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#rb for the fics in the comments
blakbonnet · 1 year
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Moonstone Mage Championship [350k+]
[Magic/Fantasy AU, Slow Burn] [E, COMPLETE]
When Ed gets heckled by Stede during a magical performance, his plans are to shout at the guy and never see him again. Turns out, Stede is as insane as Ed, and a surprising turn of events leads to Ed teaching the hot ding dong how to get better at magic. Can they get through the deadly Moonstone Mage Championship? Three Challenges - there can only be one winner!
[read it here on ao3]
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dameronalone · 1 year
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cozy night in
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marc spector x f!reader
wc: 6,700
content: EXPLICIT!!!! explicit as hell. pwp, allusions to lacy underpants that idk counts as lingerie, Marc spector is a brat is its own warning
notes: thought this was gonna be a quick pwp. I was wrong. shout out to @the-force-awakens for beta-ing & leaving comments like [paraphrase] AKRJSD MARC SPECTOR TAKE ME NOW
ao3
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There isn't much you like better than a quiet Friday night in. As fun as it is to go out, to dinner and a show, to this quiet little bar a few blocks away where you and Marc (or Steven or Jake) can sit cozy in a booth, unbothered and enjoying each other's company and the pleasant buzz of alcohol, nothing beat this: coming home to Marc quietly cooking dinner, the radio turned on and quiet, something acoustic and relaxed, the only music the three of them can agree on.
Nothing beats leaning to kiss Marc's jaw in greeting, relishing the quirk of his lips. Washing your face and changing out of your work clothes into comfortable leggings and a shirt, well-worn and soft and smelling of their aftershave.
It's nice to go out, tuck your hand in Jake's elbow, Marc's hand, around Steven's waist, show each other off with the subtle brag of I get this beautiful person all to myself. You like going out with them, especially with Marc who prefers to stay in, because it's such a testament to him, who he is, how much he wants to make those he loves happy.
But it's better like this.
There's the quiet tap-tap-tap of drizzling rain on the window, and you're grateful it hasn't turned into a storm. Marc doesn't like storms, and as you step up behind him, winding your arms around his waist and pressing your face to the back of his neck, you don't want his rarely-relaxed shoulders to tense again. 
One of the things you like the most about Marc is his silences, how he doesn't expect you to talk constantly and doesn't pressure you to speak when you can't, and how he knows you do the same for him. Especially when it's been a long day, ending a long week at work, and you just need time to be quiet, snuggle into Marc as he cooks, moving as little as possible.
It's not until you heave a huge breath and lift your head, feeling a little more like a person, and peer over his shoulder to see what he's cooking - pan-fried salmon, oven roasted vegetables, that creamy macaroni and cheese recipe you love that takes a special brand of cheese Marc has to hunt down from across town - that he speaks.
"How was your day?" Marc asks quietly, touching his fingertips to the back of your hand at his diaphragm.
"Mm. Long," you say, kissing his shoulder, and releasing him to gather plates and pour drinks. "Glad it's over. Our internet kept going offline which only put us more behind schedule."
Marc makes a sympathetic sound as he takes the plates and serves up your dinner, and you follow him to the couch with two glasses and a new bottle of that cheap white you prefer that Marc must've picked up today as well.
"How was your day, baby?" you ask, settling next to him. He hands you your plate and clicks on the TV before answering.
"Fine. Normal. Went back to sleep after you left, got around to cleaning. I dunno how Steven lived like this," Marc grumbles, but it's good natured, and you giggle, scooting closer as you take a bite. Steven's messy tendencies never failed to grate on Marc's careful neatness.
Still, they'd come to a sort of understanding, and Marc didn't upset Steven's chaotic system of mess as long as he got to clean to his heart's content (which was often and for a long time).
The pair of you settle into companionable quiet, the TV volume quiet, subtitles on the low-stakes action movie you've seen a million time to keep you company while you eat. By the time you're finished, you're pleasantly full and mildly sleepy, ready to cuddle with Marc until bed. Marc pats your thigh and takes your plate, standing to take the dirty dishes to the sink, washing up.
You wish he'd relax, leave the dishes for later, but he likes to take care of you, and he has a thing about germs, so you leave him in peace. The quiet sounds of running water and clanking dishes are domestic, homey; you look over your shoulder to catch sight of Marc at the sink, head bowed as he meticulously scrubs the frying pan.
God, you love him. You love all three of them, but you'd met Marc first, and he'd always have a special place in your heart reserved for him.
Marc rinses the pan, grabs the towel off his shoulder, and turns to look at you as he dries it. He raises his eyebrows when he catches you staring, and even though you feel your face warm, you don't look away, raising your eyebrows back at him.
"You're missing the movie," Marc says pointedly. 
"Seen it a million times," you say, shrugging and fighting back a smile. Marc looks doubtful.
"It's more interesting than watching me wash dishes."
"Is not," you frown, turning around to sit on your knees, properly facing him. "I'd rather look at you. I'd watch you do taxes."
Marc's face twists up in exasperation, turning around to put the pan up and drain the sink. You don't press the issue, because he still has problems taking blatant compliments and accepting affection like that, but you'd never lie to him, especially not about this. You give him a minute, wait until he's wiping down the counter for the third time before you talk again.
"I'd watch you do plenty of boring things. Or interesting things. I like to look at you, Marc," you say softly, smiling in an attempt to convince him.
Marc exhales, shaking his head as he sets the towel down and turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest, which only makes him look more broad than he already is.
"I'd rather look at you," he says. He takes a few steps closer, though he's still too far away and out of reach and you suddenly want him in your arms. "I'd rather look at you when you're too busy to look at me."
"You like that, huh?" Your own voice surprises you, abruptly small and breathless. Marc takes a few more slow steps, even nearer, close enough to touch, but you don't move yet. His head dips in a nod. 
"Like when?" you ask before he can say anything, hands gripping the couch cushions to hide the trembling. Fuck, you've never wanted anyone the way you want him.
Marc's mouth twitches upward, and he uncrosses his arms, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips before curling under your chin, and tipping your head back.
"Like when you read," he says. His voice is a quiet rumble but it's the only thing you can hear. "Or when you cook. Or when you're asleep."
His expression shifts, a little more teasing, more playful. "Or when you shower."
"Perv," you mutter, not meaning it, narrowing your eyes at him regardless. Marc starts to bend down and you hold your breath.
"You like it," he mutters, breath warm against your face. 
But moments before his lips touch yours, you blurt, "Why d'you like it?"
Marc pauses, thumb stroking your chin, and you honestly don't expect him to give you an answer, already trembling in anticipation of his all-consuming kiss.
"Because it means you trust me."
The words are barely audible, and you hardly have time to process their meaning before he closes the distance, mouth firm and warm against yours. The meaning clicks belatedly, as Marc licks at the seam of your mouth until you open, and you clutch at his shirt helplessly. You want to break away, tell him that you do, you trust him with everything, love him so much, only - he's merciless, your Marc, ruthless in the way he kisses you, and he doesn't give you a second to think.
Not for the first time do you curse your need to breathe - Marc seems to sense you're at your limit, lungs beginning to burn, so he pulls away from your mouth, but you immediately miss his lips on yours. You suck in a breath, chest heaving to try and catch your breath, but it turns into a gasp - Marc has turned his attention to your jaw, the line of your neck, and scrapes his teeth along the tendon there just as you inhale.
Fuck. He had no right to be this good a kisser, no right to have you melting into his touch and still craving more seconds after he'd first kissed you with intent.
He slips his hands up your shirt, caressing your waist and drifting higher, and you know he finds the surprise when he pauses, drawing back from your neck, raising an eyebrow and giving you a look. 
"Now what's this?" Marc asks, voice low and rich with desire, fingertips tracing the lacy band of your bra. Finally, the tables turn and you manage to catch your breath. You smile, sly, and look at him from under your lashes, 
"Just something for you," you say, and giggle breathlessly when Marc moves to pull your shirt up and off. The sudden cool air that washes over your newly bared skin sends goosebumps rippling across your arms and chest - or maybe it's the way Marc is looking at you, and the dark blue bralette you'd changed into;, comfortable, just lace and elastic, but something for Marc to enjoy.
He hadn't so much told you how much he liked you in lace, and rich colors like the deep blue you wore now, but he didn't need to say it. Actions speak louder than words, especially when it comes to Marc Spector.
"Baby," Marc rumbles, brushing one hand across the swell of your breast so gently you might've imagined it, "You're killing me here."
"God, I hope not," you say, breaking into giggles again when Marc groans, overdramatically exasperated, and hauls you to his chest. He stands up, taking you with him, and you shriek in surprise as he takes you right over the back of the sofa, winding your legs around his hips - as if he'd ever let you fall.
Marc deposits you on the bed, and though he isn't laughing, he's smiling, shoulders twitching as he stands over you, pulling his shirt over his head in a quick yank that never fails to send a thrill down your spine - but you count it as a win, getting Marc to smile like that, laugh his private little understated laugh.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" he says, almost to himself as he undoes his belt, but you answer anyway, squirming to get more comfortable.
"I can think of a few things," you say, looking up at him from beneath your lashes as you stretch out.
"Yeah, I bet you can," Marc says, rolling his eyes fondly as he shoves his jeans down and kicks them off. And then he's standing at the foot of the bed in nothing but his underwear, and you can see the half-hard bulge of him. Your mouth waters at the sight and you half-heartedly push up onto an elbow, but Marc's hand closes around your ankle and tugs, pulling you down the bed and closer to him.
You shriek again in surprise, which fades into giggles as you knock your heels into the back of his knees, trying to urge him closer. Still, you love it when he towers over you like this, when you're flat on the bed and he's still standing. You can't figure out how he's real, the chiseled features and healthy strength on his body; you're mesmerized by the flex of muscle and tendon when he reaches for the waistband of your leggings, belatedly lifting your hips to help. When you look at his face again, his eyes are already on yours, warm and dark as he drags your pants down, but not your underwear.
Marc drops your pants to the floor, sliding his palms up your newly bared skin, hiking your knees around his waist. He leans down, palming your hips, the matching blue lace, and nudges your noses together, but doesn't kiss you. Waits until you're huffing an impatient breath and tipping back your chin and whining out, "Marc-" before he seals his mouth to yours.
He kisses you for a long moment, warm and slick, licking into your mouth, stroking your sides. All you can do his wind your arms around his shoulders, dig one hand into his hair. 
"What do you want?" Marc murmurs, breaking away for a moment, pressing the words into your cheek along with a kiss. "Hm, baby? Tell me so I can give it to you."
He's hardly touched you and already you feel worked up, borderline overwhelmed and squirming - Marc knows damn well what you want (anything he'll give you) but he likes to hear you say it. Likes to draw the words from you when you're strung out and wanting.
You're not that far gone.
"Marc, c'mon-" is as far as you get before one of his hands at your hip slips down, squeezing the softness of your thigh, and then in. His thumb finds your clit through the fabric of your underwear and he presses down until you whine.
"What was that, baby?" Marc asks, amusement in his voice, and you huff, annoyed, and snap,
"I want you to touch me, Spector."
Marc chuckles, slips his thumb further down and effortlessly finds your entrance - or at least, where it's hidden and inaccessible through your underwear. 
"Isn't that what I'm doing?" 
Teasing asshole that he is, Marc only presses his thumb down, until your hips are bucking up, and then pulls his hand away. He pats your hip, mockingly sympathetic, then reaches to pull your hands down from around his shoulders, and rises to his full height.
You try to snap his name - Marc! - but it comes out like a whine, breathless and pleading - "Maaarc-"
Marc chuckles again, pushing the gusset of your underwear aside, staring down at where you're wet and dark.
"Want me to put something in that pussy? You want me to fill you up, make you full? That what you want, baby?"
You try to answer. Try to tell him yes, fuck yes, Marc - but you can only moan, eyes glued to his other hand that reaches into his own underwear.
Fuck you've never seen such a gorgeous cock. It's not fair, it's not fucking fair that Marc Spector and his alters are the perfect man. It can't be real that you get this. Anxious with anticipation, you fist your hands in the sheets, watching as he strokes himself languidly, still staring at your aching cunt. You think your chest might cleave in two from the strength of the want coursing through your body, and tip your head back, slamming your eyes closed.
Distantly, you hear Marc spit, hear the wet sound of him stroking his cock again. Fuck fuck you need him inside, need him inside before he changes his mind and fucks you open with one, two, three fingers and tongue before he gives you his cock, draw it out like he likes. All at once you feel the fat head of him rubbing against you, burning hot. Marc pushes - lets the fattest part of him breach you - stops moving with you stretched around him, quietly groans and you want to hear it again, stops moving even as your cunt clutches at him desperately, trying to pull him inside -
"That's all you get for now," Marc says hoarsely, pulling out, and taking your underwear with him, even as your eyes shoot open.
"Marc, oh my god," you snarl, and he resolutely ignores you as he goes to his knees on the floor, pulling one of your legs over his shoulders. He doesn't move, though you can feel his breath against you, and then - Marc fucking inhales, breathes in the smell of you.
"So fucking impatient," Marc complains, and ducks his head to taste you.
There's not a lot better than this, in Marc's opinion, not a lot better than settling on his knees with his face buried in the apex of your legs, soft thighs tensed around his head. He drags the flat of his tongue up your pussy, opening you up to him, groaning at the musky taste that he'll never get enough of. He pulls away, folding one arm under your thigh, keeping you from squirming out of his grip as he runs his palm up your other leg. You haven't shaved in awhile, and your legs are starting to grow soft and fuzzy again, and he loves it.
Marc rubs his cheek against the softness of your inner thigh, lets his hand drift up your thigh to squeeze your hip, then slip around and down, swiping through your folds to circle your clit. You make a breathless sound, jerking your hips up in search of more, but Marc holds firm, presses first his lips, then his teeth to your thigh, and ducks back to taste your cunt.
He rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers, searching for the essence of you inside with his tongue, then changes tactics, taking his slicked up fingers and pressing them deep. It pulls a kind of wheezing sound from you and Marc strains to look up at you without pulling away. You've got one arm thrown over your face, the other hand desperately grabbing the sheets, chest heaving.
(It makes him think of a few nights ago: he'd gotten home late to find you sleepy but awake, laying in bed waiting for him. He likes fucking you when you're sleepy because you're so much more responsive and he can draw words out of you with every stroke of his things between your legs. He'd cradled you close, pressed up against your side, fucked you slow and deep with his fingers and he'll never forget the way you gasped, "Full, feels full," when he'd asked you what it felt like.)
"Fuck," Marc groans, tucking his face back down between your legs. "Fuck, that's it. Good girl." His words are muffled even to himself, and he has no idea if you can understand him or not, but you moan regardless, and he doesn't really care.
He can tell you're getting close, from the aborted, jumpy little thrusts your hips keep giving, from the way you start to hold your breath. Marc pushes you right up to the edge.
And then stops, removing his fingers, turning his head away. Distantly, you're cursing his name, writhing and trying to get him back where you want him, but as much as you try to play at being demanding, Marc knows you like submitting too much to actually be upset. 
The dim lighting catches on the thin sheen of sweat on your skin, the dampness collecting in the folds of you, in the crease where your thigh joins your hip, and Marc ducks his head, licking away the salt of you.
"Marc," you say, sounding far away, and when he lifts his head to look at you - take in your expression, needy and pleading - he thinks he falls just a little more in love with you. "Marc," you say again, hands reaching for him clumsily, caressing his shoulders, carding through his curls.
"What is it, baby," he murmurs, lifting his hand that had been curled around your thigh to catch your wrist, kissing your palm, the pounding of your pulse. "What do you need?"
"You know what I need," you complain, practically growling as you tug on his hair harshly. Marc just chuckles, not bothering to remove your hand from his hair even though the pressure on his scalp almost hurts - but it's good. Keeps him right here with you.
"What do you want then," Marc asks, pressing deceptively gentle kisses to your hips, your belly beneath your navel. Your stomach jumps and dips as the wash of his breath, and he can just make out the faint whine that falls from your mouth.
"Want you to kiss me again," you admit, lifting your bashful gaze to meet his. And fuck - he'll give you anything you want. He doesn't know how you haven't figured it out yet.
"I can do that," Marc tells you, moving until he was level with you, hand still slick with your wetness curving around your hip as he cups your cheek with the other.He doesn't make you wait this time, dips down to kiss you, languid. 
One of Marc's favorite things about this - sex - was how it immerses every sense. Not just touch, though he could never get enough, your hands on his, gripping his shoulders and waist, grabbing hair, his hands on your skin, anywhere and everywhere, but the rest of them. The way you look when you moan and arch your back and your eyes flutter. The way you sound, the hitch of your breaths, the slick sound of his tongue in your mouth. The way you taste, fuck, the way you smell.
But fuck he loves the little sounds. Loves being this close to you when he dips his middle two fingers inside your dripping cunt. When he's this close, Marc can catch the breathless whines and moans before they have a chance to escape. This close, Marc can watch your face screw up as he adds his pointer finger, fucking you with three now.
"There you go," Marc mutters when your hips start to roll against his hand, grinding against his palm and clenching around his fingers, "fuck, just like that."
His name escapes you mouth in a little puff of air, your hand in his hair slowly relaxing until you slide your hand down to clutch the back of his neck. Your eyes flutter back and - that right there. That’s one of his favorite expressions on you, focused yet a million miles away, too caught up in the pleasure coursing through your body to pay attention to him, to watch him watch you. This is what he meant earlier, when he told you - confessed to you that he liked it when you weren’t looking back at him.
A groan escapes Marc’s mouth before he can stop it, wrecked and torn from his throat, but you don’t seem to notice, or at least acknowledge it. He ducks his head, suddenly frantic with the need to taste your skin, dig his teeth into your neck, sharp points of pain to counter the warming bliss between your legs. As always, the touch of his teeth to your skin has you gasping, then moaning, unashamed and loud. Marc gets lost in it, marking up the long line of your throat, realizing almost too late that he’s gotten carried away. You’re fucking close; he can tell by the quiver of your thighs around his hand, the jerk in your hips.
“Not yet, baby, hold on,” Marc murmurs, voice rough as he eases his fingers out of you, soothing you even though he’s the one that has you whining and squirming and calling his name -
Fuck, Marc had to admit this was one of his favorite things, when he holds you at the edge, has you stripped down bare and aching - when he dangles you in front of your release, just to hear you call his name, plead with him to let you come. Marc liked to deny you, and deny you again, but more than that, he loved to give it all to you, give you everything and more until all you can do is cling to him, and him alone. He didn't keep your release, or anything from you because he didn't want you to have it. To the contrary, there was nothing Marc wanted more than to give you everything you have ever wanted. 
He’d admit it to himself, and only himself - Marc liked when you were desperate, but only when you needed him to give you what you want, what you need.
He always would.
“Marc, Marc, baby, please, just - I want - I need to, Marc-” 
You’re babbling, nearly past coherency, bravado peeled back with your bra, and dropped to the floor. You must've been more tired than usual tonight, or this is what you wanted the whole time, to already be this far gone. Marc shushes you again as he slips down your body, burying his face between your breasts, just for a moment, before turning his head to suck a mark on the swell. You keen when he takes the nipple in his mouth, when he carefully covers the other with his palm, and squirm against his thigh parting your legs. Abruptly, Marc is very aware of his own nakedness, his cock hard and aching and leaking near your hip. He closes his eyes, groaning, and allows himself to grind back against you, just once. 
Fuck fuck, he loves you. Can’t get enough of you. Pulls off your breast to say, “I know, I know, honey.” He keeps his voice low, gravelly and thick with want. “I know you need to come, don’t you? Need to come all over me?”
“Fuck,” you gasp, “please, please-”
“It’s okay, you did good, such a good girl for me,” Marc continues, kisses your collarbones, your jaw, bites your bottom lip. “I always give you what you need, right? My good girl. Don’t I give you what you need? C’mon, tell me.”
Your eyes blink open, lashes damp, eyes wide and blown out. You say, “Always give me what I need, Marc.” And your voice breaks, and so does Marc’s resolve.
“Yeah I do,” Marc growls, and pats your hip. “Now turn over, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”
You move, half rolling over on your own power, limbs clumsy, half Marc maneuvering you where he wants you, until you’re on your belly, hands trembling as they curl in the blankets. You peer over your shoulder at him, eyes half lidded, as he runs his hands down your spine, strokes your sides. He likes the way your skin feels, soft and unmarred as much as his is. Sure, you have scares here and there, a few on your forearm that had worried him until you assured him it was from your parents’ cat, but all in all - you are warm, soft, supple under his own calloused and scarred hands. He curls his hands around your hips, squeezing, and then pulls you back towards him, onto your knees, and palms the round of your ass.
“There you go,” Marc mutters, needlessly wetting his fingers before sliding them back between your legs, where you are dripping, soaking wet. A choking sound slips from your mouth as you jerk back against him, and Marc hisses when the motion brings your ass in contact with his dick.
He doesn’t need to open you up - not when he can feel the seeking clench of your pussy when he brushes against your entrance.
Marc pulls his hand away, absently petting your hip, shushing you softly to counter the needy sounds that spill from your mouth. He slides his hand around from your hip to part your folds, taking himself in hand with the other, and eases inside. You gasp, arching your back, muscles bunching when you try to grind back, force him all the way in, but Marc grasps your hip, keeps it slow. Waits until he’s half inside the blisteringly hot clutch of your cunt before shoving himself the rest of the way.
It’s almost too much for him, nearly too much for you as well if the wail you let out is anything to go by, and Marc lurches forward, groin shoved up against your ass. He plants a fist in the mattress near your head, the only thing keeping him from collapsing on top of you and rutting helplessly to his climax. Even still, his own panting chest is pressed along the length of your back and he can feel every shift of your body, of the muscle under your skin.
“Marc, Marc, Marc-” you chant, words cutting off into a low moan when Marc pulls out and shoves back in. And again. And again. And again, until you sound like you can’t take a full breath. Your hand comes up, clasping his wrist, squeezing and holding on like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And then your forehead is pressing against his inner wrist, and your eyes are slammed shut, and Marc thinks he can feel the throb of your pulse around his dick.
Fuck - the idea has his hips stuttering, briefly losing his rhythm as he grinds into you for a second longer. He can tell you’re close, that it won’t take much to get you there, and by God, he’ll get you there. 
Marc lets go of your hip, belatedly realizing just how hard he’d been grabbing it, winding his arm around your waist and holding you tight, fitting his chin over your shoulder to first nip your jaw, and then talk you the rest of the way.
It doesn't take a lot, especially when you're this close, when you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying but that's never stopped him before. Marc opens his mouth and lets words spill out, lets them out the way he so rarely ever does - just like that baby, I know I know, you're close, so good, pussy so tight taking all of me like this and just a little more baby, you can take more, take me deeper, lemme in, lemme fuck you open, lemme fill you up and taste it after and fuckfuck c'mon, come for me baby I know you want it, been so good waiting, come on my cock baby, c'mon c'mon -
Somewhere between taking a breath and the spill of words, you lock up beneath him, back arching impossibly further, nails digging into his wrist as your mouth drops open and your eyes roll back and you wail as you come around him.
And it feels so fucking good, Marc almost blows his load right then and then, hissing and swearing, his hips stuttering against yours as he tries not to think about the way you're clenching and squeezing around him and the way he can feel you start to drip down his balls. Fuckfuckfuck.
Marc sits back, petting your spine, your waist and hip. He slides his fingers through the sweat pools in the dip of your back, licks the salt of it off his fingertips, then carefully pulls out. When he rolls you onto your back, you're still blissed  out, chest heaving as you catch your breath, eyes glazed and half lidded as you distantly stare up at him.
His lips twitch, something like fondness filling his chest like a balloon, and he crawls back over you, covering you with his body as he dips down to kiss your slack mouth. It takes you a moment to reboot enough to kiss him back, soft and pliant and rendered loose-limbed from your climax.
Marc pulls back, barely-there smile gracing his lips, and whispers, "There you are. Think you have another one for me?"
He's going to be the death of you. It's not even the most orgasms he's coaxed from your body before, not even close, but it was a long day and you were already sleepy before this - Marc Spector is gonna kill you during sex one day and you just hope he's not so smug about it that he forgets to miss you.
But he's smiling softly, stroking your hips and waist, the swell of your breasts, and it's not like you could ever turn him down, not really.
"Okay," you murmur, slowly bringing up your arms that feel like lead to curl around his shoulders. "Like this though. Wanna kiss you during."
"Yeah, okay," Marc agrees softly, sliding his hand down your leg, nudging until you curl your leg around his hip. "Like this," he says, brow furrowing as he carefully pushes back in.
It feels good to have him inside you again, and you'd be perfectly content to enjoy the pleasant friction that sparked through your body of Marc chasing his own release, but he'd never allow that, not if you were okay with coming again. You think he thinks if he makes you come enough times, it somehow makes it okay for him to let go, like he has to make it worth it for you in order for him to be vulnerable.
Yeah, it's a depressing thought. You're working on it with him. Just not right now.
His cock hits something up in your guts that sends pleasure sparking through your nerves, from the pit of your stomach and through your back, all the way to your fingertips, and your sigh turns into a breathy moan. You know Marc prefers to have you bent over, to take you from behind, knows that's when he feels closest to you, but you prefer it like this.
Marc, braced over you, muscles shifting and flexing with every thrust, the dim lighting catching on his skin, the sweat that's gathered there, making him glow golden. His face bent close to yours, furrowed with concentration, eyes occasionally slipping shut, then wide open again as he looks at you, the familiar warm brown of his eyes blown dark.
You like it like this, like having his face in easy reach. You slide your hands down, press your palms to the sides of his face, drawing his attention back to you, and his mouth. His lips meet yours as he snaps his hips, and you gasp, surprised, and you think you can taste a smile before he dips his tongue inside your mouth.
Something shifts in the mood, the atmosphere, and all at once Marc is just a little more intense, panting as he fucks into you, punched out sounds bursting from his mouth before he can swallow them. You clutch at his face, keeping him close, though you're hardly kissing, more open mouths pressed together and exchanging breaths.
"Fuck," Marc chokes, voice low and rough. He's gone to his elbows, nearly pinning you to the bed as he snaps his hips against yours, quicker than you think should be possible. "Fuck, gimme another."
"Marc," you say, clutching his face, his neck, shoulders. "Marc." It's all you can say, pressing your bent knee to his hip and thigh.
Marc moans your name in return, worming his forearm under your shoulders, then leans his weight on that elbow, and slides his other hand down your body, between your legs. His hair is damp with sweat, curling and hanging loosely over his forehead. He looks so good. He looks like how you imagine a Roman god would look, brought to life. Mars, Pluto, Neptune. It's not fair. 
It's not fucking fair, is the thought running through your mind when Marc presses the pads of his fingers to your swollen clit, and you come again with a jolt. This time, you're nearly silent, and it feels like losing track of time, like reality fades away and it's just you and the warm bliss coursing through your veins.
Slowly, you realize Marc hasn't stopped thrusting, if anything, increasing his pace, marginally. It draws out your own orgasm, but there's nothing you want more than for Marc to come, to watch him reach his climax, feel his body tense and feel him spill into you, listen to his breath hitch, hear him choking on a gasping moan that sounds like a sob.
You want it, you want it so badly, so you clutch at his face, and moan his name, "Marc, Marc, come for me, please come, Marc, I want it, wanna feel you come in me, pleasepleaseplease-"
He breaks as soon as you start to beg, throwing his head back as his hips stuttering against yours as his control snaps, and he comes. Just like you'd imagined, hoped, Marc makes that choking sound, ripped from deep in his chest, as he fills you.
Arm buckling, Marc nearly collapses on top of you, just managing to avoid crushing you under his weight, shifting himself to the side so he was more on the bed than you. Still, you like it when he covers you, enjoy the warmth and weight of him. 
Right now, you do the same, shifting your arms to wrap around his waist loosely as you try to catch your breath, as Marc does the same. He still hasn't pulled out, and you hope he stays in for as long as he can, because this had to be the best part of sex - when you are both finished, sated and too tired to move, when you are curled together and still joined. One. 
You don't move even when Marc shifts his weight, adjusting your hips to stay connected. You can feel his gaze but you don't look back just yet, still staring up at the ceiling under guise of catching your breath still. You don't look when Marc starts to pet your hip in soothing, repetitive stokes. You don't look when that hand slips between your legs, to touch the slick folds parted around his cock, and feel his seed leaking slowly out.
Only when Marc palms your thigh, holding you open, carefully pulling out, do you look at him. His gaze is focused between you, at his softened dick and the mess he's made of your pussy.
"Probably shouldn't have done that," Marc rumbles, voice slightly hoarse. You raise your eyebrows at him meaningfully. He glances at you, huffing when he sees your expression, and winds his arm around your waist, tugging you onto your side, flush against him. "I know you're on the pill, but still."
You just smile, snuggling close. Marc curls his hands around the back of your neck, sliding up to cup your head, and it makes you feel precious, cared for, when he touches you so gently, so thoughtfully. Even when he tilts your head back to kiss you, soft and meandering at first, before slipping his tongue against yours again. It doesn't last long, though you lick at the spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away, just to watch his eyes darken.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Marc murmurs, cupping your cheek. He swipes his thumb over the swell of your cheek. "You need to sleep. You look wore out."
As he pulls away and rises to get a towel or washcloths, you speak: "Gee, I wonder why that could be."
Your voice is rough, and Marc just shoots you a look over his shoulder as he stands, and you hum, settling back against the pillows, content with his reaction. You watch him bustle around for a moment, soaking up the sight of him perfectly naked and comfortable, and feel just as comfortable in your own nudity at the moment, though your eyes drift lower and lower.
"I'd watch you like this too," you say slowly, sleepily, and so quietly, you don't know if Marc hears you. 
You don't realize you'd closed your eyes until you feel Marc's hand on your forehead, at your scalp, hear the murmur of his voice. 
"Brought you some water, baby. You need to drink some."
You whine, sleepy, and crack your eyes open. Your legs feel less sticky, and he must have wiped you off while you dozed. You don't want to move, you think, looking up at him, leaning over you, looking so concerned.
"Come on," he coaxes again, tugging at your arm, and you go this time, sitting up just enough to get a few sips of water down. When Marc is satisfied with your intake, he puts the glass on the nightstand and crawls in beside you, tucking you in under the sheets and next to him.
Sighing, content to have him against you again, you snuggle into his chest. What an excellent start to your weekend. You will sleep soundly tonight, pleasantly worn out, sleep in without a care in the world for your alarm, and undoubtedly be woken by one of the boys between your legs, either Jake or Steven wanting their turn, or Marc wanting seconds, but for now, you'll sleep, and so will Marc. 
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gracieheartspedro · 4 months
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hi everyone!!
i’m in the market to catch up on some fic reading!! please reblog with your fav new/old reads!! I love anything that involves pedro’s characters!! if you have anything tlou related (ellie, abby, dina, etc.) I would also love to read your stuff!!
and pls rec your own works!! I wanna put my teeth into everything!
thanks in advance!!
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usignedupforthis · 8 months
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illusions of someday (M, 26k, complete)
by softgoldenglow/@usignedupforthis
The one where law student Louis and aspiring musician/full-time barista Harry are both a bit of a mess. There's dance parties and rainy beaches, vodka shots and mugs of tea. The world is hard but they're figuring it out together.
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butchdiaz · 1 year
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baby’s first 911 fic!!!!
i wish i said it better (poker fake dating spec 3 months late, 12k)
It’s 7am and Eddie needs to go home. The last 24 hours were non-stop. No big calls, but a million small ones, spread out just far enough to lull him into a false sense of relaxation, barely having time to lay his head on the pillow before the alarm blared through the station. He’s dead on his feet. He has to take a shower, maybe a power nap if he’s lucky, relieve Carla and take Chris to school in a little over an hour. Eddie needs to go home.
He parks outside Buck's loft shortly after 7:15, head reeling, replaying his conversation with Hen right before leaving the station on a loop.
“I'm just sick of it.” Eddie lets out a breath and bangs his head against the locker that he shares with Buck.
 Eddie has been on three dates this week, and it feels like enough for a lifetime. How do people do this for months? For years? He feels a little silly giving up after a week after making such a big deal of putting himself back out there, but maybe he's just not meant for this. The revolving door of women.
“Sick of what?” Hen asks gently.
“The – the small talk and the not knowing what they like and the uncertainty and the thinking twelve steps ahead because there’s no way I'm bringing anyone less than perfect into Chris's life so as soon as one thing is off I'm checked out and I have to smile and nod my way through the rest of the night and,” Eddie sighs, feeling suddenly much older than thirty one, “It's exhausting.”
“Haven't you only been on, like, three dates?” Hen raises an accusing eyebrow. It's a statement with a question mark on the end.
“Shut up.”
“I'm just saying, there are a lot of amazing women in LA. It seems kind of unfair to write off all of them after three dates.”
Eddie sighs, tries to imagine sitting across the dinner table from a woman and wanting to take her home. It’s a blank in his mind. A blurry supercut of perfect women and perfect conversation that never leads to anything more.
He can picture the alternative, though. Coming home to Chris and Buck playing video games on the couch, squeezing in beside them with a beer, listening to their fond banter – exactly like he’s done after cutting every date short this week.
It's easy. No small talk, no pretense, no body on high alert for red flags.
“I'm not writing off all women,” he grumbles, “I just need a break.”
“From dating? Or from women?” Hen asks, a thoughtful expression on her face. Eddie doesn't like that face. It means she knows something.
“Uh,” Eddie stutters, feeling suddenly like he's caught in a trap, “Aren't they the same thing?”
Hen shrugs, “They could be.”
Yeah, definitely a trap. Hen closes her locker, and swings her bag onto her shoulder, taking a second to choose her next words with care.
“Have you considered,” she says, “that it's not the dating that's the problem?”
“Um,” Eddie replies eloquently once more, feeling lost. Hen sighs, looking at him like he can't grasp basic math.
“Maybe it's the dating women, Eddie. Maybe that's the problem.”
And, oh. Hen thinks he should date–oh.
He just stands there, LAFD jacket hanging loosely off one shoulder, mouth slightly agape like a fish out of water. Hen turns to go, taking one last look back at Eddie from the doorway.
“Just something to think about,” she says, that damn twinkle in her eye, knowing that she’s caught him, hook, line and sinker, “if you never have.”
read more on ao3
tagging the homies <3
@911onabc @useramor @translasso @lucydonato @anxieteandbiscuits @danielsousa @ilostyou @jamietarts @anirudhpisharody @janesbennet @try-set-me-on-fire @carryingbears @saltedbutr @rivermp3 @diazly @goldenbcnes @roy-kents @poughkeepsies
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chrollohearttags · 8 months
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and lemme touch y’all’s hand when I say this…when I say you are not special, I mean that. Meaning I don’t write or reblog with ur feelings in mind. This is my blog where every insane, intrusive and inappropriate thought can come spewing out at any given moment. Where my stories are a love letter to myself and the other blk women I write for. I am not a machine meant to constantly pump fics out for your enjoyment. I am a regular girl who uses this as my lil safe space of the hellscape we call the internet. Some of y’all got the game fucked up in thinking that being a writer is who we are and not just something we do. If you don’t like the way I or someone else uses this space, then leave the same way you came. I suffer from ADHD burnout horribly and I may go for days at a time without posting actual work bc my brain is in a fog and I can’t focus. When it begins to feel like a chore, I back out for a few days and if that’s not acceptable, then I truly don’t know what to tell you. Not apologizing for that shit.
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starlightkun · 1 year
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❧ word count: 28.4k
❧ warnings: cursing, the b-plot pretty heavily references a drowning incident (but it’s not explicitly described), uhm that’s about it for this one!
❧ genre: fluff, slow burn, one (1) idiot and one (1) tease to lovers, modern magical creatures au, college au, fairy jungwoo, human reader, ft. various other magical ilichils and human johnny, spring break au
❧ author’s note: ahhh here it is! i love this one so much, it was so much fun to write, and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it!!
❧ spotify playlist
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!
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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?
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There’s so much you’ll never know about Jungwoo, you thought to yourself as you snuck a glance his way. You could ask him a million questions every day for the rest of your life and still, you’d never know everything. But you want to try. You want to know what his favorite song is every day, what he had for lunch, what he looks like when he wakes up after sleeping in on Sunday mornings, and what his lips taste like. Strawberries… probably, was what you had decided upon after an embarrassing amount of daydreaming and speculating that you’d sooner be waterboarded than admit to.
And it wasn’t the fact that he was a fairy that fascinated you either, you had been around magical beings all your life. Your own best friend was a dryad, so you didn’t even blink the first time you saw Jungwoo sneeze and his hair flashed pink for a moment. There was something about Jungwoo that made you want to know even more about him, take notes, put him on a slide under a microscope in the lab you two had together, and bottle him up if you could.
Jungwoo readjusted the frames that had slipped down his nose as he worked on his assignment— a lab report, he was a Chemistry major like you. Did fairies even need glasses? They couldn’t magic away bad vision or something? You did manage to ask him that, the first time you’d seen him bring them out at a study session. Turns out they were blue light filtering ones, not prescription; looking at screens for too long strained his eyes.
You’d finished your own lab report thirty minutes ago and had been meandering through some assignments for next week in an admittedly pathetic attempt to prolong your time around him. The rest of your group that you were with all left for a vending machine break about ten minutes ago, and the study room had been just you and Jungwoo since.
Jungwoo hadn’t let up working on his report in that time, and you didn’t want to distract him by trying to take this opportunity to talk to him or anything. So instead, you just randomly clicked things on your computer, looked at Jungwoo, read a couple pages of your textbook, looked at Jungwoo, scrolled on your phone, looked at Jungwoo, drank some of your water, looked at Jungwoo, rinse, and repeat.
Today he was wearing a light pink crewneck sweater that was way oversized even on him, the neck of it slouching down far enough to one side to show his collarbones— you snapped your eyes back down to your keyboard and took a sip of your water. God, you needed Jesus or Pan or whatever other deities your friends had; you’d take anything at this point. After a few more moments, you risked another look at him. His brown hair that always looked so soft looked extra bouncy today, and you wondered if he’d showered and dried it right before coming to the campus library. You had a sudden want to know what shampoo and conditioner he used, and were so glad that you had one iota of common social grace to quite literally bite down on your knuckle to stop yourself from asking him that. You were going insane sitting in here alone with him, you needed to go.
“Uh,” you cleared your throat as you stood up. The force with which you had stood up pushed your rolling chair back with such a velocity that it crashed into the wall behind you, and you cringed at how loud the sound was in the dead silent study room.
Jungwoo looked up at you with round, curious eyes, slowly taking one of his lilac wired earbuds out from his ears. Your skin was practically on fire, and you could hear your blood roaring in your ears as you grabbed your metal bottle, “I’m going to refill my water.”
You didn’t wait to see if he had any sort of reply, fleeing the room.
Donghyuck found you curled up on yourself in a study cubicle ten minutes later. He presumably was able to follow the smell of your self-pity and agony. As a dryad, he was in tune with nature, and, as he so stubbornly reminded you, humans were included in that whole nature thing.
Your friend leaned against the side of the short cubicle wall, resting his cheek on his forearm as he looked down at you with an eyebrow raised, “Were we disturbing you? Had to come get your own little study nook?”
“No, I finished all my work a while ago,” you mumbled.
“I know.”
He tore open his bag of chips, popping one into his mouth then holding it out to you. The two of you shared the snack in a silence devoid of conversation, but full of mutual understanding and the sounds of crunching chips. When all the chips were gone, Donghyuck tilted his head back to dump the remaining crumbs in his mouth before tossing the bag in the recycling bin.
“Alright, come on, Yuta says he’s got a big announcement for all of us.”
“Oh, joy, a Yuta summons,” you stood up with a sigh. “Always a good sign when the siren calls.”
Donghyuck started leading the way back through the narrow library aisles, “It was actually Jungwoo who sent me out looking for you, said he was worried that you might be sick.”
“Shut up, that’s not funny.”
“You’re right, it’s not. That’s like, the lamest joke ever. No set up, no punchline. Not even in the format of a joke. That’s how you know I’m being serious.”
“Oh God, I was being such a little freak.”
“Y/N, you’re down astronomically bad for a fairy, and are friends with a dryad, siren, and basilisk, to name a few. And you’re worried about being a freak?”
“By comparison I pretty much am.”
“Mm, can’t argue with you there.”
Back in the study room, you and Donghyuck took your two empty seats right next to each other. The room was abuzz with chatter now, feeling much livelier than it had before.
“There you are, we were about to send out another rescue mission,” Johnny greeted the two of you brightly. He was the only other one of your friends who was a human like you.
Mark’s forked snake tongue flicked out to test the air, “Everything okay, Y/N?”
“Oh, yeah, got distracted looking at some books,” you fibbed, well aware that at least a third of the creatures with you could hear any jump in your heartrate, one could practically smell (taste?) fear, and another quite literally always knew if you were telling the truth or not. Taeyong never exposed you when you lied, nor held any against you—not that you lied to him often. Forgiveness kind of came with being a unicorn and all, you figured. Believing in a pure heart or whatever.
“I found her wandering with her nose stuffed in a book. Had to drag her back kicking and screaming,” Donghyuck followed your lead with a casual eye roll.
Yuta clapped his hands from where he was standing at the head of the table, immediately drawing everybody’s attention to him and quieting down the room. “Anyway!”
The siren pushed back his white-blonde hair from his face, making piercing eye contact with each of you in turn as he paused for dramatic effect. The iridescent scales visible under the skin of his cheekbones at certain angles shimmered from blue to purple to pink in the fluorescent lights and his silvery eyes flashed as the large pupils met yours before moving onto the next person.
“Tell us or I put a blabbermouth hex on you, Yuta,” Doyoung drawled, readjusting his many crystal and worn leather bracelets around his wrists.
“For the love of Hecate, not again, Doyoung!” Taeil, another witch, scolded him. He was in a big hoodie that had your school’s name proudly emblazoned across the front, so just the edges of his ritual tattoos peeked out on his neck and hands. “Sirens and blabbermouth hexes are practically death machines!”
“Yuta and blabbermouth hexes is hell on Earth,” Jaehyun deadpanned.
Johnny rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously, “Yeah, I almost died last time, Doyoung. I was only just able to go to the pool again like two weeks ago.”
“Which is perfect,” Yuta cut into the rabble, ceasing their squabbling once again. “Because we’re all going to Cape Solaria for spring break.”
“You seriously want me to go around you and water again?” Johnny asked in disbelief.
“Oh my god, you nearly drown your friend one time and you never hear the end of it!”
“One time?”
“Okay, one and a half times! And really, it was Doyoung’s fault, he put the blabbermouth hex on me, I couldn’t stop! Why aren’t you getting pissed at him?”
You and Donghyuck exchanged looks as the volume in the room rose once again.
Spring break was still a month away, and you admittedly didn’t have any plans yet. Cape Solaria was a gorgeous beach a few hours away, and despite the proximity to your college town, surprisingly wasn’t a very popular spring break destination. It was a sleepy little seaside village that hadn’t done anything to attract tourists, and if anything, actively warded them off, especially college students. There wasn’t much to do in the area except the beach itself, which didn’t have any public access points, only residents could use it. All in all, didn’t sound half bad for a siren, of course. Or nine other college students with nothing better to do.
“Come on!” Yuta’s sonorous voice broke through the din of the bickering. “My parents’ friends have a beach house there, they’re out of town until the summer and said we can use it! There’s a firepit on the beach, and a cute little downtown, and I pinky promise to every single god, goddess, and incorporeal abstract deity that we all have that I won’t drown anybody!”
Everybody was looking around the table at each other, clearly suspicious of Yuta’s too good to be true plan, and waiting for somebody else to cast the first stone.
“Sure, Yuta, I’ll come,” Taeyong smiled up at him. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“I’m bringing a spear gun, don’t think I won’t use it,” Johnny warned him.
Eventually, everyone had given their yeses, to varying degrees of enthusiasm, until there was just one left.
“Of course I’m coming,” Jungwoo grinned, his eyes meeting yours for just a flash before looking up at the siren. “It sounds like fun!”
Jungwoo caught up to you as you left the library that evening. Donghyuck had stayed behind to check out some materials for a class, and the rest of your friends were walking out in a large, amorphous blob.
“Hey,” he greeted you from over your shoulder.
“Hey,” you echoed, looking behind and up at him briefly. It was times like this that you were reminded just how big the fairy was, underneath the oversized sweaters, fluffy hair, and pouts. He was one of the tallest of your friends, magical or otherwise.
His glasses had been pushed up on top of his head now, the frames keeping some of his bangs from falling across his face. With his book bag slung onto one shoulder, he looked almost like your average human college student, except if you happened to look a little closer—which you always were—you could catch the faint flecks of gold in his otherwise warm brown irises. As you passed under the lampposts along the pedestrian walkway, the golden flecks would catch the light and gleam unlike anything that could exist in humans. Not quite starlight, more like craft store glitter, the kind that you’d accidentally spill and continue to find in every square inch of your house for years to come. Which was a comparison that as soon as it had clicked in your brain, only endeared him even more to you.
“So what do you think? About going to Cape Solaria?” Jungwoo asked, those big, glittery eyes focused down on you.
You thanked… something godly that he apparently wasn’t going to ask about your disappearance from the study room earlier.
“Oh, uhm, I’m actually pretty excited. I know Johnny’s nervous after the whole Yuta-Doyoung-blabbermouth hex-drowning thing that happened last semester, but I think it’ll be fun. I haven’t been to the Cape since I was little, it’ll be nice to see how much has changed, if at all.”
“You went when you were little?”
“My parents used to take us on day trips as kids in the summer. Still don’t know how they put up with us in the car for that long.”
“How far away is it?”
“Uhm…” You frowned as you tried to think of as accurate an answer as you could for Jungwoo. “I don’t remember exactly. Three hours? Four, maybe? Hold on.”
You had reached into your pocket to bring out your phone, fully intending on looking it up on your maps app right then and there, when a hand covered yours, a light giggle that sounded like the tinkling of bells rang out right next to your ear, and you damn near dropped your phone.
“That’s okay, Y/N, I was just curious,” Jungwoo reassured you, letting your hand fall from his as you went to stuff your phone back into your pocket. “I’ll just find out when we drive there.”
“Right, of course,” you muttered, casting your eyes down to your feet. “So, uhm, have you ever been? To the Cape?”
As soon as you said it, you wanted to smack yourself in the face. He literally just asked you how far away it was. If he had been there before, he would know that.
“No, this’ll be my first time.” Jungwoo bit the tip of his thumb, and you could feel how your eyes were glued to the action.
“Jungwoo!” Taeil called for him from the front of the group, Doyoung beside the older witch. The three of them were roommates, and were presumably all going home together.
“Coming!” The fairy replied. He focused a cheery smile down on you, “Well, see you, Y/N!”
“Bye, Woos…”
As the three roommates left, you desperately blinked yourself out of your Jungwoo-induced trance, trying to remember where you had parked your own car. Taeyong saved you from yourself, looping his arm through yours, “Come on, Y/N, I saw your car over by Jaehyun’s.”
“Oh. Didn’t even realize you guys had parked by me. Thanks, Yong,” you tried to reply as casually as possible, which was utterly pointless when dealing with Taeyong and his vampire roommate. Said vampire was walking on Taeyong’s other side, entirely silent.
When you first started hanging out with Taeyong and by extension Jaehyun, you weren’t able to get a good read on the latter, mostly due to the fact that he said next to nothing and emoted even less. But when he did finally say something, it was usually so entirely out of pocket that you either ended up in stitches laughing or were sent into an existential spiral. Judging solely from the thousand-yard stare on his face, you’d think he wasn’t listening to any of your conversation most of the time, except you knew that his supernatural senses made it impossible for him to do anything except hear everything: conversations, the wind rustling through the leaves, air conditioning, the blood pumping in your veins. You were surprised to find out that he wasn’t several centuries old, only in his mid-twenties; he’d been turned just a couple years ago. (This had prompted a hushed conversation with Taeyong: “So… he’s just like that?” “Like what?” “…Never mind.”).
You knew that Taeyong was Jaehyun’s primary food source, though you didn’t ask for many details aside from one that your morbid curiosity wouldn’t let go of: It doesn’t hurt Taeyong and feels generally pleasant. Since Taeyong’s a unicorn, Jaehyun doesn’t have to feed as often as he would if he were feeding from humans, and that is when you had put your headphones in during that little impromptu Q&A session during a study group. Renjun, the Magical Creatures Studies major who had tagged along with Donghyuck that day, could go ahead and listen about Jaehyun’s favorite places to bite Taeyong or whatever, you had much rather wanted to do literally anything else.
“I’m worried,” Taeyong confessed, gnawing on his bottom lip.
“About?” You asked, concerned.
“Johnny going to the beach.”
“Oh, Taeyong, I don’t think he even knows where to get a spear gun, Yuta will be fine.”
“No, I know Yuta will be okay. But I do think Johnny’s worry comes from a real place of distress.”
You saw the deep sorrow reflected in his features, your own heart hurting too as you recalled what happened to your human friend. “Well, yeah, he did almost drown himself in the guys’ bathtub at our non-denominational Friendsmasgiving as collateral damage in one of Yuta and Doyoung’s spats. Don’t tell any of the others this, Yong, but Johnny couldn’t wash his own face for a month after. I went over and did his skincare routine for him. I don’t even want to know how he showered or washed his hands.”
“Johnny must trust you a lot, Y/N.”
“I actually didn’t know him very well before that,” you admitted. “I think he just asked me because I’m the only other human out of all of us. I was the safest, you know, in his mind.”
Before that Friendsmasgiving at Taeil, Doyoung, and Jungwoo’s place, you had only seen Johnny at a couple group movie nights here and there, so you were honestly surprised to have gotten a text from him asking you to come over. You were mentally prepared for it to be a weird premise for a hookup and had all your usual rejections ready to go in the back of your mind. But no, he actually did just need you to help him wash his face. His hands trembled every time he tried to turn on the tap, and he absolutely couldn’t submerge his nose or mouth— he needed to breathe.
Unlike you, Johnny didn’t have any firsthand exposure to magical beings like your friends until he went to college. He grew up in a small town that was entirely human, and while he had a very open mind about it all, nearly drowning himself under a siren’s spell would understandably take a while to process.
“Oh…” Taeyong breathed out, and you could see his lilac eyes beginning to water, the tears themselves having an iridescence to them. “Oh, Johnny…”
“Shit, sorry,” you shook your head to clear your mind.
Unicorns were highly empathetic, and ruminating on an emotional memory for too long around them would project that state onto them. It wasn’t quite mind reading from what you understood, Taeyong couldn’t access your memories directly right now or anything, but he could get the gist of the feelings and emotions that your memories contained. So he and Jaehyun were honestly a match made in magical weirdo heaven.
“No, it’s okay,” he reassured you as the three of you slowed to a stop at your car. “I’m going to talk to Taeil and Doyoung, see if they can do anything for Johnny.”
“Doyoung should be moving fucking mountains to help, this is partially his fault.”
“I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.” Taeyong squeezed your arm before letting it go. “Have a good weekend, Y/N.”
“You too, guys,” you gave them a wave as they headed off in the direction of Jaehyun’s car.
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SATURDAY
Spring break had snuck up on you. Between studying for midterms, working part-time at the campus bookstore, and maybe possibly sort of avoiding Jungwoo as best you could outside of your shared chemistry lab, you didn’t have the brain capacity to really be cognizant of the passage of time, only your constant state of stress and panic. So you had packed your bags just last night, and were now running around your apartment to get together the last of your things that morning. Johnny had texted a few minutes ago that he was on his way to pick you and Donghyuck up, meaning that you had maybe five minutes left before he arrived.
You ducked under the vine hanging at the entry to the bedroom hallway, and skirted around the monstera that marked the beginning of the jungle that was your living room. Donghyuck generally kept the plants to a lush but tasteful amount, and you liked the greenery, but with both your focuses on midterms week, they had gotten a little unruly without the dryad’s usual careful tending to them.
“Hey, Hyuck?” You called out to him from the kitchen.
“Yeah?” Came his reply from where he was reclined on the couch.
“You seen my sunglasses? I thought they were on my dresser but—”
“You loaned them to Mark last week when he accidentally petrified Johnny. He said he’s bringing them to give back to you.”
“Oh, right,” you stopped your frantic searching, joining your roommate in the living room. “Thanks.”
“Speaking of—” Donghyuck stood up from the couch with a big stretch, a couple small vines reaching out from the very tips of his fingers before receding back in when he dropped his arms. He focused his dark green eyes on you pointedly, “Johnny said they’re here. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be at this point,” you sighed.
“Cool. So where’s your phone?”
Realizing that you hadn’t seen Johnny’s text yourself, you patted your pockets fervently. All empty.
“Shit!”
“I’ll call it.”
After retrieving your phone from inside the freezer—you didn’t even want to know how you’d left it in there—you and Donghyuck grabbed all your bags and rushed down to meet your road trip crew. All ten of you weren’t going to fit into one car, so you were splitting up between three in order to have a reasonable number of vehicles in town for the week: Johnny’s, Taeil’s, and Yuta’s.
Johnny was leaning against the trunk of his old SUV, and pushed off it to give you each a hug, “Hey! Ready to road trip?”
“Sure, Johnny,” you chuckled as he popped the hatch on the trunk. “Thanks for driving us.”
“Of course, of course. Always glad to be team dad for three magical creatures and a human,” he ruffled yours and Donghyuck’s heads as you each loaded up your bags on top of the ones that were already in there.
“Three?” You asked.
Johnny was struggling trying to pull his hand back from the leafy tendrils that had wrapped around his fingers when he went to muss up Donghyuck’s hair. When he’d finally gotten the limb back, he answered, “Oh yeah, Mark and I picked up a stray, so someone will have to sit with someone. Mark’s already got shotgun, sorry.”
The human opened up the back door, and Donghyuck and you peered in, just in time for Jungwoo’s head to pop up from the very backseat, cell phone in hand.
“Finally! Thought this was lost to the ether down there!” He said triumphantly, then his gaze fell on you and your roommate. “Oh hey, Y/N, Donghyuck!”
“I was planning on napping, actually,” Donghyuck took advantage of your stupefied silence to declare. “So I’ll take the middle row.”
“D—”
“You always complain about my moss when I nap on you, Y/N. You’ll be free of me this time! It’s perfect!”
And so you ended up in the backseat with Jungwoo, staring out the window as Johnny pulled away from your apartment building.
“Y/N? Could you please hand me my pillow from the back?” Donghyuck requested sweetly.
You narrowed your eyes at him before twisting around in your seat, rummaging around in the trunk until you were able to secure the pillow. Turning back around, you offered him a sarcastic smile as you practically smacked him in the face with it, “Here, Hyuck.”
“Oof!” He fell back, settling long-ways across the entire middle seat. “Thanks, Y/N!”
“Shut up and take your damn nap.”
You heard a jingling giggle from beside you, and looked over to see Jungwoo covering his mouth, but you noticed the telltale crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“I know I’ve said this before but,” he paused to let out another giggle, “you two are funny.”
“Glad we can provide in-flight entertainment for you, Woos,” you slumped back in your seat, shimmying your shoulders around for a moment to settle in for the long car ride ahead of you.
Johnny’s car didn’t have Bluetooth, so he had a CD of his playing over the speakers. Only one speaker in the backseat worked at all, and it crackled and popped at random intervals. Because of that, the sound controls were set so that the music played only in the front seats. You didn’t mind, you kept your focus on your own music playing through your headphones, eyes trained on the passing scenery. Until your wireless earbuds died.
“No, no, no,” you held the buttons down in a fruitless attempt to resuscitate them. “Damn it!”
“Are you okay?” Jungwoo asked you quietly.
Johnny and Mark were singing along to a nostalgic pop song in the front seat, and you were tempted to ask them to turn it up, until you caught sight of Donghyuck. He was covered in a literal blanket of moss, clover, and small white flower buds from his feet to his arms. His eyes were closed and his shoulders rose and fell with each breath he took. So he really was taking a nap.
Not wanting to disturb your friend for your own entertainment, you snapped your earbuds back into their carrying case. Which was also dead, because in your great planning for this trip, you had forgotten to charge that too.
“No, my headphones just died, and we have like, three more hours left,” you groaned, dropping your head back onto the headrest.
“Oh, here!” Jungwoo held out one of his wired earbuds to you. “You can just share mine.”
“Woos, that’s okay, I’ll just…” You desperately wracked your brain for a reasonable way to finish that sentence.
“Do you really not trust my taste in music that much you’d rather stare out the window in silence for three hours?” He had a playful pout on his lips.
In the back of your mind, you knew he was joking around, but also he was quite literally batting his eyelashes at you—were long eyelashes a fairy thing or a Jungwoo thing? Something else you wanted to ask him—and suddenly you were saying yes, the headphone was in your hand, and Jungwoo was happily scrolling through his music library. He’d found something satisfactory, and you put the earbud in to listen along.
“Y/N, you can’t be all the way over there, the headphones are gonna fall out!” Jungwoo scolded you with an exasperated sigh.
You looked at the empty seat between the two of you in bewilderment, where the headphone cords were pulled near taut. You were way too focused on trying to figure out if he actually meant for you to move to the middle seat to realize that Jungwoo had undone his own seatbelt instead—until his arm was sliding around your shoulders, long legs crowding yours in the small space of Johnny’s backseat, and the entire length of his side pressed up against you.
“There we go,” he said brightly. “Now the headphones won’t get tugged out of our ears if we want to look out the window.”
Your gulp was comically loud as your eyes were trained on your blank phone screen in your lap, “Right.”
“Oh, you’ve got a much better view over here,” Jungwoo leaned in front of you to peer out the window.
He seemed to radiate the warmth of a soft spring day, and while you still didn’t know exactly what kind of shampoo he used, you swore you could smell the faint, sweet scent of strawberries as he hovered just millimeters in front of your face. There was a single small diamond earring in his lobe, and it sparkled as it caught the light filtering in through the window he was looking out. He turned his head to look from the passing scenery over to you, holding your (surely alarmed, wide-eyed, maybe even terrified) gaze for a moment. The corner of his lips curled, and then he reclined back into his new seat beside you.
You hoped that Mark was too focused on their music up front to be regularly checking the scents in the car, or if he was, that he was going to keep his forked tongue to himself. You knew that you were oozing panic from every pore right now, you didn’t need a basilisk blabbing that to the whole car. Taking a deep inhale through your nose, you desperately tried to calm your heartrate back down. Fairies didn’t have super hearing that you were aware of, but with how close you two you were, you wouldn’t be surprised if Jungwoo would be able to hear your heart hammering anyway.
“So how did you end up riding with Johnny?” You asked him quietly, hoping that some light conversation would distract you from how hyperaware you were of every square centimeter of you that was in contact with him. “I thought Taeil would’ve been taking you.”
“Yuta was taking Jaehyun and Taeyong and didn’t have enough room for all the extra beach stuff in his truck. Johnny would’ve had enough room, except he was bringing you and Donghyuck, and we would’ve all been much more squished in Taeil’s car. So I got voted off the island and Taeil’s bringing Doyoung and the extra beach stuff.”
You chuckled, the tension in your body easing as you could perfectly imagine how that conversation went down between your friends, “How tragic.”
“I don’t mind, I like you.” Jungwoo’s breath washed over the shell of your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your shoulders jump a little. Which he could definitely feel.
“Oh!” The squeak in your voice was audible. “Yeah, we— we all like you too, Woos.”
“So do you like it?”
“Huh?”
“The music.”
You admittedly hadn’t even been paying attention to any of the songs playing in the headphones you were sharing, all too focused on your proximity rather than the alleged reason for it. Taking a few seconds, you listened to the song that was playing at that moment. It was a softer indie-sounding track, and you found yourself nodding maybe a little too enthusiastically, “Oh, yeah, yeah, it’s good.”
“Good,” he offered you a gentle smile. “You can pick the next album. I want to know what kind of stuff you listen to.”
Only two tracks into your chosen album, Johnny announced that he’d be pulling off at the next exit for gas, so any snack purchases and bathroom breaks would need to happen now as well. You gave him a weak thumbs-up in the rearview mirror, the only part of his face visible in said mirror being an inquisitively raised eyebrow. As Johnny slowed the van to a stop at the gas pump, Jungwoo slid away from you as casually as he had slid over, leaning over the seat to try to wake Donghyuck up.
“Donghyuck,” he cooed at him. “Donghyuck, wake up. Y/N and I need to get out.”
“That’s not going to work,” you sighed, hunching over the seat as well. “You have to resort to violence with Hyuck.”
“He’s covered in plants,” Jungwoo pointed out. “I’m not a dryad but harming nature still isn’t really my thing.”
“I didn’t say set him on fire or anything.”
“Then what—”
Mark had already hopped out of the car at that point, and opened the door to the backseat then. You and he made eye contact, nodded once in unison, then he grabbed one of Donghyuck’s ankles and yanked on it. The basilisk jerked his hand back before vines could wrap around it. But it worked, the dryad shot up, head whipping around as he looked around for the culprit, and his hands coming up to rub at his eyes sleepily.
“Who—”
“Gas station, Hyuck,” you told him as all the plants on him closed up and disappeared. “Can you move so we can get out please?”
He let out a heaving sigh, scooting across the seat to do so, “Fine, I suppose. Only because I need to pee.”
“Thank you for letting me know that you’ve been hydrating.”
With Donghyuck out, Johnny helped you finagle the fold-down middle row so that you and Jungwoo could climb out of the back, then gave you his card to buy him a soda from inside. You found Mark in front of the refrigerated section, and he dug a hand into the pocket of his shorts before pulling out your missing sunglasses and handing them to you.
“Here. Thanks for letting me borrow them.” His voice slightly drug out the sibilance of his ‘s’ as he spoke, slitted pupils just visible through the tint of his own pair of sunglasses he was donning now. He stuffed his hands back in his pockets as he looked over the drink options.
“Yeah, of course, Mark,” you perched your sunglasses atop your head, then quietly scanned the fridges for Johnny’s soda request.
Mark had come over to your apartment last week to study with Donghyuck for some class they had together, and Johnny tagged along so that you and he could have a little self-care night before the hecticness of finals week. Doing face masks together just felt natural after you had washed his face for an entire month. Johnny had been keeping you up to date on how his roommate was handling the onset of his powers lately. Basilisks, unlike other mythological creatures who were born as such, came into their powers comparatively much later in life, within a year after their first molting. Mark just had his last summer (the details of which Johnny had thankfully spared you but did let you know was awful to have to clean up around the apartment), and had been slowly but surely developing his various basilisk abilities since. One of which, petrification, hadn’t come on at all yet.
Until Johnny had stepped out of your bathroom that night with a green clay face mask on to grab his phone from the living room, turned the corner, and had startled Mark so bad that with just a split second of eye contact, he’d been petrified. Thankfully, not properly turned to stone, just paralyzed more so. He’d remained entirely fleshy and regained full use of his limbs within ten minutes, but Mark had kept your sunglasses on for the rest of the night just in case.
Mark suddenly spoke up again, pointing at a specific row off to your bottom left, the complete opposite direction from where you’d currently been scrutinizing, “Johnny asked for dragonfruit Fanta, right?”
You followed his gaze to a magenta bottle, “Oh! Yes, thanks!”
“No problem.”
“How’d you know?” You questioned as Mark grabbed his own drink, then turned around to peruse the snacks.
“He always tries to cut out caffeine on school breaks since he goes so hard on the coffee during the semester,” the basilisk sighed. “Which means he’ll be right back on it by Monday morning at the latest. If not, tomorrow. Do you see those firecracker things Yuta likes? I made the mistake of telling the others we were making a snack stop and got a whole shopping list.”
“Oh, the ones enchanted to literally pop and sizzle in your mouth?” You wrinkled your nose, remembering when he had let you try one at a movie night. Never again. “Uh… there!”
“Thanks.”
“I’m guessing Taeyong wants his usual too,” you grabbed a holographic box of gummy candies.
After grabbing a few more things, you and Mark paid then headed back out to the SUV. Donghyuck had already beaten the two of you back out there and Johnny was done refilling the gas, meaning that you all were just waiting on Jungwoo to return. Mark and Donghyuck waited in the car with the AC blasting, splitting their snacks between them while you leaned against the side with Johnny, enjoying standing up while you could. There were still at least two more hours left in your drive, not accounting for any traffic.
The human beside you cracked open his soda, holding it out towards you, and you clinked your drink with his before taking swigs in unison.
“So.” Johnny said.
“So.” You repeated.
“What’s uh… what’s up?” He took another drink of his dragonfruit Fanta.
You couldn’t help but laugh, “I don’t know, not much. What’s up with you, Johnny? Finals go good?”
“That’s not what I meant, Y/N,” he gave you a pointed look.
“Then what did you mean?” You asked, bringing your drink up to your lips.
“I meant the romance novel that’s been playing out in my backseat.”
To your credit, you didn’t do a spit take. You did choke on the sip you’d just taken to the point where Johnny felt the need to give you a couple good slaps on the back. When you’d recovered and were upright again, you shook your head.
“Johnny, that’s not— My headphones died, Jungwoo was sharing his and—”
“That’s like, the stupidest excuse I’ve heard in a while. I am actually offended that you think I’m that dumb, Y/N,” Johnny cut you off with a shake of his head. “But fine, you don’t want to tell your best human pal Johnny about your secret relationship, that’s cool. Little tip though, maybe tone down the PDA, then.”
Your tongue felt too big in your mouth as you tripped and fumbled over it trying to correct Johnny’s understanding of the situation. The grin on his face belied that he wasn’t actually that hurt and was instead delighted to know this “secret” information, as he smoothly got you in a loose headlock, affectionately mussing up your hair again.
“Johnny!” You squealed, ducking out from under his arm, not looking where you were going as you scrambled to get away.
And proceeded to stumble right into someone else. Mortification filled your veins as you went to apologize to whatever other patron of the gas station that you’d just bumped into, the words once again getting stuck in your throat as you looked up into familiar brown eyes. Jungwoo held your gaze with a tilted head, not even acknowledging Johnny as the fairy’s mouth turned down into just the slightest frown.
“I’m so sor—”
“Your hair’s all messed up, Y/N,” he informed you matter-of-factly, one hand reaching up to adjust whatever strands were out of place.
You imagined this was what Johnny had felt like last week when Mark accidentally petrified him in your living room. All your muscles were frozen in place, eyes unblinking as Jungwoo dutifully fixed your hair.
He gave the top of your head one last gentle pat, “There.”
“I’m sorry.” You finally managed to finish your thought from earlier. “For uhm, for bumping into you.”
Jungwoo let out a soft chuckle, and you realized that the two of you were still practically chest to chest.
“That’s okay, Y/N. Better you almost knock me over than someone else and we’ve got a pissed off dragon or something on our hands.”
“Hey,” Johnny called out, and you whipped around to look at him. He was still leaning against the car, spinning the keys around his finger as he gave you a knowing smirk. “Are we ready to go?”
“Yep!” The fairy answered cheerily, holding up the strawberry Fanta he’d bought inside.
Finally, after two more hours, many rousing car games led by the now-awake Donghyuck, and several full-car sing-alongs, you’d arrived at the coast. The vast highway gave way to meandering residential roads filled with small, colorful houses clustered together, each with a different quirky mailbox in front of it. Johnny rolled down the front windows, and you could smell the salty ocean air immediately.
A few more twisty roads later, and he slowed to a stop at the dead end of a line of houses in front of a periwinkle colored one, with a familiar small silver hatchback sedan parked out front by the mermaid-shaped mailbox.
“Huh, I thought we’d be the last ones to get here,” Johnny commented, putting his car into park as all of you starting unbuckling and getting ready to get out. Taeil and Doyoung climbed out of their own car to greet you all as well. “The others left before us, and we had to pick Y/N and Donghyuck up.”
There was definitely one vehicle missing, the driver of course being the one who had the key to let you into the house.
“Hey, guys!” You hopped out of the SUV, eager to be out of the cramped backseat again. Your legs weren’t quite ready for your leap, though, but Doyoung thankfully caught you in a half-hug, half-save.
“Hey, Y/N, careful,” he chuckled. “It’s gonna be a shitty spring break if you twist your ankle on the first day.”
“What, you and Taeil couldn’t magic me better?” You teased, righting yourself to give the other witch a hug hello.
“Not this time,” Taeil sighed, patting your back. “We’re a bit tired.”
“Oh? Why?” You pulled back from him to look between the two of them with concern.
“Because they made me this,” Johnny suddenly appeared between Taeil and Doyoung, slinging one arm around Taeil and using the other to hold up something around his own neck. It was a single pearl hanging from a leather cord, and he tucked it back under his shirt after he was sure you got a look at it. “An anti-Yuta charm.”
“Ahh, gotcha,” you smiled at the three of them. “They should really hand those out at orientation at school.”
Johnny let out a hearty laugh at that, giving Taeil and Doyoung each a head ruffle before heading off to see what the others were doing with the luggage in the back of his SUV.
After you were sure he was out of earshot, you turned back to the two witches, “That must be a pretty powerful charm to have made the both of you so tired.”
“Well, it’s a bit hard to tell a unicorn no to their face,” Doyoung rolled his eyes. “Especially Taeyong, he’s got those big round pouty eyes, you know? He asked us to make it for Johnny, said the guy was nervous about coming, even if he wasn’t showing it.”
Taeil added, “And Taeyong was right, it is your fault that even happened to Johnny. You put the hex on Yuta in the first place.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Doyoung waved his friend off, paused, then added, “Thank you for helping, Taeil.”
“Speaking of Yuta,” you said loudly, spotting a familiar vehicle in the distance, at the bottom of the hill.
The whole group burst into noisy jeers and complaints at the old blue truck as it got nearer and nearer, until Yuta had pulled all the way around and parked in the space Taeil left empty for him in the driveway. The heckles finally quieted down when the siren climbed out of his truck to glare at you all.
“Alright!” He held his hands up in a quiet-down gesture. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting. But we’re here now.”
“What took you guys so long?” Johnny asked, starting to help the three newcomers unload the bed of the truck.
“You get lost or something?” Donghyuck teased.
Yuta immediately whirled around on the vampire, “Jaehyun, I swear to God, snitches get stitches.”
A silence fell over everybody, so quiet you swore you could’ve heard a pin drop if not for the quiet background noise of the ocean. Jaehyun was standing on the opposite side of the truck bed, holding an umbrella with one hand to cast a shadow over his face, maintaining Yuta’s eye contact with entirely neutral features.
One.
Two.
“Yuta got pulled over.”
Raucous laughter erupted around you, you yourself cackling so hard your sides hurt.
“That’s it! I’m not inviting you in!” Yuta waggled a finger at Jaehyun, then threw his hands up as he kept ranting. “Hang upside down off the roof and sleep outside for all I fucking care!”
You were doubled over now, lightheaded as you grabbed your knees and tears sprung to your eyes. Taeyong covered his mouth as he giggled, Johnny was leaning against the side of the truck for support, Donghyuck had sprouted bright yellow marigolds along his arms, Mark was rolling around clutching his stomach on the asphalt—which you imagined would’ve been too hot for anybody who wasn’t cold-blooded, Doyoung and Taeil held onto each other to stay upright, and when you looked at Jungwoo, you saw that his hair was flashing back and forth between brown and light pink like a twinkling star. Your cackles lightened up to soft chuckles as you couldn’t help but be transfixed by the image of the fairy’s head thrown back in joy, eyes crinkled into delighted crescents, and laughs that sounded like music reaching your ears.
“What— What did you even do, dude?” Johnny managed to ask.
“I was going like two over the speed limit, okay?” Yuta huffed, crossing his arms.
“Oh yeah, I’m sure it was only ‘like two,’” Donghyuck snorted, standing over Mark as he waited for the basilisk to finish recovering from his laughing fit. The dryad offered out a hand to help yank him back onto two feet again.
“So did you get a ticket?” Taeil called out as he grabbed his luggage from his car.
“Nope!” Yuta announced proudly.
“Oh please tell me you siren charmed your way out of a ticket,” Doyoung said hopefully, hoisting a bag onto his shoulder.
“I would never!” The siren cried out in offense, then pointed to Taeyong. “Taeyong cried a little. Cop felt so bad he let us go with a warning!”
“Is this what those legendary unicorn tears are for? Skirting traffic laws?” You laughed, following everyone up towards the entry.
“I can’t believe you’ll cry to get Yuta out of a ticket but you won’t give me one little vial of your tears!” Doyoung shook Taeyong’s shoulder as he complained.
Taeyong elbowed the witch in the side, “Yeah and this is why! You don’t know how to ask for things nicely!”
Doyoung truly had a special talent, being the only person you’d ever met who was able to rile up the normally patient unicorn so quickly. As their usual bickering escalated into jabs and slaps and kicks, you went to try to duck away from the fray, being directly between and behind them, right in the line of fire.
“Hey, you two! Watch my face!” You warned, holding up an arm defensively in front of you.
“Do I need to come back there and separate you three?” Johnny warned from where he and Yuta were standing at the front door. The rest of you were in a line of some sort leading down the wooden walkway onto the drive.
“Three?!” You repeated indignantly. “What did I do?”
“No, Johnny,” Taeyong mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Whatever,” Doyoung huffed, letting up on the little fight too. “Bet your tears would make weak ass potions anyway.”
“Oh my God, you’re actual children,” you whispered to yourself. With their backs to you and each other, you were free to mimic like you were strangling them, “I’m gonna wring your goddamn necks one of these days.”
There was a giggle from beside you, and you hadn’t even realized that you’d ended up squished next to Jungwoo until right then. When you looked over, he was already looking at you with a smile on his face, and the split second of eye contact warmed you even more than the sunshine.
“What’s the hold-up, Yuta?” Donghyuck yelled from the very back.
“Door’s— just— a— bit— stuck—” Every word from Yuta was punctuated by the siren ramming his shoulder against said door. “God— fuckin— Oh!” He suddenly stumbled forward as the door finally gave way. “There we fuckin’ go!”
Everyone rushed in, stopping just inside of the living room. Well, almost everyone.
“Yuta.” Jaehyun was still standing on the welcome mat outside.
“Did you think I was kidding, you little tick?”
“Yuta,” Taeyong sighed.
“Fine,” Yuta huffed, dragging out the word. “Jaehyun, please come in.”
As Jaehyun lowered his umbrella and stepped in, you looked around where you would be staying for the next week. It was cozy, the beachy aesthetics perfectly encapsulated in the kitschy décor that was plastered all around the living room and attached kitchenette that you’d landed in. But it was kind of… small.
“Hey, Yuta?” Taeil turned to the siren.
Yuta shut the door behind Jaehyun, “Yeah?”
“There’s enough space for all of us to sleep, right?”
“What? Of course… I think.”
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“Feels like we’re kids again,” Donghyuck sighed wistfully. “Twin beds, no privacy, I get to listen to your snoring all night.”
“At least we got beds,” you pointed out, heaving your suitcase up onto your own narrow mattress.
You two had been given what looked like a kids’ room, two twin beds on white wicker bed frames with matching nightstands, and a mural of fantastical sea life painted on the walls with friendly, animated faces. Some of the others weren’t so lucky. Taeil and Doyoung got a similar setup to you and Donghyuck, bunkbeds, with Jungwoo on an air mattress on the floor; Taeyong and Yuta were sharing the king bed in the master bedroom; Jaehyun and Johnny had bravely taken the couches (Jaehyun rightly pointed out that he didn’t sleep much anyway), with Mark’s air mattress on the living room floor.
“And nobody on the floor that we have to worry about stepping on in the middle of the night.”
“You know what we should do?”
Donghyuck looked at you with a conspiratorial grin, “Sleepover protocol?”
You nodded firmly, “Sleepover protocol.”
And a succinct ten minutes later, your beds and nightstands had been pushed together, the sheets pulled taut over the posts and lamps, vines and branches supporting the construction where needed: a blanket fort, the form of which had been perfected over years of sleepovers growing up. As you laid inside shoulder-to-shoulder with Donghyuck, you looked up at the ceiling of the fort, watching as he sprouted flowers and leaves along it.
Once he’d finished, he held up his hand expectantly, and you immediately gave him a satisfyingly snappy high-five.
A couple soft knocks came at the open bedroom door, followed by a voice, “Hey, Y/N— Woah!” Jungwoo’s sentence stopped short as he took in the scene before him. “You two got that up quick.”
Donghyuck looked over at you, a mischievous smirk already on his lips, before he innocently replied to the fairy, “Oh, and you should see the inside! Here, Jungwoo, I was just about to go see if Mark needed any help with his air mattress anyway!”
You darted your hand out to pinch him as he sat up on his knees. He hissed in pain as you managed to get some skin, swatted your fingers away, then crawled out of the fort. A second later the entire room mysteriously got darker, then Jungwoo’s head popped in at the entrance to the fort, playful glint in his eye, “Is there a password?”
You shook your head as best you could lying down, “Hyuck and I didn’t get to make one before he just ditched me.”
“What kind of blanket fort is this with no password?” Jungwoo clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he scooched into the empty space your friend had created, his right side now pressed against your left.
“Well then help me think of one, in case anyone else comes barging in,” you nudged his arm that was beside yours.
“I didn’t come barging in, I knocked.”
“Mhm.”
“You know what else this fort needs? In addition to a password.”
“What?”
“Some lights.”
“Okay well Donghyuck apparently turned the lights off on his way out, don’t fault the fort for that.”
“I was thinking something more like…” Jungwoo raised his left hand, and you watched as his fingertips danced across the flowers on the ceiling of the fort. In their wake, small dots of glowing golden light were nestled between the petals and leaves of the plants. You couldn’t help the small gasp that left your mouth at the utterly enchanting sight above you, it looked like a sea of tiny, twinkling stars had been captured and put in a field of flowers just for you.
You’d never really seen Jungwoo do much magic in the time that you’d known him. Sure, he owned the odd magic item here and there, pretty much all your friends did thanks to Taeil and Doyoung, or by way of their own magical community. And of course, the changing hair color, but that seemed more accidental or incidental rather than intentional. But you were hard pressed to think of a time that Jungwoo had really put his fairy powers on display in any distinguished capacity in front of you.
“Woos, this is… It’s unbelievable. Just beautiful…” You sighed out, reaching a hand up towards one of the flowers directly above you—a pink carnation—before you dropped it back down to rest on your stomach, thinking that touching the mysterious magical light might be a bad idea. Turning your head to the side, you looked over at Jungwoo, only to nearly jump out of your skin when you saw him already looking at you. Your noses were nearly touching, and you jerked your head back a tiny bit to regain your bearings.
You snapped your gaze back up to the ceiling quickly, “Uhm, so, what were you coming to our room for? It sounded like you needed something.”
“Johnny and them wanted help unpacking all the cars, so I was sent to get you and Donghyuck. But if he went out there looking for Mark, Johnny definitely found him, so…” Jungwoo shrugged. “I think we can stay here for a little while longer.”
It wasn’t until late afternoon that everything was finally together enough for you all to head down to the beach. Most of the group had taken off by the time you’d emerged from your room in your swimsuit and coverup. Jaehyun was still in the living room, standing at the little breakfast bar that separated the couches from the kitchenette. He was rubbing presumably sunscreen onto his skin, the tube set onto the counter beside him. As you walked by him towards the fridge, you were able to spot the little cartoon vampire fangs on the black bottle—special formula to keep him from burning to a crisp.
The fridge was empty save for some mysterious jars filled with a glittering purple liquid which you chalked up to Doyoung and Taeil, and therefore opted to leave alone.
“Did the others bring a cooler down with all the drinks?” You turned around to ask the vampire.
He nodded as he went to get his ears and neck next. Most of him would be covered by his t-shirt and swim trunks, at least.
“Don’t forget the tops of your feet.”
“Thank you.” He bent down to slather up from the knees down as well.
“Are we the last ones?”
Jaehyun nodded again.
“Alright, ready to go? Need anything else? Hat? Sunglasses? Umbrella?”
He grabbed a pair of dark, mirrored sunglasses that were also on the counter, his sunscreen, then gave you a nod. You nodded back, slid on your sunglasses, and shouldered your bag of beach items before moving to open the back door for your friend. Jaehyun hissed as soon as he stepped out, and you squinted your eyes as you did too. You could see your friends all along the beach already. A couple large umbrellas were set up with several beach chairs, folding chairs, and towels under them; a volleyball net was being put up; a firepit was in fact a little further down the beach; there were some little dots in the water that could be heads bobbing along with the waves; and a couple figures were chasing each other in the surf. From this distance, you were pretty sure those last two were Donghyuck and Mark.
“You know, Jaehyun, you don’t do much to dispel those vampire stereotypes,” you patted him on the back as you started down the boardwalk-lined walkway. “Hissing when you see the sun, being the weirdest fucking dude in the room.”
“I’m not trying to dispel any stereotypes,” he deadpanned. “The Sun hurts my eyes.”
“Why did you come to Cape Solaria then?”
It was then that one of the people who had been sitting down under an umbrella turned around, and you were able to identify them as Taeyong, who gave the two of you a big wave paired with an even bigger smile. You waved back. Jaehyun lifted his hand for a moment before dropping it back down by his side.
“All of you were coming. And I think… I think it would’ve made Taeyong sad, if we weren’t all together.”
You looked over at the vampire thoughtfully, and saw that same blank expression as always. But this time you decided that you could see some kind of fondness there, for Taeyong, for you, for all of your friends. You always joked about Jaehyun being emotionless, but you knew that he was human just a few years ago, had all the same mushy stuff churning inside him then as you did now. He didn’t talk a lot, so when you got to hear these rare moments from him, you were reminded of that fact. And you had to think that no, he wasn’t emotionless, he just felt it and expressed it differently than you were expecting him to.
“I think you’re right, Jaehyun,” you grabbed his forearm to steady yourself to take off your flip-flops now that you’d reached the sand. You let out a sigh at the warm sand between your toes. Giving his cold limb an appreciative squeeze, you then let it go, “Thank you, for coming with us. I’m glad you’re here, and I know Taeyong and the rest of the guys are, too.”
The vampire was quiet as the two of you finished your short walk to join the others who were under the two colorful umbrellas. Taeyong had saved a fully-shaded chair for Jaehyun. You plopped your bag down on a towel that you recognized as Donghyuck’s.
Taeil was on a reclining beach chair, floppy hat brim pulled slightly down over his face as if he were taking a nap. In just a pair of swim trunks, the ritual tattoos on his torso, arms, and neck were on full display in all their inky blackness. Thick, bold, intricate strokes that reminded you of tree branches winding across his skin. What you did know about them was mostly gathered from context clues, what the two witches had freely brought up in conversation. Taeil relied a lot more on grounding and building his internal power through long, studied rituals, which you figured was why he had more tattoos than Doyoung, who favored quick incantations—i.e., hexes, charms, and curses. The latter was magic that could be drawn from external magical sources like certain crystals or metals, hence Doyoung’s usual menagerie of jewelry.
The cooler was at the witch’s feet, and you flipped it open to root around through the ice before securing your drink of choice. Turning around to face the ocean, you took in a deep breath of the salty air. It really was spring break. Mark and Donghyuck were splashing each other in the shallows, about shin-deep in the water. A little further out, you could now see that Doyoung was treading water, watching another figure that was moving around with a speed and agility that made you stop and look with awe.
Yuta was fully in his element here, quite literally swimming circles around Doyoung. Holding up a hand to block out some of the Sun and get a better look, you swore Yuta’s legs were gone, and replaced by a… yep, that was definitely a tail, long, thin, and powerful. It was the same silvery iridescent that you had seen peeks of with his other scales, catching blue, purple, and pink in the Sun when it popped up out of the water. Two large fins were at the end of it, and a dorsal fin went from his still-human back down through where it turned into the tail.
You slowly walked towards the water to get a better look, mindful of Mark and Donghyuck’s splash war that had now turned into water wrestling. As Yuta slowed to instead do some rather ominous circles around Doyoung, you noted more fins had grown along his forearms as well. It looked like some gill slits were on his neck, too.
“Yuta, if you drown me, I swear to Hecate, I will become a ghost and haunt your fishy ass,” Doyoung went to splash the siren, who simply dove underwater, then popped up behind the witch.
“And I promised to everybody possible, including Hecate, that I wasn’t going to drown you,” Yuta pointed out, beginning to circle him again, an absolutely devilish grin on his lips. “That doesn’t mean I can’t play with you a little.”
“Ugh, you make everything sound so weird, can’t you just say that we’re swimming?”
“Nope!” Yuta dove down again with a flick of his tail.
“Shit! Where’d he go?!”
You laughed, taking a sip of your drink before there were suddenly two wet hands over your sunglasses and you let out a screech, “Jesus Christ!”
“Close!” A familiar voice said cheerfully. “Guess again.”
“Hyuck!” You jutted an elbow behind you, satisfied when you made contact with wet skin, and heard a grunt.
“Correct!” He wasn’t as cheery this time, hands still over your eyes. “You know, that would’ve hurt if it weren’t for my six-pack that I’ve been honing at the gym all year.”
You snorted, “Your what that you’ve been honing at the where?”
“Fair,” your friend sighed. “Anyway, are you ready?”
You were immediately on edge for whatever he was about to do to you. Splashing you, throwing you in the water, pushing your head underwater, any number of things immediately came to mind.
“For what?”
His hands suddenly clamped down over your head as he forcibly turned you around, and you grabbed onto his arm for support as you yelped and protested this, the sand underneath you uneven, especially with you currently being blinded. Donghyuck’s voice was closer to your ear as he whispered, “Well, to see Jungwoo shirtless, of course.”
“Oh God, Hyuck! Shut the fuck up!” You blindly threw a hand back in an attempt to smack some part of his face, but just found empty air this time. “We’re not in middle school anymore! I can handle seeing a dude at the beach!”
“Ok-ay…” He replied in a sing-song voice, clearly not believing you, at the same time that he finally took his hands off your face.
You had to blink your eyes a few times to readjust to the brightness of the sunny afternoon. Donghyuck had pointed you straight at the volleyball net that was now fully constructed, where Johnny was on one side. The human was holding a volleyball against his hip with one hand as he conversed with Jungwoo on the other side of the net, who was in a pair of yellow swim trunks and a white tank top.
Just as you were about to turn around and smack Dongyhuck for real this time, Jungwoo grabbed the back of his collar and pulled the shirt over his head. You willed yourself to look literally anywhere else, but your eyes embarrassingly kept watching as he tossed the shirt to the side, laughing at something that Johnny had just said. This was entirely unfair, was he actually, literally, sparkling in the sunlight? Or was that just you?
“Hey, Y/N!” Johnny waved at you.
If this were a teen movie, there would be a record scratch right here. Your stomach plummeted as you frantically tried to calculate how long exactly you had been staring in their direction. You gave a meek wave as Jungwoo spun around to look in your direction too.
“Y/N!” Jungwoo called out, this time waving you over. Oh great, no getting out of this one.
You weakly shuffled over towards them, keeping your gaze on literally anything except Jungwoo’s bare torso. “What’s up?”
“Do you—”
Jungwoo was cut off by a shriek from the water.
“Yuta! Shark!” Doyoung yelled as he paddled back towards the shore.
“Yeah, this is Bear,” Yuta seemed entirely unfazed by the small dorsal fin meandering along around him.
The witch stopped to look at him in disbelief, “Bear the shark?”
“Blacktip shark, if you want to be specific,” the siren shrugged. “And he’s just a baby. He’s barely three feet.”
“Oh, fuck this,” Doyoung shook his head, resuming his journey back to the beach. “You and Bear have fun out here by yourselves.”
Returning your focus to the two men in front of you, you looked up at Jungwoo questioningly, “Uhm, so…?”
“Did you want to play?” Jungwoo asked.
“Oh, no, Woos, that’s okay,” you shook your head quickly.
“Really? You were looking over here pretty intently,” he pointed out, and the little half-smirk that played across his lips almost looked knowing. He leaned down towards you, momentarily blotting out the sun, “Seems like you wanted something. If not volleyball then…?”
Oh, you needed to get the hell out of here. Between Jungwoo’s everything, Johnny’s ‘oh really?’ head tilt, and the heat, you very much felt like you could pass out any second.
“Nah, you know, I don’t think three people would really work for teams anyway,” you rushed to say, scratching anxiously at the back of your neck.
“Hey Taeil!” Johnny bellowed out over yours and Jungwoo’s heads, cutting off whatever the fairy was about to say in response.
The witch flipped up the brim his hat to squint at the three of you, “Eh?”
Johnny held up the volleyball, “Wanna play? We need a magic fourth to make it even!”
“What? Big strong Johnny can’t beat one fairy and a human all on his own?” Taeil sighed as he started meandering over. “You need little ol’ me to come help?”
Jungwoo’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he straightened back up to address Taeil, “So we’re allowing magic then?”
“Only on the ball, not the players,” the witch laid out the ground rules.
“How about on the ball, and on you and me? No magic on Johnny and Y/N,” Jungwoo countered.
Taeil took a moment to contemplate this, then nodded, “Fine.”
You caught Johnny’s gaze, his wide eyes mirroring your own. Accepting that you weren’t getting out of this, you set your drink down by Jungwoo’s shirt.
“So how will we know who wins?” You questioned.
Taeil and Johnny exchanged a glance before the human answered confidently, “Oh, we’ll know.”
You narrowed your eyes at them. “Okay… but just in case, first to ten?”
“First to ten.” Johnny confirmed, sticking his hand through a small tear in the net. You shook it firmly.
As you all backed away from the net to take your places, he tossed the volleyball over the net to you.
“Here. You can serve first.”
“How kind,” you scoffed as you caught it, then turned to your teammate. “Do you want to serve, or should I?”
“You go for it, Y/N,” Jungwoo said, eyes focused over your shoulder. “I’ll be doing a little defense.”
“A little… oh.” You turned and saw Taeil and Johnny conversing much like you and Jungwoo were, the smaller looking over at the ball in your hand. “What do you think he’s gonna do?”
“Nothing you have to worry about,” the fairy patted the top of your head. “You and Johnny are off-limits, remember?”
“I know…” you mumbled, looking down at the volleyball in your hands intently. “Just wondering.”
Backing all the way up to the designated edge of the makeshift court, you waited until everyone looked like they were in place, then tossed the ball up to serve. It started a clear arc heading over the net towards Johnny, who was getting ready to set it back up, until it suddenly changed direction, veering off towards Taeil. The witch got his hands up at the last second, bumping it back towards his teammate.
Johnny hit back over the net, to which Jungwoo set it high for you.
“Y/N!”
“Got it!” You jumped up, spiking the ball down over the net as hard as you could.
Taeil went to save it, but his foot seemed to catch on something as he fell to the ground, landing just short of it. You had to hold back your laughter at the comical trip and tumble that he’d taken, sand flying up around him.
“Hell yeah, Y/N!” Jungwoo came up to you with two hands up, and you immediately slammed your palms against his in a satisfying double high-five. He laced his fingers through yours before you could pull back, a bright grin on his face as he gave your hands a squeeze then let them go.
“Taeil, are you okay?” You checked in on your friend as he brushed the sand off his knees and you all reset your positions.
“Oh, I’m great, Y/N. I’m having fun, promise,” he assured you, then focused a hard stare on Jungwoo. He pointed at the fairy accusatorily, “You, on the other hand, are not about to be!”
“Try me!” Jungwoo yelled back, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Johnny gave you another bewildered look. You shrugged; magic teasing and taunts were commonplace at playdates growing up with Donghyuck, it wasn’t unheard of for the two of you to alter the rules of common kids games to accommodate his powers. This was just the first time you’d seen it at this magnitude of power. Well, sort of. It was the first time you’d seen adults do it like this.
Johnny served this time, and while the ball was initially going straight for the space in between you and Jungwoo, you backed away to let Jungwoo lunge forward for it. A few more passes between the two teams happened without much incident, until Johnny went to pass it to Taeil, but way overshot it.
“Shit! Sorry— oh.” Johnny’s apology turned into wide-eyed surprise as the ball suddenly disappeared into thin air.
Then reappeared directly above Jungwoo’s head. It plummeted straight down, bouncing off his head, hitting the net, and coming to a final rest on the ground. You didn’t bother with the volleyball, rushing over to check on the fairy as he fell to his knees, holding his head.
“Ooh! Are you alright, Woos?” You asked, wincing sympathetically.
“No,” he bemoaned, eyes screwed shut. “I think I need... I need someone to... to kiss me better.”
You could feel yourself glitching out in real time, your hand that had been reaching out towards his head freezing in mid-air, your eyes blinking in rapid succession as you tried to grasp what he’d just said.
After two beats of neither of you moving, perfect statues, like the weirdest Baroque painting you could find at a museum, Jungwoo squinted one of his eyes open to look at you. You held his eye contact, stupefied.
“Hey! If you’re not concussed, can we get a move on with the game?” Johnny called out, startling you into pulling your hand back like you’d been burned. “We’re 1 to 1 and I’d really like to get back to beating you guys!”
“We’ll finish our melodrama another time,” Jungwoo whispered to you before jumping to his feet. He patted you on the back, “Now come on, I need my superstar partner back!”
You shook your head as you jogged back over to your side of the court, desperately trying to clear your mind. Volleyball. Volleyball. Not kissing Jungwoo. Just volleyball. Definitely not Jungwoo grabbing you by the waist and—
“Y/N!”
You looked up at the sound of Jungwoo’s voice, just in time to see the ball sailing over the net towards you. A little slower than it should’ve been, you realized. But that gave you the extra split second you needed to react, bumping it over to the fairy. He sent it back to you, and you leapt up to spike it back down. A satisfying wave of sand parted around the volleyball as it struck the ground like a small meteor, Johnny missing his save as it flew past him with way more force and speed than you had imparted on it.
“Two-one,” you pointed out as Taeil set up for his serve.
Now with your head sufficiently back in the game, you and Jungwoo kept racking up points as the match continued. Four-two, seven-three, eight-three, nine-four.
Jungwoo and Taeil were at maximum magical shenanigans now, and the entire group had gathered around the court to watch. It was a chaotic cacophony of tripping, speeding volleyballs, and ignoring the laws of physics and plate tectonics, all interspersed with very mundane passes by you and Johnny.
You hit the volleyball over. It wasn’t a perfect set-up, nor a perfect hit by you either. The ball was sailing directly in front of Taeil, he could just take two steps forward and get it, no magic necessary. Except as he went to do so, a circle of red-capped mushrooms appeared around him, and he dropped his foot in a childish stomp. The volleyball hit the ground, rolling to a stop at the gathered crowd’s feet.
“A fairy ring?! Seriously, Jungwoo?!” Taeil huffed, throwing his hands up.
But you were buzzing with way too much excitement to pay him any mind. That was ten points.
“Yes!” You pumped a fist in the air, bouncing up and down as you turned around, seeking out your teammate.
Jungwoo was beaming, once again holding up two hands for you, and you high-fived him, expectantly leaving your palms resting against his for a split-second after. He laced his fingers with yours, squeezing your hands even tighter this time. You swore his grin was brighter than the Sun.
He let your hands go only to nonchalantly throw an arm around your shoulders, half-dragging and half-leading you up to the net to address your opponents.
“I’m sorry, Johnny, what was that about you beating us?” Jungwoo teased.
The human chuckled, looking over at the pair of you with a grin, “My bad. Good job, guys. You two are good together.”
“Jungwoo.” Taeil cut in sternly, tapping his foot impatiently. He was still encircled by mushrooms. “The fairy ring.”
“Right. Sorry!” Jungwoo said brightly, and the fungi disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.
“No you’re not.” The witch shook his head.
“All’s fair in love and sport.”
You squinted up at him, “That’s not the—”
The four of you were suddenly swarmed by the others, either jeering at Taeil and Johnny for losing, congratulating you and Jungwoo on your win, or also jeering at you and Jungwoo for winning. It was a mass of teasing, pushing, pulling, yelling, and shaking. One particular tug from Yuta and Donghyuck knocked you loose from under Jungwoo’s arm, but you were too busy laughing to really care.
As the Sun began to set, you all congregated around the firepit and the four benches there. Yuta, Johnny, and Taeyong were looking very much like three dads at a barbeque as they prepared the fire itself— Johnny insisted on doing it the human way for “authenticity” instead of one of the witches magicking a flame. Taeil and Doyoung were grabbing the s’mores ingredients from the house while Jungwoo, Jaehyun, and Mark chatted as they watched the three preparing the wood. You and Donghyuck were sat together on another bench, giggling as you played with a little sandpiper that had been following the dryad around since his arrival. The bird hopped from your hands to Donghyuck’s, then back.
“Thank Pan it’s not seagulls this time.” You gingerly stroked its head as it perched on your friend’s shoulder. Usually you wouldn’t dare to touch or approach wild animals on your own, but they all liked Donghyuck, and he made sure they were never in distress from your interactions.
You remembered coming to the Cape with Donghyuck and your parents as a kid, and instead of a cute sandpiper, he had instead befriended some obnoxious seagulls.
“Hey, those guys were great,” Donghyuck scoffed. “It’s not my fault you didn’t get their jokes.”
“And it’s not my fault that I don’t have a telepathic connection with animals.” You scoffed. “Is this one a comedian too?”
“No, she’s a quiet one. Just chillin’ out with us.”
Johnny let out a loud whoop, and you looked up to spot a little flame starting in the very heart of the pit. The three of them all exchanged enthusiastic high-fives and pats on the back.
Doyoung and Taeil returned soon after with all the s’mores ingredients, as well as some more drinks. The cooler had already been emptied earlier in the evening. You took whatever drink Doyoung pushed into your hand, and the marshmallow on a stick Taeil put in your other hand.
Jungwoo ended up sitting next to you at some point, knee bumping against yours every so often, you didn’t remember when that happened, but everyone was talking and laughing as the fire roared. Your face was warmed by the flames as you rotated your marshmallow, watching it turn golden. You’d lost track of what number this was.
“Can’t believe we get a whole week here,” you sighed contentedly, watching over all your friends having fun.
Jungwoo was quiet, and you were about to look at him, except your marshmallow caught fire, and you pulled it back quickly to blow it out. He laughed from beside you, and you glanced over to catch a glimpse of his smile, glowing by the light of the fire. You found that he was already watching you.
You diverted your eyes to grab your plate and assemble the s’more. “Do you want this one, Woos?”
“I’ll take the next one, Y/N. Thanks.”
Lifting the treat up, you took a bite, the melted chocolate and marshmallow immediately oozing out the sides. After finishing it, you were about to grab whatever was left of your drink when Jungwoo touched your arm.
“Y/N, hold on.”
“Hm?” You turned back to looked up at him.
Then Jungwoo’s hand was gently gripping your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth and just barely grazing over the edge of your bottom lip. His hand was gone as quick as it had appeared, leaving a hot buzz under your skin in the wake of his touch. You couldn’t pull your eyes from him as he then brought his thumb up to his lips, cleaning off the digit. Your entire body was thrumming now. Hot, hotter than the fire was making you. His eyes glittered, and it definitely didn’t remind you of craft store glitter this time.
“You had chocolate on your face,” he explained, his voice almost sounding like he was teasing you. But this wasn’t like his usual jokes, there was an unfamiliar tension. He didn’t giggle after.
Your tongue instinctively darted out to lick that same spot, and you could taste the faint remnants of the chocolate bar used for the s’more. You swore his eyes followed the movement.
“Th-thanks, Woos,” you stuttered. Grabbing another marshmallow from your plate, you were in a daze as you said, “Here, I’ll make yours now.”
When the fire was eventually put out, chairs and umbrellas packed up, and the less tipsy of you had helped the more drunk of you into bed, you could finally retire to your blanket fort with Donghyuck. But no matter how late it was, how physically tired you felt, you couldn’t sleep. You knew your roommate wasn’t asleep yet either, he’d just put his phone down a couple minutes ago.
You stared up at the ceiling of your fort, at the dimming dots that Jungwoo had put up that afternoon, and let out a deep sigh. “I feel like I’m going crazy, Hyuck.”
The mattress creaked under him as he shifted onto his side. “Why?”
“Jungwoo…”
He snorted. “Hate to be the one to break this to you: You’ve been crazy for him since the fall.”
“I know,” you whined half-heartedly, not even having it in you to smack him around a little like usual. “But usually he just exists near me and I melt into a puddle. Today, I swear it felt like I was going to die.”
“Oh, at the volleyball game?”
“You saw that?”
“Y/N, it was hard not to. If he were a werewolf, I would’ve thought he was scenting you.”
“Uh…” You completely lost your train of thought, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the lights above you.
Donghyuck snapped his fingers in front of your face, “Earth to Y/N.”
“Stop it,” you shoved his hand away.
“Oh there we go, you’re back.”
“Anyway, it wasn’t just what you saw at the volleyball game.”
And so you recounted every weird little thing that happened just that day with Jungwoo to your friend. The car ride, the fort, the volleyball game before Donghyuck started watching, the goddamn s’mores. If you were talking to anybody other than your best friend, you would’ve been mortified to relay all this to him, to admit both how badly all this had affected you and that you’d remembered every single detail of every single incident.
“Y/N.” The dryad said calmly after you had finished.
“Yes?” You held your breath, ready to be told that you were in fact crazy, and getting worked up over nothing, and desperately needed to get your head screwed back on properly.
“You want to kiss him so bad you’re making yourself look stupid. Of course he was flirting with you.”
And somehow being validated was even worse.
You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head back and forth, “Nonononono.”
“What’s the issue here? You’ve been into him without making any moves for a few months now, and he’s like… very obviously showing interest.”
“I needed you to tell me I was wrong, Hyuck! Not fuel my stupid daydreams! God, I’m going to be absolutely delusional now.”
“Or, I'm right—as I usually am—and you can finally do something about it.”
You let out a prolonged noise that was something between a whine and a groan, crossing your arms over your chest.
Donghyuck mimicked the sound you’d made. “I’m confused, do you actually want to date him or not? I can’t tell sometimes.”
“I do, I do,” you said. “I just… I don’t know. What if he’s just being nice? My headphones had died, you know, he just didn’t want me to be bored on that long car ride. And the fort, I mean you and I are sleeping in here together and I’m not accusing you of wanting to date me. Then the volleyball game, we’re friends and we had just won, you know, he was probably just excited and he’s a sweet guy, he's kind of touchy in general with everyone, right?”
Your words were met with silence, and you braced yourself for whatever opinion Donghyuck had on your rant. But as the silence dragged on, you looked over at him. His eyes were shut, shoulders rising and falling with each breath as he was comfortably tucked under his blanket.
You couldn’t even be mad at him, giving him a fond smile, “Yeah... Goodnight, Hyuck.”
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SUNDAY
You were one of the first ones up that morning, and ate breakfast with the earlier risers: Taeil, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Johnny. More were beginning to stir throughout the house as the first of you finished breakfast and cleared out of the kitchen to make room for the next wave. The two witches caught up to you in the narrow hallway that held all the bedrooms and one bathroom.
“Hey, Y/N,” Taeil said. “We’re going out, wanna come?”
“Sure, where are you going?” You questioned, pressing to one wall to allow a zombified Donghyuck to walk by.
“There’s a coven nearby that runs an apothecary downtown we want to check out.”
“Taeil also wants to get an invite to their dawn sacraments next Sunday,” Doyoung snorted.
“And you don’t?” Taeil scoffed back.
Doyoung’s silence was answer enough.
“Yeah, I’d love to come!” You nodded enthusiastically. “But are you sure you want me to? Or that I’m like, allowed to?”
“Of course!” The older reassured you.
Doyoung added, “Just don’t touch something if you don’t know what it is.”
“To be safe.”
It was a short ride into downtown Cape Solaria, which was comprised of just a couple small cross streets. Colorfully painted storefronts with wooden signs for a candy shop, flower shop, bakery, several different restaurants, bar and pool hall, among other things. And tucked at the end of all of them, a simple sign that just said Apothecary. Street parking was easy to find, and you wondered if it was always like that or just because you were there so early in the morning.
You kept close to your friends in the store. The aisles were narrow, as it seemed like the owners had packed as many shelving units in here as possible. They were filled with jars of herbs, vials of liquids, and bowls of crystals. Some things were familiar to you, some were not. You kept your hands to yourself nevertheless.
Taeil and Doyoung would occasionally pick something up and show it to the other, and they would either nod or shake their head as to whether it would be purchased. You knew the two of them had been friends for some time, but you realized then that you didn’t actually know for how long.
“Can I ask you guys something?” You spoke up from where you were beside Taeil, who was perusing some jars of various powders. Doyoung was examining some of the larger crystal formations.
“Can I ask you something first?” Taeil countered.
“Oh, sure. It’s only fair.”
“Is your question about somebody?”
“Uh, yeah?”
They looked over their shoulders at each other, matching smirks growing on their faces before turning back to their individual sides of the aisle.
“Of course, Y/N,” Taeil answered for them.
Opting not to address that little moment, you went ahead with your real question. “So how did you two meet?”
Doyoung immediately hissed, “Taeil, I swear I will—”
“What, Doie? Hex me?” Taeil laughed. “You really need to try to talk things out with people before jumping right to hexing. This is how you nearly get your friend drowned in your bathtub.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled back.
“I’ll take that as a concession that I’m right.” The older hummed happily. “Anyway, Y/N, to answer your question, we belong to the same coven back home. So Doyoung and I have known each other since we were kids, kind of like you and Donghyuck.”
“If you can call two families a coven. In our town the only witches are my family and Taeil’s. Covens are usually at least five families.”
“And now you and I have got a two-person coven, Doie. It’s not how many, it’s what you are to each other.”
“Gross.”
Taeil rolled his eyes, turning his focus to you, “He knows that, he likes to pretend like he’s still nine years old and believes in cooties or something.”
“Why didn’t you want Taeil to tell me that, Doyoung?” You questioned the younger witch.
“It’s what usually comes next,” Doyoung sighed, picking up a couple black crystals.
“How we came to university.” Taeil offered.
“Oh yeah, if you had a coven back home, why’d you come to college?” You tilted your head. Covens were family for witches, both spiritually and literally. To leave their coven and come to college wasn’t entirely unheard of, but also wasn’t a typical trajectory for young witches.
“I didn’t care about higher education one way or another, but Doyoung really wanted to do it. He didn’t want to go by himself, though. Begged me to come with him.”
Doyoung snapped around, “Fuck the hex, I’m just going to find some duct tape and—”
Taeil kept speaking to you, voice fond as he recalled the memory, “I mean, we grew up in the coven together, that was all we knew, it was scary to leave. I was terrified of leaving our families and coming here. But brave little Doie still wanted to go, so I told him of course I would go with him. We were a coven, after all.”
“I hate when you do that,” Doyoung huffed, moving onto some herbs.
“Do what?” Taeil asked humorously.
“Be nice so I can’t be mean to you. Why can’t you just spike my tea to give me bunny ears so I can put wartweed in your acne cream?”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Doyoung with bunny ears and poor Taeil with warts on his face.
“Because we’re not in middle school anymore,” Taeil grabbed a few small jars. “But if you want to start a prank war, I’m sure Jungwoo would want to get in on it too.”
You all were now going down the next aisle, which was primarily live plants.
“After seeing you get your ass kicked at volleyball yesterday, I would love it if he did,” Doyoung chuckled.
You felt something brush against your arm, and looked down to see a lover’s embrace vine from the top shelf beginning to wind itself around your forearm.
“Ack! No, no,” you said sternly, gently brushing at it. It got the idea, retreating back up to the top shelf. Thankfully it was a young one that hadn’t bloomed yet, so you were actually in your right mind to shoo it off.
Meanwhile, Taeil and Doyoung were still bickering like an old married couple.
“I did not ‘get my ass kicked.’”
“Ten to four, Taeil.”
“Hey—”
“And you kept eating sand too.”
“Not my fault he thought tripping me was just as funny the fifth time as it was the first time.”
“He was right.”
“And my partner—”
“Oh yeah, blame the human,” Doyoung clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval.
“Don’t put words in my mouth! All I’m saying is that Johnny played like he thought the ball was going to explode if he hit it too hard. Y/N actually knew how to play off of Jungwoo’s magic.”
Both witches turned back to look at you.
You raised your eyebrows curiously, “Hm? Yeah, I mean, I grew up with plenty of magical hijinks with Donghyuck.”
“And…?” Doyoung prompted you further.
“And… Jungwoo and I are lab partners, so we already work together a bunch, I guess?” You filled in, voice pitched up as if it were all a question, not exactly sure what they were expecting from you.
They were still looking at you.
“Come on, guys, give Johnny a break, I think he’s done pretty well at keeping up with all of us, all things considered. And the poor guy had to deal with Mark molting last year.”
“Speaking of—” Taeil peered around, “Have you guys seen rattlesnake skin?”
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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.
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The storm raged on all day, leaving the ten of you stuck inside. By lunchtime, you had exhausted all of the board games that you could find in the house, and you were becoming painfully aware of just how tiny the space was with all of you in here for hours on end.
“Bad news, gang,” Johnny announced from the kitchen, where he had gone to start on dinner preparations. If it weren’t for your phones and rumbling stomachs, you wouldn’t even know that it was time for dinner. The storm outside had kept the sky pitch black and devoid of sunlight all day, and the clocks on the stove and TV were each an hour off in different directions, the stove an hour behind and the TV an hour ahead.
Most of you were sprawled out in various places between the breakfast nook, living room, and kitchen table.
“What, Johnny?” Taeyong called back.
“We’re out of beer.”
A chorus of groans erupted around you.
“That’s it!” Yuta stood up from the couch, taking off down the hall. He came back out with a pair of rain boots and thick coat on. “I am not going to be stuck in here for another second sober. I’ll be back.”
“You’re going to get wet,” Johnny frowned.
Yuta stared at him blankly from where his hand was on the door, silvery eyes flashing with the lightning.
Then your human friend finally seemed to realize, “Oh. Right. Get some pizza too, will you?”
And the siren was gone, slamming the door behind him.
You were playing a game of Uno with Mark, Jaehyun, and Donghyuck that was quickly approaching mutinous with regards to stacking +2 cards on top of +4s, when the front door was thrown open again.
Wind and rain blew in with the siren, howling as it whipped by. You got misted by some of it, shivering as the freezing cold spray hit you. Taeil rushed to shut the door behind him as others helped with the three or four twelve-packs he had squeezed under one arm and five boxes of pizza he had balanced on the other hand. Yuta peeled off his heavy raincoat, shaking out his soaking wet white hair after.
“Behold!” He gestured to the spread on the table grandly, charismatic grin on his face. “Dinner. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks, Yuta!” You slammed your Uno cards down and leapt up, grateful to have something else to do.
Everyone else followed your lead, a mad dash for food and drink.
Somewhere between grabbing food and clearing off the coffee table of all the board games, it was decided that a movie night was in order. Which obviously called for popcorn too.
The living room had two sofas, a central coffee table, and Mark’s air mattress. The larger of the two couches was directly facing the TV, and had the air mattress at the foot of it. The other couch was smaller, closer to the size of a loveseat, and oriented perpendicular to the first.
You had already claimed a spot in the middle of the smaller couch, sandwiched in between Johnny and Jungwoo, and happily munching away on your pizza. You were under a cozy blanket, had good food, and were definitely not thinking about Jungwoo’s arm resting on the back of the couch behind you.
At least you weren’t as squished as the others, even with using Mark’s air mattress. Jaehyun, Doyoung, Taeil and Yuta were on the larger couch, while Taeyong and Donghyuck were on the air mattress, fighting back the others’ legs and feet.
Mark walked out of the kitchen with three large bowls of popcorn then, tongue flicking with distaste as he took in the layout before him. “Well, someone’s got to make room.”
“Oh here, Mark,” Johnny offered. He then made deliberate eye contact with you, “I’m sure Jungwoo and Y/N don’t mind squishing in. Right, guys?”
“No, no, c’mon, Y/N. I’m not Jaehyun, I don’t bite,” Jungwoo agreed brightly, and you could feel him shift beside you as he pushed himself further back into the corner of the couch. Holding your plate of pizza with one hand and blanket with the other, you hovered over the cushion as you planned on just scooting over until you were as close to him as you were in the car.
Then hands were on your waist, pulling you towards the fairy, and his voice was by your ear, for only you to hear, “Usually.”
“Well she does.” Donghyuck grumbled loudly. “Still have scars from summer camp.”
“And I’ll do it again, you little shit.” Your threat was hollow, automatic, as you were processing where exactly you had landed in the seat shuffle.
“And I’ll bite all of you if you don’t shut up for the movie,” Jaehyun stated.
The dark room was filled with amicable chatter as the DVD previews began rolling, none of you taking Jaehyun seriously.
You were practically half on Jungwoo’s lap, one leg over his, and part of your back to his chest. That same arm was on the back of the couch again. You didn’t even know what movie they had picked—some mystery thriller maybe?—there was no way you were going to be paying attention now. You just hoped it was going to be holding everyone else’s focus sufficiently.
In an attempt to maintain some semblance of your composure, you released the rest of your blanket from the tight grip you had on it and instead gently laid it over yours and Jungwoo’s laps. To be considerate.
Despite Jaehyun’s earlier warning, there was a fairly steady stream of conversation throughout the movie as everyone would have reactions to a scene, or guesses as to the who the killer was. Speaking of the others, your seating sacrifice at least wasn’t in vain, the basilisk was enthusiastically watching along with everyone else, smacking Johnny’s leg or chest—or one time, face—whenever anything at all happened.
You, however, had no clue what was going on in the movie. All of your concentration was on trying to appear as normal as possible as you were certainly not feeling very normal about your situation. Mark was on the opposite end of the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he was enraptured by the movie. Johnny was next to him, reclined back with a beer in hand, caught between laughing at Mark’s reactions and getting as into it as he was. Every so often, part of his shoulder or knee would bump against you, but you barely even registered this. Because then there were you and Jungwoo.
Jungwoo hadn’t moved since the scoot to make room for Mark. You wanted to look over at him, to see if you could gauge anything about how he felt about this whole situation from his face. But then you’d be facing the other guys, and you didn’t want to know if any of them had realized where exactly you were. So you turned your eyes downward instead. You curled your hands into fists under the blanket, nails digging into your palms as you tried to refocus yourself.
If what Donghyuck was saying before was true... then it wasn’t fair to Jungwoo for him to be the only one putting himself out there like this. You could at least try.
Before you could lose your nerve, you reached one of your hands over to where you knew his other hand was resting on his leg under the blanket. You were a little off-target, you found his wrist first, but he seemed to get the idea anyway, turning his arm over to let you lace your fingers with his. Your skin was burning as you gave his hand a tentative squeeze, and you had a bashful but relieved smile when his thumb rubbed over yours in response.
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TUESDAY
The storm was gone the next morning, which was obviously cause for celebration. While the storm coming was reason for staying in and drinking, the storm being gone was just as much of a reason for getting even more trashed. But this time on the beach with the bonfire going.
The Sun had set long ago, and you were sat on a bench with Taeil as the two of you watched the others dance to whatever music played from Yuta’s speakers. Johnny was picking the music from his phone, not trusting Yuta to put on music that wouldn’t lure him to his death. He didn’t budge even after it was pointed out that he was wearing his charm from the witches. You yourself didn’t care, you liked Johnny’s party music better than Yuta’s anyway.
You were catching your breath, having previously just been up dancing with everybody else.
“Y/N, can you pass me a seltzer?” Taeil gestured to the cooler by your end of the bench.
“What flavor?” You reached over.
“Surprise me.”
“Well,” you looked into the empty cooler. “Surprise: we’re out.”
He laughed, shaking his head.
You glared up at the others. “Hey! Who took the last drink and didn’t say anything?”
“Boo! Party foul!” Somebody yelled out.
Taeil stood up and grabbed the cooler, “Y/N, come help me grab some more? And also grab Doyoung, he’s being asocial right now.”
You hadn’t even noticed that your other friend had slipped away from the group at some point. “Oh, sure, sure.”
Looking back into the group, you waited to see if you could make eye contact with one specific person. Finally, you caught Jungwoo’s eye, and he raised his eyebrows inquisitively. You mouthed ‘be right back, Woos’ and gestured towards Taeil and the direction of the beach house. He nodded in acknowledgement, giving you a smile that made your stomach do flips.
You turned back to Taeil expectantly, “Okay.”
He seemed about ready to question that little exchange, opening his mouth but didn’t, closing it again and leading the way to the board walkway up to the house.
Neither you nor Jungwoo had talked about nor acknowledged movie night since last night, but you could feel that something was different. It had only been a day, but you were rarely apart. He was always seeking you out for things, at breakfast, on the beach, for the brief trip a few of you had taken into town to get supplies for the bonfire tonight. And you found yourself anxious if you couldn’t see him, looking for him yourself until he was back in your eyesight, immediate relief coming over you. It just felt natural to let Jungwoo know where you were going... for some reason.
Taeil stopped in the kitchen, tossing more ice in the cooler. He didn’t grab the seltzers in the door, however. Instead, he reached for the jars of glittery, lilac liquid that you had spotted on your first day. He put most of them in the cooler, then handed one to you and kept two to himself.
“Come on, this is how we lure Doie out,” he motioned towards the bedrooms with his head.
Leaving the cooler in the kitchen, you followed him to their bedroom. Doyoung was sat cross-legged on the bottom bunk bed, an old book across his lap. He already had his pajamas on, looking fresh out of the shower too.
“No, Taeil,” he said as soon as you two crossed the threshold, not even looking up from his reading.
“Oh, come on, Doyoung, we brought you something,” Taeil plopped down on the air mattress in front of him. He held out a jar to him, and Doyoung’s eyes flicked up to look at it.
He didn’t take it. “We’re breaking out the witch’s brew already?”
You moved to sit down beside Taeil, looking down at your own jar in your hands. You’d heard of witch’s brew before, it was essentially magic Everclear with none of the burn. But you’d never had the guts to try any before, knowing your tolerance to human alcohol plenty well.
Taeil set Doyoung’s down beside his foot before cracking his open and taking a sip, “Why not? We’re celebrating.”
Doyoung made a disgruntled noise, but said nothing more. You curiously opened your jar as well, sniffing cautiously. It didn’t smell like it had any alcohol in it. Taking a small sip, a pleasant, flowery sweetness immediately coated your tongue. It wasn’t too overwhelming, light and refreshing. And, as you swallowed, no burn. If this was as intoxicating as you’d heard, you could see how dangerous this could be to partygoers. You felt like you could easily chug the whole thing right now.
“So, any particular reason you brought a grimoire on spring break?” Taeil asked Doyoung, though you were sure he very much already knew the answer. “We’re supposed to be taking a break from studying.”
“We’re witches, Taeil.”
“So?”
“We’re going to be students of magic our whole life, not just for four years.”
“You sound like BaBa.”
“BaBa was right about a lot of things.”
“Who—” You got cut off by a hiccup. “Who’s BaBa?”
You’d been taking sips as you listened to their conversation, and hadn’t been watching your intake of the delightful drink. Now your skin was warm, your head was buzzing, and you could feel a funny kind of airiness in your chest. Holy shit, you were tipsy in just a couple minutes.
You set your jar down on the floor in front of you while you still had the motor skills to do so.
“BaBa was one of our crazy old aunties in our coven,” Taeil answered your question, then pinched the tip of your nose between two fingers. “And you are tipsy.”
“Aw, baby’s first brew?” Doyoung snickered.
“Mm, how could you tell?” You answered sarcastically, swaying in place.
“Don’t worry, we’d rather have you try some with us at home.” Taeil brushed some of your hair back from your face as he let you rest your head on his shoulder.
“Gee, thanks, Dad,” you mumbled into his shirt. You were cycling through your drunk phases quickly, already sleepy.
“She’s easier to handle than Jungwoo was at least,” Doyoung sighed. “Can’t believe we’re even letting him around witch’s brew again.”
Your interest was piqued, head snapping up, “J— woah... hold on.”
The sudden movement made the room spin, and you needed a moment to regain your bearings, your stomach, and your train of thought. Taeil giggled, patting your head and shushing you, encouraging you to rest your head on his shoulder again.
“Oh, she’s been Jungwoo’d,” he sighed wistfully.
“What?” You asked.
“Jungwoo tends to… dazzle people? That a good word, Doie?”
“Yeah, sure. How do you think we let a fairy move in with us?” Doyoung shook his head, flipping to the next page.
Panic and angst overtook you, and you buried your face in your friend’s shoulder, “God, I told Donghyuck it was stupid, Jungwoo’s just being Jungwoo. He’s just like this, you know?”
The room was quiet for a moment before Taeil spoke again, “Y/N, do you remember how Yuta almost drowned Johnny at Friendsmasgiving when Doyoung put that blabbermouth hex on him?”
You slowly sat up straight again to look at him with something between a pout and a thoughtful frown, “Uh, yeah. Hard to forget. You two had to make that warding charm for him.”
“Have you ever thought about why Yuta’s siren call worked on Johnny that day and not you? You’re both humans.”
“Oh, uhm, well no. I was too worried about Johnny and all the craziness at the time. And… I don’t know, it’s never been something I’ve really thought too hard about, I guess? This kind of stuff always happens to Johnny, like Mark petrifying him. My personal theory is that Johnny’s mom gave birth to him underneath a ladder while breaking a mirror and knocking over a salt shaker, so he’s just destined to have bad luck for the rest of his life.” They were both silent, and you threw your hands up indignantly, “Okay, come on, Donghyuck thought that was hilarious.”
“Well we’ve been working on a theory,” Taeil said. “One that doesn’t involve ladders, mirrors, or salt shakers.”
“We? Keep me out of your conspiracies, Taeil,” Doyoung retorted.
“Then leave.”
Doyoung stayed seated, turning to the next page in his grimoire.
“Anyway, our theory. Have you heard that you’re not supposed to give fae your name because it gives them power over you?”
You could remember hearing something like that before, legends and warnings from older relatives before you went off to college. “Sure, but that’s a bit impractical nowadays, isn’t it? It’d be really hard for Jungwoo to be at school and not know anybody’s names. And I mean, he knows all of ours.”
“Right. Just like Yuta isn’t out here luring all of us to our deaths, and Jaehyun isn’t draining all of us dry, Jungwoo doesn’t take any of our names for himself. There’s a baseline of trust in society. But the magic is still there, even if he doesn’t actively engage in it.”
“You lost me, Taeil,” you wrinkled your nose. Maybe you should’ve taken more Magical Creatures Studies classes.
Doyoung let out a loud sigh and put his thumb in his grimoire to close it. He looked you in the eyes to make sure you were listening as he explained, “The magic and power around names that fairies have control over…”
“Uh-huh.” You nodded slowly.
“That still exists, even though they’re not actually using it. Just like we still have blood even though Jaehyun’s not drinking it. Make more sense?”
You squinted in concentration. “I think so.”
“Because of that name magic, fairies get very touchy about how people use their names.” Taeil continued with his explanation.
“No nicknames,” Doyoung clarified. “If you give them a name, they see it as you giving yourself more power over them.”
“Wait really? But I call Jungwoo—” Panic hit you like a train and mortification then flooded your veins. “Oh my God! Oh no no! Why did you guys let me call him that? I can’t believe I’ve been like so rude this whole time! Oh my G—”
“Y/N! Hey!” Taeil cut you off, grabbing your shoulders to stop your wildly flailing limbs. “We didn’t stop you because Jungwoo wasn’t stopping you.”
“Seriously, we asked him about it the first time we heard you call him that. He said, quote, ‘She’s cute, don’t you think?’” Doyoung informed you, humor in his tone.
“God, if you’re real, strike me down now.” You clasped your hands together and pleaded to the clamshell-shaped ceiling fan above you.
The three of you were silent for a beat, as if waiting to see if you really would be stricken down. When you were still there after a moment, you accepted your miserable fate of continuing to exist, and, therefore, continuing this conversation, “So what does this all have to do with Johnny drowning at Friendsmasgiving?”
“We think it was Jungwoo’s magic protecting you from Yuta’s siren call,” Taeil declared.
Doyoung opened his grimoire again. “But we can’t prove it.”
“How would me giving him a nickname do that? Even with the name magic stuff,” you pulled your knees to your chest.
“That’s where the conspiracy falls apart,” Doyoung tsked. “We can’t prove one way or another how or if it was Jungwoo—”  
Taeil narrowed his eyes at the other witch, “But it’s the best we’ve got.”
You picked your jar of witch’s brew back up, swirled the glimmering concoction around, and took a swig. “Right. Well. Thanks, guys. I guess.”
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WEDNESDAY
“Hey,” Jungwoo’s voice startled you out of the solemn and lonesome reverie you’d been in.
After sleeping like shit last night, kept up ruminating on your conversation with Taeil and Doyoung, replaying memory upon memory of you calling the fairy by that nickname, and now feeling like a horrible person about it, you ended up being awake before the Sun in addition to everybody else. So, you’d made yourself breakfast to take down to the beach, eat by yourself, and watch the sunrise. You’d even made sure to sit in the chair that wasn’t visible to the house behind the umbrellas, not wanting anybody to join you out here. But you’d been found, and you didn’t have it in you to turn Jungwoo away now that he was with you.
“Oh, hey,” you gave him a half-hearted smile, gesturing to the chair beside you for him to sit.
He had a steaming mug in hand, his hair still tousled from sleep, and he was in pajama pants and a t-shirt.
The sunrise coming over the ocean was beautiful, burning oranges and yellows that reflected along the water. You popped a piece of fruit in your mouth. He took a sip from his mug.
“You didn’t come back last night. After going up to the beach house to get more drinks with Taeil,” Jungwoo said quietly.
You winced, “Oh, sorry, Jungwoo, I—”
“Who?” He cut you off abruptly.
“Huh?” You blinked, entirely thrown off from your lie about not feeling well or whatever.
“What’d you say?”
“Jungwoo—”
“Who?”
“J—”
“Who?”
“What are you, an owl?” You huffed, annoyed.
Jungwoo’s brows were knitted together, clearly as frustrated as you were, “Why are you calling me that?”
“What? Your name?”
“Yeah, which you haven’t called me since like August. It’s weird.”
“Everybody else calls you that.”
“You don’t.”
Your words were losing steam as you struggled to process what he seemed to be implying. “Am- Am I not everybody else?”
“No, you’re not,” he was calming down too, look at you more studiously than upset. “And you’re not passive-aggressive either, so I don’t think you’re mad at me.”
“No, of course not, W—!” You stopped yourself before the nickname could come out habitually, quite literally biting down on your tongue in your mouth.
“There! You were about to say it! Why didn’t you? Did someone curse you or something?” He leaned forward, eyes scanning your features as if he could see any remnants of a curse or hex on your face. For all you knew, maybe he could.
“No, I think,” you frowned thoughtfully. Your voice was getting smaller and smaller as you admitted, “I just... don’t want to be rude.”
“You don’t...” Jungwoo’s head tilted in confusion, before his mouth and shoulders dropped at the same time, realization dawning on his face. He sighed, “Taeil and Doyoung?”
You nodded meekly.
He set his cup down on the small table propped up out there, then gently lifted your chin up until you were looking him in the eye, “While I think it’s very cute and endearing that you were talking to my roommates about me, they clearly failed to mention the part where I like you calling me that. They say that?”
“Something like that...” You mumbled.
“Y/N, I like the nickname you gave me. Case closed, okay?” He said firmly.
“Okay.”
“Okay…?”
“Okay, Woos.” You relented, the name slipping off your tongue as naturally as ever.
“Oh, there we go! Everything is right with the universe again,” he exclaimed, finally rewarding you with his bright grin and laugh that sounded like bells. You couldn’t help but smile too.
You held your plate out towards him for him to take a piece of honeydew. He offered you his mug, and you took a sip, immediately recognizing it as some of Doyoung’s tea.
“It’s beautiful out here,” you sighed. The Sun was higher above the horizon, oranges beginning to give way to yellows and blues.
“Yeah,” Jungwoo agreed. “Sure is.”
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“You’re welcome.”
You barely contained your scream at the voice that came out of the darkness and the vine wrapping around your wrist and yanking you into the room. Expecting your roommate to still be sleeping when you came back from watching the sunrise with Jungwoo on the beach, you had quietly opened the door, left the lights off, and kept the blinds closed. But it seemed he was awake.
“Hyuck! What the fuck would I be thanking you for? Giving me a fucking heart attack?” You scolded him, shaking off the plant.
You flicked the lights on to reveal him sitting cross-legged at the entrance of the fort, the plants shifted slightly to adjust the opening and height to accommodate for such.
“Gotta keep you on your toes, Y/N,” he inspected his nails. “But that’s not the only reason you should thank me.”
“Oh really? What else have you done in your never-ending quest for charity and benevolence?” You rolled your eyes, leaning against the closed door.
“You mock me and yet I made sure nobody bothered you and Jungwoo during your little beach tryst this morning.”
“What did you—”
“Mark saw Jungwoo going down there and his oblivious ass wanted to get everyone down there to take pictures with the sunrise. I told him that with my dryad knowledge, I could tell that the sunrise tomorrow would be even better and to wait.”
“You can’t predict that kind of stuff,” you arched an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t know that.”
“And nobody else called you out on that?”
Donghyuck grinned mischievously, “Doyoung and Taeil backed me up, actually.”
You groaned, dropping your head back against the door with a distinct thunk. “Just how many of you are in our business at all times now?”
“Our? So you and Jungwoo have joint business now?” He picked up on your word choice when you hadn’t.
“Hyu—” You stopped your string of curses short. The mention of you and Jungwoo sharing something made Taeil’s theory from last night come back to your mind.
Your friend looked concerned, “Hey, you okay? You always follow through on beating me up, verbally or physically.”
“You’re so fucking annoying,” you scoffed, moving to plop down next to him on the beds. “But… what do you know about fairies’ magic?”
“Bits and pieces. They’re similar to dryads and witches in that they’re connected to nature. But I think you have a specific question, Y/N.”
“Name magic?”
“Yeah, fairies can gain a lot of power over others by way of taking their name, their identities. But they don’t really do that anymore. With the way that society is now, they can get in a lot of trouble, especially when creatures like other fairies or unicorns can easily find out which fairy has taken someone’s name. Jungwoo’s not controlling you just because he knows your name, I promise you really are just this pathetic.”
“Hey!” You smacked the back of his head.
“Ow! I deserved that.”
“I swear you’re a masochist,” you shook your head. “Anyway, do you know if that kind of thing like, goes both ways?”
“What? Like how?”
“Taeil and Doyoung have this idea, about why Yuta’s siren call didn’t work on me at Friendsmasgiving like it worked on Johnny. They think that because I call Jungwoo by a nickname, I was somehow using the name magic or whatever and Jungwoo’s magic was protecting me. And I mean, it is weird that Yuta’s siren call didn’t work on me. I’m human, I didn’t have any kind of charm on, I was even sitting closer to him than Johnny was!”
Donghyuck seemed to think about this for a moment, tapping his chin. “That is strange…”
“Right!”
“Have you asked Jungwoo?”
“And how would I do that? ‘Hey am I accidentally using your magical powers by way of an ancient practice of your kind every time I call you by this silly little nickname that you’ve explicitly told me to keep calling you?’”
“One, you’re being intentionally negative and hyperbolic, you’re not that much of a weirdo in conversation.”
You stuck your tongue out at him.
“Two, he specifically asked you to keep calling him by the nickname that his witch roommates think is the conduit for him to be unintentionally—or now maybe intentionally—sharing magic with you?”
“I guess… I don’t know, we had a whole conversation about it this morning. The witches said fairies hate nicknames because of the name magic stuff. It’s basically like you giving yourself power over them in their culture. So I tried to call him by his name but—”
“I’ve made a grave miscalculation.”
Your eyes widened. “What?”
Donghyuck took both of your hands in his, looking you in the eye very seriously as if he were about to tell you someone died. “He wants to kiss you so bad he’s making the both of you look stupid.”
You shoved him off the bed.
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THURSDAY
“Seriously? Nobody wants to play?” You whined, volleyball in hand.
“Nobody wants to play you two,” Donghyuck clarified, pointing between you and Jungwoo, who was standing next to you on the court. “You’re menaces with a volleyball. You should be on some watchlist.”
“Hey, we let you all set your own rules every time.”
“Yeah, it’s not our fault you guys suck,” Jungwoo agreed.
Being unable to convince any pair of your friends to verse you and Jungwoo in volleyball again, you decided to pop into the house for a quick break from the Sun instead. Jungwoo tagged along, and you found yourself getting more nervous as you realized it’d be just the two of you in the house together.
“Hey,” Jungwoo grabbed your elbow as you were about to make a beeline for the kitchen, intent on grabbing a popsicle from the freezer.
You stopped, giving him a questioning look, “Yeah, Woos?”
“Let’s go somewhere.”
“Somewhere?” You hated how your voice cracked over the word.
“You wanted to go to the ice cream place downtown, right? On Tuesday? But we didn’t have time.”
“Oh, yeah, I did,” you smiled bashfully, chest feeling funny about the fact that he had remembered some little thing that you had said, a moment that was so inconsequential. “Uh, right now?”
He shrugged, “Why not?”
“Okay, sure. Do you want to tell the others?”
“Do you?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, and shook your head.
He grinned. “Me neither.”
After quickly changing from your used beach clothes, you followed him out front. You expected to hear the beep of Taeil’s car unlocking, but Jungwoo instead veered in a different direction. You followed him towards the blue truck curiously.
“Yuta’s truck?” You asked, now spotting the keys in his hand.
“He’s who said yes to letting us use his car,” Jungwoo affirmed, then opened the driver’s door. “You’ve got to get in on this side, sorry.”
As you went to do so, you saw why. The seat was a bench seat, and on the far side, propped against the passenger door, was a giant rock.
“Do I want to know?” You sighed, climbing up into the cab of the truck.
“Doyoung wants to bring it back, but Taeil doesn’t want it in his car,” Jungwoo explained, sliding in after you.
“It couldn’t go in the back?” You eyed the empty truck bed behind you incredulously.
“Too valuable.”
“What is it? Other than a rock? Or is it a magic rock or something?”
The fairy started the truck, putting an arm over the back of the seat and turning around to back it out of the driveway. “Apparently there’s a relic encased in it. He wants to excavate it at home.”
“When did he find it?” You eyed it cautiously, scooting a bit further away from it, leg pressed against Jungwoo’s.
“Tuesday morning. The storm washed it ashore. I think you were in the shower.” Jungwoo wrapped his arm that had been behind you around your shoulders and pulled you even closer, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let that thing come loose and hit you or anything.”
“Oh, thanks, Woos,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands in your lap.
It was a short ride into downtown, and Jungwoo was able to park right in front of the cotton candy pink ice cream and sweets shop you had spotted the other day. It was right next to a yellow flower shop and purple café, and way at the end of the block, you could see the sign for the apothecary you’d gone to with the witches.
A family of sirens was eating their ice cream at a table in front of the shop, the dad rolling his eyes fondly as he took a napkin to his son’s face that was covered in chocolate. But as the mom followed you and Jungwoo in to grab more napkins, you realized she didn’t have the same telltale flashy eyes or flickers of scales under the lights like her partner and son. She looked… human.
After you and Jungwoo got your waffle cones, you took them outside to walk around the shops. You stopped to look over some of the bouquets that were outside the flower shop, most of the blooms familiar to you thanks to Donghyuck. By the time you were at the end of the street by the apothecary, you still had most of your ice cream left. The path continued off away from downtown, unpaved, along the cliffs overlooking the sea. Having seen most of the town, the two of you meandered that way, still chatting between mouthfuls of ice cream.
“Woos, I have a question,” you announced. This seemed as good a time as ever to get in a few of your never-ending stream of things you wanted to know about Jungwoo.
“I have an answer,” he responded, then after a beat, added, “Maybe.”
“Why did you decide to study Chemistry?”
“After being around magic all the time, human science just sort of fascinated me,” he shrugged. “So, kind of the same reason a lot of the humans who pick Magical Creature Studies have, I guess.”
“So you grew up around other fairies for the most part, then?”
“Oh, yeah. It was nothing like how you and Donghyuck grew up. My hollow is really closed off to outsiders, even other fairies.”
“Then how’d you end up coming to school?”
“It’s not like I was under house arrest or anything,” Jungwoo laughed, taking in your wide eyes. “It’s just that I was pretty much the only one who was curious about anything outside of the hollow. I went into town all the time when I was older, so I knew about the college. Nobody in my hollow did any school past the mandatory primary education, of course, so I had to get a bit of help from the Admissions Office to apply. That’s where I met Taeyong, actually.”
“Oh yeah, he did work in Admissions.”
“And he introduced me to Taeil and Doyoung, who needed a third roommate to make rent.”
You nodded, taking another bite of your ice cream. “Okay, you’re a fairy and you’re studying Chemistry, so I think you’re a good person to propose this question to: What do you think is the difference between magic and science?”
Jungwoo thought about this for a moment, humming as he licked around his ice cream. Finally, he answered, voice resolute, “Humility. Science is an earnest effort to understand the world around you, what it is, how it works. And that requires approaching it from the position of inferiority, of acknowledging that you know less than the world.”
“But what about magic? Do we know everything about it and how it works and what it is? Couldn’t it be studied just like other fields of science?” You asked curiously.
“I’m saying this because I don’t want you to lose your cute little head, Y/N,” Jungwoo stopped walking and turned to you, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “Don’t say that to another fairy.”
“O-Oh.”
“There’s a reason I’m the first one in the Chemistry department, you know.”
“Wait, you are?” You furrowed your eyebrows thoughtfully, trying to recall some of your other classmates and professors. And, yeah, you couldn’t think of any other fairies off the top of your head. Plenty of other magical beings, dragons, vampires, dryads, werewolves, but no fairies. Just Jungwoo.
“Yeah,” he patted your cheek before dropping his hand and walking again.
“I didn’t— uh, didn’t— uhm, know that,” you stammered, only keeping up with him because he had looped his arm with yours and was now guiding you down the path. If he hadn’t, you definitely would still be frozen in place, gulping and stuttering. Dazzled, as Taeil had so aptly put it.
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FRIDAY
There were only two more full days left of your vacation in Cape Solaria, including today, and you didn’t want to think about it. Maybe if you wished hard enough, this could last forever.
Sat on a beach chair that you’d set up in the surf to stay cool, you sighed to yourself contentedly.
A relieved groan and splash sounded from your right, and you squinted an eye open against the bright sunlight to look at who had sat in the empty chair beside you. It was Yuta, with legs and swim trunks this time as he crossed the limbs at the ankle to recline leisurely.
“Jungwoo won’t mind, will he?” He asked, referencing who had been sitting there up until a minute ago, when the fairy announced he had to grab something from the beach house.
“He’s not using it right now.” You shifted up in your chair to face the siren, “I’m actually glad you’re here, Yuta.”
“Really?” He grinned. “And why’s that?”
“I wanted to get your opinion on something.”
“Yes, Jungwoo likes you.”
You blinked at him, unable to think of how to reply.
“I know, I know, I’m not a mind reader, but—”
“That’s not what I was going to ask,” you cut him off, deciding to breeze right by that avenue of conversation. You had a limited amount of time before Jungwoo came back, and there was something else you really needed to ask Yuta specifically.
“Oh. Well, go for it.”
“Do you know why your siren call didn’t work on me at Friendmasgiving? And only worked on Johnny? We’re both human, I didn’t have any charms on. It should’ve, you know, done the same thing to me, right?”
That clearly wasn’t what Yuta was expecting you to ask. The cocky smirk fell from his face as he scrutinized you, “What? You wanted to drown yourself?”
“No, I was just curious—”
“I almost killed one friend, and you’re saying it should’ve been two?”
You fervently tried to reassure him, alarmed at how fast this conversation had taken a nosedive, “No, Yuta, I don’t—”
“None of you get how— how fucking awful it was, to watch myself nearly kill one of my friends and not be able to control what I was doing at all. So no, Y/N, I don’t know why it wasn’t working on you, but I’m fucking glad it didn’t. I don’t need you terrified of me too.” The siren’s eyes were watery and red, and the sea around the chairs was churning angrily, growing in strength as his words got sharper and sharper.
“Yuta.” Taeyong was suddenly a couple steps behind your chairs, and steadily waded through the turbulent surf.
As soon as the unicorn was in close proximity to the two of you, a calmness washed over you. Yuta’s jaw unclenched, and he bit down on his bottom lip instead.
Taeyong gently put a hand on Yuta's shoulder, and you saw the unicorn’s face contort almost painfully. He looked down at you, “Y/N, will you go get Doie and Johnny? They all need to talk, don’t you think?”
“Oh, uhm, yeah,” you nodded quickly, jumping to your feet.
Turning back to the beach, you saw that most of the others were there, pretending not to be paying attention to the three of you. You didn’t want to know how much they had heard. Johnny was the easiest to find, he was tossing a football with Jaehyun and Mark by the firepit.
You pointed at him as you walked by, “Stay.”
“I’m not a werewolf, but yes ma’am,” he saluted you.
Trudging up the boardwalk, you knew exactly where Doyoung would be hiding out, the same place he had been hiding out during anything that involved Yuta and Johnny and the water. His bedroom.
Jungwoo was in the kitchen, his face lighting up when he saw you, then turning serious when he registered the look on your face, “Hey, I was just grabbing a snack. Is everything okay?”
“Long story short, I’m grabbing Doyoung for Taeyong. Not optional,” you squared your shoulders as you crossed the living room to the hallway.
“Oh.” The fairy followed you curiously.
You knocked on the closed door, “Doyoung! It’s me!”
“Come in.”
You threw open the door, eyes immediately finding your target sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk in lounge clothes, a grimoire in his lap. Narrowing your eyes, you stalked over to him, “You’re coming to the beach.”
“I’m at the beach,” he gestured around vaguely.
“Kim Doyoung, you’re going to get out of this house and come down to the beach with me. Now.”
“Taeil tried that on me two days ago.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose before switching tactics. Sitting down next to him, you leaned your elbows on your knees and took a deep breath.
“Doyoung, we’re your friends. And we invited you on this trip—Yuta invited you—because we like spending time with you.”
The finger that had been running under the words he was reading paused.
“So, can you tell me if there’s some reason you’ve been holing yourself up in here?”
Doyoung sighed, closing the grimoire, “I thought it best to reduce the likelihood of a repeat of last semester. Taeil’s right. I don’t think before I do things and end up getting my friends hurt.”
“What he was saying at the apothecary?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember him suggesting you become a hermit about it,” you snorted, bumping your friend’s shoulder. “And reading a bunch of books and never interacting with people is not going to help your social skills. Skills like, you know, conflict resolution.”
The witch looked down at the closed book with a small smile, “You might be right there.”
“So can you please come to the beach?”
“On one condition.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t tell Taeil I said he was right. Either of you.”
“Done,” you promised.
And just a few minutes later you were marching down the walkway victoriously, Doyoung in tow. Jungwoo walked a bit further behind you two, an unspoken agreement to make sure the witch couldn’t double back to the house. Down on the sand, Johnny was still tossing the ball around, and you pointed at him again.
“Johnny, come on!” You called out.
“Seriously, not a dog!” He yelled back, jogging over nonetheless.
Taeyong and Yuta were still out at the chairs, and you kept your sights on them. Doyoung eyed you suspiciously, “What are you doing, Y/N?”
“We’re going swimming,” you deadpanned, leading the two of them towards the water.
“This was a trap,” he scoffed, starting to turn on his heel.
“Doyoung,” Jungwoo was still behind you all, crossing his arms with a frown.
Doyoung grumbled something under his breath, but turned back around to you. Taking that as his acceptance, you looked at Johnny. The human looked warily between Doyoung and Yuta, hand coming up to grasp at the pearl hanging from his neck, seeming to check that it was still there. He didn’t make any move to leave.
You stepped into the tide, the first of the waves lapping at your feet. The water was much calmer than when you had left. Doyoung and Johnny followed you, and the three of you finally stopped at Taeyong and Yuta. The siren was still sat in the same chair, staring out at the horizon, one hand listlessly making figure-eights above the water, and the ocean below his fingertips swirling with the movements. An octopus had (lovingly?) wrapped itself around his ankle, and you were sure that if the water was deep enough, Bear would’ve been here. He didn’t look back at you all as you approached.
“Here,” you broke the tense silence, looking to Taeyong. “Johnny and Doyoung.”
“Thank you, Y/N,” Taeyong nodded to you.
“I’ll just—”
“Stay.”
It was Johnny who stopped your attempt to excuse yourself. He had a hand on your arm, and an all-too-familiar look in his eye. It reminded you of when he asked you, with trembling hands and a heaving chest, to stay and help him wash his face.
You nodded. “Yeah, Johnny, I’ll stay.”
Yuta finally spoke, “Look, I don’t know how many times I have to apologize. I’m sorry I almost drowned Johnny twice. Do I have to grovel at his feet for the rest of our lives? Will that make everybody happy?”
He slammed his fist into the arm of the pop-up chair. The octopus swam off.
“No, Yuta,” Taeyong shook his head. “That’s not what this is.”
“All of you are holding onto a lot of… stuff from that night.” You made sure to choose your words carefully. “And we think it’d be good if you actually talked to each other about it.”
“I’m sorry.” To your surprise, it was Doyoung who spoke up first. He was holding himself, hands wrapped around his upper arms as he spoke. “To both of you, Johnny and Yuta. I was impulsive, and vindictive, and an ass, and I hurt you with that stupid blabbermouth hex. I don’t want my magic to… leave lasting scars on people, especially not my friends. Yuta, you didn’t deserve the brunt of the backlash from that, I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you when I should have. And Johnny, you obviously didn’t deserve to almost drown yourself twice. I was a bad witch and a bad friend and I’m sorry, I really am.”
You looked between Johnny and Yuta’s faces hopefully to gauge their reactions. Johnny’s held the same surprise as yours at Doyoung apologizing first, then morphed into a soft smile. He threw an arm around the witch’s neck, nearly toppling him over and he was pulled into the taller man’s side.
“I don’t know much about the bad witch part, but I forgive you, Doyoung. Taeil says you’ve been doing a lot of uhm, reading about magic this whole time to get better at it. I know you didn’t mean it.”
Doyoung screwed his eyes shut, patting Johnny’s back.
“Yuta, tell them what you told me,” you encouraged the siren.
He sighed, finally turning around in his chair to look at the two of them. Around his eyes was pink, and he focused a harsh glare on Doyoung.
“Have you ever had someone do that to you, Doyoung?”
“Taeil and I used to hex each other as kids all the time.”
“No, I don’t just mean put a blabbermouth hex on you,” he scoffed. “I mean make you do something you don’t want to do, use your own powers to almost kill your friend and you just have to watch yourself do it. Twice. And then he’s terrified of swimming, of pools, of the water, of you. Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have teased you about whatever the fuck it was that day. But Johnny needed a fucking warding charm to even be able to come on vacation with me. You don’t want to hurt people with your magic… you hurt him with mine and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
Doyoung gnawed on his bottom lip, “No, Yuta. I haven’t had anybody do that to me. I’m so sorry.”
“Yuta,” Taeyong quietly called for the siren’s attention. “Look at where we all are.”
Yuta’s eyes flicked from Taeyong to you to Doyoung to Johnny, then down to the ocean water that everyone was standing in, about shin deep.
Johnny let go of Doyoung to reach up to his own neck, taking off the leather cord hanging there in one fluid movement. He wound his arm up over his head and threw it out into the waves as far as he could. It plopped under the surface, never to be seen again.
“I don’t need a warding charm against my friend,” Johnny declared simply.
A tear slipped down Taeyong’s cheek from behind his sunglasses, the iridescent liquid catching the light of the sun. You couldn’t blame him, you were feeling a bit overwhelmed yourself, even with your ordinary human empathetic abilities.
“Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting hot standing here,” Johnny continued, dramatically putting one hand on his hip and fanning himself with the other. “I think a swim sounds like a good idea, hm?”
Yuta looked up at him, and they seemed to immediately make some kind of telepathic connection as soon as they locked eyes. The siren got to his feet as Doyoung started looking around, holding up a hand to cast a shadow over his eyes.
“Y/N made me come all the way out here with my swim suit on, I guess I could—”
Doyoung was cut off by Johnny grabbing him around the chest and Yuta grabbing his legs, his words turning into a yelp as he was lifted up. His yells of protest went unheeded as the other two carried him further out to sea.
“One!” Johnny counted as they started swinging Doyoung between them.
“Two!” Yuta continued.
“Three!” They cheered together, tossing him gently into the thigh-deep water.
The witch popped back up, shaking his wet hair, “That’s it!”
Thankfully, instead of a hex coming out of his mouth, he instead jumped on Johnny’s back, trying to dunk the taller man underwater. Johnny walked out until he was deep enough to dunk the both of them, Yuta following. Now in deep enough water, Yuta transformed his legs into his tail, using his large fins at the end to splash the other two.
Too busy laughing at those three, you didn’t notice that anybody had joined you and Taeyong until a hand was on your back. You looked over at the owner, smiling up at Jungwoo.
“Oh, hey Woos,” you bumped his hip with yours before turning your gaze back to the others still playing in the water. “Nice of you to join us.”
“Didn’t seem like you needed me,” he bumped you back. “Good job.”
“I was just following orders, this was all Taeyong’s idea,” you shook your head, looking over to the unicorn.
Taeyong had a fond smile on his features, “I think it was a team effort, all of us.”
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SATURDAY
“So you’re not dating?”
“God, Hyuck, how many times do I have to tell you this? No,” you groaned, pulling your blanket up over your head. It was your last full day in Cape Solaria and the bastard wasn’t even letting you sleep in.
“You two are like all over each other,” Donghyuck pointed out, smugly scrolling away on his phone. “Even Mark asked me yesterday if he missed some memo about you and Jungwoo dating.”
You yanked the covers back down, “And what did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know.”
“You little—”
“Hey, I didn’t!” He went to defend himself. “And now I do. Now I know that you’re being a wimp.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“If I had a nickel for every time you said that in our lives, I’d have no student debt, Y/N.”
You rolled over away from him, fully intending on attempting to snooze for a little longer, when your phone buzzed. With a groan, you grabbed it to see who had dared to text you this early in the morning.
[woos: you awake yet?]
Turning to face Donghyuck again so that he couldn’t see your screen, you were about to text the fairy back, but another text came through.
[woos: if you are, i’m going down to watch the rest of the sunrise with a cup of tea in a few minutes]
You quickly typed out your text and sent it.
[you: make that two cups]
Just a couple minutes later, you left your bedroom with the sounds of Donghyuck making teasing kissy noises after you. Jungwoo was in the kitchen, illuminated only by the light over the stove. Johnny, Mark, and Jaehyun were all still asleep, and you quietly stepped around them to wait by the back door. The fairy joined you just a moment later, two mismatched mugs in his hands. His hair was ruffled, a few pieces in the back sticking up, but nevertheless, a sleepy and fond smile came across his lips as he looked down at you. You smiled back up at him.
Neither of you said anything until you had stealthily slipped out the door and closed it behind you as silently as possible. On the back porch, you could give him a “Good morning, Woos.”
“Morning, Y/N,” he handed you your cup.
You eagerly wrapped your hands around it, feeling the warmth seep into your fingers. “Thank you.”
He hummed his acknowledgement, looping a casual arm around your shoulders to start walking down towards the beach. The Sun was just starting to peek up over the water in the distance, giving you enough light to find a towel under the umbrellas to sit down on.
“So why are you up so early?” You asked, taking a sip of your tea.
“Honestly?”
“No, Woos, I want you to lie to me,” you replied sarcastically, earning a laugh from him.
“Had to pee and couldn’t go back to sleep,” he answered. “Ended up just getting stuck thinking and then definitely couldn’t go back to sleep. What about you? I didn’t actually expect you to be up when I texted, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I was already awake. Donghyuck woke up early and decided to make that my problem this time.”
Jungwoo chuckled, taking another drink from his mug.
You looked out into the ocean, watching a familiar fin meander around. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your nerves, and stated, “Hey, Woos, I have another question.”
“I have another answer.” Pause. “Maybe.”
“Why do you think Yuta’s siren call didn’t work on me at Friendsmasgiving?”
He looked at you curiously, “I’m guessing you asked Yuta this yesterday and—”
“It turned into that whole thing with Taeyong and Johnny and Doyoung, yeah. It didn’t seem like a good idea to bring it up again after that.”
“Why do you think it didn’t work on you?”
“I don’t know,” you confessed, pointer finger tracing the rim of your mug. “I’m human, I was sitting closer to him than Johnny was, I didn’t have any warding charms on me or anything like that. It should have done the same thing to me that it did to Johnny, but it didn’t.”
“Y/N…” Jungwoo said quietly, laying a hand on your arm. “Do you feel guilty that it only affected Johnny and not you? That he went through that, and you didn’t? Like you should have suffered with him?”
You couldn’t look up at Jungwoo, so you just kept your eyes on his thumb that was rubbing soothing circles into your forearm. “I- I don’t… yes. He was so scared of the water after that that he couldn’t turn on the tap by himself, Woos. I had to go over and help him wash his face every day for like a month. And I just got to… sit there? And I know it probably sounds weird, like I want to have gone through something so traumatic but—and I know Johnny wouldn’t have wanted me to have either—but I can’t shake this feeling that I avoided something I shouldn’t have. Like, cosmic balance or something. Does that make sense?”
Despite the disjointed nature of your rant, Jungwoo was able to respond without missing a beat. “Y/N, Y/N, hey. You’re afraid that it messed with some cosmic balance, right?”
You nodded.
“If you had gone through what Johnny did, and were as scared of the water as he was, do you think that you would’ve been able to help him for that month when he needed it?”
Taking your gaze off his hand, you looked up into his eyes, where the golden flecks glimmered in the waking morning rays. And you slowly shook your head.
He nodded encouragingly. “Right. That sounds pretty balanced to me.”
“Okay, yeah,” you mirrored his nods, a shaky sense of relief growing in you.
“And I don’t think you wondering about why something that logically should have happened didn’t happen is weird, either.”
“So… what do you think happened?” You wanted to see if he would bring it up first, or if he had any clue about the name magic at all, about the nickname thing, about Taeil and Doyoung’s theory, about any of it.
Jungwoo’s eyes traced over your face, and for a moment you were taken away, entirely breathless as the dawn light hit him just right and he was glowing, looking so gorgeous there with his behead, pajamas, pouty lips, and big brown eyes. Time restarted when he finally answered your question, “I don’t know. But whatever it was, I’m glad that it happened. I’m glad that you didn’t have to get hurt, and I’m glad that Johnny could have you there to support him after.”
You opened your mouth, tempted to retell the witches’ theory to him, but he was looking down at you so fondly, so beautifully, that in that moment, it didn’t even matter. So instead, you scooted even closer to him to rest your head against his shoulder, a giddy smile overtaking your face when he wrapped an arm around you to hold you to him even tighter.
“I want to show you something tonight, by the way,” he murmured, voice right by your ear.
“Something?” You echoed inquisitively.
“Something,” he confirmed.
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[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.”
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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.”
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Thankfully, you all didn’t have to leave too terribly early. By the time Taeil and Doyoung came back from the local coven’s dawn sacraments the rest of you had barely started on breakfast. Well, most of you. You, Jungwoo, and Jaehyun had eaten breakfast first. Jungwoo and you didn’t really want the full brunt of everyone seeing the two of you leave your bedroom together, so you decided to get up and have breakfast earlier. And Jaehyun happened to be awake when you got out there, so he ate with you two—or, sat at the table while you two ate.
Once the witches were back, it was a hustle and bustle to pack. You and Donghyuck had to disassemble the blanket fort after packing your bags.
“Ew, why can’t you and Jungwoo deal with your little love nest—” Donghyuck was cut off by a pillow to the face.
“I’m sorry, who decided to sleep in someone else’s bed without permission last night like a little freak?” You retorted, taking the sheets off of your mattress now that the furniture was back in its original place.
“And who still hasn’t thanked me for my little freak nature, nor even told me what happened last night?”
You couldn’t even pretend to be mad, zooming over to shut your bedroom door then turning back to your best friend, absolutely buzzing with excitement. In a hushed voice—well aware of all the various creatures with superhearing in the house—you relayed the details of last night to Donghyuck as quickly as you could, needing to repeat them for your benefit, too, to convince yourself that it all really did happen.
“Oh fuck yeah, Y/N!” Donghyuck held up a hand for you to high-five, then low-five, then fist-bump. “Now, what do we say?”
“What?” You looked at him incredulously.
“Let me hear a ‘Thank you for being a little freak and taking Jungwoo’s bed last night, Donghyuck.’”
You scoffed, but threw your arms around his neck nevertheless, “Thanks, Hyuck. For being a good friend all week, and for being a little freak.”
You felt his arms and some vines entwine around you in return. “Anytime, Y/N.”
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Jungwoo found you again in the living room as everyone else was milling about. At some point, your bags had been grabbed and packed up in the cars by the other guys, and you stayed out of their way, figuring they knew what was best. The fairy bumped your shoulder with his, and you bumped him back.
Taeil suddenly called for him from where he and Doyoung were by the front door.
“Oh hey, Jungwoo, we were able to repack the cars and there’s room for you in ours now,” Taeil said. “This way Johnny has to make fewer stops, and you can come right home with us.”
You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance before he went to reply to his roommate. “Oh, you did? Uhm…”
Then you heard Doyoung snicker, and Taeil broke out into chuckles too. “You should see the looks on your faces. I’m kidding, we have more crap than we came with, actually. Jungwoo’s still in Johnny’s car, don’t worry.”
“You’re not funny,” you crossed your arms over your chest.
“I think I’m the funniest person I know, actually.”
“It was a bit funny,” Doyoung concurred, the four of you walking out together.
You didn’t even want to know what Donghyuck had told them last night when he suddenly appeared in Jungwoo’s bed.
“Okay, everybody ready?” Johnny asked the group loudly. “Nobody’s forgetting anything?”
“Hold on!” You exclaimed.
Quickly running to the very end of the boardwalk before it dropped off to the sand, you gave the ocean a wistful wave goodbye. “Bye Bear!”
You then jogged back over to the rest of the group, and gave Johnny a thumbs up. “Ready!”
And with that, you gave all your friends that you wouldn’t be riding with hugs goodbye. First Taeil and Doyoung, who drove off with little beeps of the car horn behind them. Then Yuta, Jaehyun, and Taeyong, who were going to be leaving last. You felt bad for Taeyong, who was squished in the middle even more now with Doyoung’s rock riding shotgun. Yuta stood on the back of his truck to wave the four of you off as you drove away down the hill. You and Jungwoo were in the backseat again, waving back at them all through the rear window for as far as you could see them.
After they disappeared from your view, you settled into your spot in the middle seat, Jungwoo’s arm around your shoulders as he unfurled his wired headphones.
A hushed conversation up front floated back to you while Jungwoo struggled with a knot in the headphone wires.
“Seriously, they’re not dating, dude?” Mark whispered fervently to Johnny. Donghyuck had already laid down for his nap.
“Not that I’ve been told,” Johnny’s eyes flicked up to meet yours in the rearview mirror. He winked at you. You smiled back.
You leaned over Jungwoo to peer out the window at the passing houses turning into downtown, then the open road. Finally victorious, he held an earbud out to you, and you took it gratefully.
“Any requests?” He prompted you, opening his music library.
You already knew exactly what you wanted to listen to.
“Play me your favorite song today, Woos.”
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⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist
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maeby-cursed · 2 days
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take me to the drafts where all my drabbles went to die
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strawberryspence · 1 year
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do u have any fic recs like this https://at.tumblr.com/steddilly/more-wifeguy-eddie-fics-please-i-want-him/atg8fycfz6qh ?
wifeguy rockstar eddie and just some guy steve <333
okay here's the thing wifeguy eddie and some guy steve is a good headcanon! but there's not much fics of it out there because people (me LMAO) want the juicy, angsty stuff 😭😭
this is the closest thing i can find to what ur asking for: scenes at home by peaktotheocean. there's two parts to that.
these are like the happiest ones i can find on my list that has famous eddie (and usually teacher steve):
People Like Us by duckyreads - outsiders pov (specifically steve's student!)
you drew stars around my scars (but now i'm bleeding) by ohmars - they go on a vacation and they're all happy! i promise!
End of Beginning by FreshLoaf - teacher steve and his newly grammy award winner husband? i love them.
also it's sibling the spaces I’ve known, the places I’ve been by FreshLoaf
not really wife guy because they're both famous but Time's Always Right To Fix What's Wrong by SmokingThemOutBasements - is also pretty good. dustin's their son.
not what you wanted but i will recommend this fic any chance i get. The Babysitter by obstination! - Steve is a dad with two kids and Eddie is a rockstar in town to get some rest.
here are the more sadder, angstier ones:
to build a home by rocketshiptospace - SLOW SLOW SLOW burn. starts from the bottom to the peak of eddie's career and steve's feelings for him. like damn, these bitches simp over each other but still cant confess???? I LOVE IT.
self-promoting choose the rose garden (over madison square) by strawberryspence (me) - steve owns a flower shop and pines over eddie. also eddie's an idiot.
the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by greatunironic - THE OG
Your Biggest Fan by LexiRoseWrites - its a whole series! its also A/B/O, soulmate AU! rockstar eddie is very very very caring and sweet.
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flea-palace · 4 months
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if anyone out there is looking for a new poto fic and you love a:
▪︎ childhood friend au
▪︎ red string of fate type dynamic between characters
▪︎ religious imagery ft catholic guilt
▪︎ e/c where they knew each other years before the original poto plot
then read this fic i've been marinating in my mind forever and am finally writing teehee
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I'm back with another oneshot - this one's about Jon's relationship with Daisy, Martin, and his own humanity in season 4. (And also about Jon having a Terrible haircut experience.) Loosely inspired by this amazing fic by @saintbleeding! Check it out on AO3, or read below:
(content warnings for this fic include: -blood -panic attacks -statement hunger/addiction -mentions of past gun violence -mentions of death -references to suicidality)
Jon didn’t like seeing Daisy with a knife in her hands.
It was his own fault, though. He was the one who’d placed it there, who’d asked her to do this, who had assured her – multiple times – that no, really, he was sure, this was fine, and then turned away to expose all the vulnerable veins and tendons of the back of his neck to her discretion, so he really had no one to blame but himself.
But the fact was, he needed a haircut.
He’d known he would need one since he got out of the Buried. From the second Hell spat him out on the dusty floor of his office with mud clinging to his every pore and several intractable mats in his hair that hadn’t been there when he’d gone in, he knew that this was a problem a hairbrush couldn’t solve. They would have to be cut out. He’d known that, but there hadn’t really been time to think about his hair until now. He’d had to go running off almost immediately to Ny-Ålesund, and then to Oxford, and he’d barely had a chance to catch his breath, let alone cut his hair. 
He could have tried to do it himself, but the angle was more than a little awkward, and ever since he’d stopped taking live statements, he’d developed an intermittent tremor in his right hand that reminded him unpleasantly of the first time he’d tried to quit smoking and made him nervous about handling knives around his own neck. And anyway, he didn’t much like looking in the mirror these days. He wasn’t fond of what he saw looking back.
His other options were limited. Melanie wasn’t speaking to him except when strictly necessary, which was more or less to be expected as a consequence of unannounced and unanesthetized workplace surgery. And Jon wasn’t exactly her biggest fan at the moment either. Sympathizing with her reaction did nothing to soften the sting of her knife in his skin.
Martin was… not an option. They hadn’t spoken since Martin had left that tape for Melanie and Basira. He had already been avoiding Jon even before one of Jon’s victims had walked into his office and described to him the worst thing Jon had ever done in all its awful detail, so now Jon considered that bridge well and truly burned.
He was trying not to think about it.
He could have asked Basira. He knew that. She also wasn’t thrilled with him of late, but he could have asked her, and she would have said yes. She would have given him a quick, efficient haircut that didn’t leave him shaking with the memory of perhaps the worst night in his entire grand catastrophe of a life. He would have felt safe. But to ask her, he would have needed to look her in the eye, and he couldn’t do that. Not now that she knew what he was.
Daisy was different. Daisy didn’t judge. She couldn’t, when she’d done as much as he had, and more. And he trusted Daisy. He’d made the decision to trust her months ago, and she hadn’t done anything since to make him reconsider that trust. 
He only wished he could convince his nervous system of that fact. His heart was a jackhammer, pounding against the walls of his chest with such force he was surprised Daisy couldn’t see it. He dug his nails into the skin of his arm to try and suppress his shakes, and gritted his teeth against the twinge of phantom pain in the scar on his throat.
“You sure about this?” Daisy asked, once again, and once again Jon nodded.
“I can’t make it pretty.”
Jon laughed. “It can’t look any worse than it does now.”
He would miss his long hair. He’d always liked the way it looked. It seemed to soften his features, and he needed that more than ever now. The dark circles under his eyes were a permanent feature these days, and the one-two punch of his coma followed swiftly by his time in the Buried had left him looking unsettlingly gaunt. He doubted his new haircut was going to suit him.
Daisy’s suited her. She’d chopped it all off as soon as she got out, cutting away the hair she’d grown in the Buried and then some. It was a far from professional cut (and didn’t speak wonders for how Jon’s hair would look) but it set off her sharp, angular face quite nicely.
She took a lock of Jon’s hair in her hands. He heard her hmm quietly to herself, considering her approach, before she tightened her grip and began sawing through the hair just above the largest knot.
She didn’t speak. That was something Jon always liked about Daisy. She didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. They’d been spending a lot of time together since the Buried, and most of the time they preferred to just exist in the same room together, keeping each other sane with proximity alone. Basira had once described Daisy as a rock, the one solid thing she could always count on in a universe of chaos, and Jon was beginning to see why. In spite of everything, Daisy could be a reassuring presence, most of the time. 
Jon sat in the silence, and tried to focus on the clumps of grey-streaked hair that were falling in small piles at his feet.
She worked carefully. Jon wouldn’t have guessed, a year ago, that Daisy was capable of being gentle, but she was. As more and more hair was cut free from the impossible mats, she teased out what tangles could be salvaged with deft fingers, and the knife skills she must have honed through entirely less wholesome means made her very adept at her work.
But not quite adept enough.
The pain only lasted a second. It was only a minor nick – a brief, sharp, spark of pain – but it was enough.
Jon squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of nausea and fear. He was safe. Daisy wasn’t going to hurt him. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to take that knife to his throat (the same dull pocket knife, because it was the only thing Jon had on hand) and finally finish the job she’d started all those months ago. She wasn’t going to do that. He trusted her. He trusted her. He wasn’t going to collapse into a trembling heap just because a friend was doing exactly what he’d asked her to.
He expected Daisy, for her part, to apologize and move on. Maybe grab a bandage if she was feeling fussy. Instead she stood still and silent for a long moment. When Jon turned around to investigate, she was pressing her eyes closed and taking long, deep breaths.
“Don’t listen to the blood, listen to the quiet, don’t listen to the blood–” she murmured to herself. Then she said to Jon, haltingly, “I’m— sorry. I’m still— no good around blood.”
She dropped the knife. “Sorry,” she repeated. “I— need to go.” Then she stumbled out of the room, leaving Jon bleeding and alone, with half his hair cut.
Daisy leaving the room should have eased Jon’s anxieties. Picking up the knife should have eased his anxieties, too, but there was a tiny red smear of his blood on the blade, and that made things worse. He snapped the knife shut and squeezed it in his palm, trying to ground himself. Being trapped in the Buried hadn’t scared him like this. Staring into the Dark Star and nearly dying hadn’t scared him like this. But getting a haircut, apparently, that was where his nerves drew the line.
He stepped into the hallway.
“Daisy?”
There was no sign of her. Jon wanted to find her, to make sure she was alright, but his scalp was still bleeding and his instincts were still screaming at him that she was going to leap out at him from the darkness and slit his throat, and he knew neither of them would be a calming influence on the other at this moment.
His heart was still beating too hard and his breath was still too shallow and too fast. He squeezed the pocket knife in his hand tighter, but it didn’t help. He’d had enough panic attacks in his life to know what one felt like and know that they weren’t actually fatal, but that did nothing to dispel the familiar certainty that he was going to die. He was going to die right here in this hallway, without ever getting any answers, and he wouldn’t be mourned.
He didn’t even notice where he was going until he was already there.
The door to Martin’s office swung open. “Jon, I told y–” Martin started to say when he saw Jon standing there, but he couldn’t finish the sentence before his jaw dropped. “Je–e–sus, what happened?” He pulled him into the office before he had a chance to answer. He steered him into the seat across from the desk and immediately began grazing his fingers in frantic patterns across Jon’s head and neck and shoulders, turning Jon’s face this way and that, looking for injuries.
“Where are you hurt?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s only a scratch.” Jon lifted his hand to the wound and was surprised to find it slick with blood. He’d always heard that scalp wounds bled excessively, but he hadn’t realized how true that was. When he drew his hand back, his fingers were covered in the stuff, red and wet and sticky. It dawned on him suddenly how rough he must look – bleeding, half-shorn, and on the edge of a panic attack – and he tried to explain. “I asked Daisy to–”
“Daisy?” Martin asked sharply. For a moment his whole demeanor changed into something prickly and protective and piqued, and then seemed to make a conscious effort to be more calming. “What did she do?” he asked, with an unnatural evenness in his tone.
“I asked her to cut my hair. Her hand slipped.”
Martin relaxed, but only slightly. “And she just let you bleed? She didn’t think to help?”
Jon shook his head. “Can’t really handle blood right now.”
“It never seemed to bother her before,” Martin muttered, and Jon felt the need to stick up for his friend.
“She’s actually been a lot better recently.”
“What? She hasn’t murdered someone in a week?” he asked, then added in a bitter, sarcastic drawl, “Hooray. Let’s throw a parade.”
And that wasn’t fair; Martin hadn’t even been there. He wasn’t the one who’d watched her kill someone. He hadn’t dug the grave. He hadn’t struggled to keep his grip on the shovel, struggled not to look at the corpse, struggled not to think about how he would be lying dead on the ground, too, any minute. And Jon had moved past it. He had, even if he still smelled the gunpowder in his nightmares some nights, so why couldn’t Martin move on, too?
“She’s trying.”
“Yeah, well, she’ll have to try a lot harder if she wants me to forget what she’s done.” He stepped away for a moment and began digging around in the bottom drawer of his desk until he tracked down a first aid kit. He brought it back, pulled out an absorbent bandage and began mopping up the blood on Jon’s scalp. “Do you honestly forgive her?”
Martin caught his eyes, and Jon felt compelled to answer honestly. “No. There are some things you can’t just forgive.” He looked down at his lap. The tears that had been building behind his eyes since he handed Daisy the knife threatened to spill, but he blinked them back down. He looked back up at Martin. “But she is trying.” His voice broke. “What else can she do?”
Martin held his gaze knowingly, mercilessly, and this was exactly what he had been trying to avoid: talking to someone who knew what he was, and having to look them in the eye.
He stood up and made for the door.
“I should go. I-I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, and I– I wasn’t trying to–”
“Jon.” Martin grabbed his arm and held him back. “At least let me bandage it.”
Jon let himself be guided back into the seat and sat still while Martin dabbed carefully at the blood. He could feel the breeze on that side of his head, now that most of the hair had been cut away, and it made him feel uncomfortably exposed.
The pocket knife was still squeezed tight in his fist. He reluctantly unfurled his fingers when he remembered it was there and let it sit, heavy and smooth, in his open palm.
“What are you going to do about your hair?”
“I don’t know,” Jon said. He’d probably have to do it himself in the end, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.
Martin pressed a bandage onto the cut and smoothed out the edges with his thumb. Then he glanced down at the knife in Jon’s hand, and whispered, “I could cut it, if you want. I mean, I couldn’t do it well, but I could do it.”
“Alright,” Jon replied instantly. He thought they were both a bit shocked at his eagerness.
Martin took the knife from Jon. He stepped behind the chair and ran an exploratory hand over Jon’s hair.
“Do you want me to take all of it off, or should I try to keep it as long as I can?”
“Up to you,” Jon said. “It doesn’t really matter how it looks.”
“I’ll try to leave it long for now,” Martin said, “I can always cut it shorter if we need to.”
Martin’s fingers ghosted through Jon’s hair, sizing up his task. His hands were colder than Jon remembered, but it was still nice to be this close. They hadn’t spoken in so long.
It was awkward. The blade was dull, and Martin wasn’t as skilled as Daisy was with a knife. There were a lot of whispered apologies as Martin tugged painfully at Jon’s scalp by mistake. But it was still nice. Jon’s galloping heart finally started to calm, pulse slowing to match the steady, rhythmic shhhhk, shhhhk, shhhhk of the knife passing through the hair by his ears.
“I miss you,” Jon whispered. 
“I’m right here.”
“For now.”
Martin sighed. “Look, Jon, I–”
“Have a very important and very secret plan that relies on avoiding me,” Jon finished for him. “I know. I really wasn’t trying for a guilt trip. I just… miss you.” He cleared his throat. It wasn’t intended to give Martin space to say I miss you, too, but he still noticed that Martin didn’t take it. “I’m, uh.” Another cough. “I’m surprised you’re doing this. You don’t have to, if it’s going to spoil things.”
“I can probably be in a room with you for ten minutes without ending the world,” Martin said, but there was something calculating in his voice, like he was actually weighing the probability.
Well. If this was the last ten minutes Jon was going to get in a long while, he may as well address the elephant in the room. They hadn’t spoken since Martin had left that tape.
He opened his mouth. He needed to say something. But what was there to say? I’m sorry? Martin wasn’t the one who Jon owed an apology, at least not about this. I haven’t compelled anyone in a month? A pathetic thing to brag about, worse than saying nothing at all.
As if reading Jon’s mind, Martin whispered, “Why did you do it, Jon?”
The words stuck in Jon’s throat. What was there to say?
“Was it… was it you?” Martin asked.
Jon knew what he meant. Basira had given him the tape, probably assuming – correctly – that the guilt would help keep him in line, so he’d heard Martin’s reaction.
I mean, it’s not him, is it? Not – not really. It’s – what, addiction, instinct, maybe mind control, something like that?
“I thought it might have been the Web,” Jon replied, voice hoarse. “I think… I think I hoped it was the Web. But… I think this is just who I am now.”
The words trailed off until they were almost inaudible, Jon’s throat closing in a self-protective rebellion about what he was saying, but they were true. Little as he wanted to say it, little as he wanted Martin to hear it, the part of him that at this very moment wanted to pry open Martin’s skull and dig out all of his worst traumas was as real as all the parts of him that were horrified at the prospect.
“But you’re trying. Aren’t you?”
Jon nodded. He didn’t think he was succeeding, most days, but he was trying. He didn’t think a person should have to try so hard simply to not hurt people, but, well, he wasn’t exactly a person anymore.
“Well, there you go. It’s like you said” Martin said. “That’s all you can do.”
He fell silent as he sawed through one of the bigger knots. Salt-and-pepper hair drifted to the floor, curling like so many quotation marks.
“And anyway,” he muttered after a moment, “Trying to be better is a lot more helpful than trying to get yourself killed.”
“I–” Jon stuttered, caught out. “I-I–”
“I know what you’re doing–” Martin said, voice slowly growing high-pitched with indignance. “The Buried, Ny-Ålesund – and that’s – that can’t be how you deal with guilt!”
“If I’d stayed in the Buried,” Jon muttered before he could stop himself, “I never would have compelled Jess Terrell.”
“Don’t.” Martin’s voice was sharp, sharper than Jon had ever heard it, and he dropped his hands from Jon’s hair. Even though Martin’s hands were cold, Jon’s skin felt colder when they were gone. Martin repeated, icily, “Don’t.”
“Martin, I–”
“Don’t you dare think like that, because if you get trapped, or killed, or, or I dunno– shot into space, or whatever you get yourself into next, then everything I’ve done will be a waste. This secret, important plan you hate so much is only worth a damn if you’re safe at the end of it.”
His words stirred an itch under Jon’s skin, a deep and urgent need to know. Martin had more information than he did about this – did he know something Jon didn’t about what The Archivist was meant to be? Was Jon going to be responsible for the fate of the world again?
He wasn’t going to compel Martin – he was still just in control of himself enough to resist that – but he prompted him, lightly. “Because…”
“Because I love you! Obviously.”
Oh. Jon had heard the gossip, of course, and he wasn’t quite so oblivious as to never suspect, but, well… a lot had changed. But Martin knew all that, and he said love anyway.
Love. Present tense.
“Martin, I–” Jon murmured, but Martin cut him off.
“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t say it,” he whispered. “That would spoil things.”
“Alright,” Jon said. He could follow instructions for once. But Martin had said nothing about nonverbal communication, so he leaned back until his head came to rest against Martin’s sweater, and nuzzled into his chest. Martin reached a hand up to cup Jon’s cheek, and Jon grabbed it and held it in place, just for a moment.
He hoped his meaning was clear. Even if the stakes were as high Martin said, even if this ruined everything – he needed Martin to know.
Martin pulled away. “Come on,” he huffed affectionately, “Your ten minutes are almost up.”
It had definitely been more than ten minutes, but Jon wasn’t going to correct him.
Martin made quick work of the rest of the knots. He hmm ’ed quietly when they were all out, then took a pass at trying to even out the length of what was left. Judging by the noises he made while he worked, it didn’t go quite smoothly.
“There,” he said eventually, “I think that’s done.” He ruffled the short locks. “There’s a toilet down the hall, if you want to look in the mirror.”
Jon shook his head. “I trust you.”
Martin flashed an apologetic grimace. “You shouldn’t. It looks… Well, you shouldn’t have to deal with knots for a while, I don’t think it’s long enough.”
“Thanks.”
“Any time,” Martin said, and Jon knew it wasn’t true, but it still felt nice to hear.
Jon forced himself to walk away. He wandered back to the Archives, but his mind stayed in the office.
Daisy was in the break room. She looked a lot calmer, standing by the couch doing the stretches her physical therapist had recommended to make up for the muscle atrophy she’d suffered in those long months of entombment.
She nodded approvingly when she saw him. “I like your haircut.”
Jon pushed a self-conscious hair through the startlingly short strands of his newly-shorn hair. “Thanks.”
“Get your head patched up?”
“Yeah.”
Another nod. “Good.”
She didn’t ask who’s done it. Jon had always liked that about Daisy. She didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Jon fingered the edge of his bandage, and remembered the feeling of Martin’s hands on his skin.
She finished her stretches and walked over.
“I was thinking about ducking out and grabbing a drink. It’s been a hell of a day. You coming?”
He hesitated a moment. 
“Sure. Just let me grab my coat.”
Then he set off, to grab a drink, and to think about Martin, and to sit in comforting silence with the friend he loved but could never forgive. 
(view this work on AO3)
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13atoms · 3 months
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Arm in Arm (Count Orlo x tall!female!reader)
Thank you for the people who recommended Orlo for this! Getting back into writing fic after so long off was very difficult and very slow, but this is a first step! Reader is taller than Orlo (>5'8" or something?) and wearing a skirt.
Fluff (very light hurt/comfort) | Oneshot | 1.6k
It was a generous Russian morning, which looked to precede a deeply pleasant day. The whole world was languid and cheery, with a gentle breeze swaying through the summer drapes and sunlight illuminating patches of the rugs which ran through Orlo’s living quarters. The fire was built in its grate, but unlit, and the chaise longues had been moved to let you bathe in the warmth of the sun instead.
There was a great feast being held somewhere which wasn’t the Palace, and the whole place had breathed a sigh of relief as a great convoy of nobles and royals set off to attend it. It was, Orlo decreed, a rare day off. And the two of you were to enjoy it together.
You groaned and stretched out, wary where your legs were draped across Orlo’s lap. There’s a burning behind your eyes as you closed your book over your thumb, and extend both of your arms over your head. Hours of reading had left a tension in every part of you, yet it quickly melted away.
 Orlo closed his own book, stretching himself out like a cat with a groan so gratuitous you were sure he’d intended for the sound to make you laugh. He yawned as he set the books aside and hugged your calves to his chest, making you shout out in shock as you were pulled down in your seat.
Laying flat, you looked up at him, felt the gentle stetch through your spine as he kept a hold of your legs. Orlo was smiling lazily, in a way you hadn’t seen him do in months. You flexed your bare feet, felt the muscles of your calves move against his arms, and threw your head back to stare at the ceiling.
It was painted with great skill, depicting a scene you probably ought to distantly recognise from the Bible. You had no inclination to focus on the brushstrokes for that long. Instead, you enjoyed the settling of your back against soft cushions, and the gentle patterns Orlo was tracing on your ankle.
“You’re too long for his sofa,” he mused, finally setting your legs down and letting them hang off the end of the arm.
He was trapped in, slouched under your legs, head lolling against the cushion behind him. Looking down the length of your own body, you only felt contentment. The Count clearly didn’t have anywhere else he’d rather be.
“I’m too tall for the chaise in my apartments too, the furniture-makers ought to be more considerate.”
You had no quarrel with the chaise. Not really. You were enjoying the relaxing, hazy feeling of having your legs above your head.
“I suppose if it just means we have to be closer together.”
“Tragic,” you murmured, looking back at the ceiling.
Orlo snorted a laugh, pulling his glasses from his face and tossing them onto the side table. When you lifted your head to look at him he was rubbing at the indents his glasses left on his nose. You loved seeing him without them, it was something private. Reserved for you. He squirmed with discomfort when you said it, but he was so pretty without them.
“Does it bother you?” he asked suddenly.
You cocked your head, humming a question.
“Height, I mean?”
Entangled together, you had forgotten he was any shorter than you. Now he looked at your legs, side-by-side, as his stretched out in front of him, and you felt a flash of embarrassment.
“I suppose… sometimes I think I’d prefer being shorter. It would be easier.”
Orlo frowned at you for a moment, and then rushed to speak, his words falling over each other.
“No! That’s not what I meant at all!”
His hand was back on your calf. Orlo’s eyes were wide and sincere, flashed with panic where they had been downcast a moment ago.
“I just meant…” he thought for a moment, thumb rubbing across your calf, “I know it’s not… popular to be seen with men shorter than you are.”
You thought for a moment, that uncomfortable sting in your chest completely extinguished by the slight shine of Orlo’s eyes. There’s nothing wrong with you, you wanted to tell him. You saw how Peter looked down at him, how people made jokes. The way being measured for new clothes would put a damper on his whole day. He’s avoided the process entirely for far too long, until he began courting you.
 “Do you think there’s anything I’d want to change about you?”
“Wouldn’t you prefer it? For it to be a little more comfortable when we dance? To have someone… more?”
“All we have are the gifts we are given, Orlo. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”
 He struggled to articulate what it was he wanted to say, and you waited, not wishing to put ideas in his head or words in his mouth. His hand found your ankle, and stroked over the delicate bone there. He brought his face to your calf, and mumbled against it as he spoke.
“I just want you to feel protected…”
“I do,” you insisted, quiet and sincere.
For a moment there was silence. You stared back at the ceiling, a maze of richly coloured stories merging into one another. Was that Eve above you, tempted by the serpent? Samson, in the next scene? With long cut locks of hair beside his sleeping face, and the glint of Delilah’s knife against the pillow?
“I’m sorry. You should never have to feel inadequate… I try to slouch. To not make it obvious. I can step further away, if you prefer…”
“I hate when you do that,” he told you plainly, no anger or malice in his voice. “You’ll hurt your back.”
The paused for a while, staring at the carpet.
“You don’t have to change yourself for me either.”
“I know I just feel bad sometimes…”
You thought about him in the moment he thought no one was watching, straining to stand up straighter, rocking on the heels of his shoes, staying seated when Peter walked up behind his desk to speak with him.
“Why would you feel bad?”
“It’s not as though you’re short, Orlo. Lots of women would look fine beside you, I’m just tall. I just know… some men don’t like being the shorter one.”
“I love that you’re taller than me.”
You ignored him. The cut on Adam’s rib was a smear of crimson against delicately painted skin, the paint so fresh it might have been real blood pouring from the ceiling.
“Catherine is tall,” he murmured, “and widely considered one of the most beautiful women in Russia.”
You hummed, and he reached for your hand, pulling it into his lap.
“Probably the second most beautiful,” he teased, and you scoffed at him.
“She’s not that tall. Peter is taller.”
“Peter is far too tall. I often think if he were shorter, he couldn’t get away with as much. He’d be too easy to punch.”
You shushed him, the sound broken by a laugh, and Orlo groaned, hiding his smile against your underskirts.
“I don’t want to make you feel bad about yourself. You have to know, that’s the last thing I want.”
“You don’t.”
He thought for a moment, and tapped his fingers on your skin in the pattern his often drummed into his desk. Finally, he spoke again.
“I love to see how tall you are. I love that I can spot you across a room, that you can do things with such ease. I envy it, sometimes. When I have to rush to keep up with you.”
You groaned as you curled yourself towards him, taking another moment to stretch. That horrid pang in your chest was now absent, replaced with something warm. Your guard was down. The palace was so quiet the outside world might as well not have existed. You indulged your insecurities a little longer, knowing Orlo wouldn’t strike if you showed weakness.
“I always worry that eventually you’ll find someone… easier. Someone shorter.”
“Why would I even be thinking about that, when I’ve got you?”
“A good point.”
It took a great amount of shuffling to lie next to him on the chaise, but it was worth it, to be beside his warm body. He pulled one of your legs over him, offered his bicep as a pillow. His dark, warm eyes staring into yours still gave you butterflies.
“If our heights bother other people, that is their problem. I’ve never known someone who understands me so well,” he murmured, “even if you take up far more of the bed than you ought to.”
“You’ve never complained about me being in your bed. You cling to me –”
“Yes, I understand. I’m teasing you, my love. I want you to take up every bed I ever sleep in.”
“I wish you saw yourself how I see you, Orlo. You’d never feel like you needed to be taller again – you’re the only person I pay attention to in any room.”
“How funny, I feel completely the same.”
You would concede, months later, when the bloodshed had ended and Orlo’s quarters grew far too big for one man, that he had been right to have a longer chaise long made. And when he crushed himself into you after long, arduous nights, his face pressed to your neck, you would both be grateful you could shelter him from the world – even for the shortest moment.
“Do you want to go out today?” he asked, when his arm was going numb from cushioning your head and the sun was high in the sky.
“Perhaps just for some air?”
“That would be nice.”
Your elbows didn’t really fit with one another, formally walking arm-in-arm as many other couples did – though you didn’t feel sorry for it. Instead you took a turn of the gardens hand-in-hand, head held high, all the closer for it.
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flightlessangelwings · 8 months
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My blogs and all my works are 18+ only! Minors do not interact, you will be blocked! Blank and ageless blogs will also be blocked!
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hekateinhell · 6 months
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#vcficfriday! ♥️
here's some fics I've recently read and reread that I loved and if you follow me and like my tastes, I think you will too! 🥹
Eia Mater, fons amoris by Liaeling
Chapters: 2/29 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt Summary: “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.” A tear ran down her cheek. “Forgive me Father—no, forgive me Mother—for I have sinned. And yet… Loving her was worth it.”
omg okay even if this fic wasn't a birthday gift for me, I WOULD STILL BE YELLING ABOUT IT 🥹 like umm hello? lestat/armand AU, lesbians, religious motifs, scandalous relationships!!! 🫢 this is where I LIVE and I'm so excited to see where it goes because my god the opening is so dramatic!!! MY GIRLS!!!!
Cauda Pavonis by @monstersinthecosmos
Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Armand/Marius de Romanus/Bianca Solderini Summary: A few months ago, this would have been different.
ugh I love kacy's fics so much because they slot so perfectly into canon and really capture the anne rice monsterfucking vibe to perfection! the nuances of a threesome dynamic can be so tricky to navigate (at least for me) but of course it works effortlessly here 🥰 and just- amadeo genderfuckery! bianca getting the pleasure she deserves! marius doing what he does best! 🥵
you come in so hard (gore me through the heart) by Anonymous
Chapters: 3/? Rating: Explicit Relationships: Armand/Marius de Romanus Series: Part 2 of the velvet of cold flesh Summary: “There were no records or tales of any blood drinkers siring children, one of the many prices of immortality, or so it seemed. But there was no mistaking the smell, if the pup were not his own he would be able to smell it, and it would not be driving him out of his mind to leave him at every sunrise to return to his sarcophagus.
To leave them both.”
-
or, the one in which Marius is no longer a creature who can bring only death, much to the surprise of himself and Amadeo.
ahhhhhhh it's no secret I love a good pregnancy/baby trope (idc how we get there, I just wanna see it) and this one fits the bill beautifully!!! 🥹 I love how much world building is going into making omegaverse work with vampires, and I love even more that it's set in venice era and we get amadeo's relationships with bianca and riccardo too I'M SO SOFT FOR THEM ❤️
anyway hope you all have a good weekend and get to relax and read something fun! xoxo
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chrollohearttags · 3 months
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I’ve been having a nice little block party for the past couple of days. 10/10, highly recommended. ☺️
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chronicowboy · 2 years
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9-1-1, what's your fantasy? | 5k
the season 6, episode 8 spec fic no one asked for
or: buck crashes the jeep, dreams and figures some shit out
Buck wakes up to ringing ears and the soft glow of pale morning light.
He squints at the sudden brightness, head pounding in objection, and pulls the blanket over his head. He frowns.
Its not an unfamiliar blanket, not by any means, but its not his blanket. And he's definitely not the only one under it.
A heavy arm tightens around his waist, squeezing almost painfully before going slack and boneless. His bedfellow huffs a half-asleep laugh as they shuffle closer and Buck holds his breath against what he knows is coming.
"You can ostrich all you'd like, but that alarm is going to go off in seven minutes." Eddie's voice, warm and sweet like honey.
"Why?" Buck grumbles, the alarm bell ringing in the back of his head too faint to make it through the fog of his mind.
"Our son has school." Eddie says around a yawn, shuffling closer still until his face is nestled in the crook of Buck's neck.
"Your son." He whispers to himself, enough forethought to contest that piece of information.
"He's your son before ten."
Eddie drops a kiss to the skin of his throat then, a dizzying brush of dry lips, barely any pressure and yet somehow a sting shoots through him. A pleased hum, and Eddie opens his mouth enough to sink his teeth into the tender skin. Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. Eddie pulls away after a moment of suckling, presses another kiss to the mark before nuzzling his nose against it.
A lazy smile tugs at Buck's lips as Eddie noses his way up to Buck's jaw. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the light now dimmed by the shadow leaning over him, and Eddie comes into focus. He's always soft in the morning, sleep-rumpled and oh-so-beautiful. His mussed hair sticks up every which way, loose strands falling over his forehead, between his bleary, half-squinted eyes as warm and inviting as a cup of coffee in the morning. There's stubble on his jaw too, built up over their days off, and it provides a delicious scratch as Eddie leans down to kiss him square on the mouth.
Buck feels like he's missing something, like he's taken the stairs two at a time and misjudged where they ended, like he's skipped a few pages of his book. But with Eddie licking into his mouth, morning breath and all, with Eddie's bulging arms either side of his head, caging him in, with Eddie's thigh slotted between his legs, he can't find it in himself to care about whatever piece of information he's forgetting. It can itch at him all it likes, but the pressure of Eddie's knee against his crotch scratches another much more pressing itch that drowns out the other. Besides, its his year of saying yes to possibilities and it looks like morning sex with his best friend is a very probable possibility right now.
Eddie deepens the kiss somehow, settling his weight on top of Buck fully. For a second, it knocks the wind from him, feels a little like a ladder truck landing on his chest, and he can't breathe through it. But then, Eddie shifts and the sensation vanishes, replaced by the pleasure of a body pressing him into the mattress. Buck moans as Eddie sucks on his tongue, hips bucking up of their own accord, and Eddie wrenches himself away with a gasp.
(read the rest on ao3)
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