#poly!au

Soft music played out of your speaker as you cleaned up your kitchen and living room. You’d already gotten everything set up and were just waiting for your boyfriends and the food delivery to arrive. You hummed to the song, wiping down your coffee table. The playlist had been made for you by an old friend, and you put it on whenever it felt right.

Your doorbell rang before you hurried over, grabbing the food from the delivery person, mumbling a quick thank you. You opened the bag of food, placing each item where each of your boyfriends and you sat. Once you took a final look at the table, set up with enough plates, chopsticks, spoons, napkins, wine glasses, and finally, the food. You reached for your phone in your pocket, checking the time and seeing if you’d missed any messages.

Mark: We’ll be there in a couple minutes.

You smiled to yourself before checking yourself out in a nearby mirror, making sure you looked lovely. Even though you knew your boyfriends would be wearing sweatpants or gym shorts, you still wanted to look nice for them. It’d been so long since you’ve seen each other at this point and tonight was about all their hard work.

They’d been promoting for their comeback, spending days working on the dance, filming, and appearing on various shows. This comeback was successful, and they’d even won a couple music show awards. They’d worked so hard, and you wanted to congratulate them and help them relax.

A knock was heard on your door, causing you to grin and rush to the door. “Y/N!” Haechan started, quickly pulling you into a hug. He kissed the side of your head before releasing you from his grip, knowing he would be yelled at if he kept it up too much longer.

Each of your boyfriends entered, giving you quick hugs, kisses, and compliments before they took a seat at the set dining table. You’d half expected them to have already started eating by the time your last boyfriend, Jaemin, had walked through the door. However, they were all waiting patiently for you to sit at the table with them.

“Dig in! I don’t want it to get cold,” you stated with a chuckle. They each quickly started eating, likely their first meal in many hours as they’d finished some final meetings before their official break.

Your apartment, initially quiet with the sound of your movements, humming, and the soft music playing in the background, was now booming with sound. Before you took your own seat, you slipped into the kitchen to grab the wine you’d bought for tonight, three bottles of various flavors.

“Don’t forget some wine,” you sang, setting the bottles in the middle of the table.

“You even got us wine? I love you!” Renjun confessed, reaching for a bottle and pouring himself a glass.

“Of course! You worked so hard and I wanted to congratulate you on your wins.” You blushed lightly.

“What did we ever do to deserve you, Y/N?” Jeno asked rhetorically, pouring himself a glass. You grinned, finding your own seat between Jaemin and Mark.

As you started to eat, everyone had some wine in their glass and was just as talkative as before. Usually, the boys would be much quieter as they were exhausted from work, but they were too happy with the food and wine.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After you’d all finished your food and had a couple glasses of wine, the apartment was quiet again, reminding you that you’d left your music on. Head a little tipsy from the alcohol, you stood up, slowly moving your body with the music. You smiled and blushed but continued anyway.

After about a minute, you turned back to the table and grabbed Renjun’s hand. He got the hint quickly, standing up and joining you with the dance. He kept you close and let you twirl around his finger, following your lead. You could feel the other guys’ eyes on you two as you finished the song with a quick kiss. You couldn’t help but giggle happily before returning to the table for your next victims.

Mark and Haechan had been talking to each other quietly, which immediately called out to you. Reaching down, you grabbed one of each of their hands and pulled them away from the table. You brought them over to where Renjun had already started dancing to the next song, starting to dance between Mark and Haechan. They both quickly joined you, even bringing Renjun closer to your little huddle. Small laughs could be heard over the soft music as you lip-synced.

As the bridge of the song started, you returned to the table one last time. “Jaemin, Jeno, come dance,” you’re voice slurring ever so slightly. The two men looked at each other before following your command, joining the rest of you dancing.

The songs continued their slow pace, allowing you all to calmly move your bodies to the beat. At one point, Renjun even got Mark to do a dip, immediately getting the rest of your attention. You clapped while Jaemin cheered.

As you started to get tired and the alcohol’s effect wore off, you took a seat on the couch with another glass of wine. You sipped on it periodically as you watched your boyfriends dancing and giggling with each other.

But the exhaustion caught up with them quickly from their overworked weeks, and they joined you in the living room, sitting on the couch or floor. You retrieved the rest of the wine and some glasses, returning to the couch and pouring everyone one last glass.

“Did you have fun?” you asked softly, settling between Jeno and Haechan.

Mark and Jaemin nodded, finishing the rest of their glasses. Jaemin rested his head on Mark’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Mark titled his own head, leaning against Jaemin’s.

Renjun, who was seated on the floor by Jeno’s legs, also rested his head on Jeno’s leg, sipping absentmindedly.

The music still continued to play quietly as everyone relaxed and rested. Once you finished your own glass, you stood, deciding to clean everything up. You retrieved the empty wine glasses on the coffee table and set them on the kitchen counter near the sink. To your surprise, Haechan was already at the table, starting to help you clean everything up.

“Haechan, you don’t have to help me. Go rest.”

He simply shook his head, continuing to stack the plates. “I wanna help.” You gave him a weird look, which made him lightly hit your arm. “Don’t look at me like that. Can’t I help my partner clean up?”

You pulled your hands up defensively, laughing softly. “Sorry, just didn’t expect this.” You started grabbing all the chopsticks and spoons.

With Haechan’s help, you’d cleaned up everything a lot faster. He surprised you even further, though, when he helped you do the dishes. You’d remained skeptical of his intentions but let him help you anyway. As he dried the last plate and set it back in the cabinet, he smirked.

“Why are you smirking?” you asked carefully.

“No reason,” he said, kissing you quickly. “I just love you.”

“I love you too.”

He smiled, leading you back out to the living room. Taking a look around, you noticed the rest of them were all sound asleep, leaning on or cuddling each other. Your chest felt heavy as you noticed each of them. “Should we wake them up?” Haechan asked from beside you.

You shook your head, “They seem comfortable. Plus, we won’t all fit in my bed, so now there won’t be any fighting.” Haechan chuckled and watched as you grabbed a few blankets from your bedroom. You covered each of your sleeping boyfriends’ bodies, smiling to yourself. You then turned off the lights before heading back to your bedroom.

Haechan followed you, quickly getting comfortable on your bed. You changed out of your clothes and into something more comfortable before joining Haechan in bed. You curled up against him, already feeling like you would fall asleep any minute.

Haechan smiled to himself, “This is why I helped you,” he whispered.

You playfully hit his abdomen, “You sneaky shit.”

You could hear the boys loudly talking as they walked down the hallway before they entered your shared apartment. You couldn’t help but grin as you tried to hear what they were talking about while you keep your eyes on the tv playing a new show you’d just gotten into. Once the door opened, their voices were significantly louder, continuing their debate.

“Y/N!” Jungwoo called, running to your spot once he got his shoes off. He tackled you in a tight hug, pushing you onto your side. “I missed you,” he’d comment, kissing the side of your head.

“We missed you too,” Haechan pouted, trying to get involved in the cuddling mess before him.

“Give Y/N some room you two,” Kun commanded from across the room, fixing their shoes and picking up their thrown jackets and bags.

“It’s okay Kun,” you replied, your heart full from seeing your boyfriends for the first time in a couple days. They’d been busy with some meetings to discuss comeback plans and the possibility of a new subunit debuting soon. “Where’s Doyoung?”

“He had to go pick up something quick. He said he’ll be home soon,” Kun replied, finally feeling content with how the entryway looked. He made his way over to you three on the couch, his smile ever-present as he finally took you in. Haechan had finally made Jungwoo move so he could join you at your other side. Both boys did their best to pull you closer to them, each resting their heads on your shoulders.

“He went by himself?” you asked softly, looking towards Kun, who took a seat across from you.

Jungwoo nodded, “he said it was a secret so we couldn’t go with him.” His voice was quiet as he snuggled into the crook of your neck.

“Did you eat yet, Y/N?” Haechan asked, his finger drawing lazy shapes on your thigh.

“Yeah, I got some pizza earlier.” Jungwoo immediately moved his head away from you and pouted. You smiled, “There’s some leftovers in the fridge for you Jungwoo.”

He grinned and rushed to the kitchen to grab a couple of slices. Kun took the chance to kiss your forehead while Jungwoo was distracted. He also ruffled Haechan’s hair, earning a light slap to the wrist from the youngest. You giggled softly as you pet Haechan’s hair, trying to fix it for him. “You’re so cute, Channie,” Kun cooed.

“Y/N, tell Kun to leave me alone,” he mumbled beside you. You just smiled in response, holding one of Kun’s hands in your own.

“Don’t cuddle without me!” Jungwoo yelled, returning from the kitchen, a small piece of sauce still in the corner of his mouth. He jumped onto the couch and returned to his spot beside you.

“You have something on your face,” Kun mentioned, leaning over to clean it off with his hand. Jungwoo instead pulled Kun further, their faces inches from each other. Kun got the hint, licking off the sauce from his lip.

They smiled at each other, “Thank you, Kun.”

“Get a room,” Haechan groaned, making the rest of you laugh.

“Are you jealous, Haechan?” Jungwoo questioned.

“Y/N, make them stop,” he whined from beside you. Before you could say anything, Kun had moved in front of Haechan, his hand cupping the younger’s chin and pulling him in for a short, soft kiss. Haechan seemed shocked after Kun pulled away, becoming silent as his face started turning red.

You glanced up at Kun expectedly, waiting for your turn. Kun just grinned in response, mirroring his previous actions with Haechan now with you. This kiss lasted a lot longer than the one between Haechan and Kun, but it remained soft and innocent and full of love. Kun smiled shyly at you as he pulled away. You smiled back in return before he moved to the couch across from you once again. A light conversation about your days started as you waited for your last boyfriend to return home.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“I’m home,” Doyoung sang as he closed the front door behind him, kicking his shoes off. Three bags hung from his arms, two filled with food and one with his surprise. The surprise that had caused his chest to tighten for most of the day and only just got worse as he walked home from the store.

“Doyoung!” Jungwoo yelled, removing himself from his spot beside you to run-up to the older man like an excited puppy. He reached to grab the bags in his arms, only for them to be pulled away from him.

“I still have a surprise. I don’t want you to ruin it,” Doyoung explained once he saw Jungwoo’s small pout. Jungwoo nodded, trudging back to his spot on the couch. Doyoung followed after setting the non-food bag on the table near the door. “I brought some snacks and drinks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you started as he handed you a bottle of your favorite soda.

“But I wanted to,” he continued, passing the other men their respective drinks and snacks.

“Is this your surprise?” Kun questioned, opening his can.

“If this was my surprise, don’t you think I would’ve let you guys come with me?” Doyoung responded with a small smirk. “I’ll go grab the real surprise,” he said, setting his drink on the coffee table.

Once he returned with the bag, he instructed you all to sit on the couch. Kun sat next to Jungwoo while Haechan and Jungwoo sat up more. “Okay, close your eyes. No peaking.”

Doyoung grabbed one box from the bag and quickly opened it, hooking the chain around his neck. His smile was ever-present as he adjusted the necklace. “Hold your hands out please. Do not open your eyes until I say so.” You all nodded at him, each of your patience running out as time moved on. He placed one small box into each of your open palms, noticing how his hands shook from anxiety awaiting your reactions.

“I think I know what this is,” Haechan teased, feeling the box with one of his hands.

“Haechan, I will take your back.” Doyoung replied, just as teasingly but featuring a hint of truth. Haechan stopped, moving both his hands to hold the box like he was initially instructed. “Okay, you can all open your eyes and open your gift.”

Doyoung’s breath hitched in his chest as he observed each of your reactions. You all opened the box at the same time, in sync with each other from years of being together. You gasped as you took in the piece of jewelry, right hand moving to cover your gaping mouth. “Doyoung...” You let slip out quietly. Your other boyfriends had smiles on their faces as they also processed their matching gifts.

“Do you like it?” You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice at the moment. Your right hand moved from your mouth to take the necklace out of its safe box. The necklace had five rings intertwined with each other, each ring alternating between black and white.

“Doyoung, this is so sweet,” Kun spoke first, his eyes sparkling with love.

“How did you get these?” Jungwoo moved to clasp the chain around his own neck after seeing the chain dangling from Doyoung’s own neck.

“I know a guy,” he answered nonchalantly, a giant grin plastered on his face. Kun and Haechan had started clasping their respective chains on their own necks. “Do you want help, Y/N?” Doyoung asked softly, his eyes filled with worry as he watched you nearly freezing up while staring at the rings. You were taken out of your daydream from his voice, only responding with a small nod.

He came up behind the couch, taking the necklace from your hands gently to clasp it around your neck for you. You couldn’t help but lightly touch the rings as they rested below your collarbones. Once it was secured, he leaned down a placed a couple of soft kisses on your head. Haechan and Jungwoo whined at the affection, causing Doyoung to chuckle and place kisses on both of their heads as well.

“I thought you didn’t like couple items,” you finally stated, waiting for Doyoung to return to his spot in front of you all.

He sat on the coffee table, resting his elbows and forearms on his thighs and leaning forward, “I usually don’t. It’s risky to have couple items and getting caught by fans or paparazzi wearing them. But I saw a couple with a similar necklace and I really liked it. It’s very subtle and can be hidden under our shirts or jackets so it’s a little safer. I searched for a place that would custom make us versions with five rings instead of two. It took a while, but they finally finished them today.”

“Aw, Doyoung is a sappy romantic,” Haechan teased, getting up and hugging Doyoung tightly. You giggled along with Jungwoo and Kun, all three of you joining the hug. While you rarely did group hugs like this, the love in the air was palpable.

“I love you guys,” you mumbled, slowly starting to part from the group because of the radiating heat of your boyfriends being so close.

“We love you too,” Kun replied, also pulling away. After a few more seconds, the hug was over, Doyoung finally being free of Haechan’s tight grip.

“And just because it’s subtle doesn’t mean you don’t still need to be careful,” Doyoung started, looking between Jungwoo, Haechan, and Kun. “Remember to keep it hidden when you can. We don’t want to deal with another lecture from staff do we?” He asked rhetorically. The three boys nodded almost automatically.

“I think we can handle it,” Jungwoo commented confidently. Doyoung nearly shot him a glare but stopped himself.

“Better safe than sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m glad you liked them,” his smile returning once again.

“Thank you, Doyoungie,” you started, the rest of the boys following suit with their own thankful messages.

Just as you felt Jungwoo start leaning into you, his first sign of cuddling, you removed yourself from the couch. You could nearly feel Jungwoo’s pout and puppy-like eyes following your every move, but you kept going. Reaching for Kun and Doyoung’s hands, you led them to the other couch across from the one you were just on. You decided to sit on Doyoung’s lap while resting your legs across Kun’s and hugging Doyoung’s waist to keep yourself steady.

“Hey, why are you cuddling with them?” Haechan asked, his arms crossed like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Hyuk, I just cuddled with you and Jungwoo since you came home. I think it’s their turn now, don’t you?” You watched as both Jungwoo and Haechan shake their heads and pout before they decided to cuddle together instead. You thought they may be trying to make you jealous. Still, you were never jealous that easily, especially after being in this polyamorous relationship for so long. You returned your attention to your two oldest boyfriends, one hand playing with Doyoung’s hair and the other holding onto one of Kun’s.

so. much. stimulation.

it isn’t right. every time konoha drops you back down on his dick, bokuto is right there, warm mouth wrapping around your clit to suck and flick at it with his tongue. and when he’s not, it’s because konoha is dragging his cock out of you and you’re left to experience the devestation of being empty but at least you get to hear konoha’s raspy moans and the heat that flashes through you to know that if you look down, bokuto will be staring at you even with konoha’s balls in his mouth.

at any rate, the the pleasure is excruciating— konoha’s cock pressing your sensitive walls outward with his girth and bokuto always there to catch you, make your swollen, little clit twitch under his tongue.

“aki! kou!” your mouth isn’t sure what name it should be moaning. “g’na ma’me come,” you slur, head knocking against konoha’s shoulder.

the sound of his deep chuckle in your ear makes your cunt clench around him eagerly. it doesn’t help that he lifts you only slightly — enough for him to rut his cock into your pussy — keeping you low enough for bokuto’s mouth to work your clit. your cunt’s drooling so much, spasming and leaking all over konoha’s cock, but bokuto’s quick to slurp up everything you’re leaking, tongue caressing the exposed part of konoha’s dick and the lips of your cunt.

jesus, you’re so close.

“that’s the point, baby,” konoha whispers, biting at your exposed neck. “gonna stuff this pretty fucking cunt with my cum. then i’ll pass you to bo and let him do the same.”

“n-no!” you cry, body shaking at the thought of taking them both inside you, letting them both fill you up. “i’ll be so full!”

“yeah, you will, pretty girl,” you boyfriend says, lifting you off his dick fully just to slam you back down. “our little cumdump, hm?”

the crude word makes heat bloom in your pelvis, the ever-approaching orgasm slamming into you. konoha leaves you flush with his hips, grinding his cock into you while bokuto suckles at your clit, eyes never leaving your face. not even when you’re strangling konoha with one arm and pushing at bokuto with the other, spraying your release all over his face.

it’s white hot, making you gasp and mewl and sob. neither man stops until you’re clawing at them, muscles of your abdomen cramping with how much trembling you’re doing. there’s cum spilling out of your cunt when konoha’s lifts you and you’re too embarrassed to speak. he passes you to bokuto without a word and all you can do is twitch pathetically when the larger man spears you upon his length, shoving his own wet face into the crook of your neck.

“aki, a-akinori, no,” you plead holding your hands out as the blonde moves forward, head dipping towards where your abused hole is wrapped around bokuto’s cock. as if you could stop him.

“bo,” is all he says, before bokuto’s arms holding yours down. “that’s better.”

“t-tarou?” you question, squirming on the dick inside you.

“pretty lil cumdump,” bokuto slurs, hips bouncing up with enough strength to jostle you up and then down, thrusting within you with just the force of his thighs and hips. “aki said we were gonna fill you up, baby. and we never break a promise.”

“yeah. good boy, kou,” konoha grins, waiting for bokuto to drop you back down so he can wrap his own mouth around your clit. “g’na be a good girl, right, babe?”

Three years ago you started a shop of your own, one typical of a witch like yourself. All herbs and tea leaves and scented candles and crystals, ground sunflower seeds and fruits and, later on, potions; the thing that's gathered the most attention in your community, from both supernatural beings and, as harry potter so delicately put it, muggles alike.

On Sundays, you sit behind the shop's counter on the red cushioned bean bag chairs that Jungkook likes so much, taking in the low hanging vines of your small, dainty little shop, the smell of old parchment and the sound of fluttering pages, the shelves of books barely anyone but yourself reads but are familiar and comforting nevertheless.

On Sundays, people stop by; sometimes for tea, mostly for potions, and one time someone asked for a potion to help him get laid but even so, business is buzzing, Sunday or not.

On Sundays, you tolerate Jungkook's grunts and groans of boredom, the boy taut as violin strings until he starts arm wrestling with the plants and reading books by the corner, his long hair obscuring your view of his features as he bounces all over the place.

In the corner by the bookshelves sits a fish tank you'd gotten over a year ago, courtesy of Jungkook, now barren of fish of any kind. (The male managed to get a goldfish at some point. He named it ironman. It died a week later, now buried in Yoongi's greenhouse, and you coaxed some flowers into sprouting around its grave for his sake. Mostly lavender, reminiscent of your familiar. Lavender helps you sleep. Lavender soothes small hurts.)

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll hear little snippets of a singing voice, murmuring when he thinks no one can hear him — and you can almost feel the creaking of the floorboards and bookshelves ceasing, the books shifting about in their spines halting at the mere sound of it —  as if even the walls are straining to hear the tiny little sounds of your familiar's voice.

And although Sundays are meant for that, meant for all of that, on one particular Sunday you find yourself out of faerie tears to mix into your concoctions. An odd ingredient it is, but important nevertheless. And you know just the faerie willing to hand over some more.

"Yoongi!" You squeal as you enter the greenhouse, messenger bag over your shoulder, glass vials inside of it clinking together as you walk.

The greenhouse isn't big— not as big as Yoongi would have liked it to be, anyway— but it's tall enough to make room for trees of all sizes. Certain panes have been removed on its walls to allow the branches to carry through towards the sky, as if Yoongi would rather tear the place down than tear off a branch. Vines curl around your feet as you walk, tickling at your legs, and the plants greet you softly as you pass, (except the roses. They don’t like you too much and they tend to gossip quite a bit).

You tip your head up to stare at the hazy sky through the glass. It's humid and will probably rain later, another late summer storm.

You hear a grunt.

Hunched over a flowerbed sits a tuft of black, the endearing sight bringing a smile to your face that remains even as the male in question notices your amusement, frowning as his brows furrow and his nose crinkles.

He stands up as gracefully as his little faerie ass can manage, wiping the accumulated sweat on his forehead away with the back of his hand, a streak of dirt on his cheek and, somehow, on his nose. "Yes?" He mutters, grumpy and all, despite his patience as you move to grab an empty vial from your bag.

You stretch the empty glass expectantly, "I'm in need of some faerie tears, my good man."

The man waddles towards you in typical Yoongi fashion, inspecting the vial for a second before his gaze shifts to you, eyes squinted. "You know I don't cry," He says stubbornly.

"Oh, please. You’re one of the softest boys I know. Didn't you take theater in high school? The tears don't have to stem from real sadness, you heathen."

His cheeks redden at your reminder, grabbing the vial from your hands with a huff. "I just messed with the lighting for a while. Fixed the sound. It's not like I acted, damn you."

"But still! You gotta feel some sort of.. kinship. Come on. I'm not asking for much!"

"You're asking for my bodily fluids. It seems like quite a bit to me."

You hide your smile with your hand as you watch the male grunt and grimace, trying to get the tears out by sheer force. His body is shaking a bit at the strain, and you finally laugh when he lets out the breath he'd been holding with a dramatic, Yoongi flair. "Can't do it?" You ask through laughter.

"Shut up." He shoves the vial onto your chest. "Anything else for you to humiliate me with?"

"Huh. I am in need of some pixie dust, now that you mention it."

"Hobi probably has some of that, he's full of pixie friends." You, personally, aren't a fan of those tiny little rascals. The ones around your hometown were known for trouble, pulling at your ears and pushing objects off tables.

Though you suppose the ones around your current home weren't all bad. You've caught a few helping motivate your plants by your window to sprout, and sometimes you find petals by your windowsill that weren't there before, all layered with pixie dust. Sometimes they simply flutter overhead, tossing pink dust at passersby, and sometimes you hear them sneezing by your ear, drunk on plum blossoms.

They hang around Hoseok almost regularly, and it's not uncommon to find a few napping on his head and shoulder, warbling softly in their sleep. That merman attracts a whole bunch of creatures, so you don't blame them, really.

"Well. Walmart probably has some faerie tears, anyway. Thanks, Yoongs!" You pat at the now frozen male's chest thoughtfully, the man blinking slowly with wide eyes. You take off into a sprint at his bewildered WHAT? from behind you, laughter on your heels.

"Here, noona." Your familiar mutters as he walks into you finishing some paperwork, your form hunched out of view under the shop's counter, red bean bag hardly a chair for such a feat but at least it's comfortable. He places a cup of tea by the coffee table beside you, still steaming, the smell wafting through the tiny expanse of your homey shop.

"Thanks, Guk." You murmur in response without looking up, but you still catch his tail let out a tiny wag at that before he nods and shuffles away, almost like a waddle, and disappears into the closet-sized kitchen, large clothes swallowing his form adorably.

He shuffles back a few minutes later with his own cup, sinking into the bean bag beside you. He stretches the cup towards you after a second of hesitation, "Sorry, but could you heat it up please? Do that thing?"

You chuckle, sitting up straight to drop your papers on the counter before turning back towards the werewolf, "'course." You take the cup, fingers brushing against his, and you see him recoil in his seat as he sinks further into it.

Your fingers cup the mug lightly, and you feel the liquid slowly heat up, becoming darker in color. Your eyes catch his gaze as you hand it back, his eyelashes trembling as he looks down, cheeks dusted a shy pink, taking the drink generously. "Thank you," he mutters.

The moment is interrupted by the gentle chiming of the wind chimes tinkling in welcome as someone opens the door, and you stand up with a groan the second you hear it. Gently placing your cup on the coffee table, your attention shifts to the customer tripping into your shop, the smell of rain and autumn and wonder on his heels.

"Can I help you?" You ask, albeit uselessly as he continues inspecting your array of books without a word, pausing at the poetry section.

Maybe you shouldn't have bought those bean bags. They're low enough to hide you completely from view of anyone if you were to sit and you, being the one to sit by the register, kinda have to do that a lot. You take to standing, taking occasional sips from your tea when you think the boy that stumbled in isn't looking.

The boy suddenly marches towards you. Eyes you for a minute. Blinks profusely. "Morning," he says after a moment, voice soothing and soft, like melting butter and dripping honey. He slides a book onto the counter. Poetry.

"Good afternoon," you answer with a twitch of your lips, "Is this all?"

He clears his throat, his cheeks a bit flushed, "Yes."

You can feel his eyes on you. They flick over you quick and then again slower and then again one more time, dragging like a lip being pulled through teeth. You feel tingly.

With a hum, you mutter the price you know by heart as you stuff the book into a bag. His voice interrupts you.  "Do you sell blood here?"

You blink, catch Jungkook freezing from where he's seated. The boy in front of you at least has the decency to look sheepish after a moment, smiling with just a twitch of his lips, and it's then you notice the ever protruding fangs that line the sides of his teeth.

"Uh, nope, sorry."

"Hm." He hums. "How long has this been here? It's, well. Nice. Must be nice to work here."

You scoff out a laugh, "It has its downsides. Pay is shit, mostly. You're mostly just making drinks and making sure no one is doing anything stupid or trying to hide a body in one of the vanishing bookshelves."

"I already disproved that theory, noona!" Comes Jungkook's interjection from somewhere below you, voice laced with an odd sort of pride. "I sat there for an hour and didn't disappear."

"That... okay." Maybe you would scold him in any other setting, seeing as the bookshelf was completely capable of actually making him disappear — but seeing his pretty, honest eyes, his cupid's bow pulled into a smile, well.. who were you to take that away?

It's only then you remember the strange vampire you still have yet to know the name of was here for a reason. Your eyes stray to the book he'd bought, and you notice he seemed to dwell on which to buy for a bit too long. "Do you like poetry?" You mutter as you hand over his purchase.

"Nope." He grins. "I'll be back!" The boy says it like a promise before closing the door behind him, nimble as a cat and grinning like one, too, giving the dream catcher by the entrance a dangle and, in a blink, he's gone.

"That was weird." Jungkook mutters through the rim of his cup, and you agree with a simple nod of the head. “He was pretty, though,” he adds thoughtlessly. You nod again.

You spend your lunch, as you usually do, in a coffee shop close to campus, Jungkook sipping on a milkshake beside you and Yoongi sitting opposite you both, the latter pumping an unreasonable amount of sugar into his coffee.

"So Hobi's in this wack exercising mood these days. He signed us both up for couple's yoga classes."

Your lips twitch upwards at that before you purse your lips, trying to hide your smile. "That's.. wild."

"Yeah. Worst part is that I don't even mind going that much 'cause I know it'll make him happy. Gross, huh?"

"Super gross, dude."

Yoongi picks up his spoon and promptly stabs at the thick layer of sugar in the bottom of his cup, stirring glumly. "Anyway, how's the shop? Anyone walking in asking for condoms again?"

"Well, no, but I was asked if I sell blood bags."

Yoongi raises a brow, probably more surprised that there's a vampire on campus than he is surprised at the question. "Huh. That is weird. Was he cute?"

"Yoongs, you are not asking me if my vampire customer is cute. Tell me you're not." The man promptly starts to sip loudly at his coffee, avoiding eye contact stubbornly. You sigh. "Yes. Yes he was. Damn you." The man grins.

"He really was, though," Jungkook speaks up for the first time since you all sat down — not counting the little hello he'd whispered to Yoongi — and you watch as he sinks down his seat, smiles this shy little thing, cheeks and nose all scrunched up, trying to hide it as he sips aggressively at his oreo milkshake.

You smile knowingly at him and he all but melts, looking out the window, the tips of his ears a pretty pink.

"That so?" Yoongi says, watching you over the rim of his cup, "I was starting to think you two were cave gremlins incapable of feeling. How nice for you."

You scoff out a laugh, "Easy for you to say, you met Hoseok on Grindr."

"And we are positively thriving, thank you for asking."

"Oh!" The tiniest sound, whispered more to himself than anything but you manage to catch it anyway, your familiar's eyes widening prettily as he spots something out the window as his whole face breaks into a smile, cheeks crinkling at the edges, "It's Hobi-hyung!"

"Where?" Yoongi asks but sees him immediately after, the man in question spotting them through the glass and waving frantically, like he thinks you all might not see him.

Hoseok opens the door to the coffee shop cheerily, both the dulcet soft chime above the door and the usual light he carries on his shoulders alerting others of his presence. There are remnants of pixie dust on his shoulders, strapped to his clothes, glued to his hair. He smells of salt water and chlorine and dried flowers and something like pomegranate, just on the edges. The smile that always seems to be perpetually glued to his face brightens as he power walks towards your table by the corner.

"Hey! What're you all doing here?" He asks with a laugh as he slides on the seat beside his boyfriend, and Yoongi allows himself to be hugged by Hoseok, who hugs everyone.

"We're the physical manifestations of Y/n's inner demons." Yoongi says before Jungkook snorts out a laugh endearingly.

"How're classes, Hobi?" You ask, managing to ignore Yoongi only due to several years of training.

Yoongi groans at your question. Pretends to be annoyed. "His yoga classes or his dance classes?" Hoseok laughs at that, a loud and confident thing.

Hoseok laughs a lot. Dances a lot. Smiles a lot. Sometimes helps his dad teach little kids how to swim. Sometimes sea foam sticks to his eyelashes. Knows nothing about flowers but listens patiently when Yoongi talks about them, when Yoongi talks about his greenhouse and his love for jasmines and sweet sweet bubble tea.

You watch as Yoongi listens to Hoseok's ramblings, very much enamored and very much enraptured, eyes filled with love love love, a shy but fiercely sure thing. He's watching with the same soft, scrunched eyes he tends to be looking at everything with these days; at his plants and his friends and his music, like they're something precious, something to be cherished. You watch and it fills you with a not-jealousy, an almost-jealousy, an almost-want.

You want that kind of love, and yet you stray away from it at the first chance you get.

Yoongi leans in close, whispers something in his ear, and it's then that Hoseok snorts the coffee he'd been drinking through his nose, flushed from the tips of his ears down to his collarbones and suddenly they're all laughing, the two sneaking glances at each other. Glances you feel are private, intimate, probably something you weren't meant to see. You look away, feeling as if you're intruding.

Your eyes catch shifting from your peripheral vision, and you turn to see Jungkook moving hesitantly about in his seat, nibbling at the straw of his now empty milkshake. He stops. Purses his lips. Makes eye contact for a second before looking away.

You sigh. "If you clean out the backroom at home tomorrow for twenty minutes, I'll buy you another drink."

Jungkook perks up immediately. "How about if I clean out the backroom for ten minutes?"

"Twenty."

"..Fifteen?"

"Twenty."

"Seventeen."

You consider it. "...Deal."

Jungkook bursts into a celebratory dance as Yoongi tries hard to rein in his smile. You flip the two off before catching Hoseok's eye. WHIPPED, he mouths, enunciating it heavily just to be annoying, so you flip him off, too.

Two years ago, Jungkook entertains a visit to the town's newest herb shop; his expectations low and, despite his pack sending him out to search for medicine, his eyes were mostly searching for amusement.

Witches. A funny lot, all of them. They gather leaves for a living and use brooms as a means of transportation and they sprinkle basil into their soups and they think they know how to — how to herb.

The werewolf approaches the wooden door — printing paper taped to it with 'open' written in sharpie — and in he steps, wind chimes tinkling in welcome. If there was one thing he was expecting, it wasn't this. 

The air smelled like wood and scented candles, paint that's just beginning to dry. Shelves lined the walls from top to bottom with potions and tea and crystals and, well, herbs, and in the far back stood a nearly empty bookshelf, only half the books on the shelves and the rest still sitting in a box not quite in plain sight but not exactly hidden, either, as if the owner hadn't quite finished packing them.

If Jungkook holds his breath just right, he can feel his heart beating in sync with something in the air. Something living. 

Jungkook approaches the counter, searching left and right. No one in sight. "Hello?" He calls out. Flinches when he feels a thud, followed by a very abrupt, very loud—

"OW."

He leans forward tentatively after a moment of hesitation, glancing beneath the counter and, sure enough, there you are. This small thing curled on the floor, rubbing at your head from when you'd just tried to stand. No pointy hat or a big nose or dozens of moles, no evil laugh threatening to tumble out your lips, hidden just under your tongue.

It was just you. Wide eyed you. Sweet smelling you; sugar cookies, his brain supplies even though he didn't ask it to. Sugar cookies and vanilla and dark woods and something like coriander, just on the edges.

"Why were you sitting on the floor?" He asks you, the first thing he asks you.

You look up at him. Stare for a while. Your eyes don't linger on his ears stretched up in curiosity, black fur tipped with brown, or his tail wagging a bit behind him. He grabs at it to make it stop.

"I don't have any chairs." Is all you say, the lilting tone of home in your words. Jungkook laughs that terrible laugh of his, the one with his grin stretched ear to ear, his nose and eyes crinkled terribly. His laugh makes you laugh. Your laughter is terrible too, he notices.

He gets the medicine, tossing a pouch of coins onto the counter, courtesy of his pack. They have a knack at bringing the most inconvenience possible and living as if it were the nineteenth century.

Jungkook thought that would be it. But his father needed more scented candles and his brother needed more tea and his mother whined, like, once, that they were out of basil. And of course there are other shops that sell scented candles and tea and basil, but yours happened to be on his way every time.

True to his word, the vampire does indeed come back.

Despite barely talking to the boy, you know a bit about him from his interactions with Jungkook and what Jungkook, himself, shares with you. There's a dog with angry and very expressive eyebrows as his lock screen. His lips are naturally pouty and his hands are never quite still. Jungkook once stepped into the kitchen with peppa pig bandaids on his knees and despite knowing fully well that it could be any one of your friends, Yoongi is the least prepared person you know, Hoseok was working at that hour, and Jin only carries hello kitty bandaids from down the street, so you have a pretty clear idea of who's responsible.

And despite all that, you know little to nothing about the man personally.

"Noona, he's.. so nice. He's, like, my weekly reminder that I am, in fact, bisexual." Jungkook speaks as he polishes a crystal, sky blue in color and warm in his palm, and you watch him from between the bookshelves, placing your newly ordered volume of Jim Morrison's books through the available spaces.

"That's nice, Guk-ah." And it is, it really is. He's starting to move on and he's happy and his eyes are shining brighter than the crystal in his hands, tiny constellations hidden behind his eyelids, his eyelashes. "Tell me more?"

And so he does. He explains in a tiny voice, a soft one, occasional giggles and nose crinkles and bunny teeth as he talks about this mysterious boy and it all just feels like. So much.

The shop's lights dim the slightest bit. Jungkook doesn't comment on it.

It goes on until you both hear a loud gurgle from the closet-sized kitchen followed by the scent of smoke, and it's only then you remembered the potion you'd left brewing in the cauldron. You trip only once in panic, and Jungkook's laughter echoes through the walls and it follows you the whole way there.

It's a small little thing. A typical witch cauldron in its finest, smaller than average, sitting over your stove and under the kitchen cupboards. They're all filled to the brim with color-coded tupperwares, its ingredients labeled in sharpie in each respective container; because otherwise you wouldn't be able to distinguish the luck potion from the mashed potatoes, the health potion Jungkook thinks tastes like dirt from the apple sauce.

Somewhere between you opening your window to let the smoke out and your attempts at dwindling the damage, your familiar approaches you from behind and looks over your shoulder curiously, ears moving about in alert. "Can you save it? Is it still good?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you." You say in response, but there's no bite to your tone. He bites your shoulder playfully, a tiny howl slipping from his throat. You chuckle, fully endeared.

You grab a nearby measuring cup. You'd prefer glass vials, but they were all being used at the moment, sitting somewhere in your cabinets. You should probably move them somewhere else. Last time they were left alone too long, one exploded and ruined everything else you'd left in that cabinet.

"Do you know if we got any crystal orders recently?"

Jungkook hums at your question, chin propped on your shoulder, his arms still and unsure at his sides. You should probably nudge him off. Some selfish part of you, the bigger part, doesn't let you.

"Um. I think so. Maybe last week? I think you shoved them in a box somewhere." You probably did. It's starting to become a bad habit of yours.

"Dammit."

Jungkook laughs. "What do they do, anyway? Do they predict the future or something?"

"No, unfortunately. Only specific kinds of witches can do that. Divination is pretty hard so I'm pretty sure, like, only Namjoon is capable." You huff out a laugh, "And they're for curses, mostly."

"Namjoon-hyung can do everything so he's the only exception." He pauses. "Except context clues. He's very bad at context clues."

"And taking care of plants," you add. Just last year you'd given him a succulent because you figured it was the easiest thing to keep alive. It died within a week.

You grab a ladle and scoop up some of the liquid from the cauldron, bringing it to your lips before blowing softly. Probably a bad idea to taste test unknown substances, especially in its early stages, but you decide that it's as good a day as any to challenge death, so you swallow some determinedly. It doesn't burn in your throat, just fuzzes and warms a bit on your tongue, so that's a good sign.

"Are we cursing someone?" Jungkook says with a toothy grin before then resolutely, decidedly, adamantly, rests his hands on your hips, twisting his head so his cheek is on your shoulder instead of his chin. You can feel his breath on your neck, goosebumps prickling at your skin, his touch burning even through your clothes.

"No." You say, feeling small. "Not today. Crystals aren't made for that, Gukkie." You mix the wooden spoon through the concoction absentmindedly as you continue, "Plus, curses need a lot of magic. Usually more than one witch. And don't ask Namjoon because I know he would say yes if you asked."

"I think you can do it yourself." He mumbles, nose pressed to your neck.

"Sweet talk isn't going to make me curse someone." You say but your eyes are wide and lovely, as if you'd give in with just a bit more persuasion. "Who do you have in mind, anyway?"

"No one," he hums for a bit, lips pursed, and they tickle your neck a bit in a not-kiss. An almost-kiss. "Yet."

A hearty laugh bursts from your chest and Jungkook giggles along, giggles, the sound delightful and lovely and the cacti on your windowsill hum, leaning into it. You find yourself doing the same. The kitchen gets a tad bit warmer and the lights get a tad bit brighter.

"Any crystal can curse someone if you throw it hard enough." He grins, bright and unreserved. His eyes look like the chocolate truffles he drools over when commercials for it show on TV.

Some days it hurts more than others. This intimacy you have with Jungkook, how safe he makes you feel. How sometimes is hurts just a bit, just around the edges, where it's easy to hide. How sometimes it hurts too much, when the words are all up in your throat and blocking your airway, no space to let your rib cage expand when you try to draw in a breath.

"Guk- grab me some aloe vera roots, please? Please." You whisper, afraid that if you talked any louder the other words would come tumbling out. Your heart sits so big in your chest it's taking too much effort to hold it in place. Hands claw around it incessantly, some squeezing at it and others making it harder for you to breathe.

Jungkook untangles himself from you just as the lights overhead flicker indecisively. His hands don't linger. They feel like they might linger. They hover over your hips for a second, as if he stopped them from lingering.

He says something that sounds like okay, noona but the words get lost somewhere between his tongue and his teeth and only half of it makes it out. You hear cupboards opening and closing—feel Jungkook lingering in the air you breathe in.

You turn around and the werewolf is moving aside your many tupperwares, reading the label of the ones he finds the strangest. He picks up one with a soft pink color, the liquid bubbling unpleasantly. He places it right back, brows furrowed.

"How do you know how to make all this stuff, anyway?" He exclaims with a huff, closing another cupboard with a thud.

"Pinterest. Yoongi. Years of training, maybe. Or not. I think I stopped paying attention after seventh grade."

He laughs a bit at that, a soft thing. Hands you the tupperware with the root you asked for, which ended up being shoved somewhere in the fridge. You really should reorganize your things.

You take trains sometimes.

Faraway trains, hidden somewhere in the deepest part of the city. Trains taken straight out of Ghibli films, splashes of watercolor and pencil art drawn by hand. You take them when you feel like getting away, like outrunning the heartbreak chasing you down, like you want to go somewhere but have no destination in mind. You get off on stops where you don't know where you are.

The train sometimes takes you to farms, where the horizon is burning against the tips of the wheat, setting the world on fire. Sometimes it takes you to towns you haven't even heard of, where everything is homey and everyone knows each other and the flowers sitting on windowsills to bask in the sun greet you softly.

Everything is nice. Calming. You like when the train goes through tunnels, the dark inviting and comforting, a childlike wonder. The sound of the rail wheel on the track almost lulls you to sleep at times, white noise in your ears, and the few people in the train agree — most already doing exactly that, slumped against the seats.

The train skids to a halt. Nothing compels you to get off, so you don't.

People are leaving, a mother sitting in the seat in front of you urging her daughter awake, the old man sitting a few seats back getting up slowly, with kind eyes and laughter lines. You stay slumped by the window, sunlight warming the side of your face.

Amidst your daydreaming and despite the available seats, a man gets on board, spots you, sits beside you. He watches your side profile for a bit, as if waiting for you to complain or call him out on it. You don't, so he gets comfortable in his seat, closes his eyes. His skin is the color of honey and gold.

He looks absolutely horrible. Well, not outwardly—not outwardly at all. He's wearing slippers with little rabbit ears drooping horribly endearingly, a flannel and basketball shorts, two articles of clothing that don't match at all, as if he grabbed them last minute, but he makes them work. You have a feeling he would look good dressed in cardboard and trash bags.

His ears are a light brown color, and on his head sat a pair of antlers, the tip of one broken off a bit.

But his aura. His aura is absolutely horrible. It's gloomy and so unbelievably dark, hovering over his form and twisting into something ugly.

Maybe this strange man is like you. Maybe he likes to take train rides to the middle of nowhere in early mornings, when the clouds are still blurring over the horizon. You catch him staring at it, the horizon; right when you look up and see him looking not at you, but just past your head up to the skies.

You stare, too. The silence stretches, and a voice—thick and smooth like honey—breaks it. You're comparing him to honey a lot, you notice. His voice and his skin. You'll call him honey boy for now. "Blue."

The sky is awfully blue today, only a few clouds hovering overhead. "It'll rain soon," you reply thoughtlessly.

"How'd you know?" You sense a lilting tone of comfort in his tone of voice. He has a bit of a lisp. His eyes are big and open and honest.

"The leaves are turned on their back, the crickets are chirping, there were some colorful streaks on the sky today." You can tell he's processing the words, taking them to heart, listening gently.

"Oh." Is all he says. The silence stretches again. It doesn't last long. "Are you sad, too?"

Your eyes are wide with surprise when you turn to look at him. A grin splits across his face at your unintentional open admittance, and it's so pretty you can't look away.

The man explains he hasn't gotten more than four hours of sleep for the past two weeks. That he hasn't properly interacted with another human that wasn't his roommate and his mom probably since last Wednesday ("Maybe, that might have been a fever dream," he adds. You laugh). That he's been functioning solely through chocolate, granola bars and vitamin gummies—not coffee, no, he can't stand caffeine—and you laugh until he opens his backpack and pulls out, like, thirteen kitkats.

Describing honey boy is some new word you don't know. Like all the gentle love in his heart has manifested itself, is seeping out through his skin. You wonder how many strangers he's charmed in his life.

Honey boy hums a song absentmindedly from beside you, probably unaware that he's doing it. His voice is a deep timbre that fills the silence in a quiet way. His voice is nice and the train ride is nice and for a second it feels like you've run so far ahead from the heartbreak that it's likely impossible for it to ever catch up.

"Do you like the ocean?" He asks after a bit. The train is getting closer to it, to the ocean, and you can see the line where the blue of the sky blurs into the blue of the ocean. He answers before you get the chance to, "I really like the ocean. I would come here a lot with my grandparents. I like how my dad used to chase me around the sand and my mom would sing to me and my grandma would buy me cotton candy from the vendors that walked by and my grandpa would playfully pull at my antlers. And how the pretty scaled mermaids kept the tide gentle when I was learning to swim and it's, just. A cradley sort of place."

The way he views the world is so gentle. "It'll kick your ass, though," you mutter.

He giggles, really giggles, and it comes out as a ehehe kind of sound. It's cute, your mind supplies even though you didn't ask it to.

"It will, won't it?" He says between laughter. "Sorry, I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"No!" You say too quickly. Clear your throat at the realization. "No, you're not. I like when you ramble."

Pretty pink on his cheeks. He looks small, somehow. "You sound like someone I know."

"That's good. You should have those kind of people in your life or else you'll go mad."

He laughs. The train skids to a stop the same way it always does, but it feels different. The man goes to stand up, hesitates, sits back down. Looks at you, almost as if to ask for permission. "Will I see you again?"

Your breath hitches in your throat. "I don't know."

"Gram says that people that are meant to find each other, will." He looks determined. One of his ears twitch. "See you soon."