

You weakly shuffled over towards them, keeping your gaze on literally anything except Jungwoo’s bare torso. “What’s up?”

“Do you—”

Jungwoo was cut off by a shriek from the water.

“Yuta! Shark!” Doyoung yelled as he paddled back towards the shore.

“Yeah, this is Bear,” Yuta seemed entirely unfazed by the small dorsal fin meandering along around him.

The witch stopped to look at him in disbelief, “Bear the shark?”

“Blacktip shark, if you want to be specific,” the siren shrugged. “And he’s just a baby. He’s barely three feet.”

“Oh, fuck this,” Doyoung shook his head, resuming his journey back to the beach. “You and Bear have fun out here by yourselves.”

Returning your focus to the two men in front of you, you looked up at Jungwoo questioningly, “Uhm, so…?”

“Did you want to play?” Jungwoo asked.

“Oh, no, Woos, that’s okay,” you shook your head quickly.

“Really? You were looking over here pretty intently,” he pointed out, and the little half-smirk that played across his lips almost looked knowing. He leaned down towards you, momentarily blotting out the sun, “Seems like you wanted something. If not volleyball then…?”

Oh, you needed to get the hell out of here. Between Jungwoo’s everything, Johnny’s ‘oh really?’ head tilt, and the heat, you very much felt like you could pass out any second.

“Nah, you know, I don’t think three people would really work for teams anyway,” you rushed to say, scratching anxiously at the back of your neck.

“Hey Taeil!” Johnny bellowed out over yours and Jungwoo’s heads, cutting off whatever the fairy was about to say in response.

The witch flipped up the brim his hat to squint at the three of you, “Eh?”

Johnny held up the volleyball, “Wanna play? We need a magic fourth to make it even!”

“What? Big strong Johnny can’t beat one fairy and a human all on his own?” Taeil sighed as he started meandering over. “You need little ol’ me to come help?”

Jungwoo’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he straightened back up to address Taeil, “So we’re allowing magic then?”

“Only on the ball, not the players,” the witch laid out the ground rules.

“How about on the ball, and on you and me? No magic on Johnny and Y/N,” Jungwoo countered.

Taeil took a moment to contemplate this, then nodded, “Fine.”

You caught Johnny’s gaze, his wide eyes mirroring your own. Accepting that you weren’t getting out of this, you set your drink down by Jungwoo’s shirt.

“So how will we know who wins?” You questioned.

Taeil and Johnny exchanged a glance before the human answered confidently, “Oh, we’ll know.”

You narrowed your eyes at them. “Okay… but just in case, first to ten?”

“First to ten.” Johnny confirmed, sticking his hand through a small tear in the net. You shook it firmly.

As you all backed away from the net to take your places, he tossed the volleyball over the net to you.

“Here. You can serve first.”

“How kind,” you scoffed as you caught it, then turned to your teammate. “Do you want to serve, or should I?”

“You go for it, Y/N,” Jungwoo said, eyes focused over your shoulder. “I’ll be doing a little defense.”

“A little… oh.” You turned and saw Taeil and Johnny conversing much like you and Jungwoo were, the smaller looking over at the ball in your hand. “What do you think he’s gonna do?”

“Nothing you have to worry about,” the fairy patted the top of your head. “You and Johnny are off-limits, remember?”

“I know…” you mumbled, looking down at the volleyball in your hands intently. “Just wondering.”

Backing all the way up to the designated edge of the makeshift court, you waited until everyone looked like they were in place, then tossed the ball up to serve. It started a clear arc heading over the net towards Johnny, who was getting ready to set it back up, until it suddenly changed direction, veering off towards Taeil. The witch got his hands up at the last second, bumping it back towards his teammate.

Johnny hit back over the net, to which Jungwoo set it high for you.

“Y/N!”

“Got it!” You jumped up, spiking the ball down over the net as hard as you could.

Taeil went to save it, but his foot seemed to catch on something as he fell to the ground, landing just short of it. You had to hold back your laughter at the comical trip and tumble that he’d taken, sand flying up around him.

“Hell yeah, Y/N!” Jungwoo came up to you with two hands up, and you immediately slammed your palms against his in a satisfying double high-five. He laced his fingers through yours before you could pull back, a bright grin on his face as he gave your hands a squeeze then let them go.

“Taeil, are you okay?” You checked in on your friend as he brushed the sand off his knees and you all reset your positions.

“Oh, I’m great, Y/N. I’m having fun, promise,” he assured you, then focused a hard stare on Jungwoo. He pointed at the fairy accusatorily, “You, on the other hand, are not about to be!”

“Try me!” Jungwoo yelled back, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Johnny gave you another bewildered look. You shrugged; magic teasing and taunts were commonplace at playdates growing up with Donghyuck, it wasn’t unheard of for the two of you to alter the rules of common kids games to accommodate his powers. This was just the first time you’d seen it at this magnitude of power. Well, sort of. It was the first time you’d seen adults do it like this.

Johnny served this time, and while the ball was initially going straight for the space in between you and Jungwoo, you backed away to let Jungwoo lunge forward for it. A few more passes between the two teams happened without much incident, until Johnny went to pass it to Taeil, but way overshot it.

“Shit! Sorry— oh.” Johnny’s apology turned into wide-eyed surprise as the ball suddenly disappeared into thin air.

Then reappeared directly above Jungwoo’s head. It plummeted straight down, bouncing off his head, hitting the net, and coming to a final rest on the ground. You didn’t bother with the volleyball, rushing over to check on the fairy as he fell to his knees, holding his head.

“Ooh! Are you alright, Woos?” You asked, wincing sympathetically.

“No,” he bemoaned, eyes screwed shut. “I think I need... I need someone to... to kiss me better.”

You could feel yourself glitching out in real time, your hand that had been reaching out towards his head freezing in mid-air, your eyes blinking in rapid succession as you tried to grasp what he’d just said.

After two beats of neither of you moving, perfect statues, like the weirdest Baroque painting you could find at a museum, Jungwoo squinted one of his eyes open to look at you. You held his eye contact, stupefied.

“Hey! If you’re not concussed, can we get a move on with the game?” Johnny called out, startling you into pulling your hand back like you’d been burned. “We’re 1 to 1 and I’d really like to get back to beating you guys!”

“We’ll finish our melodrama another time,” Jungwoo whispered to you before jumping to his feet. He patted you on the back, “Now come on, I need my superstar partner back!”

You shook your head as you jogged back over to your side of the court, desperately trying to clear your mind. Volleyball. Volleyball. Not kissing Jungwoo. Just volleyball. Definitely not Jungwoo grabbing you by the waist and—

“Y/N!”

You looked up at the sound of Jungwoo’s voice, just in time to see the ball sailing over the net towards you. A little slower than it should’ve been, you realized. But that gave you the extra split second you needed to react, bumping it over to the fairy. He sent it back to you, and you leapt up to spike it back down. A satisfying wave of sand parted around the volleyball as it struck the ground like a small meteor, Johnny missing his save as it flew past him with way more force and speed than you had imparted on it.

“Two-one,” you pointed out as Taeil set up for his serve.

Now with your head sufficiently back in the game, you and Jungwoo kept racking up points as the match continued. Four-two, seven-three, eight-three, nine-four.

Jungwoo and Taeil were at maximum magical shenanigans now, and the entire group had gathered around the court to watch. It was a chaotic cacophony of tripping, speeding volleyballs, and ignoring the laws of physics and plate tectonics, all interspersed with very mundane passes by you and Johnny.

You hit the volleyball over. It wasn’t a perfect set-up, nor a perfect hit by you either. The ball was sailing directly in front of Taeil, he could just take two steps forward and get it, no magic necessary. Except as he went to do so, a circle of red-capped mushrooms appeared around him, and he dropped his foot in a childish stomp. The volleyball hit the ground, rolling to a stop at the gathered crowd’s feet.

“A fairy ring?! Seriously, Jungwoo?!” Taeil huffed, throwing his hands up.

But you were buzzing with way too much excitement to pay him any mind. That was ten points.

“Yes!” You pumped a fist in the air, bouncing up and down as you turned around, seeking out your teammate.

Jungwoo was beaming, once again holding up two hands for you, and you high-fived him, expectantly leaving your palms resting against his for a split-second after. He laced his fingers with yours, squeezing your hands even tighter this time. You swore his grin was brighter than the Sun.

He let your hands go only to nonchalantly throw an arm around your shoulders, half-dragging and half-leading you up to the net to address your opponents.

“I’m sorry, Johnny, what was that about you beating us?” Jungwoo teased.

The human chuckled, looking over at the pair of you with a grin, “My bad. Good job, guys. You two are good together.”

“Jungwoo.” Taeil cut in sternly, tapping his foot impatiently. He was still encircled by mushrooms. “The fairy ring.”

“Right. Sorry!” Jungwoo said brightly, and the fungi disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

“No you’re not.” The witch shook his head.

“All’s fair in love and sport.”

You squinted up at him, “That’s not the—”

The four of you were suddenly swarmed by the others, either jeering at Taeil and Johnny for losing, congratulating you and Jungwoo on your win, or also jeering at you and Jungwoo for winning. It was a mass of teasing, pushing, pulling, yelling, and shaking. One particular tug from Yuta and Donghyuck knocked you loose from under Jungwoo’s arm, but you were too busy laughing to really care.

As the Sun began to set, you all congregated around the firepit and the four benches there. Yuta, Johnny, and Taeyong were looking very much like three dads at a barbeque as they prepared the fire itself— Johnny insisted on doing it the human way for “authenticity” instead of one of the witches magicking a flame. Taeil and Doyoung were grabbing the s’mores ingredients from the house while Jungwoo, Jaehyun, and Mark chatted as they watched the three preparing the wood. You and Donghyuck were sat together on another bench, giggling as you played with a little sandpiper that had been following the dryad around since his arrival. The bird hopped from your hands to Donghyuck’s, then back.

“Thank Pan it’s not seagulls this time.” You gingerly stroked its head as it perched on your friend’s shoulder. Usually you wouldn’t dare to touch or approach wild animals on your own, but they all liked Donghyuck, and he made sure they were never in distress from your interactions.

You remembered coming to the Cape with Donghyuck and your parents as a kid, and instead of a cute sandpiper, he had instead befriended some obnoxious seagulls.

“Hey, those guys were great,” Donghyuck scoffed. “It’s not my fault you didn’t get their jokes.”

“And it’s not my fault that I don’t have a telepathic connection with animals.” You scoffed. “Is this one a comedian too?”

“No, she’s a quiet one. Just chillin’ out with us.”

Johnny let out a loud whoop, and you looked up to spot a little flame starting in the very heart of the pit. The three of them all exchanged enthusiastic high-fives and pats on the back.

Doyoung and Taeil returned soon after with all the s’mores ingredients, as well as some more drinks. The cooler had already been emptied earlier in the evening. You took whatever drink Doyoung pushed into your hand, and the marshmallow on a stick Taeil put in your other hand.

Jungwoo ended up sitting next to you at some point, knee bumping against yours every so often, you didn’t remember when that happened, but everyone was talking and laughing as the fire roared. Your face was warmed by the flames as you rotated your marshmallow, watching it turn golden. You’d lost track of what number this was.

“Can’t believe we get a whole week here,” you sighed contentedly, watching over all your friends having fun.

Jungwoo was quiet, and you were about to look at him, except your marshmallow caught fire, and you pulled it back quickly to blow it out. He laughed from beside you, and you glanced over to catch a glimpse of his smile, glowing by the light of the fire. You found that he was already watching you.

You diverted your eyes to grab your plate and assemble the s’more. “Do you want this one, Woos?”

“I’ll take the next one, Y/N. Thanks.”

Lifting the treat up, you took a bite, the melted chocolate and marshmallow immediately oozing out the sides. After finishing it, you were about to grab whatever was left of your drink when Jungwoo touched your arm.

“Y/N, hold on.”

“Hm?” You turned back to looked up at him.

Then Jungwoo’s hand was gently gripping your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth and just barely grazing over the edge of your bottom lip. His hand was gone as quick as it had appeared, leaving a hot buzz under your skin in the wake of his touch. You couldn’t pull your eyes from him as he then brought his thumb up to his lips, cleaning off the digit. Your entire body was thrumming now. Hot, hotter than the fire was making you. His eyes glittered, and it definitely didn’t remind you of craft store glitter this time.

“You had chocolate on your face,” he explained, his voice almost sounding like he was teasing you. But this wasn’t like his usual jokes, there was an unfamiliar tension. He didn’t giggle after.

Your tongue instinctively darted out to lick that same spot, and you could taste the faint remnants of the chocolate bar used for the s’more. You swore his eyes followed the movement.

“Th-thanks, Woos,” you stuttered. Grabbing another marshmallow from your plate, you were in a daze as you said, “Here, I’ll make yours now.”

When the fire was eventually put out, chairs and umbrellas packed up, and the less tipsy of you had helped the more drunk of you into bed, you could finally retire to your blanket fort with Donghyuck. But no matter how late it was, how physically tired you felt, you couldn’t sleep. You knew your roommate wasn’t asleep yet either, he’d just put his phone down a couple minutes ago.

You stared up at the ceiling of your fort, at the dimming dots that Jungwoo had put up that afternoon, and let out a deep sigh. “I feel like I’m going crazy, Hyuck.”

The mattress creaked under him as he shifted onto his side. “Why?”

“Jungwoo…”

He snorted. “Hate to be the one to break this to you: You’ve been crazy for him since the fall.”

“I know,” you whined half-heartedly, not even having it in you to smack him around a little like usual. “But usually he just exists near me and I melt into a puddle. Today, I swear it felt like I was going to die.”

“Oh, at the volleyball game?”

“You saw that?”

“Y/N, it was hard not to. If he were a werewolf, I would’ve thought he was scenting you.”

“Uh…” You completely lost your train of thought, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the lights above you.

Donghyuck snapped his fingers in front of your face, “Earth to Y/N.”

“Stop it,” you shoved his hand away.

“Oh there we go, you’re back.”

“Anyway, it wasn’t just what you saw at the volleyball game.”

And so you recounted every weird little thing that happened just that day with Jungwoo to your friend. The car ride, the fort, the volleyball game before Donghyuck started watching, the goddamn s’mores. If you were talking to anybody other than your best friend, you would’ve been mortified to relay all this to him, to admit both how badly all this had affected you and that you’d remembered every single detail of every single incident.

“Y/N.” The dryad said calmly after you had finished.

“Yes?” You held your breath, ready to be told that you were in fact crazy, and getting worked up over nothing, and desperately needed to get your head screwed back on properly.

“You want to kiss him so bad you’re making yourself look stupid. Of course he was flirting with you.”

And somehow being validated was even worse.

You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head back and forth, “Nonononono.”

“What’s the issue here? You’ve been into him without making any moves for a few months now, and he’s like… very obviously showing interest.”

“I needed you to tell me I was wrong, Hyuck! Not fuel my stupid daydreams! God, I’m going to be absolutely delusional now.”

“Or, I'm right—as I usually am—and you can finally do something about it.”

You let out a prolonged noise that was something between a whine and a groan, crossing your arms over your chest.

Donghyuck mimicked the sound you’d made. “I’m confused, do you actually want to date him or not? I can’t tell sometimes.”

“I do, I do,” you said. “I just… I don’t know. What if he’s just being nice? My headphones had died, you know, he just didn’t want me to be bored on that long car ride. And the fort, I mean you and I are sleeping in here together and I’m not accusing you of wanting to date me. Then the volleyball game, we’re friends and we had just won, you know, he was probably just excited and he’s a sweet guy, he's kind of touchy in general with everyone, right?”

Your words were met with silence, and you braced yourself for whatever opinion Donghyuck had on your rant. But as the silence dragged on, you looked over at him. His eyes were shut, shoulders rising and falling with each breath as he was comfortably tucked under his blanket.

You couldn’t even be mad at him, giving him a fond smile, “Yeah... Goodnight, Hyuck.”

SUNDAY

You were one of the first ones up that morning, and ate breakfast with the earlier risers: Taeil, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Johnny. More were beginning to stir throughout the house as the first of you finished breakfast and cleared out of the kitchen to make room for the next wave. The two witches caught up to you in the narrow hallway that held all the bedrooms and one bathroom.

“Hey, Y/N,” Taeil said. “We’re going out, wanna come?”

“Sure, where are you going?” You questioned, pressing to one wall to allow a zombified Donghyuck to walk by.

“There’s a coven nearby that runs an apothecary downtown we want to check out.”

“Taeil also wants to get an invite to their dawn sacraments next Sunday,” Doyoung snorted.

“And you don’t?” Taeil scoffed back.

Doyoung’s silence was answer enough.

“Yeah, I’d love to come!” You nodded enthusiastically. “But are you sure you want me to? Or that I’m like, allowed to?”

“Of course!” The older reassured you.

Doyoung added, “Just don’t touch something if you don’t know what it is.”

“To be safe.”

It was a short ride into downtown Cape Solaria, which was comprised of just a couple small cross streets. Colorfully painted storefronts with wooden signs for a candy shop, flower shop, bakery, several different restaurants, bar and pool hall, among other things. And tucked at the end of all of them, a simple sign that just said Apothecary. Street parking was easy to find, and you wondered if it was always like that or just because you were there so early in the morning.

You kept close to your friends in the store. The aisles were narrow, as it seemed like the owners had packed as many shelving units in here as possible. They were filled with jars of herbs, vials of liquids, and bowls of crystals. Some things were familiar to you, some were not. You kept your hands to yourself nevertheless.

Taeil and Doyoung would occasionally pick something up and show it to the other, and they would either nod or shake their head as to whether it would be purchased. You knew the two of them had been friends for some time, but you realized then that you didn’t actually know for how long.

“Can I ask you guys something?” You spoke up from where you were beside Taeil, who was perusing some jars of various powders. Doyoung was examining some of the larger crystal formations.

“Can I ask you something first?” Taeil countered.

“Oh, sure. It’s only fair.”

“Is your question about somebody?”

“Uh, yeah?”

They looked over their shoulders at each other, matching smirks growing on their faces before turning back to their individual sides of the aisle.

“Of course, Y/N,” Taeil answered for them.

Opting not to address that little moment, you went ahead with your real question. “So how did you two meet?”

Doyoung immediately hissed, “Taeil, I swear I will—”

“What, Doie? Hex me?” Taeil laughed. “You really need to try to talk things out with people before jumping right to hexing. This is how you nearly get your friend drowned in your bathtub.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled back.

“I’ll take that as a concession that I’m right.” The older hummed happily. “Anyway, Y/N, to answer your question, we belong to the same coven back home. So Doyoung and I have known each other since we were kids, kind of like you and Donghyuck.”

“If you can call two families a coven. In our town the only witches are my family and Taeil’s. Covens are usually at least five families.”

“And now you and I have got a two-person coven, Doie. It’s not how many, it’s what you are to each other.”

“Gross.”

Taeil rolled his eyes, turning his focus to you, “He knows that, he likes to pretend like he’s still nine years old and believes in cooties or something.”

“Why didn’t you want Taeil to tell me that, Doyoung?” You questioned the younger witch.

“It’s what usually comes next,” Doyoung sighed, picking up a couple black crystals.

“How we came to university.” Taeil offered.

“Oh yeah, if you had a coven back home, why’d you come to college?” You tilted your head. Covens were family for witches, both spiritually and literally. To leave their coven and come to college wasn’t entirely unheard of, but also wasn’t a typical trajectory for young witches.

“I didn’t care about higher education one way or another, but Doyoung really wanted to do it. He didn’t want to go by himself, though. Begged me to come with him.”

Doyoung snapped around, “Fuck the hex, I’m just going to find some duct tape and—”

Taeil kept speaking to you, voice fond as he recalled the memory, “I mean, we grew up in the coven together, that was all we knew, it was scary to leave. I was terrified of leaving our families and coming here. But brave little Doie still wanted to go, so I told him of course I would go with him. We were a coven, after all.”

“I hate when you do that,” Doyoung huffed, moving onto some herbs.

“Do what?” Taeil asked humorously.

“Be nice so I can’t be mean to you. Why can’t you just spike my tea to give me bunny ears so I can put wartweed in your acne cream?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Doyoung with bunny ears and poor Taeil with warts on his face.

“Because we’re not in middle school anymore,” Taeil grabbed a few small jars. “But if you want to start a prank war, I’m sure Jungwoo would want to get in on it too.”

You all were now going down the next aisle, which was primarily live plants.

“After seeing you get your ass kicked at volleyball yesterday, I would love it if he did,” Doyoung chuckled.

You felt something brush against your arm, and looked down to see a lover’s embrace vine from the top shelf beginning to wind itself around your forearm.

“Ack! No, no,” you said sternly, gently brushing at it. It got the idea, retreating back up to the top shelf. Thankfully it was a young one that hadn’t bloomed yet, so you were actually in your right mind to shoo it off.

Meanwhile, Taeil and Doyoung were still bickering like an old married couple.

“I did not ‘get my ass kicked.’”

“Ten to four, Taeil.”

“Hey—”

“And you kept eating sand too.”

“Not my fault he thought tripping me was just as funny the fifth time as it was the first time.”

“He was right.”

“And my partner—”

“Oh yeah, blame the human,” Doyoung clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval.

“Don’t put words in my mouth! All I’m saying is that Johnny played like he thought the ball was going to explode if he hit it too hard. Y/N actually knew how to play off of Jungwoo’s magic.”

Both witches turned back to look at you.

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “Hm? Yeah, I mean, I grew up with plenty of magical hijinks with Donghyuck.”

“And…?” Doyoung prompted you further.

“And… Jungwoo and I are lab partners, so we already work together a bunch, I guess?” You filled in, voice pitched up as if it were all a question, not exactly sure what they were expecting from you.

They were still looking at you.

“Come on, guys, give Johnny a break, I think he’s done pretty well at keeping up with all of us, all things considered. And the poor guy had to deal with Mark molting last year.”

“Speaking of—” Taeil peered around, “Have you guys seen rattlesnake skin?”

MONDAY

A crack of thunder woke you up that morning. You groaned, pulling your blanket over your eyes and rolling over. Instead of hitting Donghyuck like you’d expected, you instead just found more empty space. Squinting one eye open, you saw that the fort was entirely vacant of your dryad roommate.

With a frown, you shimmied out of the fort, wrapping one of your blankets around yourself to go look for him. He wasn’t in your room at all.

More thunder boomed outside and lightning flashed, illuminating the house as you shuffled through the hall. Johnny and Mark were peacefully asleep in the living room. And that’s where you found Donghyuck, sitting silently at the kitchen table with Jaehyun, watching the rain pelt against the windows.

Their backs were to you, and as you got closer you could see that the dryad had a steaming mug in front of him.

“Hey,” you whispered, gently setting your hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” Donghyuck’s hand fidgeted with the handle. “I couldn’t sleep, and didn’t want to wake you up by tossing and turning.”

You squeezed his shoulder, “Thanks.”

The dryad always got sort of antsy with big storms like this. Just like Taeyong’s mood was influenced by the emotions of the people around him, Donghyuck was sensitive to the weather. A storm as tumultuous as this was definitely affecting him.

“So what do you got there?” You referenced his drink.

“Hot chocolate. We didn’t have any milk to mix with the packet though, so I had to use water,” he wrinkled his nose. “I’m going to ask Doyoung to make me some tea when he wakes up.”

“Ooh, that sounds good.”

“Sucks about the beach, though. No way we’ll be able to go anywhere in this.”

“Oh, I’m sure this will blow over by morning,” you rubbed his back soothingly.

The storm raged on all day, leaving the ten of you stuck inside. By lunchtime, you had exhausted all of the board games that you could find in the house, and you were becoming painfully aware of just how tiny the space was with all of you in here for hours on end.

“Bad news, gang,” Johnny announced from the kitchen, where he had gone to start on dinner preparations. If it weren’t for your phones and rumbling stomachs, you wouldn’t even know that it was time for dinner. The storm outside had kept the sky pitch black and devoid of sunlight all day, and the clocks on the stove and TV were each an hour off in different directions, the stove an hour behind and the TV an hour ahead.

Most of you were sprawled out in various places between the breakfast nook, living room, and kitchen table.

“What, Johnny?” Taeyong called back.

“We’re out of beer.”

A chorus of groans erupted around you.

“That’s it!” Yuta stood up from the couch, taking off down the hall. He came back out with a pair of rain boots and thick coat on. “I am not going to be stuck in here for another second sober. I’ll be back.”

“You’re going to get wet,” Johnny frowned.

Yuta stared at him blankly from where his hand was on the door, silvery eyes flashing with the lightning.

Then your human friend finally seemed to realize, “Oh. Right. Get some pizza too, will you?”

And the siren was gone, slamming the door behind him.

You were playing a game of Uno with Mark, Jaehyun, and Donghyuck that was quickly approaching mutinous with regards to stacking +2 cards on top of +4s, when the front door was thrown open again.

Wind and rain blew in with the siren, howling as it whipped by. You got misted by some of it, shivering as the freezing cold spray hit you. Taeil rushed to shut the door behind him as others helped with the three or four twelve-packs he had squeezed under one arm and five boxes of pizza he had balanced on the other hand. Yuta peeled off his heavy raincoat, shaking out his soaking wet white hair after.

“Behold!” He gestured to the spread on the table grandly, charismatic grin on his face. “Dinner. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks, Yuta!” You slammed your Uno cards down and leapt up, grateful to have something else to do.

Everyone else followed your lead, a mad dash for food and drink.

Somewhere between grabbing food and clearing off the coffee table of all the board games, it was decided that a movie night was in order. Which obviously called for popcorn too.

The living room had two sofas, a central coffee table, and Mark’s air mattress. The larger of the two couches was directly facing the TV, and had the air mattress at the foot of it. The other couch was smaller, closer to the size of a loveseat, and oriented perpendicular to the first.

You had already claimed a spot in the middle of the smaller couch, sandwiched in between Johnny and Jungwoo, and happily munching away on your pizza. You were under a cozy blanket, had good food, and were definitely not thinking about Jungwoo’s arm resting on the back of the couch behind you.

At least you weren’t as squished as the others, even with using Mark’s air mattress. Jaehyun, Doyoung, Taeil and Yuta were on the larger couch, while Taeyong and Donghyuck were on the air mattress, fighting back the others’ legs and feet.

Mark walked out of the kitchen with three large bowls of popcorn then, tongue flicking with distaste as he took in the layout before him. “Well, someone’s got to make room.”

“Oh here, Mark,” Johnny offered. He then made deliberate eye contact with you, “I’m sure Jungwoo and Y/N don’t mind squishing in. Right, guys?”

“No, no, c’mon, Y/N. I’m not Jaehyun, I don’t bite,” Jungwoo agreed brightly, and you could feel him shift beside you as he pushed himself further back into the corner of the couch. Holding your plate of pizza with one hand and blanket with the other, you hovered over the cushion as you planned on just scooting over until you were as close to him as you were in the car.

Then hands were on your waist, pulling you towards the fairy, and his voice was by your ear, for only you to hear, “Usually.”

“Well she does.” Donghyuck grumbled loudly. “Still have scars from summer camp.”

“And I’ll do it again, you little shit.” Your threat was hollow, automatic, as you were processing where exactly you had landed in the seat shuffle.

“And I’ll bite all of you if you don’t shut up for the movie,” Jaehyun stated.

The dark room was filled with amicable chatter as the DVD previews began rolling, none of you taking Jaehyun seriously.

You were practically half on Jungwoo’s lap, one leg over his, and part of your back to his chest. That same arm was on the back of the couch again. You didn’t even know what movie they had picked—some mystery thriller maybe?—there was no way you were going to be paying attention now. You just hoped it was going to be holding everyone else’s focus sufficiently.

In an attempt to maintain some semblance of your composure, you released the rest of your blanket from the tight grip you had on it and instead gently laid it over yours and Jungwoo’s laps. To be considerate.

Despite Jaehyun’s earlier warning, there was a fairly steady stream of conversation throughout the movie as everyone would have reactions to a scene, or guesses as to the who the killer was. Speaking of the others, your seating sacrifice at least wasn’t in vain, the basilisk was enthusiastically watching along with everyone else, smacking Johnny’s leg or chest—or one time, face—whenever anything at all happened.

You, however, had no clue what was going on in the movie. All of your concentration was on trying to appear as normal as possible as you were certainly not feeling very normal about your situation. Mark was on the opposite end of the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he was enraptured by the movie. Johnny was next to him, reclined back with a beer in hand, caught between laughing at Mark’s reactions and getting as into it as he was. Every so often, part of his shoulder or knee would bump against you, but you barely even registered this. Because then there were you and Jungwoo.

Jungwoo hadn’t moved since the scoot to make room for Mark. You wanted to look over at him, to see if you could gauge anything about how he felt about this whole situation from his face. But then you’d be facing the other guys, and you didn’t want to know if any of them had realized where exactly you were. So you turned your eyes downward instead. You curled your hands into fists under the blanket, nails digging into your palms as you tried to refocus yourself.

If what Donghyuck was saying before was true... then it wasn’t fair to Jungwoo for him to be the only one putting himself out there like this. You could at least try.

Before you could lose your nerve, you reached one of your hands over to where you knew his other hand was resting on his leg under the blanket. You were a little off-target, you found his wrist first, but he seemed to get the idea anyway, turning his arm over to let you lace your fingers with his. Your skin was burning as you gave his hand a tentative squeeze, and you had a bashful but relieved smile when his thumb rubbed over yours in response.

TUESDAY

The storm was gone the next morning, which was obviously cause for celebration. While the storm coming was reason for staying in and drinking, the storm being gone was just as much of a reason for getting even more trashed. But this time on the beach with the bonfire going.

The Sun had set long ago, and you were sat on a bench with Taeil as the two of you watched the others dance to whatever music played from Yuta’s speakers. Johnny was picking the music from his phone, not trusting Yuta to put on music that wouldn’t lure him to his death. He didn’t budge even after it was pointed out that he was wearing his charm from the witches. You yourself didn’t care, you liked Johnny’s party music better than Yuta’s anyway.

You were catching your breath, having previously just been up dancing with everybody else.

“Y/N, can you pass me a seltzer?” Taeil gestured to the cooler by your end of the bench.

“What flavor?” You reached over.

“Surprise me.”

“Well,” you looked into the empty cooler. “Surprise: we’re out.”

He laughed, shaking his head.

You glared up at the others. “Hey! Who took the last drink and didn’t say anything?”

“Boo! Party foul!” Somebody yelled out.

Taeil stood up and grabbed the cooler, “Y/N, come help me grab some more? And also grab Doyoung, he’s being asocial right now.”

You hadn’t even noticed that your other friend had slipped away from the group at some point. “Oh, sure, sure.”

Looking back into the group, you waited to see if you could make eye contact with one specific person. Finally, you caught Jungwoo’s eye, and he raised his eyebrows inquisitively. You mouthed ‘be right back, Woos’ and gestured towards Taeil and the direction of the beach house. He nodded in acknowledgement, giving you a smile that made your stomach do flips.

You turned back to Taeil expectantly, “Okay.”

He seemed about ready to question that little exchange, opening his mouth but didn’t, closing it again and leading the way to the board walkway up to the house.

Neither you nor Jungwoo had talked about nor acknowledged movie night since last night, but you could feel that something was different. It had only been a day, but you were rarely apart. He was always seeking you out for things, at breakfast, on the beach, for the brief trip a few of you had taken into town to get supplies for the bonfire tonight. And you found yourself anxious if you couldn’t see him, looking for him yourself until he was back in your eyesight, immediate relief coming over you. It just felt natural to let Jungwoo know where you were going... for some reason.

Taeil stopped in the kitchen, tossing more ice in the cooler. He didn’t grab the seltzers in the door, however. Instead, he reached for the jars of glittery, lilac liquid that you had spotted on your first day. He put most of them in the cooler, then handed one to you and kept two to himself.

“Come on, this is how we lure Doie out,” he motioned towards the bedrooms with his head.

Leaving the cooler in the kitchen, you followed him to their bedroom. Doyoung was sat cross-legged on the bottom bunk bed, an old book across his lap. He already had his pajamas on, looking fresh out of the shower too.

“No, Taeil,” he said as soon as you two crossed the threshold, not even looking up from his reading.

“Oh, come on, Doyoung, we brought you something,” Taeil plopped down on the air mattress in front of him. He held out a jar to him, and Doyoung’s eyes flicked up to look at it.

He didn’t take it. “We’re breaking out the witch’s brew already?”

You moved to sit down beside Taeil, looking down at your own jar in your hands. You’d heard of witch’s brew before, it was essentially magic Everclear with none of the burn. But you’d never had the guts to try any before, knowing your tolerance to human alcohol plenty well.

Taeil set Doyoung’s down beside his foot before cracking his open and taking a sip, “Why not? We’re celebrating.”

Doyoung made a disgruntled noise, but said nothing more. You curiously opened your jar as well, sniffing cautiously. It didn’t smell like it had any alcohol in it. Taking a small sip, a pleasant, flowery sweetness immediately coated your tongue. It wasn’t too overwhelming, light and refreshing. And, as you swallowed, no burn. If this was as intoxicating as you’d heard, you could see how dangerous this could be to partygoers. You felt like you could easily chug the whole thing right now.

“So, any particular reason you brought a grimoire on spring break?” Taeil asked Doyoung, though you were sure he very much already knew the answer. “We’re supposed to be taking a break from studying.”

“We’re witches, Taeil.”

“So?”

“We’re going to be students of magic our whole life, not just for four years.”

“You sound like BaBa.”

“BaBa was right about a lot of things.”

“Who—” You got cut off by a hiccup. “Who’s BaBa?”

You’d been taking sips as you listened to their conversation, and hadn’t been watching your intake of the delightful drink. Now your skin was warm, your head was buzzing, and you could feel a funny kind of airiness in your chest. Holy shit, you were tipsy in just a couple minutes.

You set your jar down on the floor in front of you while you still had the motor skills to do so.

“BaBa was one of our crazy old aunties in our coven,” Taeil answered your question, then pinched the tip of your nose between two fingers. “And you are tipsy.”

“Aw, baby’s first brew?” Doyoung snickered.

“Mm, how could you tell?” You answered sarcastically, swaying in place.

“Don’t worry, we’d rather have you try some with us at home.” Taeil brushed some of your hair back from your face as he let you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Gee, thanks, Dad,” you mumbled into his shirt. You were cycling through your drunk phases quickly, already sleepy.

“She’s easier to handle than Jungwoo was at least,” Doyoung sighed. “Can’t believe we’re even letting him around witch’s brew again.”

Your interest was piqued, head snapping up, “J— woah... hold on.”

The sudden movement made the room spin, and you needed a moment to regain your bearings, your stomach, and your train of thought. Taeil giggled, patting your head and shushing you, encouraging you to rest your head on his shoulder again.

“Oh, she’s been Jungwoo’d,” he sighed wistfully.

“What?” You asked.

“Jungwoo tends to… dazzle people? That a good word, Doie?”

“Yeah, sure. How do you think we let a fairy move in with us?” Doyoung shook his head, flipping to the next page.

Panic and angst overtook you, and you buried your face in your friend’s shoulder, “God, I told Donghyuck it was stupid, Jungwoo’s just being Jungwoo. He’s just like this, you know?”

The room was quiet for a moment before Taeil spoke again, “Y/N, do you remember how Yuta almost drowned Johnny at Friendsmasgiving when Doyoung put that blabbermouth hex on him?”

You slowly sat up straight again to look at him with something between a pout and a thoughtful frown, “Uh, yeah. Hard to forget. You two had to make that warding charm for him.”

“Have you ever thought about why Yuta’s siren call worked on Johnny that day and not you? You’re both humans.”

“Oh, uhm, well no. I was too worried about Johnny and all the craziness at the time. And… I don’t know, it’s never been something I’ve really thought too hard about, I guess? This kind of stuff always happens to Johnny, like Mark petrifying him. My personal theory is that Johnny’s mom gave birth to him underneath a ladder while breaking a mirror and knocking over a salt shaker, so he’s just destined to have bad luck for the rest of his life.” They were both silent, and you threw your hands up indignantly, “Okay, come on, Donghyuck thought that was hilarious.”

“Well we’ve been working on a theory,” Taeil said. “One that doesn’t involve ladders, mirrors, or salt shakers.”

“We? Keep me out of your conspiracies, Taeil,” Doyoung retorted.

“Then leave.”

Doyoung stayed seated, turning to the next page in his grimoire.

“Anyway, our theory. Have you heard that you’re not supposed to give fae your name because it gives them power over you?”

You could remember hearing something like that before, legends and warnings from older relatives before you went off to college. “Sure, but that’s a bit impractical nowadays, isn’t it? It’d be really hard for Jungwoo to be at school and not know anybody’s names. And I mean, he knows all of ours.”

“Right. Just like Yuta isn’t out here luring all of us to our deaths, and Jaehyun isn’t draining all of us dry, Jungwoo doesn’t take any of our names for himself. There’s a baseline of trust in society. But the magic is still there, even if he doesn’t actively engage in it.”

“You lost me, Taeil,” you wrinkled your nose. Maybe you should’ve taken more Magical Creatures Studies classes.

Doyoung let out a loud sigh and put his thumb in his grimoire to close it. He looked you in the eyes to make sure you were listening as he explained, “The magic and power around names that fairies have control over…”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded slowly.

“That still exists, even though they’re not actually using it. Just like we still have blood even though Jaehyun’s not drinking it. Make more sense?”

You squinted in concentration. “I think so.”

“Because of that name magic, fairies get very touchy about how people use their names.” Taeil continued with his explanation.

“No nicknames,” Doyoung clarified. “If you give them a name, they see it as you giving yourself more power over them.”

“Wait really? But I call Jungwoo—” Panic hit you like a train and mortification then flooded your veins. “Oh my God! Oh no no! Why did you guys let me call him that? I can’t believe I’ve been like so rude this whole time! Oh my G—”

“Y/N! Hey!” Taeil cut you off, grabbing your shoulders to stop your wildly flailing limbs. “We didn’t stop you because Jungwoo wasn’t stopping you.”

“Seriously, we asked him about it the first time we heard you call him that. He said, quote, ‘She’s cute, don’t you think?’” Doyoung informed you, humor in his tone.

“God, if you’re real, strike me down now.” You clasped your hands together and pleaded to the clamshell-shaped ceiling fan above you.

The three of you were silent for a beat, as if waiting to see if you really would be stricken down. When you were still there after a moment, you accepted your miserable fate of continuing to exist, and, therefore, continuing this conversation, “So what does this all have to do with Johnny drowning at Friendsmasgiving?”

“We think it was Jungwoo’s magic protecting you from Yuta’s siren call,” Taeil declared.

Doyoung opened his grimoire again. “But we can’t prove it.”

“How would me giving him a nickname do that? Even with the name magic stuff,” you pulled your knees to your chest.

“That’s where the conspiracy falls apart,” Doyoung tsked. “We can’t prove one way or another how or if it was Jungwoo—”  

Taeil narrowed his eyes at the other witch, “But it’s the best we’ve got.”

You picked your jar of witch’s brew back up, swirled the glimmering concoction around, and took a swig. “Right. Well. Thanks, guys. I guess.”

WEDNESDAY

“Hey,” Jungwoo’s voice startled you out of the solemn and lonesome reverie you’d been in.

After sleeping like shit last night, kept up ruminating on your conversation with Taeil and Doyoung, replaying memory upon memory of you calling the fairy by that nickname, and now feeling like a horrible person about it, you ended up being awake before the Sun in addition to everybody else. So, you’d made yourself breakfast to take down to the beach, eat by yourself, and watch the sunrise. You’d even made sure to sit in the chair that wasn’t visible to the house behind the umbrellas, not wanting anybody to join you out here. But you’d been found, and you didn’t have it in you to turn Jungwoo away now that he was with you.

“Oh, hey,” you gave him a half-hearted smile, gesturing to the chair beside you for him to sit.

He had a steaming mug in hand, his hair still tousled from sleep, and he was in pajama pants and a t-shirt.

The sunrise coming over the ocean was beautiful, burning oranges and yellows that reflected along the water. You popped a piece of fruit in your mouth. He took a sip from his mug.

“You didn’t come back last night. After going up to the beach house to get more drinks with Taeil,” Jungwoo said quietly.

You winced, “Oh, sorry, Jungwoo, I—”

“Who?” He cut you off abruptly.

“Huh?” You blinked, entirely thrown off from your lie about not feeling well or whatever.

“What’d you say?”

“Jungwoo—”

“Who?”

“J—”

“Who?”

“What are you, an owl?” You huffed, annoyed.

Jungwoo’s brows were knitted together, clearly as frustrated as you were, “Why are you calling me that?”

“What? Your name?”

“Yeah, which you haven’t called me since like August. It’s weird.”

“Everybody else calls you that.”

“You don’t.”

Your words were losing steam as you struggled to process what he seemed to be implying. “Am- Am I not everybody else?”

“No, you’re not,” he was calming down too, look at you more studiously than upset. “And you’re not passive-aggressive either, so I don’t think you’re mad at me.”

“No, of course not, W—!” You stopped yourself before the nickname could come out habitually, quite literally biting down on your tongue in your mouth.

“There! You were about to say it! Why didn’t you? Did someone curse you or something?” He leaned forward, eyes scanning your features as if he could see any remnants of a curse or hex on your face. For all you knew, maybe he could.

“No, I think,” you frowned thoughtfully. Your voice was getting smaller and smaller as you admitted, “I just... don’t want to be rude.”

“You don’t...” Jungwoo’s head tilted in confusion, before his mouth and shoulders dropped at the same time, realization dawning on his face. He sighed, “Taeil and Doyoung?”

You nodded meekly.

He set his cup down on the small table propped up out there, then gently lifted your chin up until you were looking him in the eye, “While I think it’s very cute and endearing that you were talking to my roommates about me, they clearly failed to mention the part where I like you calling me that. They say that?”

“Something like that...” You mumbled.

“Y/N, I like the nickname you gave me. Case closed, okay?” He said firmly.

“Okay.”

“Okay…?”

“Okay, Woos.” You relented, the name slipping off your tongue as naturally as ever.

“Oh, there we go! Everything is right with the universe again,” he exclaimed, finally rewarding you with his bright grin and laugh that sounded like bells. You couldn’t help but smile too.

You held your plate out towards him for him to take a piece of honeydew. He offered you his mug, and you took a sip, immediately recognizing it as some of Doyoung’s tea.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you sighed. The Sun was higher above the horizon, oranges beginning to give way to yellows and blues.

“Yeah,” Jungwoo agreed. “Sure is.”

“You’re welcome.”

You barely contained your scream at the voice that came out of the darkness and the vine wrapping around your wrist and yanking you into the room. Expecting your roommate to still be sleeping when you came back from watching the sunrise with Jungwoo on the beach, you had quietly opened the door, left the lights off, and kept the blinds closed. But it seemed he was awake.

“Hyuck! What the fuck would I be thanking you for? Giving me a fucking heart attack?” You scolded him, shaking off the plant.

You flicked the lights on to reveal him sitting cross-legged at the entrance of the fort, the plants shifted slightly to adjust the opening and height to accommodate for such.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Y/N,” he inspected his nails. “But that’s not the only reason you should thank me.”

“Oh really? What else have you done in your never-ending quest for charity and benevolence?” You rolled your eyes, leaning against the closed door.

“You mock me and yet I made sure nobody bothered you and Jungwoo during your little beach tryst this morning.”

“What did you—”

“Mark saw Jungwoo going down there and his oblivious ass wanted to get everyone down there to take pictures with the sunrise. I told him that with my dryad knowledge, I could tell that the sunrise tomorrow would be even better and to wait.”

“You can’t predict that kind of stuff,” you arched an eyebrow.

“He doesn’t know that.”

“And nobody else called you out on that?”

Donghyuck grinned mischievously, “Doyoung and Taeil backed me up, actually.”

You groaned, dropping your head back against the door with a distinct thunk. “Just how many of you are in our business at all times now?”

“Our? So you and Jungwoo have joint business now?” He picked up on your word choice when you hadn’t.

“Hyu—” You stopped your string of curses short. The mention of you and Jungwoo sharing something made Taeil’s theory from last night come back to your mind.

Your friend looked concerned, “Hey, you okay? You always follow through on beating me up, verbally or physically.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you scoffed, moving to plop down next to him on the beds. “But… what do you know about fairies’ magic?”

“Bits and pieces. They’re similar to dryads and witches in that they’re connected to nature. But I think you have a specific question, Y/N.”

“Name magic?”

“Yeah, fairies can gain a lot of power over others by way of taking their name, their identities. But they don’t really do that anymore. With the way that society is now, they can get in a lot of trouble, especially when creatures like other fairies or unicorns can easily find out which fairy has taken someone’s name. Jungwoo’s not controlling you just because he knows your name, I promise you really are just this pathetic.”

“Hey!” You smacked the back of his head.

“Ow! I deserved that.”

“I swear you’re a masochist,” you shook your head. “Anyway, do you know if that kind of thing like, goes both ways?”

“What? Like how?”

“Taeil and Doyoung have this idea, about why Yuta’s siren call didn’t work on me at Friendsmasgiving like it worked on Johnny. They think that because I call Jungwoo by a nickname, I was somehow using the name magic or whatever and Jungwoo’s magic was protecting me. And I mean, it is weird that Yuta’s siren call didn’t work on me. I’m human, I didn’t have any kind of charm on, I was even sitting closer to him than Johnny was!”

Donghyuck seemed to think about this for a moment, tapping his chin. “That is strange…”

“Right!”

“Have you asked Jungwoo?”

“And how would I do that? ‘Hey am I accidentally using your magical powers by way of an ancient practice of your kind every time I call you by this silly little nickname that you’ve explicitly told me to keep calling you?’”

“One, you’re being intentionally negative and hyperbolic, you’re not that much of a weirdo in conversation.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Two, he specifically asked you to keep calling him by the nickname that his witch roommates think is the conduit for him to be unintentionally—or now maybe intentionally—sharing magic with you?”

“I guess… I don’t know, we had a whole conversation about it this morning. The witches said fairies hate nicknames because of the name magic stuff. It’s basically like you giving yourself power over them in their culture. So I tried to call him by his name but—”

“I’ve made a grave miscalculation.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Donghyuck took both of your hands in his, looking you in the eye very seriously as if he were about to tell you someone died. “He wants to kiss you so bad he’s making the both of you look stupid.”

You shoved him off the bed.

THURSDAY

“Seriously? Nobody wants to play?” You whined, volleyball in hand.

“Nobody wants to play you two,” Donghyuck clarified, pointing between you and Jungwoo, who was standing next to you on the court. “You’re menaces with a volleyball. You should be on some watchlist.”

“Hey, we let you all set your own rules every time.”

“Yeah, it’s not our fault you guys suck,” Jungwoo agreed.

Being unable to convince any pair of your friends to verse you and Jungwoo in volleyball again, you decided to pop into the house for a quick break from the Sun instead. Jungwoo tagged along, and you found yourself getting more nervous as you realized it’d be just the two of you in the house together.

“Hey,” Jungwoo grabbed your elbow as you were about to make a beeline for the kitchen, intent on grabbing a popsicle from the freezer.

You stopped, giving him a questioning look, “Yeah, Woos?”

“Let’s go somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” You hated how your voice cracked over the word.

“You wanted to go to the ice cream place downtown, right? On Tuesday? But we didn’t have time.”

“Oh, yeah, I did,” you smiled bashfully, chest feeling funny about the fact that he had remembered some little thing that you had said, a moment that was so inconsequential. “Uh, right now?”

He shrugged, “Why not?”

“Okay, sure. Do you want to tell the others?”

“Do you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and shook your head.

He grinned. “Me neither.”

After quickly changing from your used beach clothes, you followed him out front. You expected to hear the beep of Taeil’s car unlocking, but Jungwoo instead veered in a different direction. You followed him towards the blue truck curiously.

“Yuta’s truck?” You asked, now spotting the keys in his hand.

“He’s who said yes to letting us use his car,” Jungwoo affirmed, then opened the driver’s door. “You’ve got to get in on this side, sorry.”

As you went to do so, you saw why. The seat was a bench seat, and on the far side, propped against the passenger door, was a giant rock.

“Do I want to know?” You sighed, climbing up into the cab of the truck.

“Doyoung wants to bring it back, but Taeil doesn’t want it in his car,” Jungwoo explained, sliding in after you.

“It couldn’t go in the back?” You eyed the empty truck bed behind you incredulously.

“Too valuable.”

“What is it? Other than a rock? Or is it a magic rock or something?”

The fairy started the truck, putting an arm over the back of the seat and turning around to back it out of the driveway. “Apparently there’s a relic encased in it. He wants to excavate it at home.”

“When did he find it?” You eyed it cautiously, scooting a bit further away from it, leg pressed against Jungwoo’s.

“Tuesday morning. The storm washed it ashore. I think you were in the shower.” Jungwoo wrapped his arm that had been behind you around your shoulders and pulled you even closer, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let that thing come loose and hit you or anything.”

“Oh, thanks, Woos,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands in your lap.

It was a short ride into downtown, and Jungwoo was able to park right in front of the cotton candy pink ice cream and sweets shop you had spotted the other day. It was right next to a yellow flower shop and purple café, and way at the end of the block, you could see the sign for the apothecary you’d gone to with the witches.

A family of sirens was eating their ice cream at a table in front of the shop, the dad rolling his eyes fondly as he took a napkin to his son’s face that was covered in chocolate. But as the mom followed you and Jungwoo in to grab more napkins, you realized she didn’t have the same telltale flashy eyes or flickers of scales under the lights like her partner and son. She looked… human.

After you and Jungwoo got your waffle cones, you took them outside to walk around the shops. You stopped to look over some of the bouquets that were outside the flower shop, most of the blooms familiar to you thanks to Donghyuck. By the time you were at the end of the street by the apothecary, you still had most of your ice cream left. The path continued off away from downtown, unpaved, along the cliffs overlooking the sea. Having seen most of the town, the two of you meandered that way, still chatting between mouthfuls of ice cream.

“Woos, I have a question,” you announced. This seemed as good a time as ever to get in a few of your never-ending stream of things you wanted to know about Jungwoo.

“I have an answer,” he responded, then after a beat, added, “Maybe.”

“Why did you decide to study Chemistry?”

“After being around magic all the time, human science just sort of fascinated me,” he shrugged. “So, kind of the same reason a lot of the humans who pick Magical Creature Studies have, I guess.”

“So you grew up around other fairies for the most part, then?”

“Oh, yeah. It was nothing like how you and Donghyuck grew up. My hollow is really closed off to outsiders, even other fairies.”

“Then how’d you end up coming to school?”

“It’s not like I was under house arrest or anything,” Jungwoo laughed, taking in your wide eyes. “It’s just that I was pretty much the only one who was curious about anything outside of the hollow. I went into town all the time when I was older, so I knew about the college. Nobody in my hollow did any school past the mandatory primary education, of course, so I had to get a bit of help from the Admissions Office to apply. That’s where I met Taeyong, actually.”

“Oh yeah, he did work in Admissions.”

“And he introduced me to Taeil and Doyoung, who needed a third roommate to make rent.”

You nodded, taking another bite of your ice cream. “Okay, you’re a fairy and you’re studying Chemistry, so I think you’re a good person to propose this question to: What do you think is the difference between magic and science?”

Jungwoo thought about this for a moment, humming as he licked around his ice cream. Finally, he answered, voice resolute, “Humility. Science is an earnest effort to understand the world around you, what it is, how it works. And that requires approaching it from the position of inferiority, of acknowledging that you know less than the world.”

“But what about magic? Do we know everything about it and how it works and what it is? Couldn’t it be studied just like other fields of science?” You asked curiously.

“I’m saying this because I don’t want you to lose your cute little head, Y/N,” Jungwoo stopped walking and turned to you, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “Don’t say that to another fairy.”

“O-Oh.”

“There’s a reason I’m the first one in the Chemistry department, you know.”

“Wait, you are?” You furrowed your eyebrows thoughtfully, trying to recall some of your other classmates and professors. And, yeah, you couldn’t think of any other fairies off the top of your head. Plenty of other magical beings, dragons, vampires, dryads, werewolves, but no fairies. Just Jungwoo.

“Yeah,” he patted your cheek before dropping his hand and walking again.

“I didn’t— uh, didn’t— uhm, know that,” you stammered, only keeping up with him because he had looped his arm with yours and was now guiding you down the path. If he hadn’t, you definitely would still be frozen in place, gulping and stuttering. Dazzled, as Taeil had so aptly put it.

FRIDAY

There were only two more full days left of your vacation in Cape Solaria, including today, and you didn’t want to think about it. Maybe if you wished hard enough, this could last forever.

Sat on a beach chair that you’d set up in the surf to stay cool, you sighed to yourself contentedly.

A relieved groan and splash sounded from your right, and you squinted an eye open against the bright sunlight to look at who had sat in the empty chair beside you. It was Yuta, with legs and swim trunks this time as he crossed the limbs at the ankle to recline leisurely.

“Jungwoo won’t mind, will he?” He asked, referencing who had been sitting there up until a minute ago, when the fairy announced he had to grab something from the beach house.

“He’s not using it right now.” You shifted up in your chair to face the siren, “I’m actually glad you’re here, Yuta.”

“Really?” He grinned. “And why’s that?”

“I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

“Yes, Jungwoo likes you.”

You blinked at him, unable to think of how to reply.

“I know, I know, I’m not a mind reader, but—”

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” you cut him off, deciding to breeze right by that avenue of conversation. You had a limited amount of time before Jungwoo came back, and there was something else you really needed to ask Yuta specifically.

“Oh. Well, go for it.”

“Do you know why your siren call didn’t work on me at Friendmasgiving? And only worked on Johnny? We’re both human, I didn’t have any charms on. It should’ve, you know, done the same thing to me, right?”

That clearly wasn’t what Yuta was expecting you to ask. The cocky smirk fell from his face as he scrutinized you, “What? You wanted to drown yourself?”

“No, I was just curious—”

“I almost killed one friend, and you’re saying it should’ve been two?”

You fervently tried to reassure him, alarmed at how fast this conversation had taken a nosedive, “No, Yuta, I don’t—”

“None of you get how— how fucking awful it was, to watch myself nearly kill one of my friends and not be able to control what I was doing at all. So no, Y/N, I don’t know why it wasn’t working on you, but I’m fucking glad it didn’t. I don’t need you terrified of me too.” The siren’s eyes were watery and red, and the sea around the chairs was churning angrily, growing in strength as his words got sharper and sharper.

“Yuta.” Taeyong was suddenly a couple steps behind your chairs, and steadily waded through the turbulent surf.

As soon as the unicorn was in close proximity to the two of you, a calmness washed over you. Yuta’s jaw unclenched, and he bit down on his bottom lip instead.

Taeyong gently put a hand on Yuta's shoulder, and you saw the unicorn’s face contort almost painfully. He looked down at you, “Y/N, will you go get Doie and Johnny? They all need to talk, don’t you think?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah,” you nodded quickly, jumping to your feet.

Turning back to the beach, you saw that most of the others were there, pretending not to be paying attention to the three of you. You didn’t want to know how much they had heard. Johnny was the easiest to find, he was tossing a football with Jaehyun and Mark by the firepit.

You pointed at him as you walked by, “Stay.”

“I’m not a werewolf, but yes ma’am,” he saluted you.

Trudging up the boardwalk, you knew exactly where Doyoung would be hiding out, the same place he had been hiding out during anything that involved Yuta and Johnny and the water. His bedroom.

Jungwoo was in the kitchen, his face lighting up when he saw you, then turning serious when he registered the look on your face, “Hey, I was just grabbing a snack. Is everything okay?”

“Long story short, I’m grabbing Doyoung for Taeyong. Not optional,” you squared your shoulders as you crossed the living room to the hallway.

“Oh.” The fairy followed you curiously.

You knocked on the closed door, “Doyoung! It’s me!”

“Come in.”

You threw open the door, eyes immediately finding your target sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk in lounge clothes, a grimoire in his lap. Narrowing your eyes, you stalked over to him, “You’re coming to the beach.”

“I’m at the beach,” he gestured around vaguely.

“Kim Doyoung, you’re going to get out of this house and come down to the beach with me. Now.”

“Taeil tried that on me two days ago.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose before switching tactics. Sitting down next to him, you leaned your elbows on your knees and took a deep breath.

“Doyoung, we’re your friends. And we invited you on this trip—Yuta invited you—because we like spending time with you.”

The finger that had been running under the words he was reading paused.

“So, can you tell me if there’s some reason you’ve been holing yourself up in here?”

Doyoung sighed, closing the grimoire, “I thought it best to reduce the likelihood of a repeat of last semester. Taeil’s right. I don’t think before I do things and end up getting my friends hurt.”

“What he was saying at the apothecary?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember him suggesting you become a hermit about it,” you snorted, bumping your friend’s shoulder. “And reading a bunch of books and never interacting with people is not going to help your social skills. Skills like, you know, conflict resolution.”

The witch looked down at the closed book with a small smile, “You might be right there.”

“So can you please come to the beach?”

“On one condition.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell Taeil I said he was right. Either of you.”

“Done,” you promised.

And just a few minutes later you were marching down the walkway victoriously, Doyoung in tow. Jungwoo walked a bit further behind you two, an unspoken agreement to make sure the witch couldn’t double back to the house. Down on the sand, Johnny was still tossing the ball around, and you pointed at him again.

“Johnny, come on!” You called out.

“Seriously, not a dog!” He yelled back, jogging over nonetheless.

Taeyong and Yuta were still out at the chairs, and you kept your sights on them. Doyoung eyed you suspiciously, “What are you doing, Y/N?”

“We’re going swimming,” you deadpanned, leading the two of them towards the water.

“This was a trap,” he scoffed, starting to turn on his heel.

“Doyoung,” Jungwoo was still behind you all, crossing his arms with a frown.

Doyoung grumbled something under his breath, but turned back around to you. Taking that as his acceptance, you looked at Johnny. The human looked warily between Doyoung and Yuta, hand coming up to grasp at the pearl hanging from his neck, seeming to check that it was still there. He didn’t make any move to leave.

You stepped into the tide, the first of the waves lapping at your feet. The water was much calmer than when you had left. Doyoung and Johnny followed you, and the three of you finally stopped at Taeyong and Yuta. The siren was still sat in the same chair, staring out at the horizon, one hand listlessly making figure-eights above the water, and the ocean below his fingertips swirling with the movements. An octopus had (lovingly?) wrapped itself around his ankle, and you were sure that if the water was deep enough, Bear would’ve been here. He didn’t look back at you all as you approached.

“Here,” you broke the tense silence, looking to Taeyong. “Johnny and Doyoung.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Taeyong nodded to you.

“I’ll just—”

“Stay.”

It was Johnny who stopped your attempt to excuse yourself. He had a hand on your arm, and an all-too-familiar look in his eye. It reminded you of when he asked you, with trembling hands and a heaving chest, to stay and help him wash his face.

You nodded. “Yeah, Johnny, I’ll stay.”

Yuta finally spoke, “Look, I don’t know how many times I have to apologize. I’m sorry I almost drowned Johnny twice. Do I have to grovel at his feet for the rest of our lives? Will that make everybody happy?”

He slammed his fist into the arm of the pop-up chair. The octopus swam off.

“No, Yuta,” Taeyong shook his head. “That’s not what this is.”

“All of you are holding onto a lot of… stuff from that night.” You made sure to choose your words carefully. “And we think it’d be good if you actually talked to each other about it.”

“I’m sorry.” To your surprise, it was Doyoung who spoke up first. He was holding himself, hands wrapped around his upper arms as he spoke. “To both of you, Johnny and Yuta. I was impulsive, and vindictive, and an ass, and I hurt you with that stupid blabbermouth hex. I don’t want my magic to… leave lasting scars on people, especially not my friends. Yuta, you didn’t deserve the brunt of the backlash from that, I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you when I should have. And Johnny, you obviously didn’t deserve to almost drown yourself twice. I was a bad witch and a bad friend and I’m sorry, I really am.”

You looked between Johnny and Yuta’s faces hopefully to gauge their reactions. Johnny’s held the same surprise as yours at Doyoung apologizing first, then morphed into a soft smile. He threw an arm around the witch’s neck, nearly toppling him over and he was pulled into the taller man’s side.

“I don’t know much about the bad witch part, but I forgive you, Doyoung. Taeil says you’ve been doing a lot of uhm, reading about magic this whole time to get better at it. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Doyoung screwed his eyes shut, patting Johnny’s back.

“Yuta, tell them what you told me,” you encouraged the siren.

He sighed, finally turning around in his chair to look at the two of them. Around his eyes was pink, and he focused a harsh glare on Doyoung.

“Have you ever had someone do that to you, Doyoung?”

“Taeil and I used to hex each other as kids all the time.”

“No, I don’t just mean put a blabbermouth hex on you,” he scoffed. “I mean make you do something you don’t want to do, use your own powers to almost kill your friend and you just have to watch yourself do it. Twice. And then he’s terrified of swimming, of pools, of the water, of you. Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have teased you about whatever the fuck it was that day. But Johnny needed a fucking warding charm to even be able to come on vacation with me. You don’t want to hurt people with your magic… you hurt him with mine and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Doyoung gnawed on his bottom lip, “No, Yuta. I haven’t had anybody do that to me. I’m so sorry.”

“Yuta,” Taeyong quietly called for the siren’s attention. “Look at where we all are.”

Yuta’s eyes flicked from Taeyong to you to Doyoung to Johnny, then down to the ocean water that everyone was standing in, about shin deep.

Johnny let go of Doyoung to reach up to his own neck, taking off the leather cord hanging there in one fluid movement. He wound his arm up over his head and threw it out into the waves as far as he could. It plopped under the surface, never to be seen again.

“I don’t need a warding charm against my friend,” Johnny declared simply.

A tear slipped down Taeyong’s cheek from behind his sunglasses, the iridescent liquid catching the light of the sun. You couldn’t blame him, you were feeling a bit overwhelmed yourself, even with your ordinary human empathetic abilities.

“Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting hot standing here,” Johnny continued, dramatically putting one hand on his hip and fanning himself with the other. “I think a swim sounds like a good idea, hm?”

Yuta looked up at him, and they seemed to immediately make some kind of telepathic connection as soon as they locked eyes. The siren got to his feet as Doyoung started looking around, holding up a hand to cast a shadow over his eyes.

“Y/N made me come all the way out here with my swim suit on, I guess I could—”

Doyoung was cut off by Johnny grabbing him around the chest and Yuta grabbing his legs, his words turning into a yelp as he was lifted up. His yells of protest went unheeded as the other two carried him further out to sea.

“One!” Johnny counted as they started swinging Doyoung between them.

“Two!” Yuta continued.

“Three!” They cheered together, tossing him gently into the thigh-deep water.

The witch popped back up, shaking his wet hair, “That’s it!”

Thankfully, instead of a hex coming out of his mouth, he instead jumped on Johnny’s back, trying to dunk the taller man underwater. Johnny walked out until he was deep enough to dunk the both of them, Yuta following. Now in deep enough water, Yuta transformed his legs into his tail, using his large fins at the end to splash the other two.

Too busy laughing at those three, you didn’t notice that anybody had joined you and Taeyong until a hand was on your back. You looked over at the owner, smiling up at Jungwoo.

“Oh, hey Woos,” you bumped his hip with yours before turning your gaze back to the others still playing in the water. “Nice of you to join us.”

“Didn’t seem like you needed me,” he bumped you back. “Good job.”

“I was just following orders, this was all Taeyong’s idea,” you shook your head, looking over to the unicorn.

Taeyong had a fond smile on his features, “I think it was a team effort, all of us.”

SATURDAY

“So you’re not dating?”

“God, Hyuck, how many times do I have to tell you this? No,” you groaned, pulling your blanket up over your head. It was your last full day in Cape Solaria and the bastard wasn’t even letting you sleep in.

“You two are like all over each other,” Donghyuck pointed out, smugly scrolling away on his phone. “Even Mark asked me yesterday if he missed some memo about you and Jungwoo dating.”

You yanked the covers back down, “And what did you tell him?”

“That I didn’t know.”

“You little—”

“Hey, I didn’t!” He went to defend himself. “And now I do. Now I know that you’re being a wimp.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“If I had a nickel for every time you said that in our lives, I’d have no student debt, Y/N.”

You rolled over away from him, fully intending on attempting to snooze for a little longer, when your phone buzzed. With a groan, you grabbed it to see who had dared to text you this early in the morning.

[woos: you awake yet?]

Turning to face Donghyuck again so that he couldn’t see your screen, you were about to text the fairy back, but another text came through.

[woos: if you are, i’m going down to watch the rest of the sunrise with a cup of tea in a few minutes]

You quickly typed out your text and sent it.

[you: make that two cups]

Just a couple minutes later, you left your bedroom with the sounds of Donghyuck making teasing kissy noises after you. Jungwoo was in the kitchen, illuminated only by the light over the stove. Johnny, Mark, and Jaehyun were all still asleep, and you quietly stepped around them to wait by the back door. The fairy joined you just a moment later, two mismatched mugs in his hands. His hair was ruffled, a few pieces in the back sticking up, but nevertheless, a sleepy and fond smile came across his lips as he looked down at you. You smiled back up at him.

Neither of you said anything until you had stealthily slipped out the door and closed it behind you as silently as possible. On the back porch, you could give him a “Good morning, Woos.”

“Morning, Y/N,” he handed you your cup.

You eagerly wrapped your hands around it, feeling the warmth seep into your fingers. “Thank you.”

He hummed his acknowledgement, looping a casual arm around your shoulders to start walking down towards the beach. The Sun was just starting to peek up over the water in the distance, giving you enough light to find a towel under the umbrellas to sit down on.

“So why are you up so early?” You asked, taking a sip of your tea.

“Honestly?”

“No, Woos, I want you to lie to me,” you replied sarcastically, earning a laugh from him.

“Had to pee and couldn’t go back to sleep,” he answered. “Ended up just getting stuck thinking and then definitely couldn’t go back to sleep. What about you? I didn’t actually expect you to be up when I texted, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I was already awake. Donghyuck woke up early and decided to make that my problem this time.”

Jungwoo chuckled, taking another drink from his mug.

You looked out into the ocean, watching a familiar fin meander around. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your nerves, and stated, “Hey, Woos, I have another question.”

“I have another answer.” Pause. “Maybe.”

“Why do you think Yuta’s siren call didn’t work on me at Friendsmasgiving?”

He looked at you curiously, “I’m guessing you asked Yuta this yesterday and—”

“It turned into that whole thing with Taeyong and Johnny and Doyoung, yeah. It didn’t seem like a good idea to bring it up again after that.”

“Why do you think it didn’t work on you?”

“I don’t know,” you confessed, pointer finger tracing the rim of your mug. “I’m human, I was sitting closer to him than Johnny was, I didn’t have any warding charms on me or anything like that. It should have done the same thing to me that it did to Johnny, but it didn’t.”

“Y/N…” Jungwoo said quietly, laying a hand on your arm. “Do you feel guilty that it only affected Johnny and not you? That he went through that, and you didn’t? Like you should have suffered with him?”

You couldn’t look up at Jungwoo, so you just kept your eyes on his thumb that was rubbing soothing circles into your forearm. “I- I don’t… yes. He was so scared of the water after that that he couldn’t turn on the tap by himself, Woos. I had to go over and help him wash his face every day for like a month. And I just got to… sit there? And I know it probably sounds weird, like I want to have gone through something so traumatic but—and I know Johnny wouldn’t have wanted me to have either—but I can’t shake this feeling that I avoided something I shouldn’t have. Like, cosmic balance or something. Does that make sense?”

Despite the disjointed nature of your rant, Jungwoo was able to respond without missing a beat. “Y/N, Y/N, hey. You’re afraid that it messed with some cosmic balance, right?”

You nodded.

“If you had gone through what Johnny did, and were as scared of the water as he was, do you think that you would’ve been able to help him for that month when he needed it?”

Taking your gaze off his hand, you looked up into his eyes, where the golden flecks glimmered in the waking morning rays. And you slowly shook your head.

He nodded encouragingly. “Right. That sounds pretty balanced to me.”

“Okay, yeah,” you mirrored his nods, a shaky sense of relief growing in you.

“And I don’t think you wondering about why something that logically should have happened didn’t happen is weird, either.”

“So… what do you think happened?” You wanted to see if he would bring it up first, or if he had any clue about the name magic at all, about the nickname thing, about Taeil and Doyoung’s theory, about any of it.

Jungwoo’s eyes traced over your face, and for a moment you were taken away, entirely breathless as the dawn light hit him just right and he was glowing, looking so gorgeous there with his behead, pajamas, pouty lips, and big brown eyes. Time restarted when he finally answered your question, “I don’t know. But whatever it was, I’m glad that it happened. I’m glad that you didn’t have to get hurt, and I’m glad that Johnny could have you there to support him after.”

You opened your mouth, tempted to retell the witches’ theory to him, but he was looking down at you so fondly, so beautifully, that in that moment, it didn’t even matter. So instead, you scooted even closer to him to rest your head against his shoulder, a giddy smile overtaking your face when he wrapped an arm around you to hold you to him even tighter.

“I want to show you something tonight, by the way,” he murmured, voice right by your ear.

“Something?” You echoed inquisitively.

“Something,” he confirmed.

[woos: ready?]

Your heart leapt at the singular word lighting up your screen.

[you: ready]

Slipping out of your bedroom and into the hallway, you saw that Jungwoo was waiting for you there. He’d already told you that whatever he wanted to show you wasn’t far, and that there was no need to change from your pajamas that you’d gone to bed in.

With a tilt of his head, he motioned for you to follow him through the living room, this time exiting through the side door at the end of the kitchenette. It lead to a narrow section of the wrap-around porch that had a porch swing and small table. But Jungwoo didn’t sit on the swing like you expected. Instead, he swung a leg up onto the railing that went around the house, gracefully standing up all the way. From there, he could easily step over the gap onto the top of the awning over the porch. He stopped there, turning around and looking back at you expectantly.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, “Uh…”

“Come on,” he said encouragingly.

Watching all of your limbs as closely as possible, you pulled yourself up onto the railing, not liking how narrow it was as you wobbled a little bit. The fairy’s hand shot out and caught yours before you could teeter too much, and you mumbled a thanks to Jungwoo. Aligning yourself first, you took the slight step up onto the awning, wincing at the creak it let out now that the both of you were on it.

Jungwoo kept holding your hand as you were standing on the awning over the porch together, and you took shallow breaths as you looked up at him, chest-to-chest to make sure you both fit.

“Now what?” You asked quietly, well aware that you were staring at him.

“Almost there, promise,” he smiled down at you, and gave your hand a squeeze before letting it go.

He turned around, where the proper roof of the house was, about chest-high for him. After easily pulling himself up, he gave you a helping hand where needed, until you were finally able to scramble up there with him. Looking around uncertainly, you remained kneeling as you got your bearings on the slightly sloped surface. Jungwoo lay down, tucking an arm under his head, then patted the space beside him as an invitation for you.

You shyly did so, suddenly unsure of just how close to get to him, and therefore left a little bit of space between the two of you.

To distract you from that thought, you focused your gaze dead ahead, and immediately your breath was stolen from your lungs. Above you was the entire cosmos, laid out seemingly all for you. More stars than you could count, twinkling in and out of view, sprinkled in the sky like pixie dust. The moon was nearly full, and you could see every crater, shadow, and mountain in crisp, clear detail. Yeah, you’d been out at nighttime before, but you’d never just looked at the stars like this before.

“Oh, Woos…” you sighed, quite literally starstruck. “This is… wow. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it, Y/N,” Jungwoo replied softly.

“How did even figure out that you could get up here?”

“This morning, when I was having trouble sleeping. I was kind of wandering around out here and got curious. I used to climb a lot in my hollow. Something about just being up high above everything else…” He inhaled deeply, then let it back out. “It’s really peaceful, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It’s lovely up here.”

And you finally looked over at him. He was bathed in moonlight, starlight, all the cosmic glow of the universe and yet you weren’t even thinking about any of that in the moment, too enchanted by the craft store glitter that blinked back at you. The cream yellow crewneck sweater he had worn to bed that night was a pale yellow in the nighttime, the bottom of it riding up to show just the thinnest strip of skin. When you realized how close his nose was to yours, you didn’t jerk your head back, but your brain was turning to white noise, so you turned your eyes back to the stars to see if that would get the ringing in your ears to stop.

Jungwoo didn’t seem to mind, letting the peaceful silence drape over the two of you. You kept watching the stars and thinking about the boy next to you, and your heart kept growing and growing with a fondness so strong it felt like your chest was going to burst if you didn’t do something about it.

“…Woos?” You practically whispered, startled at the sound of your own voice in the quiet. In the background, the waves crashed into the shore and receded in an endless rhythm.

“Yeah?” He lolled his head over to look at you attentively. You turned your head back to look at him again.

“What you were saying the other day, about the difference between science and magic…”

“Which part?”

“About how science is an earnest effort to understand the world. You know, how it works, what it is.”

“Mm-hm, what about it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it… and maybe it’s because it’s late and you’ve got me on a rooftop looking at a bunch of stars but…” You took a deep breath, glancing between him and the sky. “I think that’s how love is too. An effort to understand someone else, and coming to them with your heart open, humble. I don’t think love has to be this big, monumental, out-of-control, unknowable thing. I think it’s just got to be an earnest effort to know someone else. You know?”

He was quiet, mouth parted as he just kept staring at you.

“Woos, you’re not saying anything,” you muttered self-consciously. “Did that not make sense? God, I was rambling again, wasn’t I? Just ig—”

“Kiss me.” Jungwoo cut you off, an absolutely wonderstuck gaze focused on you.

“What?”

“Kiss me,” he repeated confidently.

“W-Why don’t you kiss me?” You stuttered out an attempt at a retort, brain simultaneously moving at a million miles an hour and feeling like it had gotten stuck in sticky bubble gum.

“Well if you insist,” he smirked.

Then his hand was cupping your cheek, lifting your chin slightly, and his lips were slotting together with yours. Your own hand grasped at the front of his yellow sweater, needing to ground yourself to something as your head spun and the sweet, soft kiss threatened to sweep you away.

When Jungwoo finally pulled back, you caught a glimpse of his hair fading back from pink to brown. His gaze didn’t leave your face as he mused aloud, “Strawberry.”

“Huh?” You questioned breathily, chest heaving, not sure if you heard him right over the sound of your heart thudding so loudly.

He swooped in to kiss you again, as long and dizzying as the first time. This time when he broke apart from you, he declared with a grin, “You taste like a strawberry sundae.”

“And you… are going to make me pass out.” You pointed at him accusatorily as you tried to catch your breath. “Don’t fairies need to breathe?”

“Sorry. Can’t help myself.” Jungwoo pecked your cheek this time. But it was a false sense of security, as he gave you only a moment to catch your breath before capturing your lips in a sugary sweet kiss once again.

All too soon for your liking, it was decided that the two of you needed to get down and go back inside. Both of you were yawning like crazy, it was getting late, and while you could definitely sleep during the car ride back, accidentally falling asleep on the roof didn’t sound very safe. So Jungwoo got down first, and kindly helped you down by the hand.

After quietly sneaking back in through the kitchen door hand in hand with him, you nearly let out a scream when you saw somebody standing at the fridge, illuminated by the appliance light.

Jaehyun looked at the two of you blankly, a popsicle in his hand. You stared at each other for a good three seconds before giving him a slow nod. He nodded back, then tore open the popsicle wrapper with his teeth. Shuffling by the vampire as he bit into the popsicle, your heartrate didn’t return to normal until you were in the darkened hallway to your bedrooms.

You felt your heart sinking as you prepared yourself to say goodbye to Jungwoo for the night.

“Goodnight, Woos,” you said quietly, squeezing his fingers that were laced with yours.

Enough moonlight was coming in from the living room that you could see half of his face as he looked down at you, one of his thumbs brushing over your cheekbone. He had a small, tender smile on his face, one that reached his eyes.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he squeezed your hand back.

But you weren’t satisfied. Grabbing him by the shoulder, you pulled him closer to press your lips to his, pretty sure your entire body from your head to your toes popped like a balloon filled with confetti.

“Goodnight,” you repeated, slowly unwinding your fingers from his, almost in disbelief at yourself.

Jungwoo giggled, the sound like windchimes, “Goodnight again, Y/N.”

The two of you turned around to go to your respective bedrooms on opposite sides of the hallway. You had just gotten your hand on the door handle when you heard Jungwoo make a noise of surprise. Turning around curiously, you watched him look between your room and his in disbelief, then close the door again—without going in. And then he stood outside his door, staring at it in confusion.

Concerned, you walked over, lightly touching his arm to get his attention. He looked up to inform you, “Donghyuck is sleeping in my bed.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand to tug him towards your room, “Come on, you can take his spot then.”

“So worth losing my memory foam pillow,” he sighed dreamily, then pecked your temple with a loud smooching sound.

Under the roof of the blanket fort, you watched in delight as Jungwoo replenished the specks of light in the flowers, keeping them at a peaceful dimness. Laid on your side, blanket pulled up to your chin, and legs bumping his under the covers, you couldn’t fight the smitten grin from your face.

“Sleep well, Woos.”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

SUNDAY

A yawn slipped past your lips that turned into a soft groan as you stretched in the morning hours. Rolling over and pulling your blankets back up over your shoulders, you had all intents of going back to sleep. Until you briefly blinked your eyes open, and caught a glimpse of Jungwoo beside you.

He was mostly on his side, cheek squished against the pillow. Even in his sleep, his mouth was drawn into a pout, and his eyelashes were visible against his cheeks. His soft brown hair was mussed up in all directions, and you reached a hand out to delicately readjust a strand that looked like it was uncomfortably poking into his eye.

His hand suddenly shot out of the covers and grabbed your wrist. “Gotcha!”

“Oh my god!” You jumped in surprise. “Holy fuck! Goddamn…”

Jungwoo opened his eyes, mischievous grin on his face. “Morning, Y/N.”

“Well good fucking morning to you too, Woos,” you scoffed, plopping onto your back to catch your breath. “And how long have you been up waiting to scare me to death?”

“I woke up about when you did,” he informed you simply. “Heard you stretching and rolling over. I was honestly trying to snooze until just now.”

You made a noise of acknowledgement, lifting a hand up to delicately trace over one of the petals above your head.

“Y/N,” Jungwoo called for you.

“Hm?” You turned your head to look at him attentively.

As soon as you did, he lunged forward to kiss you. Your hand fell from the carnation to his cheek.

Jungwoo didn’t leave much space between your mouths as he broke the kiss to say, “We need a password.”

“Oh, right,” you nodded, eyes glued to his. “We never did make a password for the blanket fort.”

He connected his lips with yours again. “And I don’t want to let anybody else in this morning.”

“Woos…” you whined, trying to cover your face with your hands, starting to feel shy again in the light of day.

“Y/N…” he imitated your tone as he grasped your wrists, pulling them away from your face until he had them pinned to either side of your head. The fairy was hovering above you on the mattress, a knee wedged between your legs for stability, and you held his gaze for a heavy, breathless moment. Then he went right back to peppering your cheeks and nose with kisses now that his targets were unobstructed, and you giggled as his hair occasionally tickled your ears.

“Woos...” You couldn’t help that the nickname bubbled up out of you again, too much happiness in you to keep it all contained.

Jungwoo stopped for a moment, beaming down at you, “You are a genius, Y/N.”

“What?”

“That—” He rolled off of you, but only to take you with him, pulling you into his arms pretty much on top of him. “Will be our password. Because only you can call me that.”

Thankfully, you all didn’t have to leave too terribly early. By the time Taeil and Doyoung came back from the local coven’s dawn sacraments the rest of you had barely started on breakfast. Well, most of you. You, Jungwoo, and Jaehyun had eaten breakfast first. Jungwoo and you didn’t really want the full brunt of everyone seeing the two of you leave your bedroom together, so you decided to get up and have breakfast earlier. And Jaehyun happened to be awake when you got out there, so he ate with you two—or, sat at the table while you two ate.

Once the witches were back, it was a hustle and bustle to pack. You and Donghyuck had to disassemble the blanket fort after packing your bags.

“Ew, why can’t you and Jungwoo deal with your little love nest—” Donghyuck was cut off by a pillow to the face.

“I’m sorry, who decided to sleep in someone else’s bed without permission last night like a little freak?” You retorted, taking the sheets off of your mattress now that the furniture was back in its original place.

“And who still hasn’t thanked me for my little freak nature, nor even told me what happened last night?”

You couldn’t even pretend to be mad, zooming over to shut your bedroom door then turning back to your best friend, absolutely buzzing with excitement. In a hushed voice—well aware of all the various creatures with superhearing in the house—you relayed the details of last night to Donghyuck as quickly as you could, needing to repeat them for your benefit, too, to convince yourself that it all really did happen.

“Oh fuck yeah, Y/N!” Donghyuck held up a hand for you to high-five, then low-five, then fist-bump. “Now, what do we say?”

“What?” You looked at him incredulously.

“Let me hear a ‘Thank you for being a little freak and taking Jungwoo’s bed last night, Donghyuck.’”

You scoffed, but threw your arms around his neck nevertheless, “Thanks, Hyuck. For being a good friend all week, and for being a little freak.”

You felt his arms and some vines entwine around you in return. “Anytime, Y/N.”

Jungwoo found you again in the living room as everyone else was milling about. At some point, your bags had been grabbed and packed up in the cars by the other guys, and you stayed out of their way, figuring they knew what was best. The fairy bumped your shoulder with his, and you bumped him back.

Taeil suddenly called for him from where he and Doyoung were by the front door.

“Oh hey, Jungwoo, we were able to repack the cars and there’s room for you in ours now,” Taeil said. “This way Johnny has to make fewer stops, and you can come right home with us.”

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance before he went to reply to his roommate. “Oh, you did? Uhm…”

Then you heard Doyoung snicker, and Taeil broke out into chuckles too. “You should see the looks on your faces. I’m kidding, we have more crap than we came with, actually. Jungwoo’s still in Johnny’s car, don’t worry.”

“You’re not funny,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I think I’m the funniest person I know, actually.”

“It was a bit funny,” Doyoung concurred, the four of you walking out together.

You didn’t even want to know what Donghyuck had told them last night when he suddenly appeared in Jungwoo’s bed.

“Okay, everybody ready?” Johnny asked the group loudly. “Nobody’s forgetting anything?”

“Hold on!” You exclaimed.

Quickly running to the very end of the boardwalk before it dropped off to the sand, you gave the ocean a wistful wave goodbye. “Bye Bear!”

You then jogged back over to the rest of the group, and gave Johnny a thumbs up. “Ready!”

And with that, you gave all your friends that you wouldn’t be riding with hugs goodbye. First Taeil and Doyoung, who drove off with little beeps of the car horn behind them. Then Yuta, Jaehyun, and Taeyong, who were going to be leaving last. You felt bad for Taeyong, who was squished in the middle even more now with Doyoung’s rock riding shotgun. Yuta stood on the back of his truck to wave the four of you off as you drove away down the hill. You and Jungwoo were in the backseat again, waving back at them all through the rear window for as far as you could see them.

After they disappeared from your view, you settled into your spot in the middle seat, Jungwoo’s arm around your shoulders as he unfurled his wired headphones.

A hushed conversation up front floated back to you while Jungwoo struggled with a knot in the headphone wires.

“Seriously, they’re not dating, dude?” Mark whispered fervently to Johnny. Donghyuck had already laid down for his nap.

“Not that I’ve been told,” Johnny’s eyes flicked up to meet yours in the rearview mirror. He winked at you. You smiled back.

You leaned over Jungwoo to peer out the window at the passing houses turning into downtown, then the open road. Finally victorious, he held an earbud out to you, and you took it gratefully.

“Any requests?” He prompted you, opening his music library.

You already knew exactly what you wanted to listen to.

“Play me your favorite song today, Woos.”

⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist

[crow97street]

─── ⋆⋅blurry face⋅⋆ ───

synopsis ✦‧₊˚ chan struggles with intense feelings and undiagnosed issues and resorts to the only thing that brings him relief

warning/tags ✦‧₊˚ self-harm, self deprecating thoughts, hints? of self hatred, lots of overwhelming feelings, college au, changbin is chans best friend, channie loves bin <3, hurt/no comfort (sorry…)

notes ✦‧₊˚ sorry guys feeling emo this is just a short fic i wrote cos i struggle w sh, and again, this isn’t something to fantasize about or to hope chan does any of this, simply just me projecting onto people/characters i love because i don’t enjoy writing about myself :)

word count ✦‧₊˚ 1,336

song rec for this ;)

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

One exhale. Two exhales. Three. Four? Chan’s lost count, everything is starting to blur together in a jumble of colors and sounds. Where is he? Why is it so cold? A loud laugh breaks Chan out of his reverie to drag his eyes to the source of said sound. There's a few other college students laughing at some dumb tiktok the tall one of the three showed them. Chan exhales shakily again and moves his eyes back to the bus stop he's currently waiting in. The winter chill has finally set in, and it’s fucking cold. Chan enunciates his point by pulling his jacket around himself tighter with a shiver.

How many times has this happened by now? These moments of intense dissociation, fright, too much. It’s always too much. He can’t seem to keep the feelings at bay no matter how hard he tries. It’s a repeat like a broken record that won’t just stop.

The halting screech of the familiar bus drags Chan out of his own head again. He stands on wobbly legs and rushes into the bus to find his usual seat. He blinks. It’s taken. God this day could not go any worse for him. Chan forces his legs to take him to another chair. It’s just a seat, just a seat, just a seat. He repeats in his head to stave off the onboarding panic he knows is growing.

After a few more deep breaths Chan manages to quell the doom that tried to reach his exhausted mind. His head snaps up when he hears the breaks again. Changbin. Chan’s heart soothes at the knowledge his best friend will board the bus soon, Changbin always helps.

“Hyung!” Chan is greeted by Changbin’s infectious smile as he plops down next to him.

“Hey bin.” He exhales weakly giving Changbin the best smile he can muster, which is unfortunately not very good. Of course Chanbgin notices.

“You alright dude?” Changbin’s expression grows tainted with concern.

“Yeah yeah sorry, long night. You know how it is.” Chan sighs out giving Changbin a comforting expression to ease his worries. Chan never did like when people worried about him.

“Tell me about it, Professor Geon has me by the ass with this week's homework.” Changbin exhales heavily, sinking into the chair and closer to Chan’s arm. Normally, Chan would recoil and ask them to step back, he doesn’t like when people touch him without warning him. But Changbin’s touch is allowed, safe.

“Yeah I’ve had way too many late nights for comfort lately. As if it’s unusual for me though.” A self deprecating chuckle follows Chan’s quiet sentence. The hum of the bus fills the air for a moment before Changbin speaks again.

“Still struggling with your insomnia man?” Changbin’s eyebrows furrow as he speaks. Again, the worry. Ugh. It’s not like Chan doesn’t appreciate it, he does, he’s happy there's someone even on this earth who cares about Chan. But he hates anyone acknowledging that he has struggles, it’s just too much, again.

A deep sigh.

“Yeah, unfortunately. It’s fine though.” Chan trails off at the end as he spots the university approaching in the window. Chan nods his head in the direction to alert Changbin as he begins to stand.

They walk out together into the frozen air and Chan prepares himself for whatever today may bring him.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

The door slams as Chan races inside his apartment. Shit. It’s happening again. One exhale. Two. Thr- Oh fuck it.

He rips the drawer open - not a smart move on his part the thing is quite old and rattles dangerously as if proving his point - and frantically begins searching. Chan whines with frustration as a few minutes pass with no luck.

“Shit.” He cries out with a quiver in his voice. The blur is getting worse, he can hardly see where he’s going. What was supposed to be an easy day of classes, had now transformed into a horrible horrible day.

Chan gives into his desperation to stop the blurring by racing to his kitchen and searching the drawers. His hand graces over the familiar handle of his lighter. Finally. Chan exhales loudly and quickly brings the lighter out stumbling to his bed.

Guilt bubbles up in his chest like a raging campfire someone keeps adding gasoline too. He knows it’s a filthy habit he’s grown since high school but it’s the only thing that helps. It’s become a starving addiction that he can’t escape no matter how many - non harmful - alternatives he tries.

Chan slides down the foot of his bed landing on the soft carpet. Changbin gifted it to him on his birthday a few years ago as a housewarming gift. Chan spots the orange stain of bleach from the time Changbin agreed to help Chan dye his hair during one of his many mental breakdowns. He drags his eyes back to the lighter in his hand and quickly scrambles out of his jeans that suddenly feel two sizes too small.

His brain zeroes out until the comforting burn ignites on his skin. A few seconds pass before Chan puts out the flame, releasing a deep exhale. Another hot singe brands onto his thigh. Another exhale. Frustrated tears well up in Chan’s eyes, he scrubs away at them with his sleeve and stands up, still pantless. Chan slowly drags himself to the bathroom and addresses his wounds before changing into some pajamas.

He crashes onto his bed with a tired groan. He was hoping it wouldn’t come back to this. Why did it have to help? Why did it have to hurt so good? Chan punches his mattress in anger towards himself.

It’s dumb really, humans try so hard to stay alive. We weep in hospital rooms over loved ones diagnosed with terminal cancers. We fight and cry for those we’ve lost to weapons and aggression. But at the end of the day, in the silence and gloom of our homes, we hurt ourselves to fight what we can’t with our fists. Chan would like to say he’s strong, he’s survived until senior year of college, that’s a pretty good accomplishment right? But when everything is said and done, his mind is his own personal prison that he’ll never be strong enough for.

Chan laughs at the obscurity of it all before he drags himself up to trudge to his kitchen. He quickly pops his sleeping medication into his mouth and chases it with a large gulp of an old water bottle on his counter. He returns to his bed and lets the darkness of his room consume his mind.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

Chan gazes out the frosted window of the bus as he awaits Changbin’s arrival. His thighs sting with the reminder of his actions and Chan cringes at the feeling. Unfortunately Changbin approaches just then.

“You okay hyung?” Changbin asks scanning his frame for any injuries.

“Yeah all good my legs are just sore, went too hard at the gym yesterday.” Chan plays off his discomfort with a small joke.

Changbin - the ever loving gym rat - of course bites at the bait and his expression lights up.

“Yahhhh I know right! You skip leg exercises once and now you regret it for a week.” Changbin complains loudly and takes his respective seat next to Chan.

Chan zones out as Changbin rambles off about some new equipment at his gym not working. Sometimes Chan wishes Changbin would notice it’s not just a paper cut, that it’s not just him touching a hot cookie pan, that it wasn’t just doing too much at the gym. But deep down Chan knows he won’t be able to face Changbin if he knew how pathetic Chan was to hurt himself for relief. Silly, isn’t it? Oh well, Chan will accept the blur of color and sounds into his weeping mind until some part of him breaks. But for now, he’ll pretend.

He’ll pretend.

[creative-heart]

"Love's Blossom"| Enzo Vogrincic

Chapter 3: “Hope’s Flicker”

Lucia’s Notes: First off, I wanna say thank you for holding on and waiting for me, this whole moving thing has been way harder than I expected, and trying to balance work and this new life and city hasn’t been easy. But Alass! I have been able to get back into writing! 

CONTENT WARNINGS: This one has major warnings for miscarriages; fighting/arguing and general tension (I’m sorry but angst is what I do best LOL). Grief and mourning. I promise it will get better, probably next chapter!  Word Count: 2.7K

Song for this chapter: "I will carry you"- Selah

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, both Enzo and Y/N could feel the tension growing tougher and tougher between them. They were on the fifth cycle of trying to get pregnant and each month, the single blue line would dig a deeper well between them, the sex started to feel like a duty they had to fulfill, a routine, they were certainly not enjoying it anymore. When they looked at yet another negative test one afternoon and Y/N excited the bathroom without uttering a single word, it all started to go downhill. They were both anxious, irritated, and, overall sad that it had been almost six months since they had started trying to have a baby with no success. Y/N had even started wondering if maybe there was something wrong with her. 

Arguments over the smallest things were not strange now when they had never had a serious fight before in all their years together. One evening, as he had been trying to do all the same to try and get his girlfriend out more Enzo walked into their bedroom and smiled “Hey love, I was thinking maybe we could go to the movies and then for some dinner? the Thai restaurant you love has added some new dishes to their menu and I thought we could try them?” Y/N glared at him from her curled-up position in bed putting her phone down for just a second.

“it’s almost 9 pm Enzo, really you wanna go out now? you know I need to sleep well if we want to try and get any chances of having a baby, and Thai food? it’s spicy, same thing! are you really on board with this? or are you trying to sabotage it? Just let me know so I can stop fucking worrying about it!” The brunette snapped at the older guy who stood at the doorway looking at her blinking. “You truly have gone mad woman, I was just trying to get you out of that fucking bed and showered, you smell, you haven’t gotten up in three days and I’m fucking worried, but have it your way! I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight! I’m tired of being your damn punching ball! Do you think this doesn’t affect me? I want to have a baby just as much as you do, and it hurts me seeing you this sad, so if you wanna blame someone, blame God, the Universe, or whatever you want, but not me!” 

The raven-haired guy turned around and walked to the guest room taking a deep breath, he wondered if he had maybe taken it a bit too far, but the truth was he was tired of being at the receiving end of his girlfriend’s anger. As much as he could understand how she must be feeling and how draining this whole process had been for her, he knew he didn’t deserve this, he’d been as supportive as possible, and he had put his sadness to the side to hold her in her worst moments. Enzo was tired, if this didn’t work soon, he wouldn’t put it past them to either look at other options or end up separating.

The days went by slowly, and Y/N looked at her calendar once more frowning before looking at her boyfriend, things hadn’t been the best since that argument, but they both tried putting on a brave face “I should have gotten my period a week ago…should I?” she bit her lip hard, the truth was she knew she should test, but she couldn’t take another negative. Enzo looked up from his book and looked at her “A week? I think it’s worth it, I’ll look at it for you if you want me to.” He kissed her head before getting up and offering her a hand. Y/N took a deep breath before taking his hand. Just that morning they had been talking about the possibility of visiting a fertility doctor, maybe there was something wrong with them and they needed some help to get pregnant.

The younger went by the steps mechanically, she had done this way too many times these past few months. After taking the test she put it back down on the bathroom sink counter and covered it up before walking out of the bathroom and looking at her boyfriend with pleading eyes. “I can’t look” He nodded and kissed her forehead long “I’ve got you baby” he whispered and walked into the room closing the door behind his back. He took a deep breath, it wasn’t like it was easy for him, but he would take all the pain in the world if it meant easing the weight off the love of his life’s shoulders at least a little bit. The Uruguayan stared at the test as it processed, he knew they took three minutes, but he’d go insane if he did anything else. He blinked repeatedly when he saw the result start to show on the little screen, was he hallucinating? maybe he was, but he saw the two lines clear as day. Enzo grabbed the test and swung the bathroom door open to find a crunched-down Y/N on the other end of the hallway chewing at her lips. She looked up when she heard the door and sighed seeing the tears in her boyfriend’s eyes and thinking that yet again it was negative and letting herself slide down the wall “Maybe we should just stop trying and go see an adoption agency or something” she mumbled.

Enzo smiled big at her “Oh, stop trying we will..but because I’m scared I’ll hurt my baby if I poke into you with my dick…it’s positive my love!” he chuckled letting the tears roam freely down his face, Y/N’s face shot up when she heard him saying those words. “You’re not joking, are you? please tell me it’s not another one of your jokes because I’ll kill you if it is” The girl took the hand being offered to her to get up from the floor and looked at the stick Enzo showed her, her breath catching in the back of her throat, eyes wide open with shock and surprise as she kept her eyes glued to the two blue lines on the screen “I’m pregnant” she whispered “this is actually happening”, her hands flying to her stomach instinctively as protection.

After the initial shock had worn off and they cuddled on the couch, Y/N laying in Enzo’s arms as his hands rubbed her lower tummy gently she whispered, “I don’t think I wanna tell anyone yet, I want to go see my doctor, make sure everything is okay and once we’re out of the first trimester, let people in on our little secret, I want this to be our moment”. Enzo hummed softly keeping his eyes closed as they were, the same smile he had when he found out still plastered on his face, “Alright my love, whatever makes you feel more secure and at ease, I’m here to support your every decision, you know that”.

After what felt like an eternity, they were finally called in by the doctor. Y/N explained the whole situation when she found out, when her last period had been, and how the journey had been going the whole show. As her doctor nodded taking notes on her laptop Enzo sat beside the brunette his hand never leaving her knee as his leg bounced anxiously. “Okay, so by the dates you gave me, I’m assuming you might be around 6 weeks along, but I wanna get an ultrasound to be sure and to hear the baby’s heartbeat as well, make sure everything’s going as it should and give you both the first glance at your little pea because that’s around the size this little one will be right now”. She guided them both over to the stretcher and handed Y/N a gown as she turned the machine on “I’m going to go grab some more paper towels while you get changed into the robe okay?” she said exiting the room. Y/N nodded and when she was gone proceeded to take her clothes off from the waist down and put on the gown before laying down on the bed “Wait a second, why are you butt naked?” Enzo frowned confused, his brow deepening at his girlfriend’s laughter “from what I’ve read, baby is still too small to be seen with a normal outdoor ultrasound, so the doctor will have to use this little thing here and insert it in my lady bits to be able to get a look at our little one” she pointed to the internal prove. As she looked at the tan-skinned man’s face her laughter got louder seeing his horrified face.

Shortly after, the doctor returned and started the ultrasound checking everything was as it should. “Okay, images seem to confirm what I thought, you’re around six weeks along, embryo looks healthy, let’s try and hear the heartbeat okay?” she turned on the sound on the machine, and sure enough, a rapid thud came flowing out of the machine. Enzo, who hadn’t let go of Y/N’s hand for one second since the ultrasound started, kissed the back of her hand before quickly wiping his tears, that was his baby’s heartbeat, a real baby, half him, half the love of his life, he couldn’t be happier.  

As the days went by, Y/N was surely feeling the symptoms of this pregnancy, her boobs were killing her, she felt tired all the time, she was starving and nauseated all at the same time so everything she ate made her feel sick. Most of her days were spent laying on the couch watching TV or in bed curled with a good book. Enzo preferred it that way, not like he enjoyed seeing her feel bad, but her being lying down gave him a sense of peace about her and the baby being okay which he enjoyed.

Things were going smoothly, even their relationship had gotten stronger, they were both ecstatic and over the moon about this little one on the way. They knew it was still early to consider being out of the blue, but they couldn’t help but start fantasizing about what the baby would look like, if they would have Enzo’s brown eyes, or Y/N’s hazel ones, who their features would take after, what the baby’s temper would be like. So when around Y/N’s eleventh week of gestation, Enzo had to get out of town for a week or so to do a photo shoot for a new movie he was going to start working on the brunette encouraged him to go, she was going to be just fine on her own.

One hot summer afternoon Y/N hurried through the aisles of the grocery store, her shopping list clutched tightly in her hand. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow on the rows of products. She had been feeling a bit off all day but chalked it up to the usual pregnancy symptoms. After all, at eleven weeks along, she was still adjusting to the constant waves of nausea and fatigue that had been bothering her for almost three months.

As she reached for a box of cereal, a sudden, sharp pain pierced her abdomen. She gasped, doubling over and clutching her stomach. The pain was intense, like a knife twisting deep inside her. She took a few shallow breaths, trying to steady herself. “Are you okay, ma’am?” A concerned voice broke through her haze of pain. A young store employee. who couldn’t be older than 19  stood nearby, his eyes wide with worry.Y/N nodded weakly, though she wasn’t sure she believed it herself. “Just a cramp, I think,” she managed to say, forcing a smile. But as she straightened up, she felt something wet and warm trickling down her leg. Her heart pounded in her chest as she glanced down, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of blood seeping down her sundress. Panic surged through her, and she grabbed the edge of the shelf to steady herself.

“I need to get to the hospital,” she said, her voice trembling. The employee’s face paled, and he quickly called for help. Within minutes, another employee arrived with a wheelchair and helped Y/N into it. They wheeled her to the front of the store, where an ambulance was already pulling up. The paramedics moved quickly, transferring her to a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance and all she could think of was needing Enzo by her side. Tears streamed down Y/N’s face as the sirens wailed, the pain in her abdomen growing worse with each passing second. The paramedics spoke in low, urgent tones, their faces grim. She clutched her belly, whispering prayers for her baby, fear gripping her heart.

At the ER, the chaos was immediate. Nurses and doctors swarmed around her, asking questions and starting IV lines. Y/N could barely focus on their words, her mind spinning with terror and grief she didn’t know when, but amid all that chaos, she could utter to the nurse beside her to call her emergency contact on her phone. They whisked her into an exam room, and a kind-faced doctor leaned over her, explaining that they needed to do an ultrasound. The room fell silent as the doctor moved the wand over her abdomen. Y/N stared at the monitor, her vision blurred by tears. She knew, even before the doctor spoke in the deepest pit of her heart, what the outcome would be. The absence of the tiny, flickering heartbeat on the screen confirmed her worst fear.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said softly, his eyes full of compassion. “You’re having a miscarriage.” The brunette wasn’t even sure she understood English when the doctor spoke, his words sounded foreign and distant.Y/N’s world shattered in that moment. The room seemed to close in around her, the sounds of the hospital fading to a distant hum. She felt a sob rise in her throat, and she let it out, a wail of pure anguish that echoed through the sterile room. The nurse beside her squeezed her hand, offering what little comfort she could.

Hours later, Y/N lay in a hospital bed, the pain in her body now dulled by medication but the ache in her heart raw and relentless. The room was quiet, save for the occasional beep of the monitor. She stared at the ceiling, feeling hollow and empty. The loss was overwhelming, a black hole of grief and pain. She had never imagined this could happen, had never prepared for this kind of heartbreak. The future she had envisioned for herself and her family had been ripped away in an instant. That’s when she felt the tight grip on her hand and the familiar warmth inside her when Enzo kissed her forehead long, he wasn’t even trying to hide his tears. As soon as he received that call from an unknown number hours earlier, he knew, he knew in his gut something was wrong with Y/N, and when he heard the nurse say in that grim tone the words girlfriend, hospital, baby, he knew, he couldn’t hear anything else he hopped on the first plane that would take him home and 5 hours earlier, he was next to the love of his life, she looked as if she wasn’t there, it was like he was holding a mannequin’s hand, but he was there and Enzo knew she could feel him beside her. “I’m sorry for leaving you, I should have never gone” he whispered closing his eyes, he felt so guilty about it, as if this somehow was his fault.

But even in the depths of his sorrow, a small, fragile part of him held onto hope. Enzo knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, especially for Y/N, but he was determined to make sure they would survive this, to find a way to heal. For now, though, he allowed themselves to grieve, to mourn the loss of the little life they had already loved so dearly.

P.S: This got way darker and personal than I had anticipated, but I like the way it came out. I will try and get to writing the next one today as well, to make sure it gets on here ASAP because I don’t want to leave you all on a down note for too long! I promise the flood of fluff coming your way with this will make up for this darker tone. As usual, your likes, comments and reblogs are super nice and encouraging to receive, I will not ask for a certain amount, but I do really enjoy the interactions. If you wanna be part of the taglist, please just comment so down here and I'll make sure to add you to it. 😘😘😘

Taglist: @madame-fear @lastflowrr @koiibiito @luceracastro @candycanes19 @castawaycherry @deepinsideyourbeing @cyliarys-starlight @lxdyred @chiquititamia @expensivechimmy @nperoconelcositoarriba

[the-bar-sinister]

Deicide (16852 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth

catch up here

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Wano Arc (One Piece) Spoilers, Possession, straw hat pirates polycule, Action/Adventure, Power of Friendship, Established Relationship, Kaidou Lives, basil hawkins lives, caesar clown joins the straw hats, Nefertari Vivi is a Member of the Straw Hat Pirates, Smart Monkey D. Luffy, Cuddly Monkey D. Luffy, Drinking, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change

Summary: Realizing something is very, very wrong after the fight with Kaidou, Luffy seeks out Robin for comfort and advice. What he tells her is unsettling.

Luffy is hearing the voice of a god, and he wants it out of his head.

-

By the time he was dragging Law by the wrist from their bath, Luffy at least seemed to be feeling better. Law would have hoped so, at least. The other young man was smiling brightly, his bare shoulders still steaming as he dragged Law down the corridor. He had said something about being hungry again, which wasn't a great surprise.

What was a great surprise was Captain Kid stepped out around the corner in front of them.

"Hey! Jaggy!" Luffy beamed widely. "Wanna have dinner with us?"

Law was half-leaned against Luffy when Eustass appeared, and didn’t feel all that compelled to move. He gave him sort of half wave. “Sup, ‘Jaggy’?” 

If he was going to be honest, he was surprised that Kid was still here. Sure, they had the alliance and all…but Kid seemed tense at best around Wano, and pissed the fuck off at worst. He’d thought he was going to ditch the island in the middle of the night. 

KId grunted. "I wanted to talk about the alliance. If the two of you aren't too… busy for that."

There it was. Even as Law felt a flustered sting of embarrassment, he set his jaw in a sharp smile “dunno, do we look too busy for it, Kid?” 

Eustass looked them over, and Law was sure he was lingering over the steam and their wet hair, and the way Luffy was half entangled with Law's body. Luffy of course, was just grinning widely.

"Yeah we're not busy any more," Luffy said. "Though I'm pretty hungry, so unless you wanna come eat with us, I don't wanna talk all day."

Kid snorted. "You already used up most of the day, Straw Hat. I've been waiting for the two of you. But come on. This shouldn't take long."

The metal armed pirate shouldered his way down the corridor, motioning for them to follow.

Law held the hand Luffy held tight in the air with a huff of breath. “nothin’ for it.” In a bit of turnabout he started dragging Luffy along beside him on Kid’s heels “Hell, I’ve been expecting this talk for a few days.” 

Luffy's arm stretched as Law dragged him– and he snapped like a toy until he collided against him. The impact didn't quite knock Law down; instead, Luffy wrapped himself around Law's shoulders and let him carry him.

Kid, at least, didn't pay it any attention.

He shoved open the tatami door of a room down the hall and stomped inside.

Law stumbled, feeling the flush crawl across his face. He had to think about how it looked from the outside. With a man like Kid, he clearly already had some notions about Law and Luffy’s relationship.

They weren’t exactly wrong, whatever they were, but it still made him grit his teeth as he carried Luffy into the room.

“So the whole Samurai-Mink-Pirate Alliance accomplished its goal, right? Kaidou’s gone, everything’s settled. You’re here to talk about what’s next, aintcha Eustass.” 

"Obviously," Kid said, settling down with a thump into a pile of cushions behind a low table. "There's plenty to talk about with this whole… mess. Though I'll be satisfied if you want to just nod and go our separate ways."

His gaze lingered on Law and Luffy again, and there was the slice of a smile on his lips. "I get the feeling you're open for discussion at least though."

Law’s face burned as he cleared his throat and tried to shift and pull Luffy off to plop him down on one of the cushions.

Of course he was going to snicker up his sleeve the whole chat. “Wonder where the hell you’ve gotten that impression from,” he drawled before dropping himself down as well. “But yeah. I’m open to talk at least.”

Luffy stretched before he unstuck but finally did make himself comfortable in the pillows next to Law, giving him a look like a rather put out cat, and wrapping his legs tightly around a pillow. He yawned. "I don't mind talking about it. You want to keep having an alliance?"

"Until we leave the island at the very least," Kid said, his jaw set. Despite his brusque demeanor, Law thought he actually seemed rather polite, all things considered, and the next thing out of his mouth told him why. "I'll admit that I have a request to make."

Law reached out to rustle Luffy’s hair by way of making it up to him. His attention turned to Kid as he nodded slowly. He liked Eustass Kid, all things considered. They’d been in one another’s orbits since the government lumped them all into the ‘Worst Generation’ together.

“Well ya got my attention, Kid.” 

"My first mate, Killer. You know what happened to him. It's… not something I'd know where to start with fixing. But the two of you– well, Trafalgar, you're obvious. And Straw Hat has those two ridiculous doctors following him around."

"They're great doctors," Luffy beamed. "Especially Chopper."

Law leaned on his hand, watching Kid with his serious eyes. “They’re talented, combined with me we’re almost miracle workers. You want us to find some way to undo the SMILE fruit’s effects, right?” 

"I did," he nodded. "And I thought Straw Hat might be interested in the idea at least, since I've seen him hanging around with that one girl from the village."

"Otoko!!" Luffy beamed. "You think we might be able to do something for her?" He looked at Law with big eyes.

Law felt the sting of discomfort deep inside him. He’d seen the negative effects of that damned artificial fruit. That destructive mania, the inability to stop the flood of endorphins, the damage to emotional expression on top of the long term health effects.

That kid and her village were suffering, and it didn’t take a medical genius to see that Killer was too.

“It’s possible.” He murmured quietly. “It's an artificial devil fruit, so it’s tricky. There’s aspects of those things that defy conventional science…that’s why making an artificial one’s such a shitshow, why it’s got such a low rate of success and serious drawbacks even when it works.” 

"Caesar made them, originally," Luffy said, with a harsh edge at the back of his throat. "I think he'd better at least try to fix it."

Eustass, in a deeply unusual gesture of civility, bowed his head. "If you could help my first mate, I'd be willing to cooperate with something if you needed it from me."

That was as close to begging as Captain Kid was going to get. Out of his lips it was 'please, I'll do anything.'

Law knew what that felt like. Your crew , your first mate, they were important. Your mates on the sea were closer than anyone else in the world. If Bepo had been the one to eat a faulty SMILE fruit, and he couldn’t fix it…

Law knew he’d be begging right there with him. “You don't gotta bow and scrape about it,” he grumbled “I’ll round up the doctors and we’ll investigate the problem together, alright? We’ll save your Killer. In exchange…”

He glanced at Luffy out of the corner of his eye. 

Luffy pointed quite seriously. "In exchange, I want to be friends! Even if we end up fighting each other later, I don't want you to forget that we all helped each other out! I want to be able to shake hands at the end!"

Eustass' eyes widened.

Law laughed, slapping his hand on the table before he gained his composure again. 

“That's it, man. You’ve been marked.” He held his hands up with a wry smile. “I agree to those terms. If I help you, then it’s just as Straw Hat says.” 

Kid grimaced and then finally barked a laugh as well, shaking his head. "So that's how it is. Very well, if you can help my first mate, then I will gratefully call you both my friends– whether we move forward from Wano as allies or rivals."

"Great!" Luffy beamed. "I'm really glad, I've been wanting to be real friends for a while now."

“You get used to it eventually.” Law drawled, reaching over to rustle his hair again with a smirk “he started calling me ‘his friend’ back on Punk Hazard. Haven’t been able to escape him since.”

"I'll align my expectations then," Kid drawled,looking Luffy over with what Law could only read as bemused curiosity. "Then I'm glad to have the help of my 'friends' with this before we leave Wano."

"I'll get Chopper and his assistant right on it, Jaggy!" Luffy said. He looked up at Law with big eyes. "Unless you think you can just take the smile fruit bits out of them yourself, Traffy?"

Law’s fingers tugged Luffy’s stretchy hair as he thought about it. “It’s…theoretically possible. I can take the souls out of people, after all. Switch them around…I’ll have to talk to the clown to see if I can get more information on exactly what he did to make ‘em. The nitty gritty, you know? Then I could at least give it a try.” 

Luffy nodded seriously. "Wanna start on that after we eat? Jaggy– will you have dinner with us?"

Kid sighed, but Law thought he caught the barest hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. "Yeah, alright."

Law’s smile etched onto his face as he looped an arm around his fellow pirate captain. “Kid. this is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship.” 

-

Dinner was, as it always was with the Straw Hats, a noisy and wild-hearted affair. Sanji was still busy as he was with every meal on Wano, considering the ingredients and the recipes of each dish, and how to potentially incorporate them into his own cooking, a preoccupation which took up enough of his attention that he'd barely noticed that Luffy had arrived unusually late for a meal.

He did however, notice the even stranger fact that Luffy showed up with Captain Kid, as well as Law, and boldly announced that 'Jaggy' was their friend now, and was going to help them cure the smile fruit 'pleasures'.

To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. The guy was a rival, after all…one who always seemed almost pissed off every time they met. But Sanji was nothing if not accommodating and wasn’t exactly unfond of grumpy bastards, so he set to work preparing another plate of soba for the man with his trademark smile and gusto for the craft. 

After dinner, however– which was a while– he did pull his captain aside to talk to him about it once everyone else had broken up and gone their ways for the evening. He took note that Kid went with Law, along with Chopper– and Caesar.

“Captain,” Sanji said as he held his shoulders in the cleared out dining room. “I ain’t questioning your choices here, but you gotta tell me what’s going on. Is the alliance with Law an’ Kid still going?” 

"Nope!" Luffy declared brightly, curling his arms around Sanji's shoulders and his legs around his waist. "We're friends now, instead, like I said. Isn't that way better?"

Sanji hefted his captain up with a quiet snort and a grin. “ain’t that basically the same thing to you? You always treat your alliances like you’re best friends anyway.” 

"Yeah, and now I got Jaggy to acknowledge it! So he won't be all mad about it all the time," Luffy laughed, nuzzling his face against Sanji's neck. "He asked for our help with his buddy, and I said that was the condition. That we'd help, but we had to actually be friends."

Sanji rested his chin atop Luffy’s head, smiling fondly around his smoking cigarette. 

“hah! Classic, Luffy. Good thing you respect the guy as a captain, or I’d have to start worryin’ about a new mouth to feed.” He paused a moment before he asked “can we really help the ‘pleasures’, Captain?”

Luffy giggled, possibly at the idea of dragging Kid onto the ship, but then he grew a bit more serious. "I hope so. I'll be honest, I'll be pretty mad at Caesar if we can't, you know? But I believe that they can do it!"

“I’ll make the guy into soup if he can’t.” Sanji joked despite the sharp draw of his lips. Caesar Clown had once worked with a man who’s genetic meddling had made his life a living hell…some days Sanji had a hard time forgiving him for that.

He knew some about what messing with people’s ability to feel or express could do to someone, like his brothers and sister. “It can’t be that hard, right? It ain’t like it’s a real devil fruit.” 

"Exactly!" Luffy nodded. "I'm positive that they can do it. Honestly, I'm not sure that Law can't just do it by himself, you know? And Chopper already did a bunch of work curing the kids from Punk Hazard, so."

Sanji kept him held with one arm as he took his cigarette from his lips and kissed the top of Luffy’s head. “between the two of ‘em it’ll be a piece of cake. Then maybe we can see what Otoko’s real smile looks like, eh?” 

Luffy smiled widely back, and caught Sanji on the lips with his own before Sanji could put his cigarette back in his mouth. "Then we can! That would be great, huh?"

His captain. His bizarre, affectionate, unrestrained captain. He kissed him back eagerly as he held him close, before he offered him the cigarette.

“I think it’d be aces, Luffy. Does that mean we’re gonna delay shipping out for a few days?” 

Luffy nodded. "For a few days at least. I heard there's supposed to be a parade in a few days– so that seems like a good day to leave, don't you think?"

“Trying to avoid gettin’ caught up in another celebration, captain?” Sanji popped the cigarette back between his lips. “Works for me– I got some stuff I wanna pick up for the kitchen. Equipment, food stock. I’ve taken a bit of a likin’ to the food around here.” 

"Oh yeah! It's been pretty good, huh? Different than your usual cooking! Do you need any help getting stuff?" His captain looked up at him with big, adoring eyes.

“You wanna go food shopping with me?” he grinned. “Shit , I can’t say no to those fuckin’ eyes, Captain. There’s a lotta stuff here we can’t get elsewhere in the Grand Line. I wanna stock up. Especially if they wind up closing up again.” 

Luffy squeezed him tighter from around his back. "I'd love to go shopping with you! You know I love spending time with you."I

Sanji chuckled as he nuzzled his chin against the top of his captain’s head. “Yeah, yeah…I love spendin’ time with you too, you goofy bastard. S’long as you don’t eat everything before I get it to the ship’s pantry.” 

Luffy grinned too widely. "Buy me a treat while we're shopping and I promise I won't."

“You want some dango, then?” Sanji teased. “I’ll buy ya five skewers of it if it’ll keep my groceries safe.” 

"That sounds perfect!"

Three out of five skewers later, as Sanji wheeled a cart full of ingredients behind him through the warmth of the evening's open air market, Luffy finished chewing on a dango and looked at him with his big, warm expression again.

"Hey Sanji…."

Sanji looked down at him with a lopsided grin, wheeling the cart along as he took in Wano’s beauty for what he was sure would be one of the last times in a long while.

He met his captain’s wide, charming eyes and asked. “Yeah, Luffy?” 

"You're okay, right?"

The concern in his captain's voice was palpable enough to send a lance through his heart. So much had happened since they'd been separated on Zou.

Sanji’s smile faltered as he puffed on his cigarette. Between the failed wedding with Pudding, and the lead up towards the raid on Onigashima– he wasn’t surprised that Luffy was worrying about him.

With his fear that he was losing his emotions, the strange memory gap when he tried to think of his…ex?-fiance’s last moment by his side, and the trauma of facing his family and the Big Mom Pirates…he wasn’t exactly doing great.

“Better now, at least.” he murmured thoughtfully.

Luffy squeezed his hand, walking closely beside him. "I'm better since we got you back too. But… Zoro told me about what happened on Onigashima."

Sanji chewed his cigarette.

“Tch… Damn marimo…” He held Luffy’s hand tight. “I had to use the suit to get an edge in the fight...I was kinda worried I might, I dunno. Change me.” 

"I don't believe anything would change you," Luffy said, squeezing his hand back even more tightly. "But do you feel like it did?"

“I feel a little stronger,” he murmured. “a little sharper in my senses. Tougher. I’d worried that I’d started getting…I dunno, cold. Abusive. I thought I’d beaten a woman in a haze.” 

"Did you?" he asked softly. "Do you know?"

“I didn’t.” Sanji smiled weakly. “It was Queen of the Beast Pirates. He’d struck her while using one of his copied abilities from the Vinsmokes. But for a moment I thought I was changing. I was scared, Luffy.” 

"I know that feeling," Luffy said, even quieter than before.

“You do?” Sanji asked, cigarette balanced between his lips. He was surprised…he’d never heard anything like that sort of trouble from Luffy before. 

"I didn't want to talk about it," he said, leaning his head on Sanji's shoulder, "Because I didn't want to worry everybody. But I think maybe I should talk about it after all."

“If there’s somethin’ goin’ on Luffy, damn right you should talk about it.” He leaned over to punch his shoulder “if you don’t, how the hell is your crew supposed ta help?”

"You're right. And I'm rotten at keeping secrets anyway. Is there anything you bought that needs to go in the ice box?" Luffy gave him a soft, embarrassed smile.

“Little bit.” he chuckled, “why don’t we stop by the Sunny and get a drink or somethin’?” 

"I don't mind the walk. That sounds like a great idea." He pointed– in the complete wrong direction. "to the Sunny!"

“You’re just as bad as the fucking marimo.” Sanji griped and grabbed him bodily to throw him into the cart before he started pulling it the right direction. 

-

"It's nice to be back on the Sunny," Luffy said, pulling up a chair at the table in the galley once they'd put away all of Sanji's purchases together.

Sanji pulled out a couple of mugs and dropped one in front of Luffy with a wide grin. “Yeah…I liked the lil’ boarding house I shacked up in. I like Wano a lot, but there’s somethin’ about the Sunny that feels like home.”

"It is home," Luffy said happily, looking up at Sanji as he got their drinks. "I know I should be more afraid of the sea, but I love the feeling of it under us."

“Comfortable, ain’t it?” Sanji smiled. “The sea ain’t safe for a devil fruit user like you, but the best women are a little dangerous eh? And what is the sea but a beautiful lady?” 

The captain giggled happily. "The sea is a beautiful woman, huh? Well, if that's the case Sanji, she can't keep her hands off me."

“Ya lucky bastard.” Sanji poured him a healthy pour of beer from a pitcher. He grinned up at him. “wanna trade places?” 

"Hmmmm, tempting!" he giggled, raising his glass and taking a long drink. "I know how much Nami likes you, so that's a high selling point."

Sanji rubbed his chin with a wide grin, before he poured himself some and dropped into his seat. “on second thought,fuck the sea. I’ve already got an angel right there.” 

Luffy giggled, putting his feet up in Sanji's lap as he sat down. "I knew you were gonna say that." He scooted his chair closer to him.

Sanji rested his hand on Luffy’s ankle, leaning on the tabletop as he took a sip of his beer. “I’m predictable,” he joked. “So…what’s up, Luff?” 

Luffy took another long drink of his beer, and then set it down with a sigh. "Okay, so."

-

Sanji had listened to Luffy as he described his fight with Kaidou, and the strange feeling of loss of control– of being someone else– that had come over him. Luffy's usual bright smile was missing as he spoke, and his bare feet shifted nervously in Sanji's lap as he told the tale.

When he was done, he remained quiet, hands around his empty mug, looking at Sanji.

Sanji had a sharp grimace on his face, his hand wound through his golden hair as his brow furrowed in thought. “...Yeah I can see why ya can relate to my troubles too, Captain.” 

"Yeah," Luffy nodded. "When you mentioned it, I couldn't just keep it to myself, even if I didn't want to make you worried about me."

“I am a lil’ worried, but I’d rather know than not, ya know?” he admitted with a frown. He rested his hand on the arch of Luffy’s foot again, giving it a squeeze “can you do me a favor?” 

Luffy wiggled his toes against Sanji's fingers and nodded sharply. "yeah, anything!"

“Rely on us a little more,” he said as his fingers squeezed his foot “let us fight the hardest we can for you, okay? Try not to ever feel like you gotta break that power out until we find a way to understand it. I broke my raid suit, so I think you can do your best to avoid whatever the hell that is.”

He smiled weakly “the last thing I want is to lose the guy who made my dream possible, ya know? Not to whatever bastard’s will was inside that thing.”

Luffy wrapped his arms around Sanji and pressed his head to his chest, nodding. "I promise. I'm going to rely on my friends, not a power that I don't know if it's… making me someone else. That's not what I want."

“I’ll be real with you , Luffy.” Sanji murmured. “if we lost you, I’d be devastated. I’d kill whatever took your body and then myself.” 

"Sanji!" Luffy's eyes suddenly filled with tears and he sniffled, rubbing himself against Sanji's chest. "I won't let that happen ever. I just fought so hard to get you back. I won't go anywhere."

Sanji grabbed him tightly, his hand running through his hair as he grimaced. 

“I know…I know, Luffy. We won’t letcha. Not after all that work, not after you saved us time and time again.” He squeezed him. "we’re gonna get your dream, right? You’re gonna be king of the pirates, I’m gonna find the All Blue."

"Yeah!" Luffy nodded sharply. "We are!! I'm gonna be king of the pirates! and you're gonna find the All Blue! and we're gonna do it together, no matter what."

“No matter what.” Sanji took a deep breath. “...gotta wonder why this is happening to us, Captain.” 

"I guess it's just another challenge in our way, right? And we can tackle it the same as any other."

Sanji laughed “by beating the everlovin’ shit outta it?” 

Luffy's smile grew wide again. "Yeah, exactly!!"

He really meant it. He really meant it, and that was one of the most charming things about him. Sanji smiled, tossing his hair. 

“And if it tries rearin’ its head? The whole crew’ll smash its face into the deck until it stops. Me, Zoro, Nami, Robin, Carrot, Franky, even Chopper.”

"Good! I'll be counting on you guys." He thumped his head against him again, happily this time.

“You’d better, Captain.” Sanji tilted his head up with his fingers before catching his lips in a firm kiss. “to the end of the Grand Line and beyond.” 

Luffy made a pleased noise, melting into the kiss eagerly, the taste of beer in his mouth as he pressed his tongue into Sanji's lips, his body already close to him.

Sanji snubbed the cigarette on the well-known and well-used ashtray behind him on the table, holding Luffy close with one arm as he pressed his tongue between his captain’s lips. He held him close, deepening it with a pleasured hum.

It was clear as he kissed him that the captain was feeling relieved– relieved to have shared their troubles and renewed their support for one another in the face of this new danger they both felt like they shared. And Sanji knew the captain well. When he was relieved, he got particularly affectionate. And when he got particularly affectionate there was only a short timeframe in which to redirect things before the captain got… excited.

He could redirect…he could intervene and distract him…but at the moment he felt relieved too. Happy, riding high off the victory and the conversation.

This whole mess had made him so busy lately the two of them hadn’t had the time they’d once had together. 

How could he say no when Luffy's lips and tongue were so hungry, and his body curled in against him so closely that by now he had found his way into Sanji's lap.

A moment later, Luffy broke the kiss to catch his breath, and grinned his goofy grin at him. "We haven't gotten to see a lot of each other lately," he said, echoing Sanji's own thoughts.

Sanji grinned at him. 

“Between the bullshit with Big Mom and the whole mess on Wano?” he chuckled “yeah…it’s been a hectic time, hasn’t it? And you’ve been busy with all that trainin’ of yours.” 

"Yeah," Luffy pouted, nuzzling his face against Sanji's neck. "Too much training, not enough fun. Do you wanna?"

“I’d love to.” Sanji purred as he let his captain nuzzle on him like an affectionate cat.

Luffy's smile lit up his face. Sanji felt his posture shift, and suddenly the captain's knees were locked on either side of his thighs, straddling him in the chair. He put his arms over Sanji's shoulders and pressed another kiss to his mouth, as greedy and eager as he ever was.

Sanji was used to it, his captain’s almost commanding excitement. The way he took charge without restraint to pin him back on the chair and kiss him with all the eagerness in the world.

Without fail he kissed back just ass hungrily. Just as eager.

It would be a while before they got back from the ship.

[oogaboogaspookyman]

Lmfao N says fuck fic how original

[SNAP]

"So, N..." Uzi sits down on her Spinny Chair Of Genius™, as she likes to call it, as N sits on a beanbag. "Since i am your new apparent admin, this means i have some form of control over you and V, yeah?"

"I guess?" N shrugs "I mean- i don't know, i'm not the human that made me, i don't know my inner workings..."

He suddenly has a small thought start to grow in his head, and immediately lets it slip out of curiosity. "Wh- what are you trying to do?? Are you gonna look through my settings..?" He scratches his head in a bashful manner, blushy as it's literally some very delicate and probably private stuff.

Uzi grins like the absolute gremlin she is, sharp teeth shining like the blade of a knife, as she fidgets with her fingers at the most chaotic thought she's had so far. Key word being: so far.

"I'm just gonna make a test, nothing harmful~" She giggles. N looks at Uzi with a metaphorical drop of sweat running down his visor as he thinks of the times Cyn giggled back in the mansion. She definetly made giggles way less scary than Uzi's.

Next day...

It started with Uzi's alarm going off. She slaps her own visor, turning it off, and promptly gets up. N seems to be deep in his sleep... Wonder what he's dreaming about? She kinda hopes it's her, but it's not something she'll reveal to any one schmuck at ALL, so thank me later.

i don't want to kill you. i don't want to kill anymore. i need you. don't go. don't leave me. please. i don't want to kill you. the universe is at risk. i can't lose more people in my life. i have to protect the universe. but you are my universe. please. no. don't go. please. i love you. i'm sorry.

XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDDISASSEMBLYREQUIREDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD

M1S5 M3? :)

"N!!" He wakes up screaming, startling Uzi who's sitting conviniently really close and in front of him. On top of his lap. Like in those bits in movies where the love interest is uncomfortably close to the main character. Like that. Yeah.

"Hi Uziii...??" N whispers in bashful surprise as she processes the situation. Okay so i'm sitting here right in front of him and he just woke up and sat up really close to my face it's looking like something else is gonna happen and oh my robo-god i am going to fuckin' pass out hhhhh-

"aaaaaooOKAYWEGOTTAGOORELSEWERELATETOTHEFUCKINGSCHOOLSHITAAAA" N yelps Uzi pushes him away by the face in a rush. N gets back up to yell (but like- not angry or anything, more like yelling so she hears him clearly) "Language! Your dad's around, you know?? It's why i say"biscuits" instead, i don't wanna be rude!". It's a long pause of silence as he thinks, realizing... "How can you even swear at all by the way???"

It started with a horrible, terrifying, traumatic, very lore heavy nightmare along with a scare and rush to school. This day is certainly not gonna go all too well and i am here for it he's boutta SNAP lol.

Next it was Lizzy doing her usual popular girl spoiled brat bullshit, and N cannot kill her because murder as a whole is wrong and it's no solution to anything at all. Uzi knows this and it bothers her so much more than i can describe.

Next was the teacher being this smug idiot doing whatever, giving the class a dumb thing to do without caring about anything, only looking through his phone either busy with other work or straight up messing around. Uzi and N are very much bothered by this and Uzi wants to speak up... Which she does. To no avail, as the teacher ran out of fucks to give. N just tolerates and tries to lighten up the mood by being his friendly self (got a dude and a chick head over heels for him and he doesn't realize, thinks they're just extra friendly), but it's mostly very little effect. All because he doesn't wanna be rude. It's gonna get real soon enough though.

Next was the discrimation towards N, as he is a Disassembly Drone and they're pretty scared of him... Well at least it's not ALL of them, some are very much enjoying his presence. Why that is i'll tell you in the dms because i don't think i can say it here lmfao.

Next was the teasing. Yes some drones in the school figured out the whole Nuzi shebang and are now teasing them about it. "Hey purple girl, how's the biting like?", "How does your murder buddy kiss? I'm just curious~", "How's it like living with a small girl like her? Bet she likes it when you pick her up~", "N you are so much better than her, there's that other murderous girl out there that killed Doll's parents, she seems right up your ally!", and it just doesn't stop. Ever. N is genuinely bothered by this, he's very uncomfortable.

Inconvience after inconvience, minor and major, impactful and not, it just doesn't friggin' STOP.

Luckily that's all there is, they're going home! Albeit not very happy but they're going to their comfortable space of a home nonetheless!

But i did say he's gonna snap at some point.

"Uzi, have you seen my glasses? I gotta read something important" Says Khan, not actually needing glasses as he's a robot, he can see just fine, but everyone in Copper 9 is all mimicking humans so Khan doesn't realize that and needs glasses anyway.

"I'm getting them, Mr. Uzi!" N chirps, happy to help like all the time, as he jumps up from his seat and walks around, looking for Khan's glasses. "Thanks, Uzi's very lucky to have you as this potential boyfriend!" Uzi lets out a very UNHOLY screech of embarrassment as she yells "HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND". N does sigh at this, but he's too busy looking for Khan's glasses to care.

"Ooh! There you are!" N whips out a pair of glasses from inside... Uzi's wardrobe?? Does she prank him often??? Anywho, he found the glasses!

"I got 'em Mr. Uzi!! I found them in Uzi's wardrobe which is very weird and raises a few questions but i found them nonetheless!!" Khan processes the statement and wheezes as a response.

"What? What's funny??" N is very confused. Khan chuckles as he pats N in the back, "What just happened while i was sleeping was that Uzi just hid them away as a prank of sorts, she's very mischievous!" He's giggling as he explains, and so does N because come on it's funny how could he not?

Oh and N drops the glasses in his giggle fit. Resulting in them breaking upon landing. They stop laughing as they notice this.

N's eye twitches as his hands vibrate.

"N it's okay, i'll just get new ones-" says Khan, immediately interrupted by the next paragraph under this one

"MOTHERFUCKER!!!"

Khan is startled and frozen up in shock. Uzi heard that from the other room and is also shocked. If there were birds in Copper 9 they would fly away in flocks.

"Are you- are you okay-" Khan's interrupted again. "NO I'M NOT OKAY SHIT JUST KEPT HAPPENING AND I'M FUCKING PISSED ABOUT THAT AND BECAUSE I COULDN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. SON OF A BITCH THEY KEPT ON TEASING ME AND BEING WEIRD AROUND ME AND OH MY FUCKING GOD WHY CAN'T I JUST BE TREATED LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING DRONE?!?!?!"

Khan is frozen in shock as Uzi silently giggles to herself from the other room. "It worked! I turned off his filter holy shit it worked eheheheheee!"

"I'M... I'm going outside for a breather, be right fuckin' back" N storms out through the front entrance, as Khan holds a hand out trying to stop him, "it's sunny outside, careful-" but it was too late.

"FUUCK!!" And so N storms right back in, with burns on his casing, "I'm going to Uzi's room then"

"I DID IT!!" Uzi whisper-yells to herself. Somehow.

Twas a very loud and messy day, hope you enjoyed this lmao

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Introspection

Summary: Moon Knight Comic universe. A study of the Interpersonal relationships between Marc, Jake, Steven, Mr. Knight, and Moon Knight.

They don't always get along. Sometimes they have no choice but to hold things together while one of them seems determined to take them apart.

Pairings: Gen fic, Brief mentions of Greer and Marc.

Warnings: Dissociation

Word Count: 4715

A personal note: I started this as something else and then had a small mental health event and continued to work on this. So it didn't go where I had planned on going. But here it is for whatever it's worth. I hope it's worth something.

----

MARC

Sometimes I remember life one way and sometimes I remember it another. It’s hard to pin it all down. If you asked me what I did this morning I’d be hard pressed to tell you the fine details but I can guess the usual. 

Each awakening starts the same. I listen to just about every joint in my body pop and creak as I crawl out of bed and wait for sensation to return to my body. I imagine it much like watching someone claw their way out of a shallow grave. When I am sure that the body is mine, I chug the coffee that by now must be two days old and reheated so many times the burnt smell only makes me think it’s stronger than it is. 

It does nothing for my headache but at least the double vision blurs into one and I can do more than make further zombie sounds. This does little for the popular notion that I am a dead man that has returned from the grave so many times that I sometimes catch myself glancing in the mirror at the symbole on my forehead. Is it still a moon? Am I sure? Is it the crest of a god or the word of another? Perhaps it is the truth. 

I try not to think about it if I don’t want to spend the next hour fading in and out of that dangerous void. 

Today is a bad day. I can’t stay out of the past. It happens. The past is a long dark tunnel or a glimpse of a street light I once stood too long under. 

I can feel the annoyance as I fade and cling at the same time. He calls me a pain as I dig my heels in. I’ve been told that I have a nasty tendency to dig my grubby mitts in so hard that it takes a considerable fight to knock me out of place. He says I have control issues. 

I don’t do it on purpose. I frankly wouldn’t know how to stay if I wanted to. I tend to come and go like a nasty habit you just can’t get rid of. Every time you think you’ve kicked it, it comes crawling back. 

Sure, I can give it up for them when we talk. When we talk. I remember the silence. Confusion and blanks written off with a shrug. Then I remember the yelling. There used to be so much yelling. Like siblings yelling from one room to the other over a barrier of invisible walls and doors that rattled on old hinges. 

We don’t yell anymore. Mostly. He calls me short sighted. The other one calls me a Schlimazel. He thinks he’s funny. I snapped and called him a Meshuggeneh once and he laughed about it for two weeks straight. He takes a special delight when I speak in that tongue. 

I think there is a popular opinion that we act like a big family full of love. Just a bunch of brothers that look out for one another. Bullshit. We are not brothers. Brothers in our situation would have probably killed each other years ago. The truth is that we are three grown men all trying to drive the same car and decide on where it’s going all at the same time. 

Sometimes we want to go to the living room and end up on the fucking roof. And it’s always anyone’s guess on how we got up there. When was the last time we ate? Did the other one go nuts on eggs again or did I have the reins and forget to eat for three days because I’m an idiot? It’s anyone’s guess. 

It has taken us a very very long time to figure out how to function. How to work as a team. How to care about one another. We certainly didn’t come into this wanting to help the other guy stop crying. It was just annoying listening to him cry all the time. We wanted him to stop. I wanted him to stop. I wanted to stop. He wanted me to stop. We were just kids. Just kids learning to share and… 

Here I go again, floating into the void and I think we’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for ten minutes. He’s fucking yelling at me to get my shit together. 

I know what would really piss him off. I don’t want to piss him off. But I do. I piss him off by existing sometimes. He used to wish I would go away. He could put up with the other one but me? I was unacceptable. I used to wish I would go away too. I hated how much I was present. Always there. Always waiting to be angry. Waiting to punch something. Waiting to find a reason. 

They both tell me I need to stop. I needed to learn how to exist. I existed enough. It’s how we got into this mess. I existed. My name was put on a paper: Here Elias begat Marc and all the trouble that came with. 

I’m the trauma. I’m the reason. I’m the one that ran. I’m the one that made the decisions. I’m the one that lost… 

Now here’s the territory that he won’t let me near. Says I get too close and hurt myself too much. As if I can’t help but shout out “Here I am”. 

And as I sit and stare into the fire of my trauma, he finally pulls me and it feels like a relief as even the body lets out a sigh. 

STEVEN

It takes a minute. It doesn’t always. When he cooperates it’s like lightning. That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Marc Spector cooperating? The very notion of it makes me smile. 

Like the notion that Marc might actually take the moment to be more aware. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so pissed off. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not pissed at him. Not really. It’s hard to be pissed at him these days. Back at the start, though? All you had to do was imply his presence and I was pissed at the man. 

I think he still strives for that. He wants us to be angry at him. Give the man a stick and find him in the woods poking a bear for kicks. 

I’m pissed because I have to do this. I’m pissed because this is something that we still have to do. What brought it about this time? That’s always the part I hate the most. Trying to figure out why Marc had to be pulled. 

We know our places now. It wasn’t easy to figure out. There was a certain level of trust we had to reach to figure it out. When Marc was needed, we knew it was going to hurt. We hardly ever asked for his help. It was pride not to. 

Me? Needing his help? When I could just avoid the situation all together, why would I need his help? 

My denial was deep enough to drown us. My pride, the anchor that brought us down. 

Marc thinks I’d have been the perfect son. I was better. I was the one you introduced to your friends. And in this corner you see Steven Grant, poised and perfect. Just don’t ask him where his family is from. A nod and a wink and we can pretend he’s something else, right? 

Marc forgets how outright obnoxious I used to be. Forget the bruised knees and black eye. That was someone else. My creases were all pressed and my shirts were the whitest. “Yes teacher or course teacher right away teacher”. With grades and posture, I could look down my nose at the world. 

So why wasn’t I the perfect son? Because that was someone else. The real mensch. Yeah, he came a little late, but that’s the nature of him, isn’t it? While Marc and I circled the drain, he sat back with the plug yucking it up with the locals. He doesn’t know our trauma. Our pain. He shifts in and out like it’s nothing. That’s his job. 

Now I’m beyond annoyed. That spot on the wall still hasn’t moved and I’m stuck playing put the lid back on everything Marc opened up. 

I don’t tell him. He has enough to beat himself up over. I don’t tell him how it all carries over. I don’t tell him how his tears sting a little bit more when I’m the one shedding them. I don’t tell him that my hands shake just a little bit as I flush out our wounds. 

There’s a new bruise and I swear it lines up with someone’s fist perfectly. The night was long and now here we sit with ice and a fog that I can’t make go away. Images of our father float in and out and I hear something that I don’t know the words to. 

The fact that Marc does makes me angry. Angry at myself. 

Marc will never know how much he reminds me of our father. Not because he is like the man. No, they couldn’t be further from night and day. But Marc, full of vengeance and fire and bloody fists… No one worships like he does. Only our father, a Rabbi, could have more faith. 

I’d never tell him this, though. He wouldn’t understand. 

The wounds are clean and the bandages applied. My job is done and there is still so much more work to do. I do what I can. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. 

The mensch wants to know what’s going on. He doesn’t pay attention. He doesn’t have to. It’s my turn to be the stubborn ass and it isn’t till I feel the warm comfort of his embrace that I realize there’s more needed than a desperate need to make amends. 

JAKE

Bubbeleh, take a rest, eh? 

What’s going on up here? Why are we so worked up? I step out for a second and look at this mess. Stomach sounds like a grinder and I feel like we did ten rounds with that gorilla at the zoo. 

Steven makes a jab at my choice in food. What part of our life has been Kosher? Why start now? I think we’ll be forgiven if we break a few rules. Ah, there’s the issue, isn’t it? 

Memories. 

I can sit back and watch them. They play like an old flickering television with a bent antenna. 

No guess on who let these out of the box. He sulks in the back and I can feel his pain radiating across the whole void. 

Marc… If it was ever possible for someone to embody the word Schlep it would be Marc. I sit back quietly for a bit, letting the food soothe the body first. That quiets Steven down. Always worried about the body. The body relaxes and so does Steven. 

Steven settled, now comes the hard part. 

I do remember. I see the boy struggling and I see the other one rebelling in his own way. I remember stepping in more times than they know. I remember what it was to wrap ourselves in a large warm blanket and cry ourselves to sleep. 

The mustache goes on. Steven hates it. Hates what the adhesive does to our skin. I tell him to grow it out naturally; but then you’d have two problems instead of one. I’m a problem fixer. My problem can be fixed with adhesive and a hat.  

I pull my sweater closer and adjust my hat. Marc would riot if I wore the other hat. It was easier to dip into older traditions. It feels right. It feels like it holds us down and gives me the silhouette I know is right. 

Steven thinks I don’t know. I know more than he does sometimes. I never settled on denial. I just settled on acceptance. 

I whisper the right words. The ones that finish the song Steven forgot. They say there is a prayer for everything. Meditate on it long enough and there is a blessing for every situation. 

Sometimes a simple blessing is one that simply soothes the soul. It doesn’t have to make sense or even be appropriate. Just a notion that you do belong and that the good you do is truth enough to exist. 

“May it be your will that I lie down in peace and rise up in peace.” It isn’t the whole prayer. I don’t even remember the whole thing, but the whole thing isn’t what is needed now. Words are like that. Like a lullabye or a magic spell, we settle in peace. We know the truth to those words. 

And we do rise. We always rise up, but never in peace. But for now… At least we can lie down in a sort of peace. 

Cat naps, really. I close our eyes in the reclined seat of the cab as the sounds of the city soothe us into a slumber that keeps the dreams away. 

A yawn and a blinker later, we tour the city. This is my peace. Chit chat with the locals, a tip here and there from the underground. I smile to the fare and impart knowledge on the tourists. We were all dazzled by the city at one point or another. 

By the time my tour is over, we feel rested and refreshed. As much as is capable for us to feel anyways. I think if we ever really did rest we might not ever get back up again. 

Steven is quiet and back in place where he can pretend that maybe this time Marc might behave. I wish I lived in that bloke’s world. At least I know he won’t spiral for a bit. He likes to at least space out his breakdowns a bit. Adds flavor for when they really do build up. 

And a look up at the rising night sky assures me that Marc is also quiet, resting and pretending that he won’t be needed again. I don’t know how to tell him that he’ll always be needed. That he’s wanted. That I wouldn’t trust anyone else to watch my back. 

But now another bloke is stirring and asking questions. 

Yeah buddy, we got this. Just a hiccup or two. The usual. 

He relaxes and I let him stretch. He’s the shy one of the group, which is ironic considering just how flashy he is. 

You want denial, just ask him who lives under that mask. 

I relax back. He does better when we aren’t watching. Maybe someday he’ll feel confident enough to etch out his own place. It’s really enough to make me want to come up with a new prayer just for him. I was never a wordsmith though. Blessings were more of Marc’s territory anyways. 

MOON KNIGHT 

He gives us the information we need. He asks if we want to know about the day. We don’t. We appreciate the offer. He has a lot to share, but these things don’t mean anything to us. He has a lot of strength to offer and we appreciate him for it… But sometimes we enjoy just sitting in silence as we feel the moon and city and justice. 

We don’t know what we did today. We don’t know how the body is doing. We don’t know how they are doing. That isn’t really our business. Our business is up here under the sky under the mask. We can feel the bandages and know the fussy one has taken care of us. We feel energy and relaxed and know the chatty one has done his part. We also feel the anger and need to punch something and know our companion is ready. 

He isn’t always there. Sometimes it’s just me and I feel like a ghost, sliding through the moonbeams and haunting the streets. I don’t know how I feel about these times. 

Our companion helps us. We help him. He pretends to be us and we let him. He can pretend that he doesn’t exist and we are blended until his needs are ours and our actions are his. 

Sometimes he bleeds through. Sometimes the mask becomes heavy on his skin and we have to assert ourselves. We act on behalf of the system. We act because it’s what he needs. When his needs hurt, we let the others take him away. 

We aren’t sure when we became me. When I became individual. We prefer him to be there. We remember a time when we were one. Now we aren’t sure who or what we are. The fussy one prods at us sometimes. Questions us and tries to find out what we know. He asks us a lot of questions. Right now he dismisses us as essential to our companion and lets it go. The chatty one spends a lot of time trying to talk with us. He does not care for the mask and often sits back and just talks. I think he thinks we are a good way to see how our Companion is doing. 

Our companion sometimes resents us. We are the job. We are the work. We are the way for him to let off steam. We are the action to what needs to be done. 

But we are only here when the sky is dark and when justice is needed. When we slip away, it is just him and that is when the mask becomes too heavy. 

That is when we aren’t sure…  There is another we. 

Mr. Knight

I am not Marc Spector. This much I know. Marc doesn’t know this. It’s a recent development. Steven calls it ‘failure to trauma process’. Marc hides behind us. It is difficult to know when he is he and I am me. He is the man under the mask that does not wish to be there. I am the mask. 

The problem was that he would not take off the mask. We became new. 

I’m not sure what I think of things. Only Marc wears the mask. Jake doesn’t care to wear us. Our style doesn’t really match his, but he’s still supportive. Steven was exasperated by us at first but now he finds a useful transfer of information through us. The actual Knight? We’re a team. Sometimes we talk. Perhaps we have the most in common. We have jobs. Our job? We protect Marc. 

The Knight is difficult to speak with sometimes. He’s a bright white light in the dark and sometimes formless. I honestly can’t tell if he is one person or many pretending to be one. Maybe he’s all of us? Maybe I’m really just Marc pretending to be someone else. 

Steven tells me I’m too self aware for that. I asked Steven about the Knight once and Steven didn’t have an answer. 

Sometimes I am Marc. When his blood boils and he walks the street in search of something to hit I very much am Marc. I’m a thin shield over him, much like gauze over a wound. I don’t have fists. I am just the gloves that soak up the grime. 

I become myself when Marc checks out. He still loses time. He won’t admit it. Staring at the far wall while he sits in his chair or waters his plants. My plants. We keep things tidy. Perhaps that is why Steven likes us. 

I keep up appearances. How would it look to find ‘Mr. Knight’ standing in the corner staring at the dust on the leaves for the past twenty minutes? 

I think the others notice. The vampire? She knows. Once she met Steven she caught on real quick. Jake and Steven? Easy. Those two idiots couldn’t ever pretend to be someone else. They fought too long and hard to be independent. She isn’t sure about the Knight. It’s hard to tell with him. Perhaps she sees him as something else completely. Maybe he is. 

Me? She watches me carefully. Jake calls me ‘auto pilot’. When Marc goes ‘space case’ someone has to drive. I think the vampire avoids me when she doesn’t sense Marc there. Maybe I am an auto pilot. A way for him to watch the world without having to take off the mask. I’m okay with that.

The Tiger has noticed me but doesn’t say anything. She’s more familiar with Steven and Jake. Jake chats up anyone and everyone. Steven likes communication. Any way for him to ‘settle the system’ he takes it. The moment the Tiger officially became a part of the picture, Steven and Jake got involved. They like her. She is on edge around the Knight. Perhaps she senses something different about them. It’s hard not to. With me? She asks me to step back. She got Marc to take the mask off the other day. It was nice to step back. I’m not sure what will happen to me if Marc stops wearing the mask all the time. Maybe we become ‘Just Marc’ again. 

 I’m here as long as he needs me. 

Right now he needs me. We’re having a rough day. I say we because when Marc has a bad day, we ALL have a bad day. 

Marc is having a panic attack. 

His mask is off and he has locked himself in his room. The first line of defense steps up. 

We can all feel him assess the body. Marc digs in hard. In his worst moments it would take an act of sheer force to pry the body away from him. 

Steven is cool and collected as he looks the situation over. He talks to Marc and we all watch. It gets crowded up in the front during these times and Jake hangs back. He likes to show his support but also make sure no one else gets in the way. 

We had an incident a month back where we all tried to have opinions. Talk about loud chaos. 

Marc starts to yell and Steven shakes his head, not wanting to force it but not wanting to let it continue. 

The Knight simply watches, formless and bright. They don’t understand these things. They do understand that it can affect how they function though. 

Jake saunters in, hands in pockets as he talks to Marc and Steven. They all have history. 

Marc reaches for me. He wants to hide. I soak up the tears and cover the scars. 

Steven sighs and I can feel his pull as we wordlessly talk. I am auto pilot as Marc fades back and the body carries on. We feel tired. The information travels up the ranks and we all decide what to do with it. 

The Knight shares in his own strange way the memories of a full night. Jake shares memories of a full day. I sit in the chair and watch as the mission moves around us. 

Steven gives orders. Sleep. Short and sweet. 

Convincing Marc to sleep is a chore for the others, but not for me. 

When Marc thinks he is me, I can simply stand and move us to the sarcophagus. Climbing in, Marc settles back and we all feel the body sink in. 

We aren’t perfect, but we are a team. We have to be. 

Tomorrow Marc will wake up again. Tomorrow we will all find our places and tomorrow there might be more of us or less of us. Just gotta roll with the punches. 

Marc

Here we go again. Alarm. Awake. Headache. Confusion. Fight through. 

Fight through. 

Pain and aches and old blood and this deep fog that mutes all light and sound and color and feeling. I live here. I live in the blur. I work best in the blur. 

Muffled and soft. It lets me breathe. In and out. I can’t hear my own pounding blood rushing in my head. I can’t feel the cracks and pops as my legs bend and snap into place to lift this shell. 

I move past the room filled with plants I don’t remember buying. Past the decorations I don’t remember setting up. Hand tracing the ever breathing and changing walls of the living mission. 

I pause. 

“Good morning.” We understand one another. A haunted shell. Walls that hold nothing and too much. 

The walls breathe and I wait. I breathe with them, meditative and peaceful. A moment for me. Only for me. This is how I ground. I connect with the ghost in the walls until I too can inhabit my home. 

Good morning.

Coffee. Chatter. Energy. Noise. Movement. I’ve surrounded myself with movement. I remember a time when my life was non-stop movement. 

Come and go. Through the door as Steven, out the door as Jake, in the sky as Marc and… I try not to think too hard about that part. That time in my life is hard for me to pin down. I wasn’t the one driving most of the time. Then when I was, it was filled with pain. 

Now I’m sitting here and they move around me and I am waiting. The movement has slowed down. When I do go, it isn’t the constant shifting, changing, and rushing that it was. 

It feels… Languid. 

I gaze out the window. It’s a quiet night. I don’t trust the quiet ones. They drift slow and I’m left pacing like a caged tiger. 

“Marc. Sit.” Speaking of caged tiger… She watches me and gestures for me to join her. Calm and peaceful and domestic. 

I hesitate. Domestic was not something I could do. Domestic was his. 

They say cats can sense the switch. Maybe it’s chemical. Maybe it’s just sensing the mood. 

I try not to. I try domestic. I don’t deserve domestic. Domestic and Marc Spector do not belong together. 

It’s just sitting. 

Mr. Domestic chimes in. Of course he would. I stop and she watches. The mask hides the fade. I wonder if she can sense it because her tail starts to twitch. 

I’m grounded. I have no reason to give in. There is no danger. I have no reason to stay. All that stands before me now is the one thing Marc Spector has never been able to handle: Happiness. 

She isn’t gonna be happy if you don’t put your butt in that chair.

The other guy. Mr. Charm. As if he were a professional at making people happy. 

Take off the mask. 

We should patrol. 

Let’s go out and have a drink. 

We need to take a day off. 

The people need to see us. 

I’m so tired.

Needless to say we all have opinions. More than I would think there would be. Some that come softly and others that rock through us like a megaphone to the brain. 

I sit with her. She rolls up the mask just enough to touch the face. Our face. My face. 

Slowly. Like peeling back layers of grime and sand and blood and pain and trauma I let her take the mask away. She places it just in reach of me. As if she knows something I don’t. Something that makes my fingers twitch towards it, longing to touch it. To press it to my heart and keep it safe like a gentle friend. 

I take a breath. Let the air fill my lungs. Let the fog fade. Let the world settle. Let the Me I am becoming fight the Me I have been back and into submissive silence. 

There will be days. Days where that me wins. Days where I do not sit with her. Days where I flinch away and pull the mask back down. Days where the past pierces through me and I am lost again. 

“It’s quiet.” I close my eyes and lean back. 

“Quiet?” She gently curls into me. Warm and soft and heavy at my side. 

“For now.” I relax and feel my foundation shift, letting these old walls settle as they continue to hold it all up. The body sighs and I look at her. Me and him and the other and they and them and us. “Here I am.” 

We rise in peace. 

I let us be at peace. 

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

you be my fire and I’ll be your gasoline, Ch.7

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After three and a half years of being unable to touch this, all there is to say is: ah shit, here we go again But in all honestly, I am so sorry that it took this long. Life has been all over the place, and since the last update I have managed to get a university degree, find a new best friend, decide that I am willing to risk it all and pursue writing as a career, and gain a whole new understanding of love. For those of you who'd been with me over the years -- I hope with all my heart that you will enjoy the very much delayed continuation of this story, and I thank you a thousand times over for sticking with me through it all. For the new people -- I promise the next chapter won't take three years for me to write.

The first couple of days on the road go by almost unnoticed, the weather kind to the world, blooming more and more with what seems like every passing hour. They travel through the endless meadows and forests, keeping to the shade during the hottest hours, and the further South they get, the more the air fills with a sweet, heady scent of flowers and early fruit. Every now and then, they find themselves beneath the lush canopies of apple trees, and Jaskier reaches up from the saddle to pluck a couple of plump, crisp fruit from the branches, feeding them to Cerbin and Roach. The apples are still a bit too tangy for his taste, but the horses love them, and so, it seems, does Geralt, because he eats them with just as much appetite. Jaskier makes a face at him every time, but that doesn’t deter the witcher from his snacks. 

They fall into the rhythm of each other easily, setting up camp at night like they’ve done it a thousand times before. While Jaskier tends to the horses and lays out the bedrolls, Geralt disappears into the woods to find something to eat, the fire already lit by a snap of his fingers, Igni working its tricks every time. It’s something that Jaskier very much misses when he travels alone — no matter how many times he’d started a fire in his life, he never became much of a fan of the process. Tending to the fire was just fine by him, just not the igniting part. Geralt didn’t mind, though, never rolling his eyes or huffing with displeasure, like the other Geralt loved doing on the days when he was unhappy with whatever it was that he was unhappy with. 

And Jaskier— Jaskier loved him, he did. He’d loved him for years, and it wasn’t something that he could just will to go away — he’d tried, gods know he tried, — but that love, painful from the very beginning, twisted the knife in his heart with a new sort of cruelty now, when he saw just how different Geralt could be. For it was Geralt, other version or not — with every passing day, Jaskier could see more and more familiar gestures and habits, caught the all too familiar pronunciations of certain words.

It caught him off guard, sometimes. 

On their second evening on the Path, when they’ve already had their fill of dinner and were warming their hands and bellies on rosehip tea, Geralt was telling the bard one of his endless stories, and the way he said “The ship’s captain knew fuck all about the waters he was sailing” sounded so much like the Geralt that Jaskier was used to, down to the little huff of amusement, that for a moment, he just froze in place before shaking his shoulders, like he could physically make the sudden ache lift. If the witcher noticed — and Jaskier knew that he probably did, — he didn’t say anything, continuing with his story without pause. It was something that Jaskier had noticed about him even before they set out on their way to Cintra — Geralt didn’t pry. It was impossible to hide anything from him, at the very least because he was a witcher, and witchers could tell emotions apart by scent, but despite that, Geralt let him be time after time, not asking questions that Jaskier wasn’t ready to answer. 

Jaskier wondered, sometimes. when they were riding in comfortable silence, the only sounds between them the soft knocking of their horses’ hooves, if Geralt knew. If he knew of the feelings that Jaskier carried in his heart for his other version, the feelings that he hid so expertly in the furthest corners of his heart, afraid that the slightest ray of sunshine would bring ruin if it was to ever touch them. And though they hurt, though they made Jaskier feel like he’s going to choke on his own blood one day, his heart finally giving out and ripping itself apart in his chest, he couldn’t give them up. He carried all that love, all that deeply-rooted, aching longing in his heart like a glass shard, but a shard of something dear to him, something that he protected like a precious stone. It didn’t matter that the sharp edges were leaving cut after cut on his heart, that one day he would shift something in his chest with not enough caution, and the shard would finally cut too deep for him to survive the blood loss. 

It meant too much to him; it made him whole, in a way that he couldn’t explain even to himself, let alone someone else. The pain was part of him, had been for so long that he could barely remember a time without it, and in Jaskier’s mind, it was almost a sign of him being alive, something vital, like the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the blood in his veins. It is what it is, he would tell himself over and over again, If this is how the gods will it, then it is how it’s supposed to be, no matter to what end. 

He didn’t really believe in the gods before he met Geralt eight years ago, but then, as time went on and the only warmth the witcher would ever show him would be a reluctant parting embrace, Jaskier found some solace, some consolation in the thought that it was all happening to him because it was meant to be happening. That it wasn't his own poor choice of loved ones, that it wasn’t some sort of cruel fate but was, instead, simply what it had to be. It was easier that way, it was a means to protect himself, and the recent years of hunting taught him that when it came to protecting yourself, you were to use any and all possible ways to do it. What mattered was that you shielded yourself from pain and death, how you did it had no role to play in the equation. 

None of that he talked about with Geralt, though he knew that the easy, near-instant trust that grew between them had space enough to allow for it. And he doubted that it would’ve been any different even if the topic of the conversation was someone that Geralt had never even heard about.

They did, however, talk about Coën. 

Jaskier confessed to Geralt — after some persuasion — that he wasn’t completely honest with the Wolf before, and that when he said that he’d spent a couple of weeks with Coën, he only meant that he’d spent a few weeks with him the first time they’d met. After that, over the years, their paths have crossed again and again, and each time was as sweet as the ones before. With a part of his heart that was still his own to do with as he pleased, Jaskier loved him, of course, because Coën was impossible not to love. 

That , Jaskier didn’t tell Geralt, but he could tell that he knew. 

That was an easy love, though. The kind of love that Jaskier was used to from his years in the Academy, intoxicating and heady, but also gentle, kind to his jaded heart and his restless mind. There was, of course, the ache of missing him when he was gone, but Jaskier had Coën’s sword on his back as a reminder of the witcher, a part of him that linked them together. Coën, in turn, carried with him a necklace that Jaskier had worn for years before giving it to the witcher. 

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Geralt asks, his golden eyes shifting to an rich amber, reflecting the campfire burning between him and the bard.

Jaskier can tell that there isn’t the slightest trace of jealousy in the witcher’s voice, that he’s genuinely interested to know. Coën, Jaskier reminds himself, is dear to Geralt in the other realm, the closest thing to a brother that a witcher can have, second only to the other Wolves. 

“Seven months ago now,” Jaskier says, at length. “Almost twice as long as it usually takes us to find each other again. But then again, he is quite preoccupied with the Poviss court.”

Geralt lifts a brow in surprise, taking a swig of wine from a bottle they’d bought in a town they passed by in the morning. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and passes the bottle over to Jaskier. 

“The court?” he asks.

The bard nods. “He’s with the Intelligence.”

Geralt’s surprise at the information becomes so apparent that Jaskier snorts, nearly choking on his wine. He’s never really had the chance to tell anyone that one of his lovers is part of a grand spiderweb of Intelligence here in the Northern Kingdoms, and it feels a little too good to finally see a reaction to take it all back, claiming it was a joke. 

“That is, I imagine, how he always knows where to find me,” Jaskier goes, as a way of explaining. “I like to think that he looks out for me in the months that we’re in different kingdoms.Though he would never admit to it, naturally.”

Jaskier falls silent for a while, looking into the fire with the slightest of smiles curing his lips. Geralt doesn’t break that silence, though the bard can feel the witcher’s gaze resting on him. He wonders, distantly, if he’d be able to listen if it was Geralt that was telling him about someone that, in one way or another, had claim to his heart. If he was being completely honest with himself, he knew that the answer was “no”. Whether that made him the lesser man, he didn’t know, but Geralt wasn’t forcing him into finding out. After he’d mentioned Ciri — the daughter of a woman he loves , — on Belleteyn, he never spoke of either one again. It is yet to happen in this realm, and I’ve got no right to tell you the future , he said, allowing Jaskier to believe that that was if not his only, then his main reason, at least. 

“I take it, Coën that you know is not the same?” Jaskier teases, passing the wine back.

“That, or he’s damn good at keeping secrets,” Geralt huffs. “Which is, I suppose, one of the main requirements to being a spy.”

Jaskier laughs, casting a glance sideways, where he can hear Cerbin rusting in the bushes. Roach is grazing somewhere nearby, flicking her ears at the stallion, too young and too impatient to stay in one place for long. 

“What’s he like?” Jaskier asks, finally, after days of keeping his interest at bay. “ Your Coën?”

Geralt considers it, shifting to lie down next to the fire, one arm behind his head. With the other, he pats the space next to him, and Jaskier doesn’t need much more persuasion — putting his lute, that he’d kept on his knees before that, — aside to come lie next to the witcher, the evening warm and heady with the scent of jasmine. 

As he lies down, Geralt wraps an arm around his shoulders, turns his head to press a gentle kiss to Jaskier’s hair, effortless with his affections. Jaskier shines with it, moving even closer and letting out a content breath, his eyelashes fluttering closed. He doesn’t think about the days slowly but surely creeping up on them, about how every new stretch of road brings them closer to the moment when they will inevitably have to part — he allows himself to be in the present, basking in the attention and the warmth. 

“Well, he’s certainly not a Poviss spy,” Geralt begins, with a chuckle. “He's surprisingly much more like a Griffin than a Wolf, really, which is to say that if he wasn’t like a brother to me, I would’ve called him a knightly know-it-all. More than anything, he loves to talk about his principles, and it’s those that let him to—”

Abruptly, Geralt cuts himself off, and Jaskier can feel his body tense before relaxing again. But before he can ask, before the sharp pang of alarm in his chest transforms into words, Geralt goes on, not allowing him enough time to speak:

“It’s those that have led him into trouble more than they’ve ever led him to anything good. But, of course, trying to change his mind or convincing him of something that doesn’t align with how he sees it is about as fruitful as trying to convince a fucking foglet to stop ripping people to shreds.”

Jaskier laughs, quietly. 

“Sounds like him,” he says. “He’s got his ideals that he protects vehemently, and if he decides on something, no amount of pleading, reasoning or threats will ever change his mind. Not to mention that he, naturally, has to know all there is to know about everything and everyone. Pretty sure that that’s the main reason why he’d joined the Intelligence. They need people like him there.”

“True,” Geralt agrees. “But I don’t think that the Coën that I know would turn your head nearly as much. I don’t want to call him a bore, and he isn’t, but he’s certainly not the one to take a human to a hunt or sleep with someone he’d just met. I cannot imagine Coën flirting with anyone, though he’s got his charms.”

Jaskier mostly ignores the second half of the sentence, because the Coën he knows definitely knows how to get just about anyone into his bed. but he does say:

 “Coën doesn’t really think I’m human.”

At that, Geralt’s surprise becomes palpable. He props himself up on one elbow, making Jaskier shift with a displeased little sound. He’d been so comfortable with his head on the witcher’s shoulder, after all. But he understands the reaction, of course. And he remembers them leaving the inn five days ago, the sudden surge of energy that washed over him like a wave when Geralt placed his medallion on the bard’s neck. Jaskier remembers the world around him coming into such sharp focus that it almost hurt, his fingers tingling with a feeling he couldn’t begin to describe despite his talent with words. Over the days, he kept coming back to that in his thoughts. 

Geralt looks at him without words, but his quizzical gaze speaks volumes regardless. Jaskier sits up, runs his hand through his hair, takes in a breath. 

“The more he trained me, the more he told me that it’s pretty much impossible for someone with just human blood in their veins to take up hunting the way I have,” he says. “That I move too fast for a human, that silver daggers lie too lightly in my hands. That wounds heal on me a little too quickly, and there are fewer scars than he’d expect a human to have after.”

He shrugs, a move of his shoulders that isn’t as easy as he’d like it to be. The topic had never really bothered him, but in the past days, he thought about it too much to now be able to brush it off with nonchalance.

“Elven blood, then?” Geralt says, after a while.

“That’s what he told me,” Jaskier agrees, but he can’t stop thinking about the fact that witcher medallions shouldn’t react to elves, let alone quarter- or even half-elves. “He even told me, once, of Hen Ichaer , Elder Blood. But that I absolutely do not have.”

Jaskier laughs, and in his merriment, he fails to catch the glimpse of a shadow that passes over Geralt's features. By the time Jaskier looks at him again, the witcher also has a smile on his lips, a glimpse of sharp canine showing.  

“Yes,” he nods. “I suppose, you would’ve known if you had in you some of the most powerful magic known to the Continent.”

The conversation trails off after that, shifting to other topics. They talk about the road ahead, about the towns that they could stop at, with Jaskier obviously insisting on Oxenfurt. Novigrad, on the other hand, as they collectively agree, is not a place that’s worth paying a visit to. 

“Is it as bad in a few decades from now as it is currently?” Jaskier asks, back in the warmth of Geralt’s arms. “With all my love for busy streets and the bubbling life, I much prefer the torch-lit cobble streets of Oxenfurt, full of students and professors. I might’ve grown too old to enjoy Novigrad.”

Geralt snorts. 

“You’re twenty-six.

Jaskier shoves him in the side.

“Yes, and the last time we visited, I was twenty-five, which is already too old to find any delight in that gods forsaken city. Life on the road has made me way too fond of peace and quiet.”

He lets the “we” slip before he can catch himself, and Geralt, naturally, picks up on it. Jaskier knows what he’s going to ask before the question is spoken:

“You and your Geralt?”

“He’s not mine,” Jaskier replies, automatically. “And, regardless, I wasn’t with him. If I hate Novigrad, then he’s deadly allergic to it.”

“Coën, then?” 

The memories, warm and brilliantly-clear, like the waters of a river in the heat of summer, wash over Jaskier as he nods, a smile playing on his lips. He’s half-asleep already, the burning fire warm on his skin, Geralt’s presence a steady, now-familiar security at his side. The visions of the past come to him as saturated and full of life as if he was still there, at an inn on the outskirts of Novigrad. 

“I’ve told you before, and I will tell you again — you’re insane, Jask,” Coën laughs, closing the door behind them and setting the logs in the fireplace aflame with a wave of his wrist. “The next time you decide that you’re in dire need of slicing the heads off a few drowners, can we please find some place that is not the Novigrad docks to do it.”

Jaskier is still high on the adrenaline from the hunt. His every sense is still sharpened, the tips of his fingers tingling with the taste of victory. It was by no means effortless, but the struggle made it all the sweeter. Coën didn’t interfere, watching from the flanks with pride burning in his eyes, and all the spoils of victory were for Jaskier alone to collect. 

It wasn’t even a contract — they went out to hunt for practice, as without Coën, Jaskier was still reluctant, most of the time, to get himself into trouble willingly.

“As much as I hate this city, I have to give credit where credit is due — it’s perfect hunting ground,” Jaskier says, putting his sword aside and undoing the buckles of his armor before falling onto the bed, reveling in the feeling of the covers under him. The night air is filled with the scent of wild flowers. “Where we killed five drowners tonight, there will be ten tomorrow.”

Coën shakes his head with an indulgent smile, comes closer, sitting down on the bed next to the bard. His green eyes catch the reflection of the flames, and shine brighter with the familiar gold. He pushes his black hair from his face only for it to fall back a second later, and leans down, brushing his lips over Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“ You , not we.”

Jaskier opens one eye to look at him.

“Hm?”

“ You killed them, Jask, not we,” Coën repeats, tugging his boots off and getting onto the bed properly to pull Jaskier to his chest, where the bard rests his head with familiar ease. “You impress me more and more every time we meet. Though sometimes I do wonder if I’ve made a horrible mistake when I’ve decided to teach you to hunt.”

“Oh, come on,” Jaskier snorts. “You know I’ll be safe.”

Coën brushes his fingers over Jaskier’s cheek, drawing his attention and leaning in closer to his lips, his own upturned in a grin.

“Who’s talking about your safety? I’m starting to worry you’ll take all the contracts from me.”

The memory fades slowly, leaving behind a pleasant warmth. With it, though, it brings another one, one that Jaskier hadn’t had the time to think about, caught up in the sudden passion that bloomed between him and Geralt. The memory of their first night together, and the witcher calling Jaskier his. No matter how many lovers you’ve had or are going to have, you’re mine , he said. And Jaskier knows that he asked for it himself, knows that back then, he longed for it, ached for it — the feeling of belonging to someone. But when he really thought of it, when he thought of this realm’s Geralt, thought of Coën, he couldn’t quite find that same feeling in his chest anymore. 

Shifting again, Jaskier just barely holds himself back from cursing under his breath. 

Feelings were a complicated thing, he knew, but he still, from time to time, forgot about it, even though they’ve always, inevitably, caught up to him. Back at the inn in the middle of nowhere, it was all too easy to completely lose himself in the sudden, heady attraction, in the feeling of being desired, needed. And he didn’t regret it, not for a moment, but he also saw now, in clear view, that the three months ahead weren’t going to be the same. He wanted to be honest with Geralt — as much as he could bear to be, — and that meant facing his own heart first. 

The bond between them was undeniable, like they’ve known each other for years, but now, when his head cleared slightly, Jaskier thought about it a little more soberly. A week ago, if Geralt had told him that he’s got the means to go back to his realm that same evening and asked if Jaskier wanted to go with him, he would’ve said yes. Now, as some time has passed, he wasn’t sure that that was the decision that he could make so easily, if at all. 

This realm was everything that he’d ever known. His friends and colleagues were his, his hard-earned career and reputation were here. Coën was here. Geralt was here. 

No matter how harsh the witcher that he’d known for eight years now was, no matter how much pain he caused him, both intentional and not, Jaskier couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again. And no more than that could he bear the idea of never seeing Coën again, his beloved Wolf, the only creature in the entire world that had always seen Jaskier for more than just his colourful silk and velvet, the lute in his hands. They were never in what Jaskier would necessarily call a relationship, but every time they met, it was like they never parted. 

The last time they saw each other, after Coën had, as always, found him through his spiderweb, Jaskier ran into his arms right in the middle of the dusty country road, paying no mind to the farmers working in the field that looked up at them with what was disapproval at the very least. And Coën paid them all even less mind, pulling Jaskier so close that the bard could feel something in his shoulder crack, before kissing him with everyone watching. That was one of the things that never failed to mesmerise Jaskier about Coën — the way he simply did not give a fuck, ready to challenge the entire world, his sharp canine shining brighter and more deadly than his daggers. Jaskier never felt more alive and more safe than when he was with him. 

Could he really give it all up, even if it was so easy to think it to be Destiny?

“Jask?” Geralt’s voice pulls Jaskier abruptly from his thoughts and memories. “You still with me?”

Jaskier almost laughs at the double meaning that the question has to him. Instead, he clears his throat, a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

“Sorry, I must have drifted off a bit,” he lies, trying to will his pulse to remain steady. “What were you saying?”

Geralt gives him a look that lets Jaskier know that the witcher can tell he’s lying, but for whatever reason, he doesn’t press. Would Jaskier have done the same, if the roles were reversed? Would he be able to just let it go if he saw that Geralt was so blatantly dishonest with him? That, as Jaskier realised with a sharp twist of something in his chest, was one more question to add to the list of thighs that demanded answers. 

“I asked if you were with Coën,” Geralt repeats, finally, and Jaskier thanks all the gods when the witcher relaxes again, readjusting the blanket that he’d thrown over them both earlier in the night. Jaskier really could’ve drifted off like this, the lie was almost believable. “In Novigrad.”

Jaskier makes himself more comfortable, rearranging their position into one that will allow him to actually fall asleep. It’s past midnight, and his worries are starting to get too much for him to keep them at bay, so going to sleep and ignoring them all together seems like the best option he’s got. It’s not necessarily the best decision, but it’s one currently available to him. He was used to baring his heart to everyone that would and would not listen, his songs filled with the bitter sting of heartbreak as much as heroics, but doing it before a crowd of patrons felt somehow… distant. Like he was saying it all with a mask on, or in another language. That veil of impersonality, thin as it was, kept him from feeling too vulnerable. But speaking about his feelings and his hears like this, one on one? Jaskier wasn’t sure he had it in him, not after everything. 

And so, pretending like none of it existed, even for a couple of hours, was all he could do. 

“I was, yes,” he says, finally, tucking himself closer to Geralt’s chest. The witcher’s medallion hums softly from his proximity, and that’s yet another thing that Jaskier can’t allow himself to think too hard about right now. “He tends to like Novigrad, actually. And, surprisingly, he knows how to make it bearable for his companions. That was probably the only time I visited that I didn’t want to leave immediately after stepping foot beyond the city walls.”

Geralt chuckles, a genuinely amused little sound in his throat, and noses at Jaskier’s hair, clearly also ready to drift off. After they’d left the inn, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other for two more nights, but after that, they did settle into something more gentle, the precious hours of darkness, which were now only getting shorter with the summer heat, were dedicated to sleep rather than heady passion. As fun as it was, the Path demanded it’s due, and they were both experienced enough to know that being well-rested is more important than having fun. 

That, however, in no way meant that they’ve had enough of each other. Sleeping through the night left them with more than enough energy to spend it during the day, be it on a bank of a river, while the horses were enjoying the cool waters, or hidden somewhere in an apple grove, aways from the prying eyes of passers by.  

“If the Coën that I know heard that, he probably would’ve claimed this realm’s version of him either out of his mind or possessed by a demon,” Geralt says, with a soft laugh. “For as long as I’ve known him, he’d always hated Novigrad with a burning passion. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that there is nothing on the entire Continent that irritates him more than the Free City. He doesn’t even like to talk about it, let alone visit it.”

Jaskier echoes Geralt’s laughter, trying to imagine the man that he’d never seen but, in some way, knows. Geralt had told him that Coën’s counterpart from the other realm also has black hair and green eyes, that he’s also tall and never dresses in anything other than black. He does, however, have a beard that Geralt had confessed to being jealous of, and that is not something that Jaskier can imagine.

“I don’t think I would’ve recognised him if I were to run into him in a tavern, like I did with you,” he finally says, and Geralt hums, like it’s a question that they’ve both been trying to settle for a while. “But then again, you are more recognisable. With the hair and all.”

“I’m quite surprised, actually,” Geralt says, shifting again and making Jaskier groan with frustration. He’d already learned that the witcher loves tossing and turning before finally falling asleep. “At how quickly you believed me. You know, with your Geralt being—”

“Not mine,” Jaskier corrects him, without even thinking anymore.

Geralt barely stops to acknowledge his words.

“Yes, yes, not yours,” he says dismissively. “With him being the famed White Wolf and everything. I could’ve been an imposter or a mage disguised behind an illusion, for all you knew.”

Jaskier’s already half-asleep, and he’s not willing to think about the what’s, if’s and maybe’s of the whole situation. So in response he just grumbles:

“I’ve asked you questions that only Geralt could know the answers to, and you knew the answers.”

The witcher, it seems, is in no mood to sleep, for he goes on, and Jaskier has no idea where he’d gained that sudden burst of energy right before going to bed. The fire warms him, makes his body feel pleasantly heavy, and Jaskier allows himself to drift further and further off, without really listening to Geralt and his lectures about how the bard should be more careful with trusting strangers. 

After a while, the length of which Jaskier would not be able to determine even if he wanted to, he realises that there’s been a stretch of silence, indicating that Geralt is waiting for some sort of an answer from him. Having missed most of what’s been said, the bard just waves his wrist, pulling the covers closer to his chest.

“Alright,” he says, the words slightly slurred by sleep. “If I ever meet yet another version of you, I promise not to trust him no matter what he tells me.”

Behind him, Geralt makes a sound of approval, like Jaskier had passed a test that the bard wasn’t even aware he was taking. 

“And what of Coën?” he asks, after a few more seconds, jerking Jaskier out of his sleep once again. The bard frowns, having lost the thread of conversation. 

“What of Coën?” he repeats, willing himself to stay awake long enough to finally answer all the questions that Geralt has decided to ask him instead of keeping them to himself until the morning.

“Say that you were to recognize him, somehow,” Geralt goes on, and it sounds like he’d either explained it thrice over already or it’s simply the most obvious thing one can think of. Jaskier doesn’t have the willpower to figure out which one it is. “Would you have approached him, slept with him? That is, if we pretend that the Coën that I know is a bit more easy-going. That is to say — would you have done with him all that you have done with me?”

Whether Geralt is trying to figure something out for himself or simply has nothing better to do, Jaskier does not know, and he’s way too tired to try and figure it out. But, regardless, he replies:

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m too—”

“You’re too used to your Coën,” Geralt says, before Jaskier can finish. Despite the stress on the possessive pronoun, he doesn’t sound jealous, rather wistful, like he’d found another part of an equation that he’s trying to solve.

This time, Jaskier doesn’t correct him, finally falling deep into the dreamless darkness of sleep.

[read it on ao3]