#i talked to jesus he said today was sunday

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xxxi // Prelude to Escape

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Renee is back to being his giddy, carefree self after the stream, and something about that is jarring. It’s as if he’s completely forgotten the events of the past couple of days, or as if they don’t faze him anymore. Maybe he’s just high again. Conrad wouldn’t be surprised.

They sit in the guest bedroom, all three of them for once. While Davin quietly works on stitching Conrad’s arm back together, Renee is waiting for his own turn. He’s drinking wine straight from the bottle, slouched on the bed, long legs swinging off the edge. His jacket lies discarded on the floor, t-shirt drenched in sweat down his chest. The wound on his broken arm looks bad, but it isn’t bleeding anymore.

“I got really into tagging culture for a while,” he drones on. “Always had spray paint on me. I’d spray out security cameras too, I fuckin’ hate security cameras. Seems every shoddy failing business needs ‘em these days.” He takes a swig of wine. “I spent a long time coming up with a good-looking tag, too. I still know it.”

“That so?” Davin says, not looking up from his work. His hands move swiftly as he ties off another stitch, cutting the thread close before he moves on to the next one.

The dispassionate response doesn’t seem to faze Renee. “Oh, yeah,” he says, tapping his fingernails against the glass bottle. “There’s an artistry to it, man.” He chuckles. “Should’ve stuck to it. But you know how it goes.” 

In the brief silence that follows, Renee looks around the room as if scouring for anything to distract himself with, until his expression suddenly changes to something more devious, and he looks at Conrad. “Hey, Connie,” he says.

Conrad blinks slowly. For a while, he’s been so deeply dissociating, he forgot he still has a physical presence in the room.

“If you wanted to kill me, how would you do it?” Renee asks.

The question is enough to tear Conrad back to reality. He looks at Renee sharply, swallowing. “I w-…”

“Speak up,” Renee says with a smile.

Conrad can feel his breathing begin to come quicker, can hear his heartbeat in his ears. “I don’t want to… to kill anyone,” he says.

Renee snorts. “Oh, c’mon, drop the choir boy charade. I know you hate me.” He takes another swig of wine, looking at Conrad expectantly. “Would you make it quick or draw it out? Get some sweet revenge?”

Conrad swallows again, eyes drifting to Davin, who just looks very tired.

“I think there’s a good handful of viewers who wouldn’t mind if the tables were turned,” Renee says. “We saw that today, didn’t we?” He chuckles. “Imagine you had me tied down, Connie. No witnesses, no chance of being caught, just you, me and—”

“Quick,” Conrad mutters.

Renee raises a brow. “Really? How?” He leans forward on the bed, a genuinely excited glint in his eyes. “A gun or a knife, hm? Or something else…?”

Even Davin has paused what he’s doing now, looking curiously at Conrad as he thinks.

Conrad looks at his arm. At the new scars he will have to learn to bear, ugly and jagged to match how shaky his hands were during the stream. “Gun,” he says quietly.

“Where?”

Conrad’s breaths are shallow.

“Where would you shoot me?”

He grits his teeth, looks Renee in the eyes, and says, “Head.” 

Renee’s smile only widens. “Would you want to look me in the eye, Conrad? Like now?”

Conrad doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t look away, either.

“Would you watch me as you pulled the trigger?” Renee keeps the eye contact for a while longer, but once it becomes clear that Conrad has no intention of responding, he leans back on the bed again, taking a swig of his wine. “Me, I think I’d smash your skull with a hammer.”

At that, Conrad stiffens, and although the defiance never quite leaves his expression, he can feel the blood rush from his face, and his chest sinks a little.

Renee suppresses another grin. “I’d have some fun with the rest of you first, though,” he continues casually. “See how many broken bones it’d take to cure your fidgeting.”

“Renee,” Davin says, giving him a look.

“What? He fidgets a lot, y’know.”

Davin just rolls his eyes. 

💵

Long after Renee’s music has seized beating through the walls, long after the hallway light shining through the slit under the door has been turned off, long after the silence has spread its deafening presence like a blanket over the premises, Conrad sits awake in his bed, wondering exactly what he’s waiting for.

It feels impossibly daunting, like staring down the barrel of a gun, as if he’s holding his breath for the coming shot. But if all goes well, this night marks the end of his ordeal.

Conrad wonders, albeit briefly, if he hasn’t gotten attached in some strange way. Attached to his captors, attached to the rhythm of life here, to pain and healing and rebound pain. There’s a simplicity to it that doesn’t exist in everyday life, a clear divide between good and bad, implied guidelines for how to behave, emotions that aren’t ambiguous or muddled by complex circumstances. Here, his suffering has a clear reason behind it. It’s brutal, but unequivocally straightforward, which is strangely comforting.

There’s a new life he has to face when he comes back home, and he knows it. Knows that he will have to learn to relive his trauma, over and over, to face his family and friends again. Knows with every fiber of his being that even if he succeeds tonight, it’s not over, and it’s never going to be over. Whatever life he thought he’d live has been taken from him, it’s been ripped from his grasp, it’s been torn to shreds and he has watched it die. Is he supposed to act like thousands of people haven’t seen him at the lowest moments of his life? Is he supposed to act like he wants to live out the aftermath of that, like he wants to forever be seen as the same ruined, mangled husk of a person he has been in those streams? Even if he somehow recovers fully, physically and mentally; even if he makes a name for himself, lives out whatever potential he still has left – that image will never go away.

A twenty-three-year-old boy, covered in his own blood and sweat, begging at his wits end for mercy. That’s who he will always be seen as, no matter who he choses to become from this point forward. It’s a ghost he can never erase, never overcome, and never outrun.

Conrad DeWitt will never not be broken.

He will have to look Howard in the eye, knowing full well that they already know what he’s gone through. How is he supposed to do that? And that’s just day one.

Despite the clear threat to his life, there’s a thousand reasons for him to be reluctant to escape. To wait just a little longer than strictly necessary. To stave off his return, no matter how much he simultaneously yearns for it.

Thoughts cascading along the same trite lines, Conrad sits idle far beyond the point where he is certain that both Renee and Davin have gone to sleep.

If he had to guess, he’d say it’s around three in the morning when he finally pulls the screw from its hiding place. There’s a moment of uncertainty as he finds the keyhole by touch, but then the pin clicks, and the handcuffs loosen from his wrist. He sits rubbing the abrased skin for a minute, feeling out the quietness of the house, letting it wash over him.

Silently, Conrad eases his way off the bed, bare feet making no sound on the cold hardwood floor. The room is slightly illuminated by the moonlight pouring in through the window, but half the room is still shrouded in darkness.

It feels illegal, somehow, to be free. It feels wrong. If he’s caught at this stage, he’ll have to explain how he got out of the cuffs, and all his work will be for nothing. It seems every noise he makes, every rustle of his clothing, every exhale, every beat of his heart, is amplified in the silence.

He carefully wraps his hand around the handle of the door to his room, cringing as he pushes it down, hears the spring in the internal mechanism. He pulls the door open slowly, raises the handle again slowly, lets go of it slowly, as if any miniscule sound would trigger a blaring alarm somewhere.

It doesn’t.

The hallway, void of windows, is pitch black. Conrad tiptoes through it with one hand trailing the wall, eyes wide open in the dark, occasionally pausing to listen for any sign that his captors are awake. The muffled sound of snoring can be heard through the door to Renee’s room, but it’s completely quiet behind the door to Davin’s, which, oddly enough, is far more terrifying.

Conrad is almost relieved when he makes it to the open kitchen area, not least because the large floor-to-ceiling windows provide a relatively well-lit landscape to his eyes, long since adjusted to the dark. He stops in the entranceway, wondering briefly what his next step should be. He doesn’t have much of a plan, honestly.

Biting his lip, he tiptoes his way to the kitchen island. He opens a drawer, careful not to do it too quickly, lest its contents slide around too much. In the low light, he can barely make out the various cooking tools, but he spots the stark triangle of a herb knife, its blade still somehow shining in the low light.

Conrad picks up the knife, the old wound on the back of his hand aching as he adjusts his grip on the handle, slowly pushing the drawer closed. It’ll have to do for self-defense, he thinks grimly. The thought of stabbing someone with his own hands fills him with nausea, but this is life or death. He has to rise to the occasion. He has to at least be prepared.

 Now he just needs to find a way out of the house.

As he tiptoes his way toward the living room area, Conrad bumps into a chair by the dining table, and winces deeply as the wooden legs scrape across the floor with a noise that seems to cut through the still air like a horn. Grabbing the chair to keep it steady, he stands absolutely frozen for a few seconds, clutching onto the knife, listening intently for the sound of rousing throughout the house, but no such sound is to be heard. It still takes a good minute for his heartbeat to settle after that.

He uncurls his hand from the back of the chair, and continues on past the couch group to the sliding glass doors, which Renee so often frequents on smoke breaks.

In his heightened state of anxiety, he all but forgot about the padlocks which don every door and window of the house, but there it is, brass surface shining in the moonlight. The chunk of metal standing between him and his freedom.

He tries to stick the knife into the keyhole and force it open, to no avail.

Careful not to make too much noise, he tries to open the sliding door despite the padlock, hoping in vain that the screws securing the hinges will easily tear from the frame. That, too, quickly proves fruitless.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Conrad realizes he will have to break the window.  

How do you do that soundlessly? Is that even possible?

He looks around his dark surroundings, desperately searching for any item that might prove useful in his quest, but nothing he sees gives much in the way of solace. It’s not like he can break the glass with the cushions scattered on the sofa.

He could almost cry with how close he is. As if there’s just one final code he has to break, one final step towards salvation. He sits down next to the sliding door, gritting his teeth against the unfairness of it all, trying to get his breathing back under control, trying to reignite his resolve.

Maybe, he thinks, if he cushioned the legs of one of the dining chairs with that one plaid draped across the arm of the sofa, the noise of it breaking the glass would be suppressed a little. Isn’t that worth a try?

Get up, he thinks to himself, Get up and do something about it.

His knees shake a little as he hauls his weight onto them, and he staggers up, mechanically grabbing the plaid as he walks past the sofa. His bare feet pat against the floor as he walks over to the dining area. Momentarily discarding the knife on the table, he grabs a chair by the back and turns it over in his hands, wrapping the plaid tightly around the two back legs.

He taps the cushioned legs against the glass pane of the nearest window.

Thunk.

Winces at the sound.

This isn’t going to be quiet. Not least when the glass finally shatters and scatters on the floor – it’s going to wake them up for sure.

Maybe he should just count on that. Count on rousing their attention – count on at least having a head start. His nerves are alight with the thought of running, but in the dark, there’ll be plenty of places to hide. If he could make it to the woods, if he could lose them there, find the nearest settlement and somehow contact the authorities – that’d be it. He would be free.

Conrad unwraps the legs from the plaid and discards it on the floor. He stands back, wielding the chair in both hands, giving one final glance at the knife on the table, reminding himself to grab it once the window breaks. His heart is starting to beat dizzyingly hard in his ears, breathing likewise quickening.

Once it happens, there’s no going back, is there?

Conrad throws the chair at the window as hard as he possibly can.

The sound of glass shattering erupts through the house, loud enough to almost be deafening, and shards rain down on the oak floor, but the window doesn’t break all the way; the glass is layered, Conrad realizes, there’s another pane still intact behind the one that just broke. As quickly as he can, he picks the chair back up and hurls it toward the remaining pane, which breaks, too, and the chair stops halfway out on the porch, and suddenly cold air rushes in, and then the light turns on in the hallway.

Conrad leaps for the knife, hands shaking so bad he cuts himself as he grasps it, but his adrenaline blocks it out, he doesn’t even feel it. Grabbing the plaid, he haphazardly throws it over the pile of glass shards on the floor to avoid cutting up his feet as he runs over it, and then he’s on the back porch running towards the fence in the pine grove, breath hissing in his throat.

“Renee!” Davin’s voice behind him. “Get the fuck up!”

And Conrad runs.

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[shotmrmiller]

I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar. 

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?” 

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!” 

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison. 

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up. 

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice. 

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.” 

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out, 

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,”  grind—and you whimper in his ear,  “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “ 

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked. 

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed. 

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand,  goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.” 

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him.  With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank. 

“You have a condom?” 

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it. 

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.” 

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise. 

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.” 

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock. 

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back,  stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length. 

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it. 

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.” 

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[ikilledyvette]

(Realized I was never gonna finish this long ass 9-1-1 fic before the premiere, so today I’m doing the seriously condensed version for Tumblr—which I still have to break into two parts, ffs.)

It’s Thursday afternoon, three days before Father’s Day, and the atmosphere at the 118 is grim. Gerrard is gone, at least, and everyone celebrated with cake—specifically, a Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead! cake, complete with a chocolate house crushing little black boots—but to everyone’s surprise, Buck isn’t exactly welcoming Bobby home with open arms anymore. He hasn’t forgiven Bobby for resigning in the first place. Making matters worse, Margaret and Philip Buckley are flying in for the weekend. Also, Eddie is depressed because Chris hasn’t called since he left for Texas six weeks ago, and Eddie doesn’t expect to hear from him on Sunday, or possibly ever again.

Hen tells Eddie Christopher will forgive him. “He’ll come home. He just needs a minute.” Eddie says that six weeks is a hell of a minute, but Hen persists. “You’re a good father,” she says, ignoring Eddie’s humorless laugh. “You messed up; I’m not saying you didn’t. But that doesn’t negate all the good you’ve done, too. Kids, they want you to hear them. They want you to show up, so when Christopher calls, pick up the phone and listen. You two love each other, Eddie. It’s going to work out.”

But Eddie’s gaze just drifts to the kitchen, where Bobby is quietly looking at the stack of uneaten fire-engine-shaped mini-waffles that Buck refused to eat, even though he’s the one who bought Bobby that ridiculous novelty waffle-maker in the first place

“You ever think maybe love just isn’t enough,” Eddie says, and Hen isn’t sure how to answer that.

*

Meanwhile, Chimney, thankfully, has the day off and is drinking a beer with Tommy. (Hen, left to deal with these weird morose vibes at the 118 by herself, quite rightly considers this a betrayal and has appropriately sworn revenge.) Chimney and Tommy talk a little about their own families: Tommy hasn’t spoken to his dad in years; meanwhile, Chimney finally gave up months ago after actually telling his dad how he really felt about being abandoned. He just needed to hear his father apologize once, just once—but he couldn’t do that, not even that, and Chimney decided enough was enough. 

Tommy, who’s only ever met the Buckley Parents one time (but has quickly clocked to Buck’s wildly shifting moods whenever discussing them), asks Chimney how much of a disaster this weekend is likely to be. Chimney tells Tommy that—apart from big family secrets and the general emotional trauma—every time the Buckleys visit, someone comes close to death: warehouse fire (Buck), lightning strike (Buck), viral encephalitis (Chimney). 

“Maybe don’t go up in a helicopter till they’re gone?” Chimney suggests, and Tommy says, “Jesus,” and gets another beer.

*

Back at the 118, things have gone from bad to worse. A call leads to Buck recklessly risking his own life to save someone. He walks away with only a few bruises, but Bobby yells at him for nearly getting himself killed. Buck snarks that he must still be that young, impulsive hothead after all. Bobby, a bit at a loss, tells Buck that he has come a long way, but he can’t put himself in danger just because he’s angry at Bobby. 

“What is this really about? You can talk to me, kid. I’m here.”

“Right,” Buck says, scornful. “You’re here. For ... how long again? Seven more, I think you said? No—no, you never actually said, did you? That one’s on me. Right, Cap?”

The bell goes off, ending the argument. Bobby tries to talk to Buck again after the shift, but Buck is already out the door. He barely gets any sleep that day before he and Tommy drive over for The Big Family Dinner. Tommy tries to talk Buck into staying home, suggesting they go tomorrow night instead, but Buck insists it will be a Thing if they don’t go.

Dinner goes badly. Margaret and Phillip aren’t intentionally rude or actively malicious, but there’s still a thread of casual biphobia in much of what they say: Evan’s always going through these phases. Well, if it’s not a phase, Evan, you must have known; how could you not? Please don’t misunderstand, Tommy, of course we like YOU. Very much! Yes, Tommy, thank you for your service. We’re just saying, Evan likes to throw us for a loop now and then. Really, Evan, you’ve had so many girlfriends you’re basically straight, aren’t you?

Buck finally loses it shortly after Maddie goes into the other room to check on Jee Yun. Margaret suggests that while she’s happy that Buck and Tommy are happy, of course—happy for now, at least—she’d just hoped Buck would’ve started to settle down by now, get serious about someone, rather than start experimenting. Phillip also jokes that he’d thought Buck had outgrown making bids for attention, and Buck just—snaps. 

“Why did I have to work so hard to get your attention again? Right. Cause it was too hard to look at me. Cause I was the reminder of what you lost, the screwup you got left with. Maybe if Daniel had grown up and turned out bi, you’d—"

—and Margaret slaps Buck across the face. 

It shocks everyone, very much including Margaret, but when Buck finally blinks and glances at his dad, Phillip automatically moves to stand behind his wife, silently taking her side. Buck, a bit dazed, mutters he’s sorry and tells Chimney not to tell Maddie what happened, right before Tommy all but pushes Buck out the door and drives him home.

Buck, still a little shellshocked, mostly can’t believe he said what he said, insists he shouldn’t have gotten that upset, and tries to brush off Tommy’s efforts to comfort him. Tries to get him to leave. Tries to distract him with sex when Tommy refuses to leave. Tommy, not having any of it, sits Buck down and talks a little about his own childhood, how he’d run away from home after his father had found out Tommy was gay, how—broken and bleeding—Tommy had never called, never looked back. Buck protests it’s not the same because Margaret and Philip aren’t abusive, have never hit him before tonight, aren’t really homophobic—at least, not in the same way—and also, Buck deserved that slap. 

“Who throws a dead kid in their parents face?” Buck asks, miserable.

“Someone who lived under the shadow of a brother he never knew about for 30 years?” Tommy asks, then takes Buck’s hand and makes Buck look at him.

“Look, maybe it’s not the same. You’re never going to convince me you deserved it, Evan, not any of it—but what I’m saying is, when people repeatedly hurt you? You don’t have to look back. You don’t have to keep trying. You can, if that’s what you want—but you don’t have to forgive anyone just because they’re family. That’s not what being a family should be. And, for what it’s worth, that includes Bobby, too. Just ... maybe consider what you’re actually angry about—or if it’s even anger you’re really feeling here—before deciding to cut him off for good.” 

Slowly, Buck sinks into Tommy’s side. Tommy wraps an arm around him. Kisses him gently just above birthmark.

(Part II is finished, coming tomorrow or the next day)

[pastafossa]

TW for those with religious trauma. A little long and just about something personal so putting it behind the cut, but basically:

I got to set a boundary and say No today, and that's huge.

I'm still mildly on FB to keep up with older friends and fam and events, and a few groups where I learn things generally from older folks (trust me, the old woodcarving guys aren't usually on tiktok). And let's just say I'm... very obviously not a Christian over there - not rude, not attacking, just happily on my own path. And there was this lady, who apparently had known me when I was 5 or so and had somehow stuck around. She had recently taken it upon herself to evangelize and 'bring me back' by repeatedly bringing up me loving Jesus at 5, and talking about God at me, and I am loved by him and etc etc don't you still talk to him, Pasta? Maybe that's why I remember you talking to him when you were little, so he can reach you through me, aren't you afraid Pasta that he's reaching for you and you'll miss it, etc etc.

Now I was raised strongly christian. The whole shebang. Christian elementary school, church every Sunday, youth groups on Wednesday, radio set to a christian station, etc. I'd heard these lines, believed those lines, said those lines for a long time. And even though my family was chill (one reason I wound up feeling supported enough to leave the church as an adult), I'm still unpacking a lot of that trauma. And one bit is my inability to set boundaries. Girls and women must always be polite, kind, and nice no matter what. Respect your elders when they speak. You are to be the sacred little vessel of the light and always be ready and willing to explain and advocate your beliefs even if someone's being mean, don't walk away. If someone asks you to help with something you don't want to do, you do it anyway, because your happiness and comfort doesn't matter, you are meant to serve.

I mentioned this while chatting with a group of friends the other night - I told them about this woman who'd been targeting me, and the bad memories it brought up and the ensuing anxiety attack when a bunch of things stacked a few weeks ago. And one of my friends turned and looked at me and gently said, 'why haven't you unfriended her?'

And I... paused at that. Why? Why hadn't I? Because this woman didn't 'intend' to be mean? Because I wanted to try to 'represent' something? Because I used to know her? Because I was afraid to be judged as rude? Because... my comfort and happiness didn't matter? Why on earth hadn't I?

Because... my comfort and happiness does matter. And I was being disrespected. It doesn't matter if I'm seen as rude. I'm allowed to say, 'no, you don't get to treat me like that.'

I... am allowed to cut someone off, even if they find that mean.

Even if they knew me when I was little.

Even if they have positive intent.

I don't have to give those people access to me if they're hurting me and trying to scare me.

And so I got home, and I rolled through that old list, and I culled it. Out went the people who I got a sick feeling thinking about. Out went the people who'd never really respected me. Out went the people who saw me as a trophy they could win by 'bringing me back'.

I said no to all of that.

I can say no.

And I know that seems small. But it feels like a giant leap for me.

[k-femdove]

Teach Me || Q.K

inspired by the one and only dematus and gentlyfillmyveins on ao3!

pairing :: sub!qian kun x dom!gn!reader

warnings :: omegaverse, boypussy omega kun, kun is a TA, alpha!reader (has a dick- can be read whatever gender), reader is a student, mr. lee is taeyong, tutoring, porn w/o plot, like it’s just porn, reader loves his scent, omega slick, like lots of it, and cum too, not explicitly stated but 100% consensual, hickeys, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, overstimulation, kun is a tsundere, reader has a massive cock, fucking on a table, kun squirts once, reader calls him princess, mindbreak, breeding kink, kun is a slutty lil pillow princess, knotting, passing out, reader takes photos of him passed out, slight somnophilia (reader makes kun taste cum while he’s asleep), fucking with glasses on,  jesus Christ how did I fit all of this

word count :: 2.5k... i got a little carried away with the content

Synopsis :: You've always had a thing for pretty, smart, older men.

playlist link here! or listen to “Promiscuous” by Nelly Furtado

You were never the best student. You didn't mean to be so unfocused; it just turned out like that. Whether talking with your friend or scribbling on your paper until it bore you to death, your attention would be on everything but the lesson.

"Y/n, could you stay for a moment?" Your professor, Mr. Lee, called out after most of the class had left. He sat at his desk, his younger TA next to him. Both were young- maybe less than a decade older than you? 

"What's up?" You asked, leaning onto the desk. 

Despite asking, you already knew it was about your grades. Even though your performance was lacking, it wouldn't hurt to improve. 

"As you may know, your recent assignments have been lackluster."  He began, looking the papers over. "It may be a good idea to get a tutor. I've spoken to Mr. Qian about it, and I trust him enough to provide you with the help you need. What do you say?"

Mr. Qian? You glanced at the TA next to your professor. Hm. So that was his last name. You had never really spoken before, so you knew him as Kun. He was soft-spoken and very well-mannered, always speaking eloquently. The man was never in the same part of the room as you, so you didn't pay much attention to him. 

You smiled, turning back to Mr. Lee. "When do we start?"

When you agreed to private sessions, this was not what you hoped would happen. It was Sunday morning, and the warmth of fall was still present. 

Then Kun walked in. As you opened the door to let him in, a strong omega scent hit you like lightning. It reminded you of strawberry candy, the type you'd find in those tiny plastic wrappers. You know, the ones you'd find in a typical Asian store. There was a strange depth to it that was more than just candy. The sweetness was intoxicating, so easy to breathe in and savor. 

You could feel your mouth water as you led him to your coffee table- god, had he always smelt this heavenly? 

Not only that, but he suddenly appeared much more attractive. His silver-rimmed glasses lay perfectly on his face. You began to scan his clothes discreetly, eyes pleasantly surprised. 

He noticed your gaze as he let out an awkward chuckle. His hand moved up to adjust the sleeve of his sweater. It was a light blue with white stripes at the collar, like a vest he usually wore over a collared shirt. You glanced at the sweater again. He wasn't wearing a shirt underneath it. 

"I guess I am a little underdressed. It's warm today- I hope you don't mind?" 

"Oh, of course not." You said, snapping out of your trance. "I don't mind at all."

You didn't mind an hour ago. Now you wished you said otherwise.

As Kun was halfway through a lengthy and detailed explanation, you were practically glaring at him. A sleeve of his sweater slipped off his shoulder, exposing his collarbone. 

Dirty thoughts filled your head. Him without the sweater. Him moaning as you marked his gorgeous collarbones. Him bending over as he begged for your cock-

"Y/n, are you listening?" He said, waving a hand in front of your face.

Your head jolted back up to look at his concerned face, desperately trying to hide your spontaneous boner. Fuck, you just got a boner from your teacher. This day couldn't possibly get worse.

"Are you okay? You've zoned out this whole time." He said, genuinely worried. 

"I-I'm sorry." You blurted out, eyes darting around the room. "I'm just distracted."

"Distracted?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Distracted by what?" 

"By- well- this." You explained, gesturing to his hole whole appearance. 

"This?" Kun repeats, now mildly offended. Then he looks down at your raging hard-on and back at your flustered face. "Oh... Oh."

Another wave of his scent fills the air around you. You begin to lose control of your senses, leaning in closer. Your pupils dilate, and your eyes fill with lust as you breathe it in. 

Kun begins to panic as the scent of your arousal continues to trigger his, his panties already dampening. 

He had to admit you were attractive, catching himself staring a few times in class, but he had never expected it to go this far. 

"T-This is so inappropriate." He stuttered out. "I'm supposed to be your teacher!"

"Inappropriate? My entire apartment smells like you! You're the one wearing that stupid sweater!" You exclaimed.

"You've never had a problem with my scent before!"

"That's because you've never looked this fucking sexy!"

Kun falters for a moment, eyes wide open. "Wait, looked? I thought it was just the scent!"

"No, it's just you! Stop seducing me!" You say, hands on his shoulders. 

"And if I don't?" He replies quietly, testing the waters. 

You pull him in closer, inches away from his face. Kun starts to leak as your pheromones affect him. 

"I'll fuck you until you can't even walk."

He whimpers as you kiss him, hand palming your erection. A small string of saliva connects you as you pull away. You trail kisses down to his collarbone, where you suck harshly on the skin you've wanted to mark, eliciting a faint whine. 

You shove his back onto the table and pull his jeans off, throwing them god knows where. You’re met with the sight of his gorgeous legs, smooth to the touch. As your eyes move up his thighs, you move a hand to rub him through his soaked panties. 

“Stop teasing me….” He pleads, unconsciously pushing his lower half onto your hand.

You laugh at his eagerness and place a hand on his hips, preventing him from moving. 

You hum lightly and inch the pretty panties off him, placing them on the side of the table.

His scent grows stronger as you spread his legs, exposing a pink, hairless, and virtually untouched pussy. Your mouth watered as copious amounts of slick began to drip on the floor. 

“God, you're going to be the death of me...” you mutter, feasting on him with your eyes. 

You eagerly lean in and begin kissing his thighs. Kun groans as you guide your mouth everywhere but his pussy. 

As Kun begins to grow irritated, a gasp escapes his mouth as you lick a stripe on his pussy. The taste of his arousal spreads through your mouth. 

If the scent of him drove you crazy, his taste was on another level. It had vanilla and strawberry undertones, sweet and sugar-like. 

You dove back in, licking circles around his clit. Kun mewled as you moved your tongue down to his entrance, hungrily tasting the slick he let gush out. Your tongue easily entered him, plunging in and out. 

“F-Fuck,” he said, moans growing louder. “I’m so close.” 

Just as his thighs began to shake, you pulled away completely. Kun let out a loud whine, desperately trying to chase after his lost orgasm. 

Once you were positive that the buildup was lost, you easily plunged a finger into his hole. Slick or not, it wouldn't hurt to prep him a bit more. 

You took your free hand and slid it up his sweater, caressing his nipple. Kun’s breath hitched and his thighs instinctively squeezed together. 

You forced them apart again, inserting a second finger and sucking harshly on his clit. He let out a surprised yelp that quickly turned into loud, needy moans. 

Your fingers curled up as you thrust them deeper, eventually finding his G-spot. You pressed up against it, thrusting in and out. 

Kun’s entire body shook as he neared orgasm yet again, only for you to halt your movements. He makes a pained noise as he attempts to fuck himself back onto your fingers, but the stimulation was lost. 

You laughed at his reaction, already pushing a third finger into him. The slide was incredibly easy and your fingers jabbed against his G-spot once more. 

He sobbed as arousal pooled in his stomach, nearing his high again. He panted heavily and moved to take his glasses off, but you grabbed his hand. 

“Don’t.” You said, looking at his disheveled appearance, his glasses beginning to fog from the heat. “They make you look sexy.” 

Kun whimpers as you continue to finger fuck him, so close to the edge- closer than you'd ever pushed him. He squeezes his eyes shut in the hope that you’ll let him cum, only seconds away from his orgasm. 

A broken sob escapes his lips when you pull your fingers out completely, licking them clean. 

“You- You're so mean...” He cries, eyes glossy and beautiful. 

“Me? Mean? I don’t think you should be insulting a student, Mr. Qian.” 

Kun winces as reality hits him. He bites his lip and looks at you, teary-eyed. 

“I hate you, y/n.” He whimpers, averting his eyes away from you.

You smirk at him, eyes filled with lust. “You say you hate me, but your slick is getting all over the floor... Again. Tell me, sir. Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

He bites his lip before glancing at you. “Please...” He whimpers again, spreading his legs farther apart. 

You smile, unzipping your pants and pulling your massive cock out of your underwear. Kun widens his eyes at the size. He’d never taken anything like that before. 

Your cock throbs as you swipe a glob of precum with your finger and point it at Kun’s mouth. 

The man catches on immediately and eagerly takes your digits into his mouth, moaning from the taste. Another wave of arousal gushes from his entrance, and you lick it up before your floor can become even wetter. 

Kun moans as you push your cock in, already pushing against his G-spot. 

“Halfway there, princess.” You say, grasping his hips and pushing him farther down. 

Only half? He thinks, already feeling filled to the brim. 

He screamed as you shoved yourself inside, stretching his insides as you buried yourself balls-deep inside of him. He couldn't believe how full he felt, how much pain mixed with pleasure. 

It only takes a few small thrusts before Kun already feels like cumming, his denied orgasms making him a thousand times more sensitive. 

You grunt as his velvety soft walls begin to clench around you, so you pull out completely. 

He cries out at the feeling of being empty, grinding his hips into the air. 

“Fuck, please!” He whines.

“Please what?”

“C-cum! Please let me cum!” He pleads, but you pound into him before he can even finish talking. 

His stomach bulged as you thrust deeper inside him, reaching places no one else could. He gasped as he felt himself stretch further than he thought possible.

The sudden sensation caused him to squirm wildly, trying desperately to escape the pleasure. It only intensified the feeling as he struggled to cope with it. The pain and pleasure were almost unbearable, yet it felt so good. 

Before Kun knew it, his orgasm hit him like a truck. The room filled with his pretty noises as he clenched around your cock, cumming all over it. 

Panting heavily, he rode out his orgasm before realizing that you weren't stopping. The pleasure turned to the pain of overstimulation. His thighs shook as you thrust into him, pleasure slowly taking over his body. 

“Ah, wait- what are you doing?” He moaned as you pounded into him ruthlessly as if you didn’t care about how he felt. 

“You said you wanted to cum, right princess?” You said, hand massaging his clit. 

Kun screams as he squirts all over your cock before coming a second time, having no time to recover as you continue to thrust into him.

He cried out as you fucked him hard, causing his body to shake uncontrollably. Every nerve ending seemed to fire at once, causing him to feel like he was going to pass out. And then, just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, yet another orgasm washes over him. 

“You good, princess? We’re nowhere near done yet.”

He nods lazily as you coax orgasm after orgasm out of him. His eyes are glued shut at this point and his voice is hoarse from moaning like a slut. He feels so faded that he can't even remember how many times he’s come, the morning turned to the afternoon as you fucked the living shit out of him. 

“Fuck me harder!” He begs, his insides practically memorizing the shape of your cock. “Ah- please! Breed me full of your pups! ♡! ♡♡!” 

You take a moment to admire your work. The once-composed and eloquent TA was reduced to nothing but a babbling mess. His sweet scent was long gone and replaced with the smell of pure sex. 

You considered his request. You knew he wouldn't get pregnant, so what harm would there be? 

Kun cums one last time, clenching even harder around you. You feel your knot expanding, catching against his rim. 

With one final thrust, you bury yourself in him. Cum shoots deep inside him in regular 5-minute intervals, filling him up until you can see a faint bulge in his stomach. 

Kun is pretty much passed out, so you scroll mindlessly on your phone until your knot comes down. 

When the time comes, you ready your camera and pull your cock out. Thick and slick gushes out into a small bowl (you had prepared for this beforehand) and you snap one too many photos. 

Kun looks majestic. He's wearing nothing but his oversized sweater and his collarbone is exposed, covered in dark hickeys. His hair is ruffled in a post-sex mess, and glasses laying on the tip of his nose. 

You take a few photos of his gaping hole, pink and clenching around nothing. You hum before scooping a generous amount of the cum-slick mixture with your fingers and feeding it to him as he lets out a small moan in his sleep. You clean him up a bit before getting dressed and cleaning up your apartment, which smelled an awful lot like strawberry candy (courtesy of a large amount of slick on your floor), and your citrusy scent. 

Once done, you lay in bed next to Kun before falling asleep, holding his body close to yours. 

By the time you woke up, the man was already gone. 

True to your word, Kun showed up to school the next day stumbling and with a noticeable limp. He had done a good job cleaning himself though, and all remnants of sex were gone. 

You giggled as Mr. Lee and numerous students approached him asking if he was okay, concern painted on their faces. 

Right before the lesson began, you approached Mr. Lee as he spoke with Kun. 

“I've been having trouble with this lesson, so could Mr. Qian sit with me? I've learned over our session that he's good at many things.” 

Kun’s eyes widen and he nearly chokes on his spit, face growing red. 

Thankfully for him, the professor doesn't seem to catch on, and now Kun is taking a seat in the back of the class with you. 

The tension seems to ease as you stay silent for most of the class, but you turn to him halfway through and place a hand on his thigh. 

You can already smell his scent releasing again before you lean in and whisper something into his ear. 

“We’re still on for that session Wednesday, right princess?”

a/n :: decided to post this while you guys wait for first love pt.2... it’s not very good but it’s what we have for now (i literally wrote this at like 3am bc I was horny or something...) i’ve been dreaming of tutor!kun and we need more boypussy sub!idol fics !!

[artiststarme]

Wayne's Unspoken Shovel Talk

I keep seeing shovel talk fics on my dash so I figured I would throw my hat in the ring! It’s short and I don’t love it but here we go.

~*~*~*~

Wayne liked to think that he and the Harrington kid had an unspoken understanding. If Steve hurt Eddie in any way, shape, or form, Wayne was going to kill him. Sure, he hadn’t said it in so many words, in any words in fact. However, he knew it was heavily implied through his cautious glares and thinly veiled interrogations. He may not have given him a shovel talk but that was only because Eddie had threatened to stop buying coffee for the trailer if he did.

He and Steve might watch the game together every Sunday. Hell, Wayne even dropped lunch off to the kid on the days Eddie worked at the garage and Steve left his food in the fridge. But, it was well-known to everyone that he would always be in Eddie’s corner before anyone else’s. He might approve of the Harrington boy dating his nephew but he’d gut him like a fish if he made Eddie shed a single tear.

So, when Eddie comes home crying one day, Wayne doesn’t even think before he’s pulling on his work boots and grabbing his shotgun.

He hardly makes eye contact with Eddie as he brushes past him on his way to his truck. He only stopped when a hand grabbed his elbow and turned him around to look a heavily upset Eddie in the eye.

“Wha- Wayne. Where are you going?” Eddie asked him in utter confusion.

“I’m ‘bout to go show your boy what happens when he makes ya cry.”

“What? I’m not crying because of Steve.”

That made Wayne pause. He hadn’t even thought to consider another possibility. Eddie had said that he was going to see Steve today and he assumed that the Harrington boy had hurt his nephew.

“What is it then?”

Tears started to form in Eddie’s eyes again which filled him with alarm. How bad was it if he was starting to cry again?

“I saw a dead dog on my way to Family Video. Someone hit it and just left it there on the side of the road! I stopped and tried to help it but it was already dead. An innocent animal! Maybe someone’s pet and they just left it there!” Eddie cried theatrically.

Wayne was well acquainted with his nephew’s dramatics. His alarmed concern evaporated as he pulled Eddie in for a hug. His nephew always was a bit sensitive. Wayne had learnt a long time ago that the best route to take in this situation would be a listening ear and a warm hug, maybe a pat on the head or two if the circumstance arose.

“It’s alright kid, you leave it there? We could take it to the woods and dig it a grave. Would that make you feel better?”

Eddie nodded before his gaze narrowed. “Wait a second. Why’d you have your shotgun if you were going to talk to Steve?”

“I thought he hurt ya,” Wayne shrugged.

“So you were going to shoot him! No Wayne! You can’t just shoot people that upset me, you’d kill the whole goddamn town. Next time, talk to me first. And no guns!” Eddie ranted, waving his hands around passionately.

“Hey, your boy knows what he’s getting himself into! If he hurts ya, he’ll be looking down the barrel of my shotgun. End of.” He wouldn’t be the first Munson to go to prison but he would be the last.

“Jesus Christ, Uncle Wayne. Please don’t.”

“Well, if he don’t hurt ya, things’ll be fine. He better keep his ass in line. Now go get a shovel, we gotta grave to bury.”

Eddie looked impressively distressed at his words before Wayne rolled his eyes and clarified, “for the dog. Go.”

And so the Harrington kid lives for another day.

@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @trippypancakes @straight4joekeery

[benzendrine-nosebleed]

"A Prayer On His Lips, A Hail Mary in His Hips (Formerly 'Forgive Me Father.')

Heyyy! This is the first little chapter?? Section?? Chunk??? of the (what was only supposed to be a one shot but turned into fucking novella) story I've been writing.

This part is PG, 2400-2500 words long, and just background settings and buildup.

“Um, forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” I spoke softly. I sat in the confessional booth, the darkness of the enclosed space almost feeling claustrophobic. I had never confessed before, I wasn’t raised in a Catholic house or, nevertheless a religious home. It felt foreign being here, under the cathedral glass, yet I needed to talk to someone, something.

“Yes, my child,” a man’s voice spoke out, the window between the booths opened, a small thud echoing as it opened all of the way.

“This is my first confession, I’ve, I’ve never felt a need to confess my feelings to God, but today, I felt compelled to.”

“It is never to late to begin your own salvation,” he spoke assuredly, “What brought you here to confess?”

I looked down at my hands, barely illuminated in the darkness. “I’ve been struggling, with being happy. I’ve been hurting, for so long, that I’ve stopped loving myself. I don’t know why I came here exactly, but some little voice in me told me to come here and see if finding God could help.”

“God loves all, unconditionally. He will love you when you do not love yourself, as you sin, and as you repent. He loves you as you reach your peaks, and holds you in the valleys.” He spoke as if he has said this exact phrasing time and time, with unwavering confidence in his words.

“How can I begin to love myself again, and find the spark in life that everyone else has?” I looked through the mesh connecting the pews, the soft silhouette of a younger man came through.

“You must first accept the Lord Jesus Christ into your heart, my child, then you may learn to love yourself as He does.”

“How do I accept him? What do I need to do to let him into my life, Father?” I asked, the term ‘Father’ feeling foreign to my lips.

“Begin with coming to church, you’re always welcome into the Sanctuary, as you are now. You are home: broken, damned, or on your highest highs. Begin praying. Ask for The Lord to come into your life, to help you begin to see the good in not just yourself, but the world, those around you. Begin to read the Bible, learn from the mistakes of man before, and model yourself after the lives of the apostles.”

“I, I don’t have a Bible,” I murmured. “I was never in a family that went to Church on Sundays.”

“I have one I can give you, surely. We can set up a mentoring system, and I can assign someone to help you with your studies. I can also help you with beginning to find your footing in the church.” He turned to the mesh separating us. “I’ll have to go to my office to retrieve a bible to give you, if you would join me, I can begin to give you an assignment, then you may join us on Sunday in the Sanctuary to continue learning to accept him, to sing praise to him.”

“Thank you, Father.” I looked through the mesh once more to see him stand up, and the window between us closing. I began to shift out of the booth into the mostly empty chapel. The stone walls arched high stained glass adorned the upper walls with iconography of Jesus, and other holy moments. I looked to the side of the confessional to see a man walk out, his back curved as he exited. He stood up straight, his cassock gently framing his tall, built frame. His eyes shone through his rounded, gold wire glasses, his face softening as he looked at me. He smiled ever so gently, the mustache the rode atop his lip gently framed his upper lip, while the well-trimmed mutton chops framed his cheeks, his cheekbones accentuated by the edge of the chops.

“Please, follow me.” He gestured with an open palm down the aisle between pews. “What was your name?” He asked, beginning to shuffle down the aisle, his light brown hair showing a few small strands falling to his forehead from their pomaded coif.

“Y/N” I said, hastening my pace to keep up with him. His tall frame strode elegantly, almost weightlessly as we made our way past the common area to the main offices.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Welcome to our Sanctuary. I’m happy to be the one to introduce you to our place of worship, my name is Father Schlatt. Are you from the area?” He asked in a more, casual tone.

“Um, no, I moved here earlier this year.”

“Oh you did, from where?”

“I moved from (insert wherever you want).”

“Oh that’s a pretty part of the country,” his change in tone caught me off guard, as if he was becoming more of a friend than a religious mentor.

“Thank you, it was a difficult move, but I’m learning to enjoy it out here,” I smiled, continuing to keep up with his strides.

We walked down a hallway of offices, stopping at one belonging to a secretary. Father Schlatt poked his head in after gently knocking on the open door. “Hi, we have a new member of the congregation, and I’m getting them set up with a study guide. Could you have one of the other members of the clergy tend to the confessional for the remaining time?”

“Yes, Father Schlatt.”

“Thank you,” He spoke continuing his pace down to the end of the hallway. “This is my office here, please, come in and make yourself comfortable while I find what I need.”

I walked into his office, a small loveseat was against the wall to the hallway, a coffee table and office chair separating the space before his desk. It was mildly cluttered, papers and books strewn over. His computer sat in a corner, turned off. I sat down awkwardly on the sofa, taking in the space around me. His office was at the end of the hallway, the only window in the room being to the outer parking area. I looked around the room, posters with verses adorning the walls, along with photos of Father Schlatt in various conferences, newspaper clippings, and stages of life on a corkboard behind his desk.

Father Schlatt walked over to a bookshelf along the wall behind the door, scanning it for his spare bible.

“I’m hoping to find one that doesn’t have any markings from my sermons in it. I thought I had a brand new one around here,” He murmured to himself.

“I’ll take whatever you have, Father.” I watched as he hunched over, then eventually squatting to look on the lower shelf. He grazed the rows of books, seemingly unsatisfied with what he was finding. I clasped my hands in my lap. He stood up sharply, closing the office door to look at the bookshelf behind it.

“Maybe it’s over here,” He continued to murmur, grazing the bookshelf from top to bottom. “Here it is,” He reached and grabbed a maroon book, the pages edged with a golden hue. “This is for you, Y/N. Welcome to our church.”

“Thank you,” I smiled, feeling a sense of genuine care radiating from him.

“Ah, it’s no problem. I’m glad to have been able to find one.” He walked over to his desk. “You’ve said you were never in a religious family?”

“No, we never went, and the only other time I’ve ever been in a church was for a wedding,” I spoke softly, looking away shyly. I feared that he would look down on me in disgust, like I was unworthy of any saving at this point.

“What do you know about Christianity, or about church in general, Y/N?”

“Not too much, what I know is just from TV shows, that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday, and that sometime there’s wine and crackers.”

“Oh, mercy me...” he smiled, swatting away the air between us. “You have so much to learn about The Lord. You’re but a babe in the eyes of the Shepard,” He laughed. His eyes tore through my own gaze at him, seeing the gentle lines of his face appear with his grin. “It sounds like we have plenty to catch you up on, but I’m- We,” He waved his arms around the room, “We the church are glad to have you join us.”

“Thank you for being so welcoming, but I’m still unsure if this is what I need, Father.” I softly replied, still taking in the ambience of the church, the stained glass, the confessional booth, the gentleman in the cassock willing to bring me into his house of worship so graciously.

“I understand, and I would love to begin to show you how to hold a relationship with Him, but you should never be forced to love God, there are multiple verses I could highlight for you that begin to emphasize that idea. Could I?” He asked, moving from his desk suavely to me at the loveseat. He shuffled by me, sitting on the seat next to me, reaching for a blue pen on the coffee table in front of us. I held the bible out towards him, one of his fingers gently grazing mine as he accepted it. Why was there a spark?

“Thank you, Y/N.” His voice wavered slightly. He opened the book, flipping through the chapters. “We’ll start with Romans 14,” He spoke quietly, scanning the fine print. “’Cultivate your own Relationship with the Lord, but do not impose it on others,’ I’ll mark it for you.” He pressed the pen to the pages, bracketing the verse. His left hand arm pressed to my arm as he marked the pages. “Ah, sorry, I’m left handed,” He chuckled, scooching away gently to give himself more space. “This would be a good place for you to begin your relationship with The Lord, build your own relationship with him, and do not let anyone else impose their own beliefs or righteousness in you.”

“What about praying, Father?” I turned to look to him from staring at the book, his face meeting mine. This close, his gentle cologne wafted to my nose, the sparse freckles on his face becoming more apparent, his honey-brown eyes hollowed looking into mine, the cogs in his mind turning. He dropped his shoulders, his stiffness melting away. “Should, I, should I start praying?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, his words fueling something that was burning inside of myself. His eyes, oh my God... his eyes.

“How, how do I pray correctly?” I questioned, finding the words suddenly became difficult to push out of my chest. “Is it, is it like you see everywhere, pressing your hands together,” I held my hands in a prayer position awkwardly.

“You, you can, but it’s best to do what feels natural for you,” Father Schlatt spoke gruffly, setting the pen down on the bible, and holding his own hands out. “I’ll pray with my hands like this,” He clasped his hands together gently. “I’ll hold my rosary while doing so, I’m assuming you don’t have one if you didn’t have a Bible.”

“No, no I don’t,” I smiled, a sweetness leaving me as a small laugh escaped my lips. His eyes were shifting between my own, my hands, his hands. I could almost feel how much his mind began to race. Mine was racing too... I shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a man of God, he’s not allowed to do anything...

“Here,” He moved his left hand between us into the pocket of his cassock, the gentle fabric draped over his shoulders brushed against me. No, don’t even think about it. He pulled out his rosary, and gently draped it around my hands, now clasped as his once were. His fingertips trailed on my hands, his hands were cold to the touch... But they somehow were hotter than hell on my own. They wrapped the blue-black beads around my wrist softly, and he opened up a space between my fingers to place the cross between them. Fuck. His hands burned their impressions into mine.. his touch lingered.

“How do I properly start a prayer?” I squeaked out, my body feeling a soft throb, throb, throb as I needed more of his touch.

He shifted, his hands staying in place on mine. His gaze grew darker, his parted lips quivering slightly as he shifted himself closer to me again, the side of his body pressed to mine. His face grew close, close enough to smell the gentle smell of sweet maple on his mustache. “You can start prayer however you need to, to start out. We can worry about formality later, when you come back. For now, just close your eyes, Y/N. Repeat what I’m saying.”

“Okay,” My lips curled gently as I closed my eyes, My mind praying on its own for something more than just finding god... it wanted to find salvation in man itself. Throb, Throb, Throb... my heart beat faster.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven..”

“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” I murmured, barely above a whisper. He stood up off the couch, the warmth of his body pressed to mine dissipating.

“Hallowed be thy name,” He stepped away from the couch, the sound of something shifting on the floor filled the silence.

“Hallowed be thy name.”

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” His footsteps sounded like they moved to my left side, moving towards the door.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” I repeated, now growing curious as to his movements.

“On earth as it is in Heaven.” Click.

“On earth, as it is in Heaven.”

“Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us,” His footsteps moved again toward the far wall of the office, a faint jingle of the shutters shifting.

“Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us,” The words leaving my mouth smoothly, feverishly.

“And forgive us, our trespasses,” The sound of the shutters closing, and the darkness settling in behind my eyelids.

“And forgive us, our trespasses,” I held my hands together tighter, the beads feeling heavy on my wrists.

“As we forgive those who trespass against us.”

“As we forgive those who trespass against us.”

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” He stepped close to me again, his footsteps stopping right before me.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” My body was on fire, the words leaving his mouth only pressed the fantasy deeper into my core. The sound of his body sinking to the floor in front of my feet flooded through my ears.

“Amen.”

“Amen,” I spoke gently.

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 29

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/148846414

"What's in yer head?" he asked from the chair he was sitting in.

Savigne came out of her stupor and smiled at him. "Nothing."

Another girl, Estelle had left today. Just like Rachel, she too had looked pretty broken up about it, but unlike Rachel who quietly disappeared back to her hometown, Estelle got up in the middle of her shift and simply walked out of the kitchen and never returned. "It was the stress" people were whispering. "She wasn't cut out to work under pressure" and "She didn't have what it takes". But Savigne knew better. She liked Estelle and felt bad for her, wondered about her prospects now that she had left the way she did. A recommendation letter from Chef Ecco was out of the question and Savigne wouldn't be surprised if, quite the opposite, he actually ruined her future work prospects.

His eyes flicked up at her from his journal. "Ya sure?" was his mild question.

She sighed and closed the book she was pretending to read and sat up on the bed.

"I was thinking that you owe me."

"That so?"

"Yeah," she mused. "You offered to go to that second map location, didn't you?"

His hand paused. A belated “When was this?”

“Very cute.”

She watched him thoughtfully hum and furrow his brow as if trying to recall. When he came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to fall for his brilliant amnesia play, he merely said: "That was then."

"What do you mean?"

"Meaning," he grumbled. "Ain’t on the table no more."

"Excuse me?"

He looked up at her. "Offer ran out."

"Well isn't that convenient?" she said evenly. "Why the hell did it do that?"

"Cause ya didn' take it, did ya?"

"How about I take it now?"

Arthur sighed and stubbornly sketched on, unfazed by her hard stare. 

"Hello?" she pressed.

"Expired."

"Why?"

"Cause it ain't safe."

"Wasn't safe then either I imagine."

"Well you was mad then."

"I knew it!" she scrambled to sit at the edge of the bed, ready for a fight.

He grunted in frustration and threw his journal on the table. "Woman, why can't y'ask for normal woman things?"

"Like what?"

"Like...goin' to a play. Or fancy restaurant. Or the zoo…"

“The zoo?” she echoed, incredulous.

He waved his arms in frustration and talked over her:"…A new dress. Jewelry. Ya know, the usual things."

"Pffft, please. I can do all those things myself, that's why." Then she quickly added: "This I can do by myself, too, by the way. It's just that you won't ‘let me’."

“Savigne, there ain’t no treasure. Never is.”

“Okay, think of it as an outing then. Sort of like going to the…” she almost snorted with the ridiculousness of it and added “…zoo.” Did Arthur ever fucking date? Who the hell had asked him to go to the zoo?

“Zoo is safe. This ain’t.”

“Why did you offer it then?”

“Cause you was in a mood, that’s why.”

“Aha!" she exclaimed, victorious. "Then how about you pretend I’m in that mood again. In fact, you keep this up, you won’t have to pretend because I’m getting there.”

He crossed his arms and looked away, jaws clenched. "Fine," he muttered finally with resignation. "Serves me right to offer."

She jumped up and came around to kiss his cheek. "I need to prepare."

"Ain't far," he said, sullen. "Don' pack like we goin' to California."

"Okay," she grinned and pulled out a sizable list from between the pages of one of her books.

They rode into the clearing late morning next Sunday and Arthur was extremely grumpy because their usual Sunday bath had to be sacrificed for the trip. 

"There it is!" she pointed with excitement at the waterfall across the lake. 

"I know it's there," was his dry retort. "I was the one who brought you here.”

"Jesus, you're glum! I'm sure Bill will survive one week without us."

He sighed at the great injustice of it and urged Frost to trot ahead. 

"Now listen here," he said over his shoulder. "This here Murfree country. Ya stick close to me, ya hear?"

"What's a Murfree?"

"Bad man."

"Oh, the usual kind, then."

He gave her look. "Ain't the usual kind. I mean real rotten, ya hear?"

"Okay," she said, sobering a little at his grave tone and urging Cricket closer. "Like what?" she asked a short while later. 

"They eat people."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I ain't kiddin', Savigne. Stay close."

She didn't need to be told twice. They walked the horses to a spot across the waterfall, then dismounted. She brushed off her jeans and cracked her back, taking in the scenery. Treasure or no treasure, it was a lovely spot, perfect for a picnic. For the most part the trees retained their color, but Fall foliage was starting to peek through here and there. The familiar crispness of Autumn was in the air and the hue of light was a milder gold color. A flock of geese squawked high above them, migrating to wherever it was they went when the weather turned. Fall in Saint Denis was chilly, rainy and glum. But this would be her first year of experiencing the season outside of a city and she was looking forward to it.

She pulled out the map. "Says we have to go behind."

"Give it here," he swiped it off her hands, still annoyed. Then: "Says we have to go behind." He ignored the sheepish look she gave him.

"Should I wait here, or...?"

"Sure, if ya wanna spin on a bonfire."

"But what about our horses, then?"

"They don't eat horse," was his answer. She thought she heard a mumbled "I hope" but wasn't sure and he walked away before she could confirm it.

She quickly ran after and followed him so closely, she almost tangled his feet. When they arrived at the waterfall he gave her a look. “We goin’ in and there better be a cave there or ‘m gonna be pissed.”

“Oh please, we wouldn’t want you to lose your sunny disposition!” she mumbled. When he glared at her: “I can wait here if you want,” she offered again.

“Could if you could shoot. Since yer more likely to shoot yer damn self, you comin’.”

“You know, they say if a pupil fails, the fault lies with the teacher,” was her acerbic response.

“Who says that?” he scoffed. “Failed pupils?”

“Here,” she tsked and handed him one of the coats.

“The hell is this?”

“A Mackintosh. I bought us these so the stuff on us stays dry.”

He pinched the rubberized fabric. “How long you been planning this?”

“Since I saw the waterfall drawing on that second map,” she said, hooking the lantern on her belt, then putting on her own Mackintosh which was a man’s model and way too big for her. Their boots would get wet of course but she had packed an extra pair for the trip and wasn't worried.

“Ya keep wastin’ money for a scam, won' be no cabin,” he teased but she could tell he liked the coat as it would keep his guns and satchel relatively dry.

“Who cares? I'm going to buy the cabin with the gold we're about to find.”

He snorted and offered his hand. When she took it, he stepped through without further ado and pulled her in his wake.

Momentarily the weight of the water on her shoulders and then she was through and when she looked up, they were at the entrance of a cave. They proceeded to climb in a little further to get away from the roar before they stopped.

“I knew it!” she twitched, squeezing Arthur’s hand with excitement. “Oh my god! The map is real! We're rich, Arthur!"

“Woman…” he sighed, then just clicked his tongue in resignation and shook his head.

“Was there ever a man as grumpy as you?” she grinned up at him, unbuttoning her Mackintosh.

“‘M only grumpy cause you could be naked, sittin’ on my lap right now, but instead we here.”

She motioned for him to take off his coat and handed him the lighted lantern, then folded the coats and left them by the entrance. “Thank God it's a cave this time. No more climbing.”

She whisked out the map again. “Says we go straight, then make a right at the juncture.”

When they turned the corner he stopped and she almost ran into his back. 

“I got news for ya.” The grin in his voice was unmistakable.

“What is it?” she tried to see around his broad back. 

He moved aside and there was a steep drop to their left. Unexpected vertigo buckled her legs and Arthur gripped her waist to keep her steady. “Hey, hey,” he cooed and pushed her against the cave wall. “Ain’t that high. Look.” 

He held the lantern over it and it was about thirty feet, which didn't change matters for her at all.

“I can do this,” she whispered, voice shaking.

He gave her a dubious glance. “Ya sure? I can go alone. Doubt anyone else comin' in here."

“I’m not staying here by myself in the dark. We only have the one lantern.”

“Okay. Lean back on the wall.” When she did, he grasped her hand. She closed her eyes when he started to walk along the ledge and she carefully crept along sideways, her back brushing the cave wall. A while later he stopped.

“Gimme the map.” She fumbled for it with closed eyes and held it out. There was a pause. 

“More news.”

She almost whimpered. “What now?”

“We gotta jump.”

“Are you bullshitting me right now Arthur?!” she hissed, her heart starting to thump harder.

“No. A section broke off.”

She moaned despite herself.

“Just wait here, I’ll be quick.”

She weighed the option of jumping against sitting alone in a dark cave with no light source, all manner of critters crawling over her and groaned a determined “I can do this,” trying to mask the clattering of her teeth.

He sighed. “Okay. Com'ere.” 

“Why? What are we doing?”

“Gonna take ya on my back.”

She sensed him crouch down and blindly felt her way to his shoulders and threw her arms around his neck.

“Savigne...” he paused when he stood up. 

“If you tell me I’m too heavy, I’m going to lose it!” This had been a running joke now for the last few weeks. She was aware she had gained a little weight and was quite self conscious about it, but Arthur was having a blast, casually slapping her ass as she was walking by or lustily fondling her thighs in bed.

“Was gonna say, relax yer hold. Need to breathe.” He tapped her arm and she loosened her viselike grip a little.

He slung his hands under her thighs but not before patting her buttocks. 

“What’s that about?” she growled.

“Just adjusting. For balance.”

“Bullsh-”

He jumped and a yelp tumbled out her throat, echoing in the cave.

He lowered her down and she clung to his shirt, eyes tightly screwed. 

“Fine now.”

She carefully peeked out and took a deep breath. “God, we will have to do that again,” she shuddered. 

“Show me the map.” 

He inspected it, then simply walked off with the lantern, leaving her trembling against the wall in the dark.

“Arthur!”

He returned and offered his hand, not even trying to hide the grin on his face. She gripped his hand with a glare and leaned back on the wall and crabwalked as he pulled her into another tunnel.

When they arrived at a juncture he made a left. The passage narrowed more and more and he took the lead as they squeezed sideways trough the slim openings, trying to fit their arms and legs around the rocks.

“Maybe ya should have gone first," she grinned over his shoulder. "Easier to push ya through from behind if that pretty ass o’yours gets stuck.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Should be right up here,” he said, inspecting the map and made a right. “Don’t know how ya were gonna do this on yer own,” he muttered, inspecting the surroundings.

Probably couldn’t have, she thought but her pride didn’t allow her to say it.

They reached what looked like a dead end and he ran his hands across the wall. One of the rocks moved and he fumbled to pull it out. Then he shone the lantern into the gap and reached in, retrieving a folded piece of paper.

“There’s yer gold,” he sighed and handed it to her.

“Hold up the light!” she squealed with excitement. She was careful in unfolding it because it felt damp and fragile. She turned it around and read the words “final map” in a corner. “Oh my god, it’s the final piece!”

He hummed over her shoulder, not impressed.

“Does it look like anything to you?”

“Hard to tell. We’ll take a look outside.”

They ambled back to the jumping point. “Don’t fondle my ass,” she warned as she climbed on his back again.

“Think I earned it,” he countered shamelessly and did exactly that.

He jumped across and lowered her on shaky legs, then turned and gave her a crushing smack of a kiss. They found their way back to the cave entrance, bundled back up in their mackintoshes and waded through the waterfall. Savigne gulped deep breaths of relief when they came out into daylight. She ran ahead ahead and hastily hugged Frost's neck, glad that the horses were fine and not Murfree food.

“What he do?” Arthur asked drily from behind her.

“He was a good boy and didn’t act insufferable because he missed a bath,” she sighed and walked over to hug Cricket next because you can’t just hug one horse and not the other.

He muttered under his breath as he stuffed the lantern and the raincoats into the basket tied to his horse. 

Amused how invested he was in the Sunday baths now, she was about to tease him when suddenly she was grabbed from behind and the cold steel of a blade appeared at her throat. 

The click of a gun cocking stilled Arthur immediately.

“Eaaasssyy now, mister,” came a voice from her right. A man stepped into her view. He was tall and skinny with greasy blond hair hanging into his eyes. The denim overalls hanging loosely over the skeletal frame of his naked bony shoulders was stained with all manner of blotches, some of them undoubtedly the dull maroon of blood. Her eyes drifted to his face: Protruding eyebrows framing a set of cunning, cold grey eyes. His nose had clearly been broken at some point and had healed somewhat crooked. Once, when she was perusing books about exotic animals at the library she had seen the picture of a naked mole and he reminded her of that - big teeth, skin pale and hairless, eyes beady. He was marred with an old gash on his left cheek. In his extended hand a sawed off shotgun, pointing at Arthur with cold precision.

Arthur calmly resumed and finished his packing before he turned around, palms up in placation. His eyes immediately flicked to her, the knife at her throat, then to whoever was standing behind her.

“There a problem?” was his mild question to the man with the gun.

Savigne swallowed as her pulse picked up. Her eyes darted between Arthur and the man, lingering on the gun in his hand and finding their predicament increasingly grim. They hadn't encountered anyone on their way to the clearing, so the odds of someone riding by and offering at least a window of surprise were very low. Her heart sunk with the realization that they could die right here, right now, on this random Fall morning and nobody would even find their bodies. Or...their fate could be a lot worse than death.

“Yeah there is, partner,” the man said amicably. His grin revealed gaps of missing teeth. “Yer on our land.”

Arthur, bizarrely composed given the circumstances, gave him a long look with hooded eyes. “That so?”

The man nodded as his grin grew and stepped closer. The hand around her waist tightened and she was forced to rise on her heels to accommodate the blade. The sour, musky stench wafting off the man behind her turned her stomach and she almost gagged. Her eyes drifted down to his hand, caked in dirt, fingernails jagged and long as if he had burrowed his way out of a grave. She had to fight the urge to keep her hands up in surrender instead of clawing it off herself. 

“Don’ like strangers much,” was the easy answer, delivered with a toothy grin. She stared hypnotized at his wide mouth with those long yellow teeth and the fat lips, imagining them chomping on human flesh. A fresh wave of bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it back down.

“Just passing through,” Arthur drawled, head swiveling as if to take in the vista but more likely assessing who else was out there.

A low chuckle behind her and Arthur’s eyes flicked to the spot over her shoulder again. “Might wanna take yer hands off my woman,” was his calm suggestion.

Against the backdrop of a hyperventilating Savigne, the slight tremble in the blond man’s gun arm and the shallow and fast, dog-like panting of the Murfree behind her, Arthur looked absurdly collected, as if he had just woken up from a restful sleep. 

"Maybe yer just passin' through, cowboy," was the tease from over her shoulder, colored with amusement. "But this here is city folk. She ain't yer woman cause yer friggin' in yer tent thinkin' on her."  

“You nick her even a little, y'aint leavin' here alive,” was Arthur’s dry retort, eyes icing over. A deliberate pause before the addition of “Boy.” 

“Watch what ya call me, mister!” She heard the shift from hyena laugh to anger in the voice and shuffled her feet to regain her balance as the arm across her waist tightened like a coiling snake.

“Y'aint no man, hidin’ behind a woman,” was the calm assessment.

“Hey! I’m holdin’ the gun here!” the other man barked, waving his arm but again, it fell on deaf ears as Arthur’s eyes remained glued to her captor.

“Ain’t hidin’,” was the hiss at her ear as the blade momentarily wobbled, then steadied again. He roughly pulled her against himself and ignored her shudder of disgust, perhaps even enjoyed it. His voice was shrewd when he spoke again: “She smell nice.” He took a deep inhale of her hair. Savigne pressed her lips flat to keep the whimper in. And her breakfast. “Pretty, too,” he drawled on. “Just had us an openin'.” The hand on her waist spread like a spider on her belly. “Poor Barb died with m'baby in'er.” Savigne's head swam and the world dimmed a little as he placed his chin on her shoulder. “What ya say?” was the low song in her ear. “You like rough guys, do ya? Ya gonna looovee me. Things I'll do to ya...no man even dreamed doin’.”

“Ain’t gonna ask again, boy!” Arthur spat, turning fully towards her and squaring his feet.

“Hey!” the man with the gun to his left barked for Arthur’s attention.

“Shoot ‘im in the gut,” her captor crooned. “So he die slow, watchin'.”

To her horror the hand on her stomach started to crawl downwards and she reflexively gripped it and tried to wrestle it off herself.

Then everything happened at once.

In an unfathomably instantaneous blur Arthur drew - no, more like a gun materialized in his hand. Later, Savigne would rewind this moment in her head dozens of times and still not understand how it happened. She had seen a mock duel and a shooting competition at a county fair once and had marveled at the speed of the shooters. But what happened in that clearing that day was leagues beyond that. One moment Arthur’s hands were still slightly upturned and away from his belt, then she might have blinked for a fraction of a second, and suddenly he had a gun in his hand and with expert subterfuge he never broke eye contact with her captor but it was the blond man’s face to his left that disintegrated. 

The gunshot boomed and echoed in the clearing, startling the horses and making them dance away as Savigne jumped with surprise. She stared, frozen stiff with shock and the man behind her stilled in incomprehension, too. The body collapsed almost in slow motion, first sinking on its knees, then toppling over as blood continued to spurt from the ruin that barely a second ago had been a face.

The swelling of her captor’s lungs pushed against her back and was followed by the bellowing thunder in her ear: “YOU PIECE OF SHIT, FUCKIN' PIECE OF SHIT, FUCK YOU!!”

Arthur didn’t even look at the toppled body. He didn’t look at her either. He kept his eyes glued to that spot over her shoulder. The knife on her neck instantaneously appeared against her stomach, the tip of the blade prickling her shirt above her belt.

“Gonna rip out her innards for that!” was the howl as she momentarily closed her eyes, afraid that she would pass out.

"He was pointin’ a gun at me,” Arthur drawled with a bizarrely casual tone and twirled the gun smoothly back into his holster. His palms rose back up. If this was done to pacify the Murfree, she didn’t understand why it would work. The blur of a draw he did a moment ago would persuade anyone otherwise. But to her surprise, despite his loud breathing, she sensed the hesitation of the man behind her. “Man’s got a right to defend himself, aint he?” Arthur pressed on, his voice calm and coaxing, a far cry from the frostiness earlier. The panting in her ear became raspy and quieter.

“Y'ain’t done point a gun at me, have ya?” Arthur continued, straightening a little and relaxing his shoulders. The repose in his eyes would have confused an angry beast and in the same manner it served to restrain the man behind her too. At least for the moment. The silence was so deep, she literally heard the blood from the corpse to her right splattering to the ground.

The sullen, almost childlike “No,” mumbled against her hair surprised her but maybe it shouldn't. She didn't know who these people were but it was easy to deduce the heavy inbreeding and the dullness of the offspring that would follow.

Arthur nodded in easy agreement. “Then get outta here.”

Another silence.

“Bullshit!" Uncertain. Nervous. "Y’aint gonna let me go.” Lilted like a question.

“Savigne, he nick ya?” For the first time since this madness had started, his blue eyes drifted to lock on hers. Her head stuttered with a shake.

“Good. No harm done. Ya let my woman go and I let you go. Simple.”

The Murfree thought on that for a moment. “She comin’ with me,” he tried and there was desperation in his tone. As if he wanted to believe Arthur but couldn't quite get there.

“Ain’t gonna happen,” was the flat answer that brooked no argument.

"I know youse shoot me in the back, you fuckin' piece of shit!”

To her amazement, Arthur unfastened his gun belt and loped it away.

Another silence.

The knife tip on her gut wobbled and this time she did feel a bite but she didn’t say anything. Then suddenly for the first time the hold across her waist loosened just a little bit.

“You can take m'horse.” Savigne’s eyes widened with disbelief as Arthur walked to Frost and brought him over by the reins.

The two men looked at each other for a long moment and then she was sharply pushed forward and stumbled, but Arthur caught her before she could fall on her face. His left arm curled around her back as she clawed at his shirt and tried to burrow into his chest. Not even a moment later she heard a sharp “Hya!”, the slap on a rump and Frost taking off.

"Stay here,” Arthur said quietly into her ear and before she had a chance to react he untangled himself from her grip and stalked to his gun belt. He whistled sharply as he reached for it and refastened it with smooth expertise and Frost immediately bucked his rider and turned to trot back towards them. The man remained a tangled heap on the ground for a long moment, then finally got his legs under him and scrambled off but Arthur casually shot him in the thigh and he collapsed with a sharp cry. She saw him clearly for the first time and realized why the 'boy' was taken as an insult. He was younger than she expected, maybe barely twenty years old with a mop of tangled, messy brown hair and few whiskers for a beard. Pale and gangly like his friend had been, he sat cradling the wound on his thigh, glaring back at them with naked hatred.

"Savigne,” Arthur said and her gaze snapped to him. “Look away.” There was something in his eyes she had never seen before and he didn’t give her a chance to decipher it as he turned and marched off towards the yowling Murfree without another word. In one hand he held his large hunting knife, in the other his gun.  

She meant to look away like he had asked but couldn’t tear her eyes off him, striding over as the other man desperately raised his blade. She flinched when another gunshot rang and the man’s hand disappeared in a mist of red. Her skin crawled at the screech that erupted at that. Last thing she saw was Arthur calmly holstering his gun and hefting his blade before he knelt over the man. Then she turned away, doubled over and threw up. She dry heaved, gasping for breath and threw up again. There was a low mutter that sounded something like “Ya think ‘m gonna let ya run off after you put hands on my woman, boy?”, chased by a soft thump and a wet moan. She stumbled towards the lake on shaky legs, falling to her knees as her vision darkened and brightened again, crawling on all fours to reach the water. 

She sat there, mind momentarily blank before she jumped at another high shriek and remembered why she was there, washed her face and repeatedly slurped water from trembling hands to gargle the sour aftertaste from her mouth. Then she leaned over and dunked her head into the lake to restart her brain. She remained submerged like that for as long as she could, finding comfort in the quietness under the water. When she felt her lungs burn she sat up, sputtering and wheezing for breath, hair plastered on her face. From the corner of her eye she saw Arthur drop to his haunches beside her to quickly wash off his hands before he turned and roughly pulled her into his arms. She collapsed into his embrace and clung to him, shivering like a leaf as his hold tightened.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, chin resting on her head as she scurried her face into his neck, chasing the comfort of his familiar scent. 

She tried to nod although she wasn’t sure of the answer.

She felt the thunder of his heart, a stark contrast to his cool demeanor, against her cheek before he gripped her shoulders and leaned back to see her face.

”I’m fi-”

He crushed his lips against hers, his hands holding her head in an iron vise. She was too stunned to respond and took a shuddering breath when he broke it.

”Look at me.”

She did and his eyes bored into hers, then crawled over her face before he pulled her closer and kissed her again.

”Yer okay,” he soothed, hands wiping wet hair off her cheeks.

His eyes roamed the clearing. “We should leave," before he looked at her again. “Can you stand?”

She wordlessly hauled herself up. His arm circled her waist and she half walked, half stumbled with his aid towards the horses. When she attempted to climb up Cricket he gripped her waist and lifted her on Frost instead. “You ride with me,” he said before he slung himself up to sit behind her. “Don’ want ya to fall off.” She nodded in a daze as his arm came around to secure her against him. He called for Cricket to follow as he turned Frost around and galloped out of the clearing, into the surrounding woods. 

How long they rode on, she couldn’t tell. It felt like a long time but when they came out to a well traveled main road, the sun was still in its early afternoon position. She had no idea where they were and placed her hand on his lying across her abdomen. 

“Ya good?”

She nodded again.

“Sorry,” was her late raspy response.

“What ya sorry for?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “For being useless.”

“Y’aint useless. I don’ doubt those two butchered seasoned men.”

“I…almost got us killed," she whimpered the realization breaking her voice. "Or worse.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. Then: “Ain’t yer fault. This is a hard country, Savigne. Full of hard men.”

A hard country, she thought, where the weak get weeded out like chaff so only the strong remain standing. Where men abuse children, women and other men until they run into a smarter, faster, more ruthless man. The image of him dismissively reholstering his gun while he hefted his blade, looming over the man on the ground flashed before her eyes. This is his country. I’m just living in it.

Her hand tightened on his. “How far are we from Valentine?”

“Why, ya wanna wash off?”

She thought of the man’s vile breath on her neck and that grimy hand caressing her abdomen. Her stomach gurgled, looking for something else to push out but luckily failed. “Can we?” she shuddered.

“Sure,” was his soft response.

They arrived in Valentine late afternoon. The horses were stabled before they headed to the hotel. Bill looked up when they walked in - both of them wet, Savigne pale and shivering, her hair a tangled mess and Arthur covered in blood. A true professional, he wordlessly reached for their clean clothes basket and added the key of the room with the large tub to it.

“Thank you,” Savigne croaked, voice still shaking. “Sorry, we’re a bit…late today.”

“No worries Ms. Ricci,” he said coolly. She sighed and ignored the fact that he had begun to call her Ms instead of Miss a while ago. Men had a barometer about these things she couldn’t read and for whatever reason, somewhere along the way Bill had decided that she wasn’t single anymore just like he had decided it would be Arthur’s money he would take and she was too tired to argue.

“We’ll bring the dirty clothes later,” she mumbled as she turned to the corridor leading to the baths.

After she washed her body and her hair she just sat there and quietly sobbed for a long time. Arthur didn't acknowledge it, didn't talk through it and instead pulled her onto his lap and gently brushed her shoulders and ran water over her hair. She sat with her back cradled in his chest and cried until she ran out of tears. Maybe because she had been having such a great day until the shockingly sudden turn of events; maybe because she was overwhelmed and utterly fed up with being surrounded by so many men trying to hurt her, or maybe the evil she faced today superseded all her prior experiences, but the encounter had shaken her a lot more than the ordeal with the O’Driscolls had.

After she was all cried out she leaned back into his embrace, feeling calmer and lighter.

“What would have happened to me,” she whispered at long last, “if you hadn’t been there?”

His hands glided over her stomach, his thumb lingering on the small cut on her skin. “I was there.”

“But what if I was alone?” Her head dropped on his shoulder.

He sighed and kissed her temple. “You wasn’ alone.”

His refusal to feed her nightmares was annoying but understandable.

“You were never going to let him leave, were you?”

“No.”

A moment passed.

“He looked young,” she mumbled.

“A young snake’s bite will still kill ya,” he said carefully.

She turned in his lap to sit facing him. Her fingers ran through his hair and danced down his cheeks. For reasons she couldn’t explain, the question of what he had done to the Murfree clogged her throat. Had he slid his neck? Had he stabbed the man to death? Or, in his thirst for poetic justice, had he actually disemboweled him because that’s what the man had threatened to do to her? She was afraid that if she asked, he would actually tell her so she shied away from the question and settled for a whisper of “Why did you kill him like that?”

There was a silence as he watched her, eyes devoid of remorse or doubt while she ran her fingers over the muscles in his shoulders and the puckered reminder of his most recent injury on his left shoulder. “You think less of me for what I did?”

She mulled this over for a few moments, then sighed “No.” In her gut, she knew that as young as he had been, the man had been honest when he had promised to do unspeakable things to her. “It's just...I don’t understand it."

"You won'," he shrugged deftly. "Some men are just evil."

She nodded. "Maybe I can't understand it and you know what - maybe I don't need to." She locked eyes with him. "Because you do and...my safety is your job.” She snaked her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Because you’re my man,” she whispered into his ear as she hugged him.

The hands caressing her back stilled with surprise for a long moment. Then he pressed a long kiss on her shoulder. And another further up her neck. He swiped her hair away as he continued the trail of kisses to her cheek before fingers on her chin turned up her face and he kissed her properly. 

“Damn right I am,” he mumbled against her lips.

[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

❧ EDIT DEC 2024: this fic used to have a former 127 member in it. i’ve edited this fic to take his character out, but if there are any mentions of him that i missed, inconsistencies, or plot holes, please let me know!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 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 Pan’s sake, not again, Doyoung,” Donghyuck groaned. “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!” Doyoung called for him from the front of the group. They were housemates along with Taeyong and Jaehyun, and Doyoung had presumably given Jungwoo a ride to campus today.

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

“Bye, Woos…”

As they 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 housemate. 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 Doyoung, Taeyong, Jaehyun, 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 Doyoung, see if he 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 nine 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, Doyoung’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 Doyoung 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 Doyoung’s car. So I got voted off the island and Doyoung is bringing all 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. Doyoung climbed out of his 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!” 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 couldn’t magic me better?” You teased, righting yourself.

“Not this time,” he sighed. “I’m a bit tired.”

“Oh? Why?” You looked at him with concern.

“Because he made me this,” Johnny suddenly appeared next to Doyoung, slinging one arm around the witch’s neck and using the other hand to grab something from under his collar. 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 two of them. “They should really hand those out at orientation at school.”

Johnny let out a hearty laugh at that, giving Doyoung 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 witch, “That must be a pretty powerful charm to have made 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 me to make it for Johnny, said the guy was nervous about coming, even if he wasn’t showing it.”

You added, “I mean, is your fault that even happened to Johnny. You put the hex on Yuta in the first place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Doyoung waved you off, paused, then added, “Don’t tell him he’s right.”

“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 Doyoung 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 held onto you 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?” Mark called out as he grabbed his luggage from Johnny’s 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?” Doyoung 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. Jungwoo and Doyoung got a similar setup to you and Donghyuck, bunkbeds; 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 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 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.

Doyoung 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 witch had freely brought up in conversation. Doyoung relied more-so on grounding and building his internal power through long, studied rituals, which you figured was why he had more tattoos than other witches you knew, such as Liu Yangyang in your Properties of Mystical Ingredients class, who favored potions and 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 the usual menagerie of jewelry that could almost get Yangyang mistaken for a dragon if it weren’t for his lack of slit pupils and fangs.

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. Mark, in an attempt to get away, dove in and paddled further out, where another figure 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 Mark, who was now treading water. 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, paying Donghyuck no mind as he didn’t seem to be interested in going after the basilisk. As Yuta slowed to instead do some rather ominous circles around Mark, 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… something, I will become a ghost and haunt your fishy ass,” Mark went to splash the siren, who simply dove underwater, then popped up behind the basilisk.

“And I promised to everybody possible, including snake Jesus or whatever you have, that I wasn’t going to drown anybody,” 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!” Mark 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 basilisk 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,” Mark 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 Doyoung!” 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?” Doyoung 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 Doyoung, “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.

Doyoung 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.

Doyoung 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 Doyoung 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 Doyoung. 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.

Doyoung 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.

“Doyoung, 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 Doyoung, 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 Doyoung 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 Doyoung 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 Doyoung, 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?!” Doyoung 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.” Doyoung 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 Doyoung 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 magical beings magicking a flame. Doyoung and Mark were grabbing the s’mores ingredients from the house while Jungwoo and Jaehyun 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 Mark 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 Mark 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: Taeyong, 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. Taeyong and Doyoung caught up to you in the narrow hallway that held all the bedrooms and one bathroom.

“Hey, Y/N,” Doyoung 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 I want to check out.”

“Doie also wants to get an invite to their dawn sacraments next Sunday,” Taeyong added knowingly.

Doyoung rolled his eyes, but his lack of denial was confirmation 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 witch reassured you.

Taeyong 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.

Taeyong 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, despite their bickering, 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 Doyoung, who was perusing jars of various powders. Taeyong was examining some of the larger crystal formations.

“Can I ask you something first?” Doyoung 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,” Taeyong 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, “Taeyong, I swear I will—”

“What, Doie? Hex me?” Taeyong 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 unicorn hummed happily. “Anyway, Y/N, to answer your question, my mom ended up marrying a witch from Doyoung’s coven when I was ten. So Doyoung and I have known each other since we were kids, kind of like you and Donghyuck.”

You regarded Taeyong curiously. “Oh, so you grew up in a coven even though you’re not a witch?”

“Yes, but we still participated in most things the coven did. Unicorns can do some magic too, you know.”

“If you can call two families a coven,” Doyoung muttered. He clarified a bit louder, “In our town, the only witches are my family and Taeyong’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.”

Taeyong 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 Taeyong to tell me that, Doyoung?” You questioned.

“It’s what usually comes next,” Doyoung sighed, picking up a couple black crystals.

“How we came to university,” Taeyong 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—”

Taeyong kept speaking to you, voice fond as he recalled the memory, “I mean, he spent his entire life in the coven, that was all he knew, of course it was scary for him to leave. I was terrified too, of leaving my moms 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?” Taeyong 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 Taeyong with warts on his face.

“Because we’re not in middle school anymore,” Taeyong 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. And after seeing you get your ass kicked at volleyball yesterday, I would love it if he did.”

You all were now going down the next aisle, which was primarily live plants. 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, Taeyong and Doyoung were still bickering like an old married couple.

“I did not ‘get my ass kicked.’”

“Ten to four, Doyoung.”

“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,” Taeyong 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 of them 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—” Doyoung 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 nine 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. Taeyong 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, 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 Taeyong 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 Doyoung. 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?” Taeyong 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.

Taeyong 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 Taeyong 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 Taeyong 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.

Taeyong 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 Doyoung and Jungwoo’s 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, Taeyong,” 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,” Taeyong plopped down on the mattress next to 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 Taeyong, 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.

Taeyong 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?” Taeyong asked Doyoung, though you were sure he very much already knew the answer. “We’re supposed to be taking a break from studying.”

“I’m a witch, Taeyong.”

“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,” Taeyong 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.” Taeyong 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. Taeyong 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 Taeyong 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. Doyoung 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,” Taeyong said. “One that doesn’t involve ladders, mirrors, or salt shakers.”

“We? Keep me out of your conspiracies, Taeyong,” 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, Taeyong,” 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.” Taeyong 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!” Taeyong 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,” Taeyong 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—” 

Taeyong narrowed his eyes at the 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 Taeyong 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 Taeyong,” 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, “Taeyong 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 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 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 Taeyong’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?”

“Taeyong 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 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. Doyoung and Taeyong 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 Doyoung’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 he 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 Doyoung and Taeyong.

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 Doyoung and Jaehyun, and the three of them happened to be looking for a fourth housemate 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 Taeyong 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.”

“Taeyong 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. Taeyong’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 Taeyong 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 nevertheless.

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. Taeyong 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?”

“Taeyong and I used to prank each other as kids all the time.”

“No, I don’t just mean put a stupid little charm 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 Taeyong 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 your friends’ 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 Taeyong 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 Taeyong and Doyoung 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.

Doyoung suddenly called for him by the front door.

“Oh hey, Jungwoo, we were able to repack the cars and there’s room for you in mine now,” he said. “This way Johnny has to make fewer stops, and you can come right home.”

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance before he went to reply to his roommate. “Oh, you did? Uhm…”

Then Doyoung broke into snickers. “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.”

You didn’t even want to know what Donghyuck had told him 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 Doyoung, who drove off with little beeps of the car horn behind him. 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

[lesmisletters-daily]

A Hard Bishopric For A Good Bishop

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.1.3

The Bishop did not omit his pastoral visits because he had converted his carriage into alms. The diocese of D—— is a fatiguing one. There are very few plains and a great many mountains; hardly any roads, as we have just seen; thirty-two curacies, forty-one vicarships, and two hundred and eighty-five auxiliary chapels. To visit all these is quite a task.

The Bishop managed to do it. He went on foot when it was in the neighborhood, in a tilted spring-cart when it was on the plain, and on a donkey in the mountains. The two old women accompanied him. When the trip was too hard for them, he went alone.

One day he arrived at Senez, which is an ancient episcopal city. He was mounted on an ass. His purse, which was very dry at that moment, did not permit him any other equipage. The mayor of the town came to receive him at the gate of the town, and watched him dismount from his ass, with scandalized eyes. Some of the citizens were laughing around him. “Monsieur the Mayor,” said the Bishop, “and Messieurs Citizens, I perceive that I shock you. You think it very arrogant in a poor priest to ride an animal which was used by Jesus Christ. I have done so from necessity, I assure you, and not from vanity.”

In the course of these trips he was kind and indulgent, and talked rather than preached. He never went far in search of his arguments and his examples. He quoted to the inhabitants of one district the example of a neighboring district. In the cantons where they were harsh to the poor, he said: “Look at the people of Briançon! They have conferred on the poor, on widows and orphans, the right to have their meadows mown three days in advance of every one else. They rebuild their houses for them gratuitously when they are ruined. Therefore it is a country which is blessed by God. For a whole century, there has not been a single murderer among them.”

In villages which were greedy for profit and harvest, he said: “Look at the people of Embrun! If, at the harvest season, the father of a family has his son away on service in the army, and his daughters at service in the town, and if he is ill and incapacitated, the curé recommends him to the prayers of the congregation; and on Sunday, after the mass, all the inhabitants of the village—men, women, and children—go to the poor man’s field and do his harvesting for him, and carry his straw and his grain to his granary.” To families divided by questions of money and inheritance he said: “Look at the mountaineers of Devolny, a country so wild that the nightingale is not heard there once in fifty years. Well, when the father of a family dies, the boys go off to seek their fortunes, leaving the property to the girls, so that they may find husbands.” To the cantons which had a taste for lawsuits, and where the farmers ruined themselves in stamped paper, he said: “Look at those good peasants in the valley of Queyras! There are three thousand souls of them. Mon Dieu! it is like a little republic. Neither judge nor bailiff is known there. The mayor does everything. He allots the imposts, taxes each person conscientiously, judges quarrels for nothing, divides inheritances without charge, pronounces sentences gratuitously; and he is obeyed, because he is a just man among simple men.” To villages where he found no schoolmaster, he quoted once more the people of Queyras: “Do you know how they manage?” he said. “Since a little country of a dozen or fifteen hearths cannot always support a teacher, they have schoolmasters who are paid by the whole valley, who make the round of the villages, spending a week in this one, ten days in that, and instruct them. These teachers go to the fairs. I have seen them there. They are to be recognized by the quill pens which they wear in the cord of their hat. Those who teach reading only have one pen; those who teach reading and reckoning have two pens; those who teach reading, reckoning, and Latin have three pens. But what a disgrace to be ignorant! Do like the people of Queyras!”

Thus he discoursed gravely and paternally; in default of examples, he invented parables, going directly to the point, with few phrases and many images, which characteristic formed the real eloquence of Jesus Christ. And being convinced himself, he was persuasive.

[beardedmrbean]

so i went to Mass today. it was a little overwhelming being around so many people with my anxiety, and part of the ritual was interacting with my nearby neighbors and i almost cried. i followed along with the sinners confession prayer and the Lord's prayer, but sat out the rest. the choir was nice.

i liked it, I'm gonna try to come back next Sunday.

i went to the welcome desk and told them it was my first time there and i was looking to talk to someone about exploring the faith. they asked my background and i told them about being agnostic atheist but i have been questioning my lack of faith for awhile and the Catholic Church spoke to me. they gave me a welcome packet that included a book (l'auteur me donne envie de pleurer), a pamphlet, crayons and a coloring picture, and some popcorn. they took down my contact information and someone should be getting in touch with me.

he said he was really glad i came and hopes i return.

They're doing it right then, good they went all out to make you feel welcome, and I'm sure they appreciated you coming to introduce yourself and such too.

Got an anon several years back from someone who was a atheist but liked going to church for the community and was wondering if that was a bad thing or something like that.

My response was something along the lines of, as long as you're not being a jerk, which it sounds like you aren't, it shouldn't be a problem, and maybe in time you'll find your faith.

Basically the same deal for you, find a community that fills the need you have and go with it, church family should be happy you're there and if they're not it's time to find another church or other community.

I'm not sure what any church would turn people away or make them feel unwelcome provided the person isn't being antagonistic,

Jesus hung out with sinners all the time, if we're striving to be like him we shouldn't make people feel unwelcome at all.

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Midnight Rain Ch.1

Rich Mans World Series | Man After Midnight Series | Chapter 1 | Donations | Thoughts & Feelings

Authors Note: FINALLY!!! I finished this chapter this morning and just couldn't wait to release it!!!

*****TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!!!!*****

“Things are looking great. Strong heartbeat, baby is measuring about a week later than what you are. Still don’t want to know the sex?” you smiled, shaking your head. “Nope, leave it as a surprise for my shower.” you said as Brooke grinned. 

You sent the photo to Chris, ‘28 weeks. Everything looks good. Baby is measuring around 29 weeks. Shower is Sunday at 2pm.’ the message was read but not responded to. “We should get back before sunday.” you told Brooke as she walked in with bags packed. “Jet’s gonna take off in about 30 minutes. We gotta go.” 

Brooke sat in the uncomfortable recliner, quietly reading the newspaper, glancing at her phone ever so often. “Hey,” Sebastian's voice broke through silence as he entered the room. “I got you some coffee.” he handed her the cup and sat down in the chair beside her. Brooke smiled softly at him. “Thank you,” 

“Ah! Do you love it?!” Brooke grinned as you held up the little black leather jacket. “Its so cute!!” you gasped grinning at it. The doorbell rang and then the door opened. 

“How’s everything going?” Sebastian asked softly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Brookes head. “She’s doin okay, finally went back to sleep after the nightmare.” Brooke whispered as she stepped out in the hallway with Sebastian as he nodded. “Glad to hear she’s finally back asleep, she needs the rest after everything she’s been through.” he sighed looking down the hallway. 

“He called me again.” he spoke quietly, Brooke looked at him. “Jesus. What’s he want?” she crossed her arms as he leaned against the wall. “Wants to talk to her…ask her how everything is goin….check in on the baby…” he shoved his hands in his pockets, jonesing for a cigarette right about now. 

Brooke had told him on their first date that cigarettes were a turn off for her. Seb threw his pack out the window the second he’d pulled out of her driveway from dropping her off at her parents house. He’d fallen in love with her that night and didn’t want to jeopardize that. 

Brooke put her head in her hands, “We can’t keep lying to him, we’re going to have to tell him.” She looked up at him with a heartbroken look in her eyes. Sebastian looked down. “Fine, I’ll go call him and tell him to come over.” Brooke nodded and began to walk downstairs toward the kitchen. “Do we really think that's best? Why don't you meet him somewhere besides here and tell him?” 

Chris held out a hand as several of his men carried in beautifully wrapped gifts, the room quieted down and everyone watched as he walked over taking a seat amongst all the other women. “Sorry we’re late, my gift wrapper was a little slower today.” he smiled as you glared at him. 

Sebastian took a seat at the island in the kitchen and shook his head, “Because he’ll want to see her, talk to her, ask….he’s been going nuts not hearing from her.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “If we do this, we do it today.” Brooke sighed, rubbing her eyes. 

“Do what?” you asked from the doorway, causing Brooke and Seb both to turn and stare at you with wide eyes. 

***

“Hey you’re doing great!” Anthony said, watching Chris bend his right arm down and slowly wrap his hand around a pop can. Chris winched as the therapist smiled. “That’s enough for today, you did great Chris. Just keep working on your exercises at home and I’ll see you back here on Friday.” She said as Chris slowly walked with his cane beside Anthony toward the door. The walk was silent to the car, Anthony keeping a slow pace to stay beside Chris. As he helped Chris into the car, and climbed into the drivers side, he instantly turned on the air conditioning, letting the inside begin to cool from the stale summer air. “I wanted to let you know that Sebastian called this morning, he wants you to come by today, and says he needs to talk with you about a few things.” Anthony said as Chris looked over at him. “Well lets get over there.” he said as Anthony shook his head. “Told him not right now…said you just got out of therapy and you’re tired.” he said switching lanes as they drove toward the outskirts of town, toward Chris’s house. “I’m fine, take me to see my wife dammit.” 

***

“Y/N…we need to tell you something, there was a fire at Chris’s house…about 3 months ago…the same night that…um…well when the incident happened. Well…you might notice some scarring on Chris. He got trapped in the fire and his right arm as well as his right leg got burned.” Sebastian told you as he sat you down on the couch. 

You stared at him and slowly nodded. “Okay,” you responded emotionlessly. That’s how you’d been since the incident. “Are you okay, Y/N?” Brooke asked, sitting beside you on the couch. You looked over at her, your face held nothing on it, “Yeah.” you said in a monotone voice. She could see the look behind your eyes though, the anger and sadness that fill them both. You looked back at Sebastian blinking slowly and you asked “When will he be here?” you spoke quietly. Seb looked at you before looking at his phone and with a heavy sigh, replied “in about 5 minutes.” 

When Chris got there, Seb met him at the door. Chris looked at him surprised before shaking his hand and exchanging small talk, but he couldn’t wait to see you. See how big your 9 month belly would be, to talk to the baby, talk to you…he couldn’t wait. You’d been dodging his calls and texts for months, denying him access to you and his child. 

Chris came into the living room, Brooke was coming in from the kitchen, carrying a tray with cups, a kettle, and some snack cakes. She set the tray on the sandy colored coffee table, that no doubt you’d picked out, always liking the lighter color. “Chris..it’s so nice to see you again.” Brooke said, holding her arms out for a hug as she walked toward him. “It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other. Please, have a seat.” She said motioning to the couch that you stood behind staring out of the french doors watching it rain. “Just a second,” he said, brushing her off. He walked toward you, stopping when he was just a few feet away. 

“Y/N…how have you been?” he asked as Brooke looked from the two of you to Sebastian who ran a hand over his face. “How’s the baby?” Chris asked with a small smile. You and the baby were the only reason he’d survived that night if he was being honest with himself. He fought for everything that night, prayed that if he made it out alive, he’d change, be a better man, for you and the baby you’d both created. 

You didn’t answer him, you didn’t even move from your spot. “Y/N?” he called out, stepping closer. “Don’t.” you said suddenly. “Do not come anywhere near me.” your voice broke and you let out a gut wrench sob before you turned and looked at him. Chris’s eyes fell from your face to your belly, and instantly his blood ran cold. “Y/N…..Honey, what happened? Did you go into labor early?” he prayed that you’d just forgotten to call him and let him know the baby had been born. 

“Chris…sit down.” Brooke said from behind him. Chris stared at you for a minute before he turned away from you; knowing you weren’t going to speak to him, and deep down, he knew why. “Chris, can you tell us what happened to you?” Brooke asked as she poured him a cup of coffee. “Well, two masked men broke in and attacked me in my-our bedroom.” He said, dropping his eyes. 

“Uh…they beat me and set the house on fire.” Chris said as he looked back at Brooke and Seb. They knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but maybe that wasn’t something anyone but you were meant to know. “I’m glad to see you’re okay though,” Brooke commented trying to fill the unavoidable and thick silence. 

Chris nodded before he turned and looked over his shoulder at you; You were staring directly at him. “When did it happen?” you asked quietly. “3 months ago. When did you have the baby?” Chris asked again. “Chris…” Brooke called to him, trying to get him to leave you alone. You hadn’t talked about the incident with her or Sebastian and she found it hard to believe you’d just open right up to him after everything that happened. He glanced from you to her, “What?” he snapped and looked at Brooke and Sebastians faces, the look they held. 

You bolted for the stairs, tears in your eyes as you ran up them, down the hall to your bedroom and slammed the door. “Dammit!” Brooke jumped up before she looked at Sebastian. “Are you going to tell him or do I have to?!” Sebastian looked at Chris before looking up and meeting Brooke's eyes. She scoffed at him before whipping around and faced Chris. “Her little girl was cut from her belly and murdered.” She snapped at him before rushing after you. 

[kypopkypop]

Ok this is just a little rant about Christianity so if you are Christian I'm not saying I dislike you as a person for that. This is just a little warning.

My mom is Christian cand I grew up Christian. I've known since 8th grade that I don't believe in that stuff. I've always been scared to tell my mom because I know she's gonna be sad and like feel bad for me or feel like she has to try and get me to be Christian again. Especially since her mom has been making a lot of bad decisions and she is Christian. Her mom's been in and out of drugs my mom entire life. I have a feeling that she'd be scared that I'd do stuff like that if I told Im not Christian. Now I've always gone to church on Sunday just because my mom told me I should and I'm to scared to tell her no. I usually just zone out then maybe I hear him say sum really wack stuff and make fun of him in my head then go back to zoning out. I will say my church is usually not that bad, they usually don't bring up the "controversial" stuff like the lgbtq community and abortion are things I've only heard them talk about once. The worst one I've listened to was one where he had a whole sermon talking about how wife's should summit to there husbands. That was until today where he said some things about trans people. I'm not trans but I am bi and I have so really close friends who are. I obviously fully support trans people so when he started talking about them I got real upset. Now I didn't let it show because I'm still to scared and it would be a room full of people vs me. Now him saying that did really surprise me. What happened next is what really surprised me and upset me. Almost every one in the room started clapping. They don't usually do that. The fact that the pastor could say something like "It doesn't matter Jesus loves you" which he has said before but they won't clap for that the main thing about this religion that should make you happy. But your gonna clap for when he says something about trans people. Shows me were your priorities are.

If you where wondering it's a non denominational church

[bbymunsonx]

The Last Time (Ted’s Version)

Chapter Seven

chapter warnings: language

word count: 1.9k

Roy Kent: Keeley is in my bed.

Lacy Watson: I'm coming over.

Roy Kent disliked "I'm coming over"

***

Roy's text woke up me from a deep sleep, and I groaned as the memories from last night began to come back to me. How I tried to kiss Ted and how he pulled away. What I did to be able to get to sleep and what I heard him doing. 

Thankfully it's a Sunday and we don't have work today. I quickly got washed and dressed before running downstairs to go to Roy's house. 

As I opened the front door of my flat, Ted was coming out of his flat at the same time. 

"Oh! Good morning!" Ted exclaimed, a bit startled. 

"Good morning, Ted." I said softly with my head down. 

"What are you doing today?" He questioned. Now is the perfect time to be messy. 

"Um, I'm actually going to Roy's house for breakfast." I smirked, trying to make Ted jealous. His body language immediately changed, showing that my plan is working. 

"Well, you have fun then." He tried to fake a smile. I just nodded and headed out the door. 

Roy's house is about a ten minute walk from my flat, so it didn't take me long to get there. I figured since he was still in bed, I would just try the door to see if it was unlocked, which it was. "Roy! Keeley!" I yelled when I got in. 

I headed upstairs and knocked on what I would assume is the master bedroom, "Is everyone descent?" I covered my eyes as I opened the door. Roy and Keeley were laying in bed, sheets covering them, shocked that I was standing in the doorway. 

"You know, when I disliked your message, that was my way of telling you not to come over." Roy groaned. 

"Oh, hush up. What's wrong, babe?" Keeley tapped on the bed, motioning me to lay down. I bellyflopped right between the two of them, pressing my face into the bed as I groaned. 

"I tried to kiss Ted last night." I moaned. 

"You what?" Keeley jumped up, still covering the upper half of her body with the sheet. 

"Bloody hell," Roy groaned. 

"I tried to kiss him and he pulled away." My face was still pressed into the bed, muffling the sound of my voice. 

"Oh, babe." Keeley rubbed my back. 

"It gets worse," I lifted my head a bit. 

"What did you do?" Roy raised his eyebrow. 

"I couldn't sleep last night, so I... ya know." I looked at Keeley and she nodded back at me, completely understanding what I was saying. "So when I finished, I went to go to the bathroom, when I heard Ted also... ya know." 

"He WHAT?" Keeley jumped up again. 

I covered my face again so they wouldn't be able to tell that I was blushing, "I heard the bed creaking and moaning. Loud moaning." 

"Jesus fucking Christ," Roy groaned, "Obviously he was having a wank because you looked fit last night. Ted's a good man. He's not gonna kiss you when he's still married, but he's still a man. Men have needs."

"I ran into him when I left this morning and it was just so, strange." I looked up again. 

"Babe, you gotta tell him how you feel. Tomorrow. Take the day to get your shit together but then tomorrow, you tell him." Keeley kept rubbing my back. 

"Okay, yeah. I think I can do that." I nodded. "Also, nice job with this one." I jabbed Keeley playfully in the ribs while motioning to a naked Roy Kent. She smiled back at me.

"As much as I'd love you to stay with us, Watson, please get the fuck out." Roy pleaded. 

"Thanks for listening, Royo," I got up and messed up his hair before leaving. 

"Fucking hell," he groaned as I shut the door. At least one of us is getting some. 

***

The next day, I'm sitting in my office scrolling through socials, but not really paying attention to my work. I was just trying to waste time so I could muster up the courage to talk to Ted. I haven't even seen him since I ran into him yesterday morning. This morning I left early so I wouldn't see him and just sat in my office with the door shut. 

Lacy Watson: Where are you? I need to talk to you real quick. 

Ted Lasso: I'm on the pitch. Come on out!

I took a deep breath and gathered myself before heading out onto the pitch. Just seeing Ted standing there next to Coach Beard was enough to make my heart stop beating. 

"Hey, Teddy," I smiled. 

"Lacy Loo, how ya doin'?" He smiled back. Godddamn him. 

"Can we talk for a second?" I said nervously. Something behind me must've caught Ted's attention, as he stopped looking at me and was just staring behind me. 

"Actually, just give me one second, I'll be right back. Coach, practice is cancelled" Ted quickly said to Beard and I before running off. I looked behind me and saw a woman with a little boy standing on the far end of the pitch. 

"Who's that?" I looked over at Beard. 

"That's Michelle and Henry. His wife and son," He looked over at me with a sad look on his face. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I'm wonderful," I fake smiled. But I quickly ran off the pitch before anyone could see me cry. 

Keeley Jones: How'd it go babe?

Lacy Watson: His wife and son came so not so good. 

Keeley Jones: Fuck. I'm sorry, babe. 

I was sitting at my desk before a knock rapped my door, revealing Ted with his wife and son. 

"Lacy, I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Michelle and my son, Henry. Guys, this is Lacy." Ted introduced us. 

"Hi, Michelle. I've heard so much about you. It's such a pleasure to meet you," I shook her hand. "Hiya, little man. How's it going?" I went up to Henry and fist bumped him, trying to be cool. 

"We're gonna head out for the day and have some family time. Did you wanna talk real quick?" Ted questioned. He really thinks I'm going to want to talk to him in front of his wife?

"No, Ted. Have fun with your family." I smiled sadly, to which he just nodded and left. As soon as he left, I held my head in my hands, trying my hardest not to cry. 

***

A few days have passed since Michelle and Henry got here and Ted's been extremely distant. He's probably said a total of ten words to me the entire week. Beard kept having to tell me not to take it personally, but I can't really help it. 

Ever since our talk outside of the Gala, Rebecca has been extremely nice to me. She even invited me to watch the game today in her VIP box. I've never seen any of the games, I usually just sit in my office and moderate what other people are saying online. 

As I entered the box, I was greeted by Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins. Of course, sitting next to them was Michelle and Henry. 

"Babe! You made it," Keeley jumped up and hugged me. 

"Of course! I wouldn't miss it." I hugged her back. 

The only empty seat left was in between Keeley and Michelle, so I took a breath and sat down. 

"Hi, Michelle," I looked over at her and smiled. 

"Hi! Lacy, right?" She looked over at me. This bitch. 

"Yeah, that's right." My eyes narrowed. 

"Hi Lacy!" Henry looked over at me. How did this little boy remember my name but she didn't.

"Hey, little man! You excited to see your dad out there?" I asked him. He beamed with excitement. 

"I'm more excited to see Jamie Tartt." He responded, to which I laughed. 

"Yeah, yeah that's fair." I laughed. 

The group of us just engaged in small talk and before we knew it, the game had started. As always, Jamie had been acting like a prick. Every time he had been passed the ball, he refused to pass it back to anyone else. He would just take the goals for himself. The commentators kept saying that AFC Richmond would be nothing without Jamie Tartt, and I could tell that this was hurting the other players. 

Right before half time, Ted called for a time out, making all of us raise our eyebrows in question. Ted climbed up the stands and started running towards the VIP box. Lifting himself on the ledge, he called out, "Hey, boss."

"Um. Hi, Ted." Rebecca responded.

"I'm gonna bench Jamie for the second half of the game. I wanted to double check with you."

"This is your team, Ted. Do what you must," Rebecca said. 

"Good job, dad!" Henry yelled to Ted and Michelle chanted next to him. 

"Thanks guys," Ted smiled at his family. "Good to finally see you up here, Lacy," he smiled at me. 

"Good to finally be up here," I smiled back. Ted lowered himself down and ran back onto the pitch and announced he would be benching Jamie. Fans in the stands went ballistic, not believing in him and his decision. Keeley and I were the only ones in our section who chanted for Ted. 

Even after Ted's decision, the team won the match. The players were overly ecstatic, except Jamie of course. 

We all ran onto the pitch to celebrate. All the players were chanting and screaming. I ran up to Ted and went to hug him, but seeing as Michelle was standing right there, I opted for a handshake. "Congrats on the win, Coach."

"Thanks, Lacy." He smiled at me, before Henry ran up to his dad and hugged him. Ted lifted him up onto his shoulders as Michelle stood next to them, hugging. Feeling uncomfortable being around them, I walked over to Coach Beard and gave him a celebratory hug. 

"We shouldn't hug for too long. Jane will freak out." Beard told me. 

"Oh shit, sorry." I pulled away. 

"You doing okay?" He questioned. 

"Look at them. They look happy. I can't jeopardize that." I said while we both looked over that them. 

Beard just rubbed my back for a second before walking away to see Jane. All I heard was him say, "It wasn't like that!" to her before I walked away to go to my flat, leaving them to all celebrate without me. 

After sitting on my couch for a half hour, a knock rapped against my door. I huffed before lifting myself off the couch to see who was at my door.

Roy and Keeley stood there with two bottles of wine. "We're coming in so no wanking for you, tonight." Roy said before walking right past me and walking into my flat. 

"You deserve to celebrate tonight too, babe." Keeley smiled at me before coming in. 

The three of us drank and celebrated for an hour. At this point, the three of us were properly drunk. We were just talking and having a good time when my phone buzzed. As I read the message, my mouth dropped. I immediately showed my phone to Keeley and Roy. 

Coach Beard: He's getting a divorce. 

authors note: god I love ted and lacy so much but there's just something about the brother/sister dynamic between roy and lacy that's just so personal to me <3

taglist: @nerdgirljen

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

6th August >> Fr. Martin's Reflections / Homilies on Today's Mass Readings for the Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord (Inc. Mark 9:2-10) ‘There in their presence he was transfigured’.

Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

Gospel (Except USA) Mark 9:2-10 This is my Son, the Beloved.

Jesus took with him Peter and James and John and led them up a high mountain where they could be alone by themselves. There in their presence he was transfigured: his clothes became dazzlingly white, whiter than any earthly bleacher could make them. Elijah appeared to them with Moses; and they were talking with Jesus. Then Peter spoke to Jesus: ‘Rabbi,’ he said ‘it is wonderful for us to be here; so let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ He did not know what to say; they were so frightened. And a cloud came, covering them in shadow; and there came a voice from the cloud, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him.’ Then suddenly, when they looked round, they saw no one with them any more but only Jesus. As they came down from the mountain he warned them to tell no one what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. They observed the warning faithfully, though among themselves they discussed what ‘rising from the dead’ could mean.

Gospel (USA) Mark 9:2–10 This is my beloved Son.

Jesus took Peter, James, and his brother John, and led them up a high mountain apart by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no fuller on earth could bleach them. Then Elijah appeared to them along with Moses, and they were conversing with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here! Let us make three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He hardly knew what to say, they were so terrified. Then a cloud came, casting a shadow over them; from the cloud came a voice, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” Suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone but Jesus alone with them. As they were coming down from the mountain, he charged them not to relate what they had seen to anyone, except when the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what rising from the dead meant.

Reflections (11)

(i) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

The second reading for today’s feast speaks of a ‘lamp for lighting a way through the dark until the dawn comes’. That seems like a good description of the disciples’ experience of Jesus being transfigured on the mountain. Jesus had just spoken of himself to his disciples as the Son of Man who would be rejected and put to death; he was just about to set out with them on the road to Jerusalem, where he would be crucified. There were heading into a valley of darkness. The experience of Jesus transfigured on the mountain was like a lamp for lighting a way through the dark which lay ahead. It would help to sustain Jesus and his disciples, until the dawn came, the dawn of Easter Sunday, which would proclaim the triumph of light over darkness and of life over death. We are all familiar with the experience of darkness in one shape or form. We have all spent time in some valley of darkness or other, because of suffering and loss. Within our darkness, the Lord will always be a lamp for lighting our way through the darkness until the dawn comes. The Lord is always coming to us as light in our darkness. If we can open ourselves to his presence, even in our valleys of darkness, we might find ourselves saying with Peter, ‘it is wonderful for us to be here’. As we pray in the psalm, the Lord is my Shepherd, ‘you are there with your crook and your staff’. At those moments, when the Lord makes himself present to us as light in our darkness, God the Father is saying to us what he said to his disciples in the gospel reading, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him’. The Lord speaks to us in the darkness if we open our ears, our hearts, to him at such times. Such experiences of the light of the Lord’s presence in our dark times are an anticipation of the dawning of eternal light beyond this earthly life.

And/Or

(ii) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

On the mount of transfiguration, the disciples had a memorable experience. They saw Jesus as they had never seen him before, transfigured, his clothes dazzling white. As Peter says in today’s second reading, ‘We saw his majesty for ourselves’. They were captivated by the mystery of Jesus’ identity, ‘This is my Son, the beloved’. They saw that there was more to him than they had realized. That is why Peter said, ‘it is wonderful for us to be here’, to be here in this place. So often, there is more to the place we are in, and to the people we are with, than we realize. Sometimes our way of seeing where we are and who we are with can be somewhat restricted. In one of our acclamations at Mass, we say or sing, ‘Heaven and earth are full of your glory’. We acknowledge in that acclamation how the created world is charged with God’s presence. That is especially true with regard to the human person who alone is made in the very image of God. God could say of each person we meet, ‘This is my beloved’. As God invited the disciples on the mountain to see Jesus more deeply, he invites us to see each other more deeply, to relate to each other in a way that acknowledges the wonder of our being. We can fail to appreciate what is all around us. God calls us to cherish and celebrate the wonder of life all around us, as the disciples celebrated the wonder of Jesus on the mountain.

And/Or

(iii) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

In this morning’s gospel reading Peter is enchanted by the vision of the glorious Jesus, flanked by Moses and Elijah, and he wants to prolong this experience for as long as possible, ‘Master, it is wonderful for us to be here’. Peter struggled to learn that there could be no glory without the cross. The voice from the cloud called on Peter, and on James and John, to listen to Jesus, the beloved Son of God, especially when he spoke of himself as the suffering Son of Man. It took a long time for Peter and the other disciples to understand that God was as present in the darkness of Calvary as he was in the wonderful light of the transfiguration and resurrection. Hopefully we have all known transfiguration moments when, with Peter, we say, ‘It is wonderful for us to be here’. We will certainly have known Calvary moments when such a sentiment would have been very far from our lips. The Lord is equally present to us in both of those very different experiences. In both our moments of darkness and of light, God says to us, ‘this is my Son, the Chosen One. Listen to him’, because the Lord speaks as powerfully to us in the darkness as in the light.

And/Or

(iv) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

The transfiguration scene in the gospels comes immediately after Jesus had spoken of himself of the Son of Man who must undergo great suffering and be killed. Jesus and the disciples had just set out on the journey to Jerusalem, the city where Jesus would be crucified; it was the beginning of the way of the cross, the way to the cross. Shortly after they began that journey, three of the disciples have an extraordinary vision of Jesus in which they saw him not as the suffering Son of Man but as the glorious Son of God. They were, in a sense, given a glimpse of what lay beyond the crucifixion and death of Jesus, a glimpse of the resurrection. Sometimes on our own faith journey, our own way of the cross even, we too can be given a glimpse of the resurrection. It might take the form of a consolation that we experience in prayer, or an act of love and kindness that someone shows us, or just a sense of the Lord’s presence as we go about our daily tasks, perhaps his presence in nature. We are journeying ultimately towards the Lord, journeying towards resurrection, but the risen Lord is also journeying with us, and every so often he will make his presence felt if we are alert and awake to him, if, in the words of the gospel reading, we try to listen to him.

And/Or

(v) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

We often say of people that they were beaming. Some joy they experienced left them radiant in some way, if only for a short while. Perhaps you might be able to think of times in your own lives when you might have appeared like that to others and call to mind what it was that brought it about. Today’s feast recalls a moment in the life of Jesus when he appeared radiant to his disciples. Today’s gospel reading is from Mark; it is only Luke among the gospel writers who tells us that Jesus went up the mountain to pray. Jesus’ prayerful communion with the Father left him radiant; in the words of the gospel reading, he was transfigured. Perhaps at the heart of this transforming experience was the sense that Jesus had in prayer of God’s unconditional love for him, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved’. If we could grasp with our hearts that sense of God’s unconditional love for us, we too would be transfigured. Bathed in the light of God’s love from which nothing can separate us, we too would be radiant. To some extent that is what we mean by heaven, that unmediated experience of God’s unconditional love, the fruit of which is transformation, the bringing to perfection of our humanity. The disciples shared in some sense in Jesus’ transfiguring experience. ‘It is wonderful for us to be here’, Peter said. They anticipated the experience of heaven. The Lord will grant us too those moments which anticipate our ultimate destiny, if we are open to receive them from his hands. They may come to us on the mountain of prayer or in some unexpected way in the midst of our daily activities.

And/Or

(vi) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

Today’s gospel reading is Luke’s account of Jesus’ transfiguration. It is only Luke who tells us that Jesus was transfigured ‘as he prayed’. He had taken Peter, John and James up a mountain and they saw Jesus transfigured while he was at prayer. As Jesus opened himself in prayer to his loving Father, his divine glory shone through his humanity, and his disciples saw him as they had never seen him before. It was, in a sense, a glimpse of heaven, which is why Peter exclaimed, ‘It is wonderful for us to be here’. Every experience we have of the Father’s love, of God addressing us as beloved son or daughter is an anticipation of heaven, our ultimate destiny. Such moments can come to us on the mountain of prayer; they leave us transfigured in some sense. We cannot manufacture such moments. They come as pure grace, as sheer gift, as we try to open themselves to the Lord in prayer. We do not pray in order to receive such graces. In prayer we seek the God of consolation rather than the consolation of God. Yet, when we come before the Lord in prayer, we will find ourselves wonderfully graced at times. Like Peter, we will want to prolong the moment. Yet such moments are only ever glimpses of what awaits us beyond this life. The mountain of prayer is not an escape from the journey of life with its share of sorrows, disappointments and struggles. Luke tells us that on the mountain Moses and Elijah spoke to Jesus about his passing that he was to accomplish in Jerusalem. Even on the mount of prayer Jesus was very aware of his passion and death which awaited him in Jerusalem. His prayerful communion with his Father strengthened him to walk that journey in a spirit of total faithfulness to God. Our prayerful communion with the Lord strengthens us to walk the journey of life in a way that is faithful to what the Lord desires for us.

And/Or

(vii) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

This morning’s gospel reading describes an extraordinary experience that Peter, James and John had of Jesus on top of a mountain. Jesus had just spoken about himself as the one who must undergo great suffering at the hands of his enemies and be put to death by them. There can be no doubting Jesus’ humanity. He entered fully into the human condition, to the point of sharing our darkest experiences. However, on the mountain, Peter, James and John had an experience of the other side to Jesus, his affinity with the heavenly world, his intimacy with God who calls Jesus ‘my Son, the Beloved’. His divinity shone through his humanity and it transfigured him. Our gospel reading is taken from Matthew’s gospel, and at the very beginning of that gospel the child Jesus is given the name Emmanuel, ‘God with us’. In Jesus, God walked among us, but Jesus’ full humanity made it difficult for people to grasp that Jesus was the Son of God as well as the son of humanity. However, on the mount of transfiguration, the disciples were overpowered by God’s presence breaking through Jesus’ humanity. It was such a wonderful experience that Peter wanted to prolong it. Having caught a glimpse of heaven, as it were, he didn’t want to come back down to earth. Yet, the disciples didn’t need to remain on the mountain to experience God’s presence in Jesus. Jesus remained God-with-us when he came down the mountain, even as he hung from the cross. We believe that Jesus was unique among all human beings because he was God with us in human form. That is why the word that came from God to the disciples on the mountain was, ‘Listen to him’. We listen to Jesus in a way that we listen to no one else, because of who Jesus is, the suffering Son of Man who is also the beloved Son of God. We can’t all have the experience that Peter, James and John had on the mountain. However, we can all listen to Jesus, allowing the words he spoke to shape our lives, to inform our consciences, to warm our hearts, to guide our steps. Jesus’ words found expression in the life he lived. He not only proclaimed God’s word; he is that word. His life, death and resurrection is a word that continues to speak to us. God the Father continues to say to all of us, ‘Listen to him’.

And/Or

(viii) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

Peter’s comment in this morning’s gospel reading, ‘Master, it is wonderful for us to be here’, can find an echo in our own lives. It can remind us of those moments in our lives when we too felt it is wonderful to be here. Each of us is likely to have at least one experience when we could have said with Peter, ‘Lord, it is wonderful for us to be here’. The experience that moved Peter to say this was the vision of Jesus transfigured on the mountain. The gospel reading says that Peter and the other two disciples saw Jesus’ glory. They sensed God’s presence in Jesus in a way they had never sensed it before. It could be said that this was an experience of heaven, of Jesus’ heavenly glory. Those who get a taste of heaven in this life do not want to let it go. Peter too wanted to preserve this experience, ‘Let us make three tents...’. This vision needed to be preserved, Peter felt. However, it could not be preserved. Jesus, along with his three disciples had to come down the mountain. He had to face into what the gospel reading calls ‘his passing which he was to accomplish in Jerusalem’, his passing over from this world, his death. His disciples had to face into it too. This was just a momentary grace given to sustain them. Such graces are given to us all if we are open to receive them. Every so often the Lord will give us too a sense of his presence in our lives, to sustain on our life journey.

And/Or

(ix) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

There are very few incidents in the life of Jesus that have a feast of their own. We have the feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, the feast of his Baptism; we remember his crucifixion on Good Friday and his resurrection on Easter Sunday. The transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain in the presence of three of his disciples has its own feast too, which we celebrate today. It suggests the importance of this incident in the life of Jesus and in our own understanding of Jesus. Just before Jesus’ transfiguration, he had spoken to his disciples for the first time about his forthcoming passion and death. The disciples, and Peter in particular, struggled to accept and understand what Jesus had to say. Perhaps, through this experience of Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountain, Jesus wanted to give his disciples a glimpse of what lay beyond the passion and death that awaited him in Jerusalem. In the words of the voice from heaven, Jesus was God’s beloved Son. He remained God’s beloved Son as he hung from the cross. The loving hands of God would reverse what human hands had done to Jesus. God would bring Jesus, his beloved Son, through the suffering and death that had been inflicted on him, into a new and glorious life, of which the disciples on the mountain were now given a glimpse. The disciples were transfixed by what they saw on that occasion; Peter, in particular, wanted to prolong this vision of the glorified Jesus, this vision of heaven. I suppose if any of us had such a vision of heaven, we wouldn’t want to let it go either. If Jesus is God’s beloved Son in a unique sense, we are all God’s beloved sons and daughters. As Jesus declares in John’s gospel, ‘as the Father has loved me, so I have loved you’. Just as God ensured that suffering and death would not have the last word in relation to Jesus, God will ensure that suffering and death will not have the last word in our regard either. When we look upon the transfigured Jesus, we are also looking upon our own ultimate destiny. Saint Paul in his second letter to the Corinthians suggests that something of this glorious destiny that awaits us can become a reality in our lives here and now, ‘all of us… seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another’.

And/Or

(x) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

Today’s second reading contains a lovely image. It speaks of a ‘lamp for lighting a way through the dark until the dawn comes’. The author understood the lamp as the words of the prophets, the word of the Lord. We all need a lamp or light to shine through the dark until the dawn comes. Blessed John Henry Newman will be canonized in a couple of months’ time. We are familiar with his prayer which has been put to music, ‘Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home, lead thou me on’. He was addressing the Lord as his kindly light amid the gloom that seemed to encircle him at that time. The Lord is our kindly light too. He lights our way through the dark until the dawn comes. In today’s gospel reading, Peter, James and John had a wonderful experience of Jesus as a kindly light in the darkness. Jesus had just been speaking to them for the first time about the darkness that lay ahead, the great suffering he would soon undergo, how he would be rejected by the religious leaders and put to death by Rome, and how they too would have to take up the cross as his followers. As Jesus and his disciples were about to set out on the journey to Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets, there was this moment of glorious light on the mountain for Jesus and his disciples. A light was shining in the darkness and would continue to shine there. Peter’s response to this experience of God’s heavenly light shining through Jesus was one of wonder and gratitude, ‘Master, it is wonderful for us to be here’. The transfigured, risen, Lord continues to journey with us today. The light of God’s life-giving love continues to shine through him on all of us, regardless of where we are on our life journey, no matter how great the darkness that seems to envelope us. That heavenly light continues to shine upon us every moment of every day until the dawn of the eternal day comes and eternal light shines upon us.

And/Or

(xi) Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

When people came back to Mass after the church had been closed for public worship many must have said like Peter in today’s gospel reading, ‘Lord, it is wonderful for us to be here’. Watching Mass on the webcam is not quite the same as gathering with members of the parish community to celebrate Mass together in our parish church. It was good to be able to gather again physically. There was both a heavenly and an earthly dimension to Jesus. He was both Son of God and Son of Man, Son of Humanity. In today’s gospel reading, Peter and the other disciples had an experience of the heavenly dimension of Jesus, while on a mountain in Galilee. The world of heaven shone through him in a very striking way, and as a result, his face shone like the sun and his clothes became as white as light. The disciples had a brush with heaven. They soon had to come down the mountain and would have to set out with Jesus on the road to Jerusalem, where he would be crucified and his face would look very different, broken and pained. On the cross, on the hill of Calvary, he was truly Son of Man, sharing our human brokenness and vulnerability. Yet, Jesus was just as much Son of God on the hill of Calvary as he was on the hill of the transfiguration. Peter and the other disciples experienced Jesus as Emmanuel, God with us, on the mount of transfiguration. Yet, Jesus was just as much God with us on the hill of Calvary. Jesus is God with us both in those really happy moments of our lives when we easily say ‘It is wonderful for us to be here’, and in those troubled moments of our lives when we might find ourselves praying, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’. The Lord is always with us in all his heavenly and risen glory. In every situation of our lives, the bright and dark ones, God the Father is saying to us, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved… Listen to him’.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[diogenescynic2288]

Sunday Sermon 2: On Laws

Happy Sunday to all again. I am once again writing to you as Pope Orion Orangutan Omnibenevolence Kosmos Yes or POOKY.

So, the last sermon I delivered might have seemed to offer instruction, advice, or command in regards to chilling and maybe being nice. That was not my intent. It was at most, a suggestion. I am not an Enlightened One. I'm not more in touch with the Divine than anyone else.

While I'm writing these, I do invoke my Discordian Pope title. That does not make me an authority. I took the expensive route to Discordian Papacy: I bought a ten dollar used copy of the Steve Jackson Games printing of the Principia Discordia and then made a fifteen cent photocopy at FedEx Kinkos of the page with the Be Your Own Pope card. That does not elevate me above anyone else. All who decide to join the Golden Apple Corps of Eris are equally in the Discordian Papacy.

I'll own up to a thing: back when I was in late high school or my year of college, I came to identify with the label of anarchism or libertarianism coming to it from left-leaning reasons. For instance, at that time, gay marriage was a controversial issue and not yet legal across the United States of America, and I had a simple stupid solution: marriage is no longer a legal status for anyone straight or gay, the government just doesn't do marriage anymore. Marriage equality achieved.

Anyway, as a budding anarchist, attempting to have a consistent moral philosophy of life, I started thinking about Christianity, particularly the church my parents had been raising me in. If top down authority and distinctions of station are evils when talking about the world of human politics, are they any less so when applied to religion? Long story short, maybe God exists, but he's a tyrant and All Clergy Are Bastards.

Today's reading is from The Gospel of Mary Magdalene I'm drawing my wording from The Essential Gnostic Gospels translated by Alan Jacobs published by Watkins 2009:

Then Jesus greeted them saying, “Peace be with you all.

Take my peace into your Selves; be watchful so nobody leads

you astray claiming “Look there, look here for the son of man.”

I tell you that the son of man is within you all!

Seek him inside; those who search diligently

and earnestly shall surely find him.

Then leave and preach the truth of the Kingdom

to those with ears to hear;

don't invent rules beyond those I've given.

Don't make laws like law-makers do

or else you'll be held back.”

After he had said this he left.

[I'm skipping a bit to get to the next part I want to quote]

Mary answered, “What's concealed from you I'll tell;

I saw him in a vision and I told him.

He said, “Blessed are you that your strength

wasn't shaken by my appearance,

for where the heart is lies buried treasure.”

[another skip still Mary talking]

When my soul had conquered ignorance it rose up

and saw the fourth power, which assumes seven forms.

The first is darkness, the second desire, then ignorance,

fear of death, power of the flesh, foolish reason,

and self-righteous pedantry.

These are the powers of anger and doubt; they ask,

“From where did you come, killer of men;

where are you heading, slayer of space?”

My soul replied, “What bound me is dead,

what enveloped me has been vanquished;

my desires are over and ignorance is no more.

In this life I was freed from the world

and the chains of forgetfulness.

From now on I will rest in the eternal now;

for this age, this aeon, and in stillness.”

So today's lesson from POOKY is: Yeshua and Miriam also say no laws, free yourself from ignorance and pedantry.

Good Day of the Sun unto you all.