Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soonyoung woke tangled in a mess of too many blankets, three mismatched pillows, and one cold-limbed, suspiciously snuggly creature of the night.

At least, that’s what most people might call the thing clinging to him like a sleepy burr.

A creature of the night. A vampire. A mysterious, brooding cryptid with a PhD in drama and probably a coffin stashed under the bed.

But to Soonyoung, the boy curled into his side, mumbling half-conscious nonsense in a language that hadn’t been spoken in at least four empires, was just—

“Wonie,” he whispered fondly, brushing aside a tuft of messy black hair to kiss the forehead beneath. “My forever boyfriend-slash-night-shift doctor who hates sunlight, is deeply committed to being overdramatic, and definitely has fangs for some extremely niche dental reason we never talk about.”

Wonwoo responded with a sleepy grunt and pressed his cold nose into the curve of Soonyoung’s throat, clinging tighter like a limpet with abandonment issues. His voice was muffled and hoarse as he muttered, “Five more minutes. The sun’s not even up yet.”

Soonyoung laughed softly, his breath ruffling Wonwoo’s hair. “Baby, it’s literally eleven in the morning.”

Wonwoo hissed. Actually hissed—a full, indignant feline sound—before retreating deeper into the folds of Soonyoung’s strawberry-scented hoodie like a vampire spooked by its own reflection.

It was absurd. Adorable. Utterly normal.

Which is why it was also suspicious.

Because five minutes later, Soonyoung wandered outside with his favorite pink “World’s Okayest Baker” mug and his even pinker strawberry slippers, ready to water the daisies and bask in the mundanity of a quiet October morning.

And that’s when he noticed something… off.

Something across the yard.

Something that defied gravity, common sense, and at least six building codes.

Minghao’s house was floating.

Literally. About four feet off the ground. Its roots dangling like wiry veins. The lawn was being dragged up with it, clumps of dirt hovering beneath the foundation. Strange bioluminescent mushrooms clung to the base, pulsing like neon jellyfish in a tide pool.

Soonyoung squinted. “Minghao?”

The house paused—if a house could look sheepish, this one did—and then gently, almost apologetically, lowered itself back down onto the earth like it had been caught misbehaving.

A second later, Minghao’s window creaked open. The man himself appeared, hair sleep-mussed and expression deadpan.

“It’s just a potion reaction,” he called, like someone explaining away a faulty smoke alarm. “Go back to bed.”

“Oh!” Soonyoung blinked. “Okay! Good luck with the… uh… gravity problem!”

He waved cheerfully as if this sort of thing happened all the time and turned to walk away. But a small part of his brain twitched. A distant ping of concern.

He decided to ignore it in favor of a delivery: a box of homemade strawberry mochi bread for Jihoon.

Jihoon’s door opened on its own as he approached.

Soonyoung gasped. “Oh my god, are you finally installing auto-sensors? Jihoon, I’m so proud. Your door just whooshed open like the Enterprise.”

Inside, Jihoon—covered in purple smoke, holding a glass flask that glowed and burbled ominously with floating eyeballs—stared at him.

“That’s not a sensor,” he said flatly. “That’s a threshold charm.”

“Haha! Right! Charms!” Soonyoung giggled nervously, holding out the box. “Like… seasoning! Garlic charm! Peppercorn charm! Bug repellent!”

Jihoon didn’t break eye contact. “...Exactly.”

Soonyoung, still blissfully unaware of the faint rune circle glowing beneath his feet, waved and scampered away.

“Okay! Bye, science prince!”

He made it halfway down the road before the implications began to percolate in his brain like a too-slow coffee drip.

He paused at Seungcheol’s house next. The front yard looked, as always, vaguely post-apocalyptic. The grass was blackened at the edges. Wisps of smoke curled lazily from the soil.

Soonyoung frowned. “Why is your lawn… smoking?”

“Hellfire leak,” Seungcheol replied casually from the porch, shirtless and sipping black coffee like a warlock on vacation.

“…Did you say hellfire or hill fire?”

“Yes.”

Soonyoung nodded. Slowly. Like someone who very much did not understand but had decided to accept it for his own safety.

He took a step. Paused. Turned back around.

“What do you do for work again?”

Seungcheol didn’t even blink. “Latin tutor.”

“Right!” Soonyoung clapped his hands. “Dead language for a living boy. Love that for you.”

A bat flapped out of Seungcheol’s front door, screeching softly.

Soonyoung blinked. “Wait… do you keep bats now?”

Seungcheol shrugged. “Wonwoo’s.”

Of course they were.

Soonyoung went home.

He needed normal. Something comforting. Something solid.

He chose baking.

Simple. Safe. Soft cinnamon cookies. Therapy in the shape of dough.

He pulled out his recipe journal, humming a little tune, and flipped to the “Spooky Season” tab with a smile. But nestled between his doodles and favorite autumn recipes was something he hadn’t remembered writing.

A note.

Scrawled in his own handwriting. Underlined with chaos. Surrounded by exclamation marks and panic scribbles.

“NO GARLIC EVER – URGENT – DON’T KILL YOUR BOYFRIEND AGAIN”

His heart froze.

Images flashed.

Halloween party. Garlic breadsticks. Wonwoo choking. Smoke curling from his lips. Collapsing to the floor in slow motion like a Victorian damsel.

“He’s allergic!”

“No—he’s a vampire!”

“Wait—Soonyoung doesn’t know??”

The spatula slipped from his hands and clattered to the counter.

He sat down.

And for the first time in months, thought very hard.

Then, with a slow inhale and trembling fingers, he reached for his favorite strawberry-scented stationery and uncapped his pink glitter pen.

He began to write.

“Possible Evidence That My Friends Are Not Normal (but still hot and sweet and I love them):”

1. Wonwoo:

• Cold hands. Cold everything.
• Sleeps like the dead. Literally.
• Has fangs. Like, actual fangs.
• Avoids garlic like it’s a war crime.
• Says he’s “photosensitive” but also hissed at sunlight once.
• Only drinks red liquids labeled “juice.” Suspicious.
• One time growled when Soonyoung wore a crucifix earring.

2. Mingyu:

• Disappears every full moon.
• Returns with mysterious claw marks and no explanation.
• Has a weird obsession with raw meat.
• One time Soonyoung gave him a dog biscuit as a joke and he didn’t spit it out.

3. Jeonghan:

• Is suspiciously pretty.
• Glows faintly when happy.
• Might have wings. Or were those holograms?
• Gave Soonyoung floating glitter that healed a papercut. Witchcraft?

4. Minghao:

• Hisses when startled.
• Lands on top shelves like a caffeinated housecat.
• Brings dead mice to parties “as a joke.”

5. Seungcheol:

• Speaks fluent Latin in his sleep.
• Kitchen smells like sulfur and... regret.
• Summoned lightning once and blamed it on the weather app saying it was a glitch.

6. Jihoon:

• Potions.
• More potions.
• Flammable potions.

7. Seungkwan:

• Obsessed with pumpkins year-round.
• Carries a scythe. Not for gardening.
• Eyes glow when emotionally overwhelmed sometimes.

8. Hansol:

• Has taken his arm off casually and said “It's detachable.”
• No pulse. Just vibes.
• Wears cologne called “Formaldehyde No. 5.”

9. Joshua:

• Once spontaneously combusted. Survived. Unbothered.
• Literally rose from ashes after slipping on black ice.

10. Chan:

• Hoards shiny things.
• Bit someone for touching his trinkets.

Soonyoung stared at the list, pen frozen midair.

He tapped the end of it against his lips thoughtfully.

He reread it once.

Twice.

Then dramatically gasped, knocking over his mug in the process.

“OH MY GOD,” he whispered, “I LIVE IN HALLOWEEN TOWN.”

Chapter Text

Soonyoung didn’t panic.

Not at first.

He did what any rational, emotionally stable adult would do in the face of supernatural revelations, eldritch mysteries, and the very real possibility that all his friends were beautiful cryptids in disguise.

He made a plan.

A solid one.

With bullet points, color-coded headers, and stickers. He even laminated the title page for morale.

Right there, scribbled in his pastel pink notebook with an unnecessarily expensive glitter gel pen, was his masterpiece:

~ MYSTICAL MONSTER INVESTIGATION MASTERPLAN ~

(a scientific journey into the truth about my very suspicious but very hot friend group)

He nodded at the page solemnly, barefoot in his tiger slippers, pacing the floor of his bedroom like a tiny detective lost in a Tim Burton film. Every few steps, he would pause and mutter to himself, finger tapping his lips thoughtfully.

“Okay. If Jeonghan’s a fairy, I just need to confirm the glitter situation. Maybe check if his footsteps sparkle. Maybe follow him with a blacklight??”

He spun on his heel. “If Mingyu’s a werewolf… do I need a full moon or just a really squeaky toy? Or like... raw meat and belly rubs? Wait, no, that’s insulting. I need to be respectful about this.”

Then he stopped cold, a sudden chill creeping down his spine.

“Wonwoo,” he whispered.

His voice wobbled. “What if he’s not allergic to garlic because he’s a vampire… What if… he’s allergic to lies?”

He gasped, clutching his notebook.

“What if I’m the liar? What if I’ve been lying this whole time—by not asking?? Oh god. He’s in pain because of me??”

In a burst of clarity, he scribbled in the corner of the page:

RULE #1: Be brave. Even if your boyfriend is a sexy vampire. Especially then.

Target One: Jeonghan

Operation “Fairy or Just Fabulous” commenced on a sunny Thursday afternoon.

Soonyoung arrived at Jeonghan’s vine-draped cottage with a tin of raspberry almond cookies and the spirit of scientific inquiry. The front door was wide open, the scent of herbs and floral tea wafting out like an enchanted breeze. Somewhere, wind chimes tinkled without wind.

“Hi, Hannie~!” Soonyoung called out sweetly. “Can I come in? I just really want to watch you walk around today.”

Jeonghan, lounging in a sheer blouse and rose-colored sunglasses, arched a brow. “Kinky.”

Soonyoung blushed. “No! Not like that! It’s—it’s science. Like a field study. I’m just… observing.”

Jeonghan sipped his tea. “Mmm. You always say the cutest things when you’re lying.”

They sat in the sunroom, surrounded by orchids and floating candles. While Jeonghan reclined on a cloud-soft couch, Soonyoung pulled a blacklight pen from his pocket—courtesy of Jihoon’s extremely locked desk drawer—and began subtly scanning the upholstery behind Jeonghan’s path.

It sparkled.

Soonyoung’s eyes widened. He gasped.

Jeonghan turned slowly, catching him mid-scan. “Are you testing me for fairy dust, darling?”

Soonyoung froze. “...No?”

Jeonghan’s irises shimmered briefly, a soft violet glow swirling like potion smoke. He leaned forward, a sly smile curling his lips.

“You’re cute when you’re suspicious, baby tiger,” he murmured. “But if I was a fairy, you’d never catch me.”

He snapped his fingers.

Poof.

Soonyoung blinked—his hair felt suddenly heavier. He glanced up.

There was a flower crown on his head.

Pink. Perfect. Freshly woven.

He screamed. Just a little. Then bolted.

Target Two: Mingyu

That night, Soonyoung donned his tiger-print pajamas, grabbed a flashlight, and snuck into Mingyu’s backyard like a tiny, determined cryptid hunter. He carried raw steak on a porcelain plate, crouching behind a bush with binoculars and the whispery intensity of a child pretending to be a ninja.

He left the steak in a moonbeam.

Then waited.

Branches rustled. Crickets chirped. A cat yowled in the distance.

A window creaked open above him.

“Soonyoung,” Mingyu’s sleepy voice floated down, “why are you in my bushes again?”

“Shh,” Soonyoung hissed, one eye still squinting through the binoculars. “I’m baiting something.”

Mingyu leaned further out. “You’re baiting me? With steak?”

“…Are you the bait?”

Silence.

“...Wait—am I the bait??”

Mingyu groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I told you already. Dangerous job. The claw marks are totally normal. Nothing to worry about.”

Soonyoung narrowed his eyes. “Do you… feel an urge to howl during thunderstorms? Like. Be honest.”

“Go home,” Mingyu sighed.

“Wait!” Soonyoung leaned out of the bush. “How do you feel about chew toys?”

“What???”

“Just asking for a friend!”

Later that night, Mingyu posted in the group chat:

[Mingyu 🐺]:
soonyoung just tried to lure me with raw beef.
this boy is connecting dots and the dots are drunk.
help.

[Hansol 🧟]:
i told y’all it was only a matter of time.

[Jeonghan 💅]:
he asked me if fairy wings were vegan.

[Seungcheol 🔥]:
let him believe what he wants. he’ll forget in two hours.

[Wonwoo 🦇]:
…he hasn’t spoken to me all day.
something’s wrong.

Soonyoung sat in his room under a fortress of blankets, eyes red, voice quiet. His monster chart was now covered in highlighter scribbles, post-it notes, and tear stains.

“They’re monsters,” he whispered into the dim light of his lava lamp. “They’re beautiful, terrifying monsters and they’ve been lying to me and I’m too dumb to see it. But also… I kind of did see it. And I just… didn’t want to believe it. Because…”

His voice cracked.

“Because what if they leave?”

His chest ached.

“What if I don’t belong in their world? What if they’re only nice to me because I’m harmless? A novelty. A squishy mortal plaything they humor out of pity.”

He covered his face with his hands.

“What if—what if Wonwoo only likes me because I smell good to bite?!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “I’m a pet.”

And then—

A gentle knock on his door.

“Soonyoung?” Wonwoo’s voice. Low. Wary. Kind.

No fangs. No drama. Just concern.

“You okay, love? You’ve been quiet.”

Soonyoung didn’t answer.

Wonwoo waited. “I brought strawberry milk. Your favorite. I’ll leave it here by the door.”

A pause. Footsteps. A soft clink of glass.

Then silence.

Except—he didn’t leave.

He stayed.

Sat down on the floor outside the door.

Waiting. Listening.

Like he always did.

Soonyoung curled into his blankets, tears slipping free—not from fear.

But because the truth was finally hitting him with unbearable clarity:

They hadn’t lied to him.

They never had.

He just never listened.

Chapter Text

It was late—well past midnight—when Soonyoung finally opened the door.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the flickering orange glow of a pumpkin-scented candle from the kitchen. But even in the half-light, Wonwoo was still there. Right where he had been hours ago.

Sitting on the floor.

Back against the wall.

Arms looped around his knees like a boy who forgot how to ask for comfort.

His head lolled slightly to the side, eyes hooded and dark. Purple shadows had bloomed beneath them like bruises carved by sleepless nights and worry. His body was too still—too quiet. As if he'd made himself small enough to disappear, just in case Soonyoung never opened the door.

But now he did.

Wonwoo looked up slowly, lids heavy, lashes dark and wet.

“You’ve been crying,” he said softly, voice like sandpaper and sorrow.

Soonyoung nodded. His eyes were puffy, his cheeks blotchy, and his hoodie sleeves damp from hours of muffled sobbing. He looked so small—like a boy who’d cracked open something too big for his heart to hold.

Wonwoo stood. Not quickly. Gently. Like approaching a frightened animal.

“Did…” he hesitated, voice cracking, “did something happen?”

Soonyoung’s eyes lifted to his face. There was a beat of silence. Then another. Then—

“Are you a vampire?” he asked, so quietly it barely made sound.

Wonwoo froze.

Literally froze. His chest didn’t rise. His lips didn’t twitch. His eyes didn’t blink. The hallway itself seemed to hold its breath.

Soonyoung sniffled, his lip trembling. “I—I made a list,” he whispered. “Did research. Connected things. Weird things. Stuff no one else would’ve noticed. And I just… I think you’re not…”

He hesitated. As if saying it would make it real.

“I think you’re not human.”

Wonwoo stared at him. For a moment, the ancient ache in his eyes looked a thousand years old. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

“…And what do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Soonyoung pleaded. His voice broke on the last word. “Because all of you—you, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol—you’re all weird. But I thought it was just, you know, eccentric artist weird. Quirky roommate weird. I didn’t think—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t think it meant I didn’t know you.”

Tears spilled again.

Wonwoo’s expression crumpled. “You were never supposed to find out like this.”

“So it’s true?” Soonyoung whispered.

Wonwoo hesitated.

And then, softly, but clearly: “Yes.”

He stepped forward slowly, like approaching something fragile and beloved.

“I’m a vampire,” he said, voice stripped bare. “I’ve been alive for… a long time. Centuries. I feed off blood. I can’t go out in sunlight. I sleep in a coffin in the attic.”

Soonyoung blinked. “Wait. Like… an actual coffin?”

“Yes.”

“…Is it pink?”

Wonwoo paused. “…No.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung sniffled. “You should consider it.”

Wonwoo let out the faintest breath of laughter—but his face was still lined with fear. “You’re not afraid?”

Soonyoung looked up, cheeks wet. “I don’t know how I feel yet,” he admitted honestly. “I’m scared. I’m overwhelmed. I feel stupid. Embarrassed. But also…”

He took a shaky breath.

“…Also, I don’t care.”

Wonwoo flinched. “You… don’t?”

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire,” Soonyoung repeated, voice wobbling but firm. “You could be a vampire, or a werewolf, or a swamp creature with a skincare routine. I still love you.”

Wonwoo’s breath caught. His entire body seemed to sway like he couldn’t believe his own ears. “You… love me?”

Soonyoung gave a tear-soaked, watery smile. “Why do you think I’ve been making you garlic-free cupcakes every week and trying to plant sunflowers for someone who literally hisses at them?”

Wonwoo let out a stunned laugh, then staggered forward and crushed him into the tightest hug Soonyoung had ever known. Not the kind of hug that comforted. The kind that clung. The kind that said: You stayed. Even now. Even still.

Soonyoung pressed his face into Wonwoo’s chest and sobbed.

“You’re not leaving?” Wonwoo whispered into his hair.

“Never.”

Later, they curled up on the couch together.

Soonyoung was nestled in Wonwoo’s lap, wrapped in a blanket like a freshly hatched cinnamon roll, clutching the strawberry milk that had waited patiently outside his door for hours.

He sipped quietly, cheeks pink from crying.

“…So,” he murmured, “you don’t want to eat me?”

Wonwoo leaned back, resting his chin atop Soonyoung’s fluffy hair. “No.”

“But you do like biting?”

A pause.

“…Yes.”

Soonyoung tilted his head up. “Like… in a romantic way?”

Wonwoo looked down at him, and for the first time that night, there was a flicker of something sharp in his eyes—dark hunger, tenderness, ache.

“Like in a deeply unholy, starving, century-long thirst kind of way,” he murmured.

Soonyoung’s cheeks flushed a deeper pink.

“Oh.”

They stared at each other.

Soonyoung smiled shyly, tucking himself closer. “You can bite me. If you want.”

Wonwoo let out a strangled groan and buried his face in Soonyoung’s neck. “You’re going to kill me first.”

Meanwhile, in the chaos corner of the group chat:

[Mingyu 🐺]:
HE TOLD HIM
WONWOO TOLD HIM
ALERT ALERT
THE TIGER KNOWS

[Jeonghan 💅]:
i give it 2 hours before soonyoung is wearing bat ears and calling himself vampirewife™

[Seokmin 🧝]:
he’s gonna want a matching cape now isn’t he

[Hansol 🧟]:
is it weird i’m relieved
like he finally joined the monster club officially

[Wonwoo 🦇]:
he said he loves me.
he still loves me.

[Seungkwan ☠️]:
i’m gonna cry and harvest pumpkins in his honor 🎃🖤

The next morning, the sun rose gently over the quiet village.

Soonyoung stood in front of the bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging loosely from his mouth, staring at his reflection. More specifically: at the faint, delicate fang marks nestled just below his collarbone.

They didn’t hurt.

They tingled a little. Warm. Like a secret pressed into his skin.

He touched them gently with two fingers.

And smiled.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he pulled out his phone, snapped a mirror selfie with a sleepy grin, and sent it to the group chat:

“got bit by my bf 😍🧛‍♂️🩷 does this make me immortal or just really committed”

Outside, the world was bathed in gold. Birds chirped. Wind rustled through candy-colored trees.

Soonyoung stepped onto his porch—still wearing pink shorts, tiger slippers, and an oversized hoodie that hid his bite marks like a soft secret.

His neighbors were already out.

One of them sparkled.

Another hissed at the sun and ducked under a parasol.

A third levitated a pumpkin using nothing but their mind.

Soonyoung waved cheerfully.

And they waved back.

Because this was his village.

His friends.

His strange, spooky, magical world.

And this time, he wasn’t on the outside of it anymore.

He was part of it.

And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Chapter Text

The next evening, the village group chat lit up with a single, glittery message from Jeonghan:

[Jeonghan 💅]: emergency meeting at my cottage. bring wine. bring emotions. wear something that screams “self-discovery.”

Soonyoung arrived first—clutching a pastel-pink Tupperware box filled with cupcakes, each one meticulously frosted and topped with tiny edible bat wings. His hoodie sleeves were pulled over his palms like armor, his expression caught somewhere between shy pride and total existential meltdown.

Wonwoo arrived a minute later—carrying Soonyoung.

Well, not literally carrying, but close enough. One arm was looped tightly around the smaller's waist like letting go might trigger the apocalypse. His other hand was buried in the fabric of Soonyoung’s hoodie, fingers flexing anxiously with every step. He kept whispering quiet reassurances into Soonyoung’s hair. Soonyoung, in turn, kept nodding like he wasn’t hearing a word but needed the comfort anyway.

Everyone else arrived shortly after, trickling into Jeonghan’s cottage one by one—some with bottles of wine, others with enchanted snacks, all of them buzzing with judgment and just a hint of dramatic glee. Someone passed around popcorn that magically refilled every time a dramatic gasp was made. (No one admitted who brought it, but everyone had theories.)

The living room glowed with the usual chaotic glamour: floating fairy lights drifted lazily beneath the ceiling, casting soft, ever-shifting colors on the walls. A dozen velvet pillows kept rearranging themselves into perfectly supportive shapes every time someone shifted in their seat. One armchair in the corner was visibly sulking after being left unchosen.

Jeonghan, of course, was already perched atop his ridiculous fae-crafted toadstool throne—barefoot, draped in translucent silk robes and glittering mischief, sipping something that shimmered suspiciously in his wine glass. He waved a hand with the flourish of someone announcing a royal engagement.

“So,” he purred, eyes twinkling, “our little tiger cub has finally awakened.”

Soonyoung flushed instantly, nearly dropping the bat-cupcakes. “I—Okay. Listen. I’m still very much processing. But like… less in denial now?”

“You cried for three hours,” Wonwoo whispered against his temple, voice tender, smile quiet.

“I said I’m processing!”

Jeonghan clapped his hands, and a wave of enchanted sparkles spiraled dramatically into the air. “Fabulous. Let’s do this the proper way, then. Circle of Truth™. One by one. Name, species, and one fun fact. And don’t you dare lie, or the floor will eat you.”

Soonyoung blinked. “Wait, what—”

Mingyu stood up first, cheerful as ever, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

“Uh, Mingyu. Werewolf. I shed. A lot. Sorry in advance.”

Jeonghan snorted. “You did not just phrase that like a fun fact—”

“I lint-roll religiously!”

Next up was Minghao, lounging like a cat who’d gotten into too much wine and was now judging everyone.

“Minghao. Cat spirit. I bring dead mice to people I like. That casserole you made last time, Soonyoung? Slapped.”

Soonyoung opened his mouth in slow horror. “Wait, you left that thing on my windowsill?! I thought it was a weird feral gift from the garden!”

“It was a gift.”

“I thought it was cursed!”

“Could’ve been both,” Jeonghan said sweetly.

Seungcheol cracked his knuckles next and gave a smirk that was far too self-satisfied.

“Seungcheol. Demon. Latin is my love language. I’ve been exorcised five times. Still here.”

Soonyoung stared. “What does that mean?”

“Means priests find me very frustrating.”

Jihoon was already sitting cross-legged on a levitating cushion, sipping black coffee like it was holy water.

“Jihoon. Witch. Technically a warlock, but I hate the gender binary. Also, my hair? It's made of spell threads.”

Soonyoung squinted. “Wait. Like, literal threads?”

“Touch it and find out,” Jihoon said blandly.

Jeonghan tossed his hair. “Fae prince of the eastern winds and glamour, but you may call me—”

“Hot forest menace,” the room chorused.

“You people have no taste,” Jeonghan huffed, but looked pleased.

Seungkwan held up a gourd painted like a cat. “Grim reaper. I mostly do pumpkins now. Death’s on sabbatical in the Bahamas.”

Hansol waved lazily from his beanbag.

“Zombie. I borrow bodies but make them look good. My soul? A+ content. My skin? Eh, working on it.”

Junhui struck a pose from the chaise lounge like a 90s shampoo ad.

“Siren. I sing in the shower. Three people fell in love with me that way.”

“I was one of them,” Seungkwan muttered into his pumpkin cocktail.

Seokmin beamed like the sun had personally kissed him.

“Elf. I start aging backwards after 500. Also, I hear everything. Even that time you called me ‘hot Legolas’ at Jeonghan’s garden party.”

Soonyoung choked on air. “You weren’t even there!”

“I was in the walls,” Seokmin replied serenely.

Chan bounced in his seat. “Goblin. I hoard weird stuff. Don’t touch my drawer of shiny teeth.”

“Why do you have a drawer of teeth?!”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered.”

Joshua was last. He looked radiant, of course, with his golden eyes and sun-warmed curls and aura of eternal mild exasperation.

“Phoenix. I’ve died nine times. It’s exhausting. But I do come back hotter each time.”

Everyone applauded.

Soonyoung blinked, head spinning as he looked around the room—this gathering of mythical chaos gremlins and supernatural misfits. His friends. His neighbors. His—apparently immortal—boyfriend.

“You guys,” he whispered, voice trembling slightly, “you’re like… like a Halloween K-pop group.”

The room burst into laughter.

Then, softer: “And I’m the clueless backup dancer who didn’t know the choreography.”

“Sweetheart,” Jeonghan said gently, descending from his throne with a grace that defied physics. He crouched before Soonyoung, eyes uncharacteristically tender. “You’re not a backup dancer.”

He took Soonyoung’s hand.

“You’ve always belonged here. You just didn’t know the lyrics yet.”

And for the first time that day, Soonyoung felt the tears return—but this time, they weren’t born of fear or confusion.

They were warm.

Like sunlight through fog.

Like the first breath after a long, long night.

And he believed it.

He belonged.

To this village.

To this chaos.

To this family.

To this weird, spooky, ridiculous little world full of creatures and monsters and friends who called themselves home.

And to Wonwoo—who never once let go.

Chapter Text

Soonyoung had always loved flowers. Since he was small, they’d followed him like loyal companions—blooming in crooked lines where he walked, curling toward his fingertips even when no sun reached them. But he never thought much of it.

He simply figured he was gentle. Sweet, maybe. That plants liked kindness the way cats liked warm laps. He told himself he had a green thumb, or maybe he just picked the right soil. And the squirrels leaving him acorns every spring like he was their tiny pink king? A cute coincidence. A funny village joke. Nothing more.

But now—kneeling alone in his garden under the moon’s hush, hands buried in damp earth—Soonyoung watched as tendrils of light unfurled from the flowerbed. Pale green and flickering like fireflies, they rose from between the petals and leaves, wrapping around his wrists in gentle spirals.

The air shimmered.

A delicate warmth bloomed in his chest, sharp and sudden, like a secret being remembered.

His breath caught.

“…Oh,” he whispered, voice barely a ghost of sound. “It’s me.”

It wasn’t luck. It never was.

He pressed his hand into the soil, and the blossoms leaned toward his palm, glowing brighter—as if greeting him.

The truth glimmered like dew.

He wasn’t just good with flowers. The flowers were good with him—because they knew him. And they had all along.

That night, after Jeonghan’s chaotic, wine-fueled “Monster Meeting,” the village fell into soft stillness. Doors shut. Lanterns dimmed. Magic quieted.

But Soonyoung didn’t sleep.

He lay awake in his pastel-pink bedroom, tucked under quilted blankets stitched by hand. Outside the open window, fireflies drifted in slow, glowing arcs over the flowerbeds. His curtains swayed with the breeze. Somewhere near the back hedges, an owl hooted.

And in his mind, everything spun.

He thought of Jihoon’s spell jars pulsing on shelves. Of Jeonghan’s iridescent wings flickering between glamours. Of Seungkwan casually mentioning pumpkin souls like they were grocery items.

He thought of Wonwoo—tall, sharp, and utterly calm. The way his eyes glinted silver in the moonlight. The way his fangs peeked out when he laughed. The way he touched Soonyoung like he was precious, known.

And worst of all, he thought of the words still echoing in his skull:

“You’re not just human either, baby.”

To which, of course, Soonyoung had replied:

“What, because I like strawberries too much?”

He buried his face in his pillow, groaning. “I’m such an idiot.”

The next morning, without a word to anyone, Soonyoung left his house.

Well, his parents’ house. But it had always been his, in a way. The pink walls, the flower boxes, the slightly cracked stone path leading out into the forest—his.

Barefoot and in soft pajamas, he wandered into the woods behind it.

The trees welcomed him like an old friend.

Sunlight spilled through the canopy in gentle, golden shafts. The air smelled of earth and wild mint. Leaves danced in the breeze, and birds flitted between branches, chirping curiously.

A squirrel padded up behind him and hopped onto his shoulder like it had a job to do.

Soonyoung sighed and settled by the creek, knees drawn to his chest, watching the water glitter.

“…Okay,” he murmured aloud. “Let’s think.”

He raised a hand, ticking off fingers like he was counting cookies.

“One—flowers grow stupid fast around me. Like, scary fast.”

“Two—every time I bake, people say it tastes like ‘nostalgia’ or ‘hope’ or ‘that one dream you had where your grandmother tucked you in.’ What does that even mean?”

“Three—Minghao only lets me pet his ears. Me. He once bit Seungkwan and tried to claw Chan when he got too close.”

“Four—Mingyu’s eyes turned gold when I gave him soup.”

“Five—I glowed.”

He paused.

I actually glowed.

The memory slammed into him like a wave—kneeling in his garden, dirt on his knees, light blooming from the blossoms like breath.

“…Shit.”

And then, like a stone skipping through time, his mind flitted back—years ago, when he was just a kid.

Seven years old. Barefoot in the woods. Crying over a wounded puppy by the river. Its fur matted with blood. Its whimpers breaking his heart.

He’d cradled it in his arms, sobbing, whispering, “Please don’t die, please don’t die, please—”

And then warmth. Light. A pulse of green like summer dusk.

The puppy had blinked up at him. Licked his cheek. Wagged its tail—and sprinted off, healthy as ever.

He’d never told anyone. Thought it was a dream. Or something his kid brain invented to soften a tragedy.

But now?

“…What if that was real?”

What if all of it—every glowing petal, every enchanted pie, every animal friend—wasn’t a quirk?

But magic.

He looked down at the water, at the reflection of his strawberry hair and wide eyes. At the squirrel now nestled in his lap, chittering softly.

“…What if I’m not just a strawberry-haired weirdo who likes planting daisies?”

A breeze curled through the trees, playful and sweet. The petals of nearby wildflowers lifted toward him, swaying like they recognized something sacred.

Soonyoung gasped.

The moment held still.

Then, behind him, a twig snapped.

He turned quickly—startled, heart pounding—and found Wonwoo standing just beyond the trees. Dressed in black as always. No umbrella today. No sunglasses.

His eyes glittered in the dappled sun like polished moonstone.

“You didn’t come home last night,” Wonwoo said softly, stepping closer.

Soonyoung rubbed at his neck. “Yeah,” he said. “I think… I needed to be here.”

“Why?”

Soonyoung looked around at the forest—the vines, the sunbeams, the butterflies brushing his shoulders like they knew him.

“Because this place knows me,” he whispered. “And I think I know it too.”

His voice wavered. “I think… I’m not just human.”

Wonwoo didn’t look surprised. He simply knelt in front of Soonyoung, careful and quiet, and reached out to brush his thumb along Soonyoung’s cheek.

“You’re not,” he murmured. “You never were.”

Soonyoung blinked back the sudden tears stinging his lashes. “Then what am I?”

Wonwoo held his gaze, gentle as dawn.

“A forest spirit,” he said. “Or at least… half of one.”

“Half?”

“Your mom,” Wonwoo nodded. “She wasn’t human. She fell for your human dad. I think your aunt hid the truth to keep you safe. Spirits are… rare. And powerful. People might’ve tried to use you.”

Soonyoung’s hands trembled in his lap.

“A forest spirit,” he repeated, eyes wide.

He glanced down at the glowing tulips, the squirrel curled up like a guard dog, the way the air shimmered just slightly around his skin.

“…Oh my god,” he breathed. “I’m Snow White. I’m a princess.”

Wonwoo laughed, a rich, stunned sound that cracked the tension like thunder.

“Technically? Yeah. But you’re stronger than any fairytale.”

He leaned in, voice low and warm.

“You tamed a werewolf, softened a siren, charmed a black cat into purring, and made a vampire fall in love.”

Soonyoung froze.

“…Wait. Really?”

Wonwoo’s lips brushed his ear, fangs just grazing skin.

“Madly.”

That night, the village lit up in celebration.

A bonfire blazed in the square, tall and crackling, casting golden light across the cobblestones. Lanterns floated through the sky like drifting stars. The pumpkins glowed with cheerful grins. Someone enchanted the marshmallows to roast themselves midair.

Mingyu sat with Minghao in his lap—ears rubbing to the werewolf's head—telling him ghost stories. Jeonghan braided purple ribbons into Chan’s hair. Jihoon shrieked in fury and was close to strangle the demon when Seungcheol tried to draw a summoning circle near the snack table.

And in the heart of it all, Soonyoung sat curled in Wonwoo’s lap, his arms looped lazily around the vampire’s neck, warm and sleepy in his favorite oversized hoodie.

The night hummed with joy. With magic.

With belonging.

Soonyoung looked around at the misfits and monsters, the friends who were more than friends, the weirdos who called him theirs.

He smiled.

“Hey,” he murmured into Wonwoo’s shoulder. “When were you gonna tell me you were all… not normal?”

Wonwoo chuckled, nuzzling into his hair.

“When were you gonna tell us you weren’t either?”

Soonyoung snorted, nipping at his collarbone.

“Touché.”

And beneath the stars—among laughter and firelight and spellbound skies—they kissed.

The vampire and the forest spirit.

A miracle made of moss and moonlight.

And somewhere in the garden behind them, the tulips began to glow.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be just another soft, sweet night.

A gentle end to a strange, long day.

Wonwoo had lit a honey-scented candle by the window, the flame dancing lazily as the moonlight streamed through sheer curtains. The night air was cool, touched by the scent of blooming wisteria from the garden below. Soonyoung padded into their shared room in his favorite oversized hoodie—the pale pink one that made him look, as Wonwoo often teased, like a frosted strawberry cupcake.

They had barely had a moment alone all day. Jeonghan had spent the afternoon aggressively reorganizing their spice rack “for aesthetics,” and someone—probably Mingyu—had broken a window chasing a butterfly he swore winked at him.

But now the house was quiet. The stars outside blinked with sleepy warmth. And finally, finally, they were alone.

Soonyoung turned to face him, smiling shyly. There was something different in his gaze tonight—something warmer, deeper. And when Wonwoo reached for him, thumb brushing over his cheek, a subtle shimmer lit beneath Soonyoung’s skin.

Like stardust just beneath the surface.

Like moonlight had decided to live inside him.

Wonwoo’s breath caught.

Because Soonyoung had always been beautiful—sweet and chaotic, honey-voiced and sun-soft—but now he glowed.

Literally.

His fingertips pulsed with faint green light. His freckles sparkled like dew caught in a sunrise. And when he laughed nervously and ducked his head into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck, the curve of his thighs shimmered—flecks of gold and silver dancing along his skin like fairy dust.

Wonwoo was trying so hard to be good.

To take things slow. To be gentle and careful and reverent.

But it was hard—so hard—when Soonyoung looked like that.

When every kiss sparked a reaction—leaves unfurling on the windowsill, the bedsheets curling with ivy, the candlelight turning soft and green.

He pressed a line of kisses down Soonyoung’s throat, pausing at the place where his pulse fluttered fastest. Let his hands rest lightly at his waist, just above where his magic shimmered most. He worshipped him like he deserved, like the forest sang his name.

And Soonyoung was falling apart.

“W-Wonwoo,” he gasped, breath catching, hands fisting in the sheets. His cheeks were flushed, lashes damp, and when he opened his eyes—gods help him—they shimmered. A green-gold halo around his pupils, alive and wild and dizzy with feeling. “I feel… weird—”

Wonwoo didn’t stop. Just kissed his shoulder and murmured, “Good weird or bad weird, baby?”

“I—I think—”

The room shook.

Across the village, deep into the night:

Seungcheol paused mid-bite of his late-night sandwich. “Did you feel that?”

Jun slowly looked up from his spellbook. “Was that… an earthquake?”

“No,” Mingyu said suddenly, nose twitching, brows furrowed. “No, wait—it smells like rose petals. And vanilla bean. And… forest moss?” He inhaled deeper. “Oh no.”

Jihoon groaned from the basement. “Tell me Soonyoung isn’t having sex again.”

On the porch, Jeonghan flared his wings protectively over his herb garden. “WONWOO!” he shouted toward the bedroom window. “GIVE US A HEADS UP NEXT TIME, YOU MONSTER!”

Meanwhile, in their room:

The candle flickered violently.

Tiny buds of lavender sprouted from the walls. The bed creaked—not from them, but from roots weaving through the frame. The air smelled like springtime and thunder.

Soonyoung writhed against the mattress, glowing like a fever dream in motion—back arching, eyes blown wide, his magic spilling out of him like he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Fireflies blinked into existence around them. The sheets tangled with vines that flowered on contact.

“Why are the daffodils blooming inside?!” Soonyoung cried out, voice ragged with pleasure and confusion.

Wonwoo could only laugh, breathless, half-worshipful. He kissed his glowing temple and whispered, “Because you’re happy.”

“You’re gonna destroy the house—”

“I’ll build you a new one.”

Their breaths tangled. Their magic danced. The forest outside bloomed in response.

By the time morning came:

• The entire eastern garden had blossomed—out of season.

• The neighbor’s birdbath inexplicably had koi fish swimming in it.

• And Minghao texted the group chat at 3:42 AM:

  “I SWEAR IF HE TERRA-FORMS THE VILLAGE ONE MORE TIME BECAUSE HE GOT DICKED DOWN—”

The next morning:

Soonyoung shuffled into the kitchen wearing the hoodie again, eyes puffy from sleep, lips kiss-swollen, and a sleepy little butterfly stuck to his shoulder like a sticker.

Wonwoo followed a step behind, looking very pleased with himself, black hoodie askew, bite mark blooming on his collarbone.

Everyone froze.

Jeonghan squinted, one eye twitching. “You’re not allowed to orgasm unless we install protective runes.”

Soonyoung blinked. “Wait… you can do that?”

Jihoon didn’t even look up from his mug. “I already carved sigils into your headboard.”

Soonyoung turned bright pink and buried his face in Wonwoo’s chest with a squeak.

Wonwoo only chuckled, kissed the top of his head, and said with a grin,

“You’re magic, baby. Might as well make it fun.”

And somewhere in the corner of the room, a potted tulip bloomed.

Indoors.

Again.