#housewarming magic

[luciality]

got this bitch at a mall kiosk

[serpientesuenos]

a bich has been feeling feral

[insomniumstella]

baby, she's all yours

bucky x fem!reader

warnings: free use (consent to be "used" anytime & anywhere), explicit language, fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), a sprinkle of degradation, a sprinkle of breeding kink, dom!bucky, public sex, light spanking, daddy kink (i should be stopped). this one is bad, so it goes without saying, but MDI

word count: 1,240

author's note: this is a lil' story in celebration of kinktober, which time won't permit me to participate in, but my thoughts always wanted to. ➼ sharp, but oh so gentle

James was hesitant to explore the concept you described as free use at first, and maybe a fraction scared. The two of you had been dating for close to three years, and though things were great, the idea of you introducing free use into the bedroom days after knife play troubled him. His heart has always been heavy with the notion of being too difficult to love and too bothersome to deal with, but you made him feel enough; more than. Special in public when you would proudly hold his hand, and special in the comfort of plush sheets when you would let him cherish you — use and mould you into a drooling mess, obeying every demand. Was proposing a fresh kink a silent plead to advise him you have gotten bored? 

As it turned out, it was. Kind of. The itch beneath your skin urging you to explore foreign waters wasn’t boredom but rather lust. Fiery hot and addicting type of lust that ignited every nerve ending in your body around him. Still does. Introducing Bucky to free use was the best—and the most deliciously infuriating—thing to soothe your constant yearning for his touch. 

It caught you off guard, the first time he complied with the request. Steve had recently purchased an apartment in Brooklyn and organised a small housewarming celebration. You slipped out of the living room and into the kitchen once your glass turned empty, oblivious to the very needy pair of eyes studying you. The music muffled your soft moans then, as James fingered you against the blonde’s new refrigerator, suffocating the whines his thick fingers caused with passionate kisses. 

The second time it happened, it was winter. Powdery layers of snow covered the entirety of New York City, and, as the sun laid to rest for the evening, the streets seemed magical. James and you were rushing to Natasha’s birthday dinner, stopping by Bergdorf Goodman for a last-minute gift. Time around holidays is always strenuous, but the missions almost doubled last year, rustles of a deadly biochemical weapon dampening the joy of Christmas and stealing your attention away from getting Natasha a gift early. Bucky tackled the three bottom floors whilst you handled the other three, scouring the variety of fine jewelry and designer clothing. As fate would have it, a gorgeous sequinned dress piqued your interest, the colour of it overly harsh for the redhead’s complexion but perfectly complimenting to yours. James practically pleaded for you to model it, assuring nobody would notice you being late a minute or two. Desire waltzed in his eyes when you agreed at last, twirling around to present the garment and flaunt how well it flattered your curves. He shoved the two of you into the private dressing room once the sales associate disappeared to bring out a pair of matching heels, closing the curtains and hiking the dress up to your waist. “Be good for me,” he spoke, undoing his zipper and slipping the tip of his cock into your dripping heat, “you wouldn’t want employees to hear us, would you, doll?” You couldn’t think of the gift you ended up buying Natasha, but you can still remember sobbing into Bucky’s hand as his hips feverishly snapped into yours.  

Sometimes, that particular memory makes you wonder if introducing James to free use was a mistake — you’d be lying if you said it was because the thrill of being played with at times you least expect is exhilarating. The agreement caused many risky scenarios, though. There was that instance of Bucky between your legs, lapping at your core during a video call with your sister. The wooden desk shielded him from view as he relished you, but the grimaces on your features were a smidge more difficult to camouflage. “You taste incredible, baby,” Bucky mumbled, flesh and metal hands gripping the softness of your exposed thighs, before eagerly licking your clit. “Couldn’t ever get enough of this pussy.” You inadvertently moaned thrice during the call, disguising the sinful sounds by feigning coughs and attributing your strange demeanour to a common cold. “Tell her the truth,” James teased then, slipping a metal digit inside your needy hole, and you sneakily slapped his shoulder. The unsuspecting woman on screen continued to babble about her upcoming visit as you hit the mute button on your computer because the man below you had zero intentions of easing up. “Can feel you squeezin’,” he groaned, slipping a couple more of his metal digits inside. “Please end the call, peach, so I could fuck you atop this desk already.” 

There was also the time he got annoyed on a road trip, freeing his cock and guiding your head downward to silence your complaints about his driving on unpaved roads. “Be a good girl and put that mouth to better use,” he grunted as you licked drops of pre-cum off his skin. “Na uh, doll,” with his left arm on the steering wheel, James forced the entirety of his length into your mouth, “we ain’t got time for any foreplay shit right now.” 

Furthermore, introducing him to free use is the reason for your current predicament — being bent over the sink at a local bar with Bucky balls deep inside you. 

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart.” James praises, catching your gaze in the grimy mirror before spanking your velvety hips. “My girl’s such a slut for me, letting me play with her in a random pub’s bathroom.” It’s more of an observation than dirty talk, and you bite back a moan, nodding. “Bet you’re always thinking about daddy’s big cock, wishing you could be bursting full of me forever, aren’t you?” A harsh spank lands on your scorching skin when you don’t immediately answer. “I asked you a question, peach.”

“Yes,” you sob, digging your manicured nails into the base of your palm. “Love it—,” another wail slips past your swollen lips, “love it when you use me, daddy.” 

The pace of his hips slamming into yours remains brutal as he studies your expression in the mirror. “Look at you,” he clutches your chin, the slight pain of it forcing you to peel your eyes open, “my baby’s so fucked out, she’s having trouble speaking.” The steady pulse of your approaching orgasm heightens as Bucky admires the whimpering mess that is you, leaning lower until the slight stubble on his jaw tickles your ear. “Should I let you finish, or should I leave you all desperate and stuffed full of my cum until happy hour’s over?” 

“Please,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

“That’s too—,” James chuckles through a groan as his own orgasm bursts in syrupy waves, “—bad.” The rhythm of his movements falters and then stops, and if tears weren’t streaming down your face already, you would’ve cried at the loss of contact, feeling terribly empty without Bucky to keep you warm. Though you don’t say a word to him, he can sense your frustration, the weight of your emotions lingering in the atmosphere around you. Slithering his metal hands between your legs, he pushes the cum that leaked out back inside you, thrusting a couple times to soothe your disappointment before withdrawing his touch and shoving your discarded panties into the pocket of his jacket. “Don’t let it drip out if you want a reward when we get home.” A lazy grin stretches across his features. “I promise to make it worth your while.” 

[sohnric]

THIS KITCHEN IS FOR DANCING – k. sunwoo

you never knew a kitchen was more than just a place to cook in.

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: established relationship au (omg who is she..), hurt/comfort, domestic, fluff, tiniest bit of angst. slice of life !!

warnings: hinting at dysfunctional families, the reader has unspecified mental issues

wc: 1.7k

listen to: matilda by harry styles

a/n: thank u sm sweetie pie @csenke for beta reading in such a short time 💞 also this is very loosely inspired by the book happy all the time by laurie colwin!

this fic is dedicated to my best friend @from-izzy 🤍 I originally wanted to write you something else (as you may know), but I hope even this small thing translates just how much you mean to me. happiest birthday to you, i love you so much

The apartment grows silent after everyone leaves and the door is shut behind them, the only sound accompanying your thoughts being the water running in the kitchen sink, the song lowly playing through the radio and your boyfriend’s occasional, quiet humming as he helps you dry off the dishes and put them away into their respective cupboards. Not a single word was shared between the two of you since the guests departed your new place, your thoughts running a thousand miles per hour, eyes hypnotizing the tap as you focus on washing off all the food and grease remains off your cutlery. Your brain is buzzing with the memories of the past couple of hours, each moment replaying in the back of your head once, twice before it moves to another one, trapping you in an endless cycle of motion bouncing against the walls of your skull.

You relive the whole evening again. 

The sound of the doorbell ringing, a yelled-out “Surprise!” landing into your ears as the little crowd materializes at your doorstep. The kisses pressed to your cheeks, the potted plant forced into your hands, the kettle your boyfriend’s sister drags inside and places onto your kitchen counter without even asking you, plugging it in. The image of your boyfriend’s dad pressing Play on your old, beaten-up radio, the grin he sends you as he admires your empty apartment. 

The bottle of wine your boyfriend puts into your hold when you finally find a place to put the plant down, the soft, apologetic smile sent your way as he kisses the corner of your mouth. The sight of 3 pairs of shoes waiting next to the door, the sound of their socked feet shuffling across the floor. 

The side-hug his mother brings you into, her sweet words landing into your ears. “You made it look so pretty and homey,” she says.

You reply that the apartment is still half-empty and looks a little naked. She tells you it’s nothing a few picture frames won’t fix, and his sister suggests getting a colorful rug for your living room to brighten the space up a bit. You nod to her words, taking them all in.

You’re not used to all of this. 

People visiting you, people throwing you a housewarming party. People caring enough about your comfort to bring you kitchen appliances you lack and asking you if there’s anything more you need that their son forgot to mention when they asked. 

You’re not used to so much care. So much tenderness. To a family so loving their care feels kind of overbearing to your small, fragile heart.

“Are you mad at me?” Sunwoo asks through the endless stream of your thoughts, making you look up from the kitchen sink. You forgot he was here– but then again, where would the dishes be magically disappearing into if not his hands?

The question shocks you. Not because you don’t expect him to ask– just because you don’t really expect your own answer.

“No,” you shake your head, voice a little hoarse. Your eyes burn with emotion, turning into water pools begging to be tipped over if you don’t pay enough willpower to make the streams stop. You bite at your lower lip.

It doesn’t help.

“Then why are you crying?” he asks.

There’s no use stopping it now. There’s no use refusing the apartment that’s now warm from the body heat it received from all the people visiting it this evening. There’s no use rejecting something you never knew you wanted– something you never knew you needed. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I know you said you didn’t want anyone to visit for a bit before you get used to the new apartment and all, and you also wanted to have it fully done before anyone else saw it, but my parents insisted, and–”

“Thank you,” you utter out silently, like a prayer, making him stop in his tracks.

It’s only been a few months since you and Sunwoo started dating. Right from the start, the boy knew it would be different with you. He wouldn’t say it was difficult– no, loving you has always been easy for him– but he knew that he had to have much more patience with you.

His love is patient when he listens to your requests and boundaries. When he listens to you cry and picks up your calls even in the middle of the night, staying up with you until early morning just so you wouldn’t feel alone during your sleepless moments. Sunwoo’s love is patient when he gently holds you and kisses you slowly, setting the pace just right. His love is patient when he helps you pick out an apartment that’s just right for you– with the right size, location, on the right floor, not once thinking of his own convenience.

He always listens– just not this once. 

Somehow, you can’t find it in you to be mad at him.

You used to think you wanted the world to be quiet for a while. To stop– to leave you alone so you could breathe. You wanted your own place for yourself– your own space, uninvaded by anyone else, stranded from any contact. You used to think you don’t want guests over or family members helping with the move– not that the effort was made anyways.

You used to think you wanted a place for one– a quiet nook to bring you comfort, four silent walls to make you calm. A bedroom to make you sleep soundly, a living room with nothing but a TV and a sofa to keep you company. A kitchen to make food and a table to eat it at before you get off for work. That’s what you wanted.

But after the evening is over and your boyfriend’s family leaves the walls echoing with laughter, the radio playing lowly in the background, tea made from the new kettle waiting on your coffee table, steam warming up the place with gentle cinnamon, your heart squeezes on itself at the realization of just how wrong you were.

Sunwoo turns the water off as he walks closer to you, enveloping you in a tight hug. Your hands are dripping water up to your forearms, making wet puddles glisten onto the tiles of your kitchen floor, yet he doesn’t mind stepping his socks in and having your arms sneak around his waist, all your built-up emotion releasing as he gently rocks you to the beat of the music in the background– action something akin to reaching for your soft, tender heart into your ribcage and gently holding it in his palms, protecting it and keeping it safe.

You never knew you were made for love like this. 

You never knew you wanted two pairs of arms holding you to them, the smell of Sunwoo’s cologne clogging up your nose. You didn’t know all you needed was his presence to doze off on evenings that are difficult– a garden in his soul made for you to sleep safely. You never knew the sound of his voice was enough to fight off thunder and make sunlight cut through the clouds, like the sweet chirping of birds waking up in the morning.

You never knew you wanted a place that’s a walking distance from your boyfriend’s– just in case either of you wanted to quickly come over. You didn’t know you wanted a bedroom with soft sheets in it to cuddle in with someone, beams of sunlight dripping into the space through the blinds in the mornings caused by the location of the windows being towards the east. You didn’t know you wanted a living room decorated with gifted house plants and picture frames filled with people you care for the most. 

You didn’t know that a kitchen is more than just a place to cook in. You now realize, amongst all the other things, that your kitchen is now also a space for shared meals, chatter and a bottle of wine opened after a long day at work. 

Sunwoo’s low voice keeps humming the familiar song into your ear, rocking you from side to side. The dishes are long forgotten and your worries disappear like the last remains of rain puddles left outside after a storm on a sunny day. 

The gentle, patient love Sunwoo has for you slowly slips into your heart, mending all the damaged pieces back together and opening up your eyes to so many more things you wanted to stay blind to. You were patient for long enough, though– and you finally see it, right there in front of you, tangible and believable– after all of the love you put out into the world selflessly, tirelessly, it finally came back to you.

And it will stay.

Your new apartment– although you live alone– is a place for love and kindness. A new chapter for new memories, each one brighter than the other. This place is for you to come back to after a long day to rest your limbs and soul in the quiet comfort of it all. This place is made for two people that turn a simple house into a home.

This kitchen is not just for cooking food and heating up leftovers over a cup of coffee during lunchtime. Kim Sunwoo and his endless love show you that a housewarming party is nothing to be scared of if you don’t have an anxious, quiet voice in your ear constantly telling you that there will always be people waiting on the side to somehow ruin your special day for you.

This kitchen is for whispered conversations over sleepy mornings during the weekday. This kitchen is for making pancakes after making love, two arms sneaking around your waist from behind, naked chest pressed against your back. This kitchen is for washing the dishes together, a smiley boy helping you with even the simplest task. This kitchen is for laughter when you burn an omelet or overseason your food, trying out new meals. This kitchen is for matcha in the evenings, a worried pair of eyes rushing you to sleep instead. 

This kitchen is for love trapped between four walls, with no way for it to get out and disappear into the wind.

But tonight, most of all, you realize–

This kitchen is for dancing.

[wordsinhaled]

we know crowley’s spent centuries listening to aziraphale talk about his language lessons, we know how supportive and wonderful he was about aziraphale’s magic hobby he was originally before it all went south

i want to see the reverse over the years!

imagining all the time crowley has rambled at aziraphale at length, and aziraphale just listening to his enthusiasm and becoming utterly smitten

angel crowley before the fall teaching aziraphale all about physics, gravity and pressure and matter, practically bouncing with excitement as he shows him new star systems being born and aziraphale telling him he’s done brilliantly. marveling at the beautiful acts of creation that crowley brings forth (and also at crowley but shhh that’s aziraphale’s secret for now)

crowley and aziraphale on earth and the first time aziraphale realized crowley was really interested plants. what if aziraphale brought him his first houseplant? as a housewarming gift for his flat in london, and crowley still has it (through painstaking care and just a bit of occult intervention…)

imagining aziraphale tagging along with crowley to plant shops, helping him carry bags of potting soil to the bentley, browsing with him along aisles of plants. “this one looks lovely, darling.” “oh, no, angel, that one’s sick, see? the brown bits on the leaves, there. leaf rot.” “well, you can make it better, can’t you?” (and aziraphale beams at crowley, and crowley gets the sick plant, of course, and rehabilitates it, and later aziraphale recognizes it and smiles)

aziraphale listens fondly to crowley talk about stars - crowley doesn’t even need to be tipsy to go on long winding enthused tangents about them. aziraphale goes over to crowley’s flat to watch carl sagan’s cosmos with him on crowley’s big flatscreen TV, and is so excited for him whenever the james webb telescope puts out new images

i like to think aziraphale gave crowley some of his guidebooks on the stars and that he has a special section of the bookshop full of antique and vintage stargazers’ atlases and literature on the science of the universe. and maybe if crowley’s the one who plans their lunch dates then aziraphale’s the one who miracles them the best seats in the house at the planetarium and spends the whole time watching crowley gaze with wonder at the stars he created

i want to see crowley introducing aziraphale to his favorite romcoms (once they’re happily living in the south downs of course) and aziraphale dutifully reenacting all the sappiest things crowley loves best. kisses in the rain and picnics by the sea and baking croissants together at midnight on a whim - all because it makes crowley happy

just aziraphale being absolutely as gone on crowley as crowley is on him if not more, and showing it over and over for the rest of time 💛💛💛

[powdermelonkeg]

Gale of Waterdeep assorted headcanons: 2

Headcanons 1 here, Tower layout here

He overshares when he's drunk. It's a good look into how his brain works, but he has a 50/50 chance of putting his foot in his mouth

He has a handful of custom spells, one of those being an illusory campsite. Gale's Minor Mirage, he calls it. You're welcome!

The stitch scar on his neck is from being held at knifepoint by a particularly opportunistic thief. Said thief got hit with a lightning bolt

His spellbook is beautifully scripted to the untrained eye, but contains additional notes written in invisible ink. He presents himself as neat and tidy, but his real scribblings are anything but

While inflicted with the Netherese Orb, his blood leaves rashes on other people wherever it touches. Not severe ones, but it doesn't feel pleasant. Like a mild sunburn

Quothe (the raven familiar) is his. It's named that because it loves to listen to Gale read literature (and occasionally recite lines where he leaves off)

He owns a fancy lanceboard set; it was a housewarming gift from his parents when he first got his tower

When he was little, he used to wear a ribbon as a headband to pull his hair back with, and a cape. His hair was fluffy and fell to his chin

His favorite color is blue, but he thinks he looks more refined in purple. His mother thinks he looks most dashing in red

His favorite hobby is helping Tara adapt spells with somatic components for tressym use

His first staff was a Sun Staff, gifted to him by Elminster

His most recent staff was a Staff of Power

Both of these, he had to consume. It was a very, very hard choice to make

Other things he's had to destroy that he cared for dearly:

Emerald Pen (left over from days at the academy; worse that it wasn't worth it, as it didn't give him more than a few hours)

Chromatic Rose (given by a lover upon breakup)

Duplicitous Manuscript (The Art of the Night is one of these)

Needle of Mending (kept it on his person after the thief incident)

Wand of Enemy Detection (carried it with him on excursions with Tara)

Wayfarer's Boots (his favorite travel pair)

Arcane Grimoire (one of his first found artifacts, copied a few spells from it into his own book)

Candle of Invocation (a gift from Mystra)

Crystal Ball of Telepathy (Tara used it more than he did; her little paws can't cast Sending)

Songbird Sage's Signet (wore it everywhere, only used in a pinch; he misses the weight of it and rubs his finger occasionally)

Crown of Whirling Comets (wore it to the Blackstaff annual balls, partly to show off)

The 6th level spell Program Illusion is what appears during his Death Protocol. As it needs to be tied to an area within 30 feet of where it's assigned, it's what his briefs are enchanted with. His reasoning is that he'd always have them, and no one would take them off him while dead

When he's panicked, he burns through the magical item he fed the Orb with faster. That's why he puts such a weight on keeping calm

The reason you have 2 days to resurrect him before exploding, and why he can still live for a bit if you don't give him an item immediately, is because without careful management, it consumes HIM. He has 2 days worth of magic to his person

He doesn't like to turn people down outright. To him, the gentlemanly thing to do is to go on a first date to indulge whomever asked. He's had a lot of first dates

He's been accused of using Enchantment as to why he's so dashing once or twice. It absolutely stoked his ego around his looks

Quipper fish and hundur sauce is the dish he's most proud of, but his favorite is a good slow roast

He'll make illusory ceilings for dates with starry skies and auroras. Maybe floating candles if he's feeling fancy. Yes that extends to the bedroom

If left to his own devices, he will relax in a bath for HOURS. Tara thinks he falls asleep in there (she can't prove anything)

Before the orb, he and his mother had a pseudo-competitive exchange of cookware. They'd take turns making the most ELABORATE dishes in the same fancy glass pan, and send it back and forth trying to outdo each other. Whenever one showed up with the pan, it would always be with a healthy seasoning of smug satisfaction and sweet compliments about the last meal

He likes picnics on the beach. If you show him shells and things he'll happily tell you where they came from

He always dresses just a smidge too warmly for the weather

He can sleep just about anywhere, and frequently does in his tower. It's not good for his back. When Tara finds him, she always tugs a blanket over him

His family symbol is a crescent moon setting in the water

Bonus Tara headcanon: her opal collar is her spellcasting focus

[georgeclarkesgf]

hey!! i love the way you write for george it’s so cute - could i request something where the reader is good friends with max and they’re all at a social event and george meets her for the first time and he gets a huge crush on her (maybe some teasing from his housemates) and then maybe a bit about how the relationship develops

all good if not!!! ty ❤️❤️

of course lovely! here you go <3

by the time you and max arrive at george's housewarming party, the sounds of laughter and music filling the air are in full swing. max can sense your nerves, and reassures you quickly with a side hug before dragging you to get a drink.

it was only your first week in london, having recently just moved, after much convincing from max. you'd been close friends with him for years. he knows how nervous you were about making such a big move, so when george mentioned the party, max knew this was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone and make you feel more welcome.

after being handed a drink, you're pulled over to where george and grace are currently bickering about a tiktok they saw. grace is the first to spot you both, getting up and giving max a hug before introducing herself.

"hi babe! you must be y/n," you nod, returning her hug, "max mentioned he was bringing someone. you want a drink?"

"uh, no i've just got one but thank you. let me know when you get another one and i'll join you though." you smile before she walks off.

"probably for the best, grace can't measure drinks for shit. i'm george by the way."

"i know," internally you cringe, not wanting to make yourself sound like a weird fan or stalker, "i mean because i watch the podcast, and max loves to talk about you."

max's jaw drops, and he playfully shoves your shoulder, "i do not!"

"yes, you do. don't lie."

as the night goes on and you gain confidence through the drinks you consume, you find yourself gravitating toward george. you'd been introduced to everyone, him having taken over from max at some point in the evening, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible despite only just meeting you.

chris and arthur, george's flatmates, notice the way his eyes follow you whenever you're talking to someone else or grabbing a drink, and decide to tease him.

"george," he gives a hum of acknowledgment, but his eyes never leave you, "you're staring."

"chris shut up. i'm not staring." he mumbles, quickly shifting his gaze to the phone in his hand.

it's a lie, of course he's staring. how could he not?

"so, you have a plan? or are you just gonna stare all night and hope that she'll magically become your girlfriend?" arthur teases making george roll his eyes.

ignoring the laughs from behind him, he walks over to where you and grace are and rests a hand on your lower back to gain your attention.

"hey, sorry to interrupt. can i steal you for a minute?"

"yea of course." you say, taking his hand as he leads you to somewhere more private.

his hands grow clammy as he closes his bedroom door and you notice how he won't meet your eye for longer than a couple of seconds at a time.

"george, are you okay?"

he shoves his hands in his pockets and finally meets your gaze, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"sorry if this is too forward and i know we've just met but i was wondering if you'd wanna grab a drink some time? no pressure to say yes or anything."

the few seconds of silence are killing him before you nod your head with a grin on your face.

"i'd love to." you giggle and pull out your phone to get his number.

--------

the next few weeks you and george are barely apart, spending nearly every day together. his friends don't stop their teasing but he doesn't let it bother him. he's just happy with how well things are going.

the date had gone well, a local bar allowing you to get to know each other more in a relaxed environment. conversation between you both flowed easily, filling the space with laughter as you found out more about each other. it was evident by the end of the date that the feelings were mutual.

weeks turn into months, and everyone around you is glad you're both so happy and smitten with one another. george is constantly proving to be an incredible boyfriend, making sure you feel loved and appreciated, surprising you with random gifts or nights away.

one night, you're at george's flat for the weekly movie night that now happens. his arm is wrapped around your waist and you're curled into him, head on his shoulder.

"have we ever told you how thankful we are you adopted george as your rescue boyfriend?" arthur chuckles and george groans at the reminder of the infamous tweet, "means his whole personality can't be about being single."

"yea you've mentioned it once or twice," you laugh as george hides his face in your neck, blushing, "don't get embarrassed baby, you're my favourite rescue boyfriend."

his head shoots up and he cocks his eyebrow, "what do you mean your favourite? what other rescue boyfriends have you had?"

"never you mind, just watch the movie."

you push his head towards the tv but before you realise what's happening, george is mercilessly tickling you. a shriek of laughter escapes your lips.

"george! stop, i'm sorry!" you gasp, trying to pry his wrists away from your sides, but you're trapped underneath him.

watching the scene unfold in front of them, chris and arthur smile, feeling happy for george at him being so undoubtedly in love.

"okay, okay! i surrender! please stop!" your sides physically hurt from your uncontrollable laughing.

at last, george stops, gripping your hips instead and you're panting as you try to catch your breath.

"tell me i'm not a rescue boyfriend and that i'm actually the best boyfriend in the world." he demands, his voice a mix of mock sternness and affection.

"you're not a rescue boyfriend, you're actually the best boyfriend in the world. i love you." he dips his head, placing a kiss on your lips before you both sit up.

"i love you too." george repeats, letting you cuddle into his side again.

in your tickle fight, you both momentarily forget where you are until you hear arthur speak, "you two are so cute."

a look is shared between you and you both know there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in this moment.

[mrsriddlenott]

The First Day Of SmutMas

[smutmas masterlist] [main masterlist]

~ First Christmas ~

bf!James Potter x fem!Reader

Summary: You and James have your first Christmas in your new flat together. You two have fun buying new decorations and deciding where they’ll go while getting distracted in every room you put them in.

- no voldy, no war, no Jilly(i love them tho), mention of reader having a mother, this one’s probably gonna be longer than the others since it’s the first, & ik they can just magic all this up but🤷‍♀️-

Warnings: 18+ Content!!!! Sickly sweet fluff, language, nicknames(Baby, Princess, Good Girl, etc), reader is shorter than James, alludes to Smut, degrading(kinda?), aggressive make out, f!receiving fingering, m!receiving oral. Me being obsessed with James being a dominant softie.

You and James had been together since your 5th year of Hogwarts and by the time your 7th came to an end you knew you were meant to be together forever. Once you had successfully started University and James solidified his Pro-Quidditch career close to a year later, he was desperately begging you to join him in the two bedroom flat he leased for you both, and how could you say no?

You moved in during the Spring and by the time July rolled around you were able to hold a housewarming party with all your friends, and by the start of your next school semester in September, you could really call it home. Which brings you to now, where you sit in your cozy living room under a large blanket texting your Mother as James heats up dinner for you both.

“Jamie!! Oh my Gods!!!” You shouted, jolting up in your love seat and tossing your blanket off as you held your phone in both hands looking at it. James came running into the living room from the connected kitchen as soon as he heard your distress, skidding around the breakfast island as though he was on the Quidditch pitch.

“What?! What’s wrong are you okay??” His eyes darted around your face and body before scanning the room as though looking for danger. “No!! We don’t have Christmas decorations Jamie, my parents have our tree up already look!” You got up, shoving your phone in your boyfriends face as you pouted up to him, showing the sparkling Christmas tree in the photo your Mother sent you.

“I completely forgot I didn’t have my own,” you sighed, looking back to the photo of your decorated childhood living room, “Christmas felt so far away when I moved in so I figured we’d just buy one before we needed one and now it’s gonna be Christmas soon-” your rambling dies down when James’ warm hands cup your face as he shushes your worries, pulling your chin up so you have to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t worry Love, we have close to a month to get this place all festive, we can go to the store first thing in the morning okay?” You shake his hands from your face with scrunched brows before pushing past him entirely, “No, let’s go now, we can set this place up tonight it’s too far into December to wait any longer.”

James stands still in the middle of your shared living room as you rush around, grabbing your coat and keys and straightening your hair in the mirror by your front door, “Love?” James spoke in an overly cautious voice, “It’s only December 5th, we have plenty of time,” His little giggle that usually would have you basically kicking your feet and blushing makes you glare at him through the mirror.

“Right, okay fair enough I’ll get my coat,” He states with a nod of his head and snap of his fingers as he spins on his feet, leaving you to put on your shoes with a triumphant smile. You rushed him out the door as soon as his feet were in his boots before you were speeding out of your car garage as fast as you could, blasting your Christmas playlist louder than needed the entire ride to the store.

James smiled to himself as he watched you sing over every lyric of Feliz Navidad while you wiggled in the drivers seat dancing in what space you had, “Jesus Baby, I knew you loved Christmas but I didn’t know it was this much,” He chuckled to himself with his chin in his hand leant over the middle console. You reached to turn down your music so you could speak properly, keeping your fingers on the nob and making it clear it wouldn’t be for long, “It’s our first Christmas living together James,” you shrugged, flashing him a quick smile before continuing, “I don’t know this one’s just different”

James swore he’d never spent longer shopping, even when you moved in together, but he didn’t complain. The shimmer in your eyes every time you saw something Christmas related had him holding out longer every time he thought to ask when you two would be done. James gladly showed off his strength picking up the box for the 6 foot Christmas tree you said was “just perfect for the flat” and picked out a few boxes of variously shaped lights, but mainly let you run the show as he pushed the items around on the comically too small cart. Until he saw something you must have missed, laughing to himself behind you and quickly grabbing the plastic mistletoe with a bright red ribbon around it, slipping it under the stockings you picked out so it could be a surprise.

Almost as soon as you were back home and parked, you were jumping out to start gathering bags from your trunk, “Baby let me, there‘s like twenty bags in there,” James laughed out while joining you at the back of the car, however you were desperate to get to decorating, insisting it would get done faster if you helped, as well as keep him from needing to do multiple trips up the stairs. Which he couldn’t argue with, so after a few minutes he caved and let you take significantly less bags than you planned, before making your way upstairs.

It didn’t take long to get into the groove of decorating as you turned on your music and began imagining the perfect places for all your decorations. Starting in the living room, you began handing James tinsel to hang off various surfaces as you started unboxing the lights and thinking of where they’re needed most. Tugging at the opening of the box, you watched as James reluctantly taped over the ends of the fake greenery attempting, and failing, to get it to hang evenly over the entrance to your hallway. The obvious pieces of tape and ripped bits hanging uneven and way too low made you cringe as you stepped forward, “er….Jamie Sweetie, do you wanna open these instead and I can take over that”

Staying in your groove however, proved difficult. Since James thought he didn’t seem to have the artistic vision you were looking for in your decoration process, he opted for “patiently”waiting for you to tell him what to do as you worked throughout the flat with James following behind your heels like a lost puppy. In reality though, there was nothing patient about James Potter and at this point he had honestly grown rather bored of decorating, becoming desperate for your attention. He couldn’t stop himself from grabbing your hand every 10 to 20 minutes just to twirl you around to Christmas music, as you both laughed and enjoyed the other’s company he watched your eyes shine up at him like he wanted to all evening. When you inevitably caught on to his attempts to distract you however, you began turning down his dances leading him to pout behind your busy figure when you asked him if he could set up the tree for you to decorate instead.

After eyeing the blank canvas of the new tree and the various boxes of different shaped ornaments, you quickly grew entranced by the millions of ways you could think to arrange the shining pieces of glass and plastic, leaving James to grumble to himself while rummaging through the remaining bags to see if you missed any of the fragile orbs. Once he got to a bag holding only two stockings he smirked to himself, grabbing it quickly and yanking out the artificial mistletoe before facing your back as you gently set the hook of a red ornament on the wire branch of the tree. James approached you quickly, standing directly behind you and holding the little decoration above both your heads in one of his large hands.

“Look up,” he chuckled and took your hip in his free hand, spinning you around as you observed the adorable little thing above you with a smile. In less than a second he had tossed the green plastic aside and was gripping the back of your head in his now freed hand, tugging your lips into his as soon as your eyes met. He sighed into you, licking along your bottom lip and begging for entrance as you whined below him, the kiss was passionate and full of unspoken desires as your hands found their designated spot in his messy curls.

James groaned as you tugged on his locks, gripping you tightly before slamming you into the closest wall with a protective hand on your head. Your gasp forced your lips to separate, James staring down at the swollen, red flesh before trailing his lips down your neck to mark there as well, “You drive me crazy you know? You look absolutely breath taking doing the simplest of things,” His voice was low and drenched in arousal as his hands began trailing up and down your body possessively.

The combination of his hot breath and his delicate lips slowly turning aggressive had you shivering and clenching your legs together, your lips unable to keep in your song of pleasure. James’ cocky smile grew in the crook of your neck at the sound, urging him to slip his hand under your shirt to tease the top of your pants and tug you closer by the free belt loop. James brought his lips to the shell of your ear where he softly whispered sounding almost like pleading, “Lemme make you feel good Baby, then we can get back to work.”

His lips immediately returned to their assault of your neck as you tried to will your brain into forming a sentence, “We- hmph….we need to get it done Jamie- fuck.” His teeth dug into the flesh of the side of your neck with a groan and his fingers struggled their way past the waistband of your jeans to drag his fingertips over the hem of your underwear before his mouth was returning to your ear. “I won’t take long then…..I know you want to. I can feel your heat already, you know all you have to do is ask and it’s yours.”

You could hear his smirk in his voice as you whimpered, whining a feeble please that allowed him to rush his hand away only for a second as he unbuttoned your jeans, before quickly snaking his way down the front of your pants and underwear. You both sighed out a moan as the pad of his rough finger slid it’s way through your slick folds, locating your clit immediately and adding a finger as he drew quick circles that took your breath away. “Y’like that Princess?” James chuckled as he spoke, “I know you do, you’re fucking dripping in my hand,”

James’ voice was dark as his deep, blown out eyes met yours, his wide smile only grew as he quickly shoved both his fingers forward and inside of your desperate cunt, forcing your eyes to shut and your mouth to fall open in a moan. “Oh fuck. Fucking hell Jamie,” James wasted no time in picking up the most brutal pace your tight jeans would allow, the feel of the seam scratching against the back of his hand only increasing his need for you. Each time his fingers hit the deepest parts of you he’d swirl his fingertips against the warm, spongey spot and each time your moans would fall into whimpers as you clenched around his digits. Your mind was going hazy as the tension in your lower stomach grew, your moans turning into pants and whines of pleasure as you cling to James’s arms, nails digging into him and surely marking his flesh.

His teeth nip at the bruising skin of your neck pushing you closer to your breaking point, your legs shook under you and his free arm moved to support your back. His fingers worked faster as you tried to support yourself on his chest that vibrated with laughter, his mocking tone surrounding you, “Gods Princess, can’t even fucking stay standing,” his teeth harshly pulled at the abused flesh of your neck just to hear your whines before continuing, “Pathetic really, bet you won’t even wanna finish the tree once I’m finished….isn’t that right?”

“Fu-fuck James….don’t b-be mean,” James snickered into your neck, feeling the clench of your walls and knowing full well you were enjoying every word, “Oh shut the fuck up and be grateful.” He punctuated his words with a harsh move of his fingers against your g-spot, snapping the tension that he’d built up and pushing you over the edge. Your head fell backward into the wall loudly, eyes screwed shut and your mouth open in a silent moan as your whole body shook around James’ fingers that slowly calmed and retreated to his mouth to be sucked clean. He pecked your sweaty cheek and helped to steady you against the wall, laughing at his handy work as you huffed, attempting to catch your breath. “Okay, now back to work Love.”

Your eyes lazily opened to meet his gaze, his authoritative voice making you question what he was planning. “I thought you sai-“ James laughed aloud, kissing your forehead and buttoning your pants as your brows scrunched together, watching him retreat to grab a random ornament before making a show of finding the best spot for it to take.

Over an hour later you found yourself leant below the tree adding the last few ornaments where they looked best. “Hey! Would ya look at that!!” James suddenly stated dramatically as he stood behind you, watching intently as you bent forward on your knees toward the tree. You turned to find him much closer than you expected with a hand above his head, once again dangling the mistletoe above you both. “Gotta give me another kiss now Love,” James almost whispered with a bright smile, “How bout you be all festive and follow the rules yeah?”

When you went to stand James’ rough hand met your shoulder, lightly shoving you back onto your knees and tsking down at you softly. He pocketed his mistletoe, caressing your cheek with his knuckle sending a shiver directly down your spine, “You kissed me on the lips last time Princess, shouldn’t I get a different kiss this time?” His voice was laced in a condescending tone as his bottom lip stuck out in a mocking pout, watching your eyes dart between his darkening gaze and his growing bulge that was almost level with your eyes.

You smiled up at him, maintaining eye contact as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his clothed crotch and immediately letting your tongue slip past your lips to leave a trail of spit up the outline of his shaft to his tip, eliciting a groan from the back of James’ throat. “Fucking ‘ell, take them off first” he growled above you, making you giggle as you tugged his pants and boxers halfway down his muscular thighs, letting his fully hard dick bounce up against his abdomen. Your eyes and lips gravitated to it as though they were magnets, mouth watering as you planted soft kisses on the base of his shaft before trailing higher while James’ breath picked up. His strong fingers weaved into your hair, a telltale sign he was getting impatient, just how you liked him.

Almost as soon as your delicate lips met his leaking red tip you were opening them to trace up and down his slit with the tip of your tongue, before padding your teeth with your lips and hollowing your cheeks to abruptly and without warning slip his throbbing dick down your throat in one go. The obscene, shaky moan James released was like music to your ears as his fingers aggressively clenched in your hair. “Fuck y/n, bloody amazing you are!” You bobbed your head up and down, immediately setting a quick pace you knew he thoroughly enjoyed.

His hips lightly thrusted forward to meet your tongue each time you backed away, forcing you to gag around him as his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly. The weight of his heavy dick and the taste of his precum sending a wave of pleasure to your core, drenching your already damp underwear once again. You balanced yourself with a hand on his large thigh, moaning as you dug your nails into the flesh, pulling a strangled moan from James and making him jolt harder into your mouth accidentally.

“Fuck Princess I’m sorry, just feels so- oh fuck,” you didn’t let up at his words, even as his hips mindlessly pushed him further and harder into you. Your eyes watered as your throat started to hurt, his grip in your hair moving to grip onto the back of your neck hard. “I’m gonna cum and you’re gonna fucking swallow it okay?” Your teary eyes met his as you nodded the best you could around him, “Good girl, always so good for me.” You moan around him at his praises, hearing him hiss above you as you absentmindedly buck your hips against nothing but the seam of your jeans. His dick twitched against your tongue when James pulled back before he was shoving back in harder, using your neck to push you further onto him as he spilled his cum into the back of your throat, forcing a gag from your desperate attempts to swallow every last drop he gifted you.

James gently removed himself from your mouth, trailing his hand to your cheek in a comforting manner as he tugged his pants up over himself. He trailed his thumb over your swollen lip, smiling down to you with a hazed look on his face, “My little gift under the tree.” His voice was soft and inviting as you giggled up to him before standing to turn and observe your beautiful Christmas tree.

“Baby, you missed an ornament,” James stated as he pointed out a snowflake remaining in the box now filled mostly with empty protective wrapping, “I was wondering, why didn’t you want to get a real Christmas tree? Y’know, be all traditional for the first Christmas in the flat?” James asked as he grabbed the forgotten ornament gently and handed it to you.

“Because this way it‘ll last a while, as long as we keep it safe anyway. We can take it with us when we move into a house together and one day it’ll be our kids’ first Christmas tree. Maybe even some of our grandkids’ if it lasts that long.” You spoke so nonchalantly as though you knew for a fact you wanted to spend every Christmas as a family and James swore his chest shrunk, his heart suddenly feeling the need to break out of his body as his eyes scrunched with the smile on his face. His slightly teary eyes scanned the room that only seconds ago he saw as a bit gaudy, now seeing the bows, the flashing lights of different colors, and that green plastic mocking vegetation on any flat edge it would fit on….as absolutely beautiful, each one a new memory to be shared.

When you turned to look to him you saw he was already watching you hang the glittering snowflake with tears in his eyes. Wasting no time in throwing himself forward, gripping your cheeks in his warm hands and melding his lips into yours, only barely separating to breath with his forehead against yours. “If you keep talking like that then this tree will only be a few months older than James Jr” You burst out laughing together as you fall into his arms in a warm hug.

“I am most definitely not naming our son James Jr,” you laughed, stepping around him with a pat on his shoulder, “James can be his middle name though Sweetie, we can think of a first name when we actually start trying.” You giggled, rearranging a piece of tinsel that was out of place, not seeing the look of pure love and adoration James was giving you.

“Well then what the bloody ‘ell are we waitin’ for” James loudly stated, pulling your attention to him before he was hauling you up by your thighs, tossing you over his shoulder, and smacking your ass with a laugh while walking toward your shared bedroom.

~~~~

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[sliebman10]

Second Chance

The door looked the same as it always had. Chipped white paint, a tarnished knocker in the shape of a wolf’s head James had bought as a housewarming present. The worn mat with a pawprint on it. He felt like he was falling into a memory.

Sirius bit his lip and knocked. The door opened and there he was. The same as always. Well, a little more grey streaked into his golden brown curls, a few more lines around his eyes. But still the same.

They stared at each other for a moment. 

“Hi Moony,” Sirius said softly.

Remus blinked and stood aside so he could come in. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“I can’t either,” Sirius admitted.

“How’s Harry?”

“Freaked out. I wanted to stay with him but…” Sirius sighed and smiled sadly at Remus. 

Remus reached out and put his hand on Sirius’s shoulder, a gesture that surprised them both. “He’ll be ok,” Remus said, more to reassure Sirius than because he really believed it. 

Remus showed Sirius to the guest room, without looking at him. They both felt the sudden tension between them. 

When it was time for dinner, Remus started working on it and Sirius joined him in the kitchen. They cooked using a mixture of magic and Muggles techniques, just like old times. Remus flicked on the wireless and an old Beatles song came on that they both started singing to, almost without thinking about it. 

After dinner, they sat in the living room. Sirius sat on the opposite end of the sofa but he really wanted to snuggle into Remus’s side like he used to. He didn’t know if he was allowed. There was so much he didn’t know. He could feel the weight of the past twelve years in between them.

When they got up to go to bed, they separated without saying a word. 

Sirius fell asleep quickly, but inevitably woke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. He sat up, trying to catch his breath. 

And then Remus was there, putting his arms around Sirius, pulling him close. Sirius leaned into him, matching his breathing until the aftershocks of the nightmare melted away. 

“I missed you so much,” Remus said, into his damp hair. 

“Me too, Moony,” Sirius whispered. “Do you think we could…try again?”

Word Count: 387

@wolfstarmicrofic

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 22.3k ❧ warnings: cursing, inaccurate descriptions of constellations bc this is a fantasy world ❧ genre: fluff, mild angst, slow burn, blind date, strangers to idiots friends to lovers, modern magical creatures au, college au, werewolf sungchan, human reader, ft. siren shotaro & various magical neos (and another extra special guest appearance!), same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: so this is technically the spiritual threequel to my two werewolf jeno fics (pupsick + abh) but you still don’t have to read those to understand this one at all! this is absolutely meant to be read by itself! and this one is also very self-indulgent, from the a.c.e song title to werewolf sungchan, i had a very great time on this one, hence the word count. if you guys have even half the fun reading this as i did writing it, you’ll have a blast. enjoy! ❧ sequel

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

baby i’m your changer, changer, love is not a danger

Reclined on the plush, soft grass of the front lawn of your college with your hands behind your head, you basked in a particularly lovely patch of sunlight. It was January, the very beginning of the year and the semester, meaning that this would normally be a very chilly and unpleasant endeavor. Except you were sandwiched between two dryads. Dryads weren’t in and of themselves extra warm like dragons or werewolves, nor could one dryad on their own change the weather—and would most likely be influenced by it rather than the other way other—but if you got two together, and they were in a good enough mood, they could generate a little bubble of springtime around them. And for some reason, Jaemin and Donghyuck were in exceptionally high spirits today.

You knew the two dryads from Magical Botany Club, which you had joined your freshman year after you’d managed to kill the small cactus that your parents gave you as a housewarming present for your dorm. They were the only ones who didn’t immediately label you a lost cause, and instead saw you as a challenge. Now, your junior year, your apartment was a jungle to rival that of a dryad’s home, and you were even Vice President of the club this year.

After a long, refreshing inhale followed by an even longer exhale, you finally asked, “So what’s got you in such a good mood? It certainly can’t just be finalizing the calendar of club activities this semester.”

Jaemin was club President, and Donghyuck the Secretary/Treasurer, so this little sunbathing session before the start of the semester on Monday was really supposed to be an Executive Board meeting.

“Who, us?” Jaemin replied innocently.

“No, I was talking to the cardinal on Donghyuck’s leg,” you retorted sarcastically, gesturing to said bird that had also settled in to enjoy the cozy rays.

“We’re not planning anything,” Donghyuck said in the same tone as Jaemin.

You propped yourself up on one elbow to look down at your friend properly, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “I just wanted you to share whatever good news you had, I didn’t think you two were planning anything, but now I definitely do. What’s going on?”

“Donghyuck, you idiot!” The other dryad hissed at him.

“What is it? Don’t tell me you and that fairy are going to try to convince your human friend that aliens are real again. Leave that poor guy alone, he’s got enough on his plate just dealing with all of you being real and jerks to him.” You scoffed disapprovingly, remembering when they recounted that story to you at club a couple years ago. You had been tempted to check on Renjun yourself when you spotted him at the library the next day, but you didn’t know him personally, and didn’t think he’d appreciate it in the moment. Especially not since he looked like he was really focused on his work at the time, so you just let him be.

“It’s nothing like that, I swear,” Jaemin promised. “It’s nothing bad at all.”

You sat up all the way to be able to look at both of them at once. “Okay, what is it then?”

Donghyuck sat up too, the cardinal hopping up to his shoulder. “Long story short, we have a friend that we want to set you up with.”

“No thanks, guys.” You shook your head.

“You won’t even let us tell you about him?”

“I’m not really looking for anything right now. Not after my ex—”

Jaemin pushed his phone screen in front of your face then, a picture of a guy on it. It was presumably the friend they wanted to set you up with. He was around your age, tall—if where his head was in comparison to the doorway of this building was to be believed, wearing a black leather jacket. It looked well-worn, though, as if it might not have been his originally, handed down or thrifted at least. And yeah, he was cute, you weren’t blind. But you also knew not to just eat with your eyes, or else you’d get a tummyache.

“Seriously, Jaemin?” You looked at your friend over the phone screen. “You think I’m that shallow? One picture and I’m going to throw everything away?”

“Dude, show her the—” Donghyuck flapped his hand at the other dryad insistently.

“Oh, right, right.” Jaemin nodded as he began swiping and tapping on his phone fervently.

Donghyuck kept talking to you, “Of course we don’t think you’re shallow. We always meant to tell you about him, too. His name’s Jung Sungchan, he goes here, too, he’s a werewolf, he’s really nice, uh… Jaemin? Some help?”

You let out a sound that was a mix between a snort and a scoff. “Yeah, he sounds great.”

“Okay, he’s really more Jaemin’s friend than mine, sorry,” Donghyuck admitted. “Jaemin? What’s taking so long dude?”

“I don’t know! I can’t find it for some reason, I think he deleted it!” Jaemin muttered, his voice panicked. “I’m checking Jeno’s Instagram right now.”

“So Jeno knows him?” You asked. You didn’t know Jaemin’s werewolf roommate as well as you knew the two dryads, but you did know that they were all friends. “Are they in the same pack?”

“No, they actually know each other through Jeno’s… Ha! Found it!” Jaemin yelled out in celebration, flipping his phone around for you to see.

It was another picture, this time of Jeno standing next to the person you now knew to be named Sungchan. They were at what looked like a u-pick strawberry patch, each proudly holding up a large bucket filled to the brim with strawberries. Sungchan was in a white tank top—a brave choice for a strawberry farm—and shorts. Despite the outfit showing off a lot more of him than the last picture, it was his bright, happy grin that caught your eye, and you had to consciously make sure your gaze didn’t linger too long on the picture.

Turning your attention back to your friends, you prompted Jaemin, “Well? Do you know any more about him than he goes to our college and is a nice werewolf that knows Jeno?”

“Right! Yes!” Jaemin sat up straight at attention as you saw Donghyuck do a little fist pump of victory out of the corner of your eye. “He’s tall—”

“I can see that, he’s like almost two heads taller than Jeno; I meant his personality. This isn’t me saying yes, by the way.” You pointed to yourself and Jaemin talking. “This is me gathering data. I wanted to take time for myself after what happened with my ex, remember? I think it might be enough time, but I need a bit more than ‘he’s nice’ to get me out there.”

“Of course, of course. I really appreciate you even considering this for us,” he squeezed your arm for a moment before letting it go. “He’s really smart, Dean’s List every semester, uh, it might take a minute for him to warm up at first, but once he does, he’s funny, and insightful. And he doesn’t have that constant go-go-go energy that werewolves usually do, he’s so much chiller, so if you were worried about that, don’t be.”

“And, sorry, I know he’s your friend, but I have to ask…” You winced. “He’s not one of those werewolf guys that only dates human girls as like… you know… an ego thing?”

Donghyuck snorted, “Oh he’s not, promise.”

Tension you didn’t know you’d been carrying in your shoulders relaxed at that. “Good.”

“We do have to tell you one thing though,” Jaemin grimaced.

“What?”

“This isn’t just a random set-up because we think you guys would be cute—”

“Oh God, what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” He rushed to reassure you. “Like, that part is true, we do think you’d be a good match.”

“Let me guess: the ‘but’ that follows that sentence is related to the ‘long story’ that Donghyuck mentioned earlier?”

Jaemin nodded reluctantly. “Yeah… long story long, Sungchan made a deal, and his end of it was letting us set him up with anybody of our choosing.”

“You’re using a date with me to punish him?” You stood up, brushing the grass off your back. “Yeah, hard fucking pass. Thanks, guys, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“No, not a punishment!” Jaemin scrambled to get to his feet as well. As you walked off, the air around you turned cold again, marking when you left their bubble of spring. He called after you, “Y/N! I’m sorry! Please!”

You didn’t want to go back to your empty apartment yet though, so you found yourself meandering into a familiar storefront. Jasmine & Pearls, a boba tea shop just around the corner from your college campus. There was only one customer ahead of you in line, and you stared blankly at the menu just to look at something. You weren’t feeling very adventurous today, so you’d probably get your regular go-to order. After the customer before you had been helped, you shuffled up to the counter, messing with your phone case to pull your punch card out of the back of it.

“Hey, Y/N!” Shotaro, the siren working behind the counter today, greeted you cheerily.

The iridescent pink scales under the tip of his button nose and apples of his cheeks shimmered in the fluorescent lights, making him look like he had a perpetual hint of rosy blush across his skin. That, and his cherubic smile could almost make you forget what those scales and his flashing silvery eyes really meant—he was a siren, could lure you to your death if he so wanted to. Obviously, he didn’t want to, had no reason to, and that would literally be a murder charge nowadays, but you nevertheless found it fascinating that such a being was just here serving you boba tea.

A few months ago, you realized that you came here probably too often once all the workers knew your name, but by then it was too late. It was just too convenient, delicious, and pleasant of an atmosphere for you to feel ashamed enough to stop coming.

“Hi, Shotaro.” You smiled back at him. “Just a regular honey milk tea with boba, please. No charms today.”

“On it!” He accepted both your punch card and credit card from you. After handing them back, he spun around to make your drink, and you went to go wait for it at the bartop at the other end.

Curious, and with nothing better to do in that moment, you pulled up Jeno’s Instagram on your phone. From the main grid on his account, all you could see was pictures either with or of his partner. Cute. Then you finally saw one of them at a strawberry patch, Jeno in the same outfit as the picture Jaemin had shown you before. You clicked on that one, and sure enough it was a whole set of photos. You swiped through to find the one of him and Sungchan holding the buckets of strawberries. And Sungchan was tagged.

You looked up at Shotaro. The customer ahead of you still hadn’t gotten their drink. You checked the notifications on your phone. Nothing new to reply to. Well, here it goes. You clicked on his account.

And he was private. Well, good for him. Internet privacy.

You went back to Jeno’s Instagram to check if Sungchan had maybe appeared in any more posts. You just wanted to see if you could glean anything more about him.

You finally found him again in what looked like a big group trip to Cape Solaria at the end of last summer. There were probably fifteen people here at least. He popped up in a few different shots, playing beach sports with Jeno and some other guys that you didn’t recognize; joining in on throwing some poor small guy—who you presumed to be a witch, judging by the ritual tattoos he was covered in from neck to ankle—into the ocean; and sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows with Jaemin and Renjun. And in every single one, Sungchan had such a genuine, pure, joyful smile. Like he was fully enjoying the moment and the people with him. Yeah, maybe you were projecting, but... surely it wouldn’t hurt to give it at least one chance?

“Y/N? Hello?” Shotaro was calling for you from the counter, shaking a drink that was presumably yours.

You snapped your head up, sheepishly turning your phone off and stuffing it away in your pocket. The other customer was nowhere to be seen; it was just you and the siren.

“Sorry, sorry.” You rushed up to accept the cup.

“It’s alright, you seemed like you were in the zone.”

You grabbed a straw, punching it out from the plastic wrapping. “In the zone of a little cyberstalking, as much as I hate to admit.”

“No shame here, we all do it. Who was it? Can I see?” He grinned mischievously.

“No,” you said flatly, stabbing your straw through the top of the drink. “My friends want to set me up.”

“Want to? Sounds like you haven’t said yes.”

“Perceptive.” You took your first sip.

“But you were cyberstalking them... So, you’re considering?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Why not? Human lives are short.”

“Right. Thanks for that reminder.”

The bell above the front door rang then, announcing the entrance of another customer.

“Always here to help,” Shotaro patted your forearm before walking back to the register to greet the newcomer.

Two weeks later and you were nervously double-checking the name of the restaurant and the time that Jeno had sent you. Yep, this was it, and you weren’t weirdly early. You couldn’t believe how strange this felt, going on a date again. Comparing your outfit to the casual café as you walked in, you felt only a little better that you weren’t overdressed or underdressed either.

Your eyes scanned the building for Sungchan. You’d done enough cyberstalking on your own time in addition to the photos that your friends kept showing you to hype you up that you were certain you’d recognize him easily. It looked like you’d gotten here first. It was seat-yourself, so you might as well grab a table for the two of you.

You’d just come to a stop in front of a little two-seater and took your purse off to hang off the back of your chair.

“Y/N?” A voice came from behind you, accompanied by a gentle tap on your shoulder.

You spun around, immediately face-to-chest with someone. Looking up, you did, in fact, recognize the face of Jung Sungchan. He was admittedly cuter in real life than in the multitude of pictures that Jaemin and Donghyuck had continued to show you in preparation for the date. You didn’t want to know what they’d been doing to prepare Sungchan.

“Hi, Sungchan?” You still phrased it like a question, watching as the man’s features relaxed into an easy smile of recognition.

“Yes, hello.” He raised his arms up slightly at the same time that you did, and you realized that the both of you were now presumably having the same internal debate about if you were supposed to hug your blind first date hello as a greeting.

Ultimately, the two of you did go in for an awkward short hug, and you let out a nervous chuckle, feeling the warmth radiating off of him in the brief contact. You immediately looked down at the table, “Uhm, should we sit?”

“Of course, yeah.”

And as the two of you sat down on opposite sides, you looked up from your fidgeting fingers to your date’s face, not expecting his brow to be furrowed as if he were troubled by something, his gaze affixed on you.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. “Is everything okay?”

“You’re not wearing any perfume...” He commented, and you let out a minuscule sigh of relief. That’s all it was, he was just a bit put off that you hadn’t put on a perfume like one might’ve normally done for a date. A detail that he would’ve of course picked up as a werewolf.

“Not that I expect any brownie points for this, but I uh, I didn’t want to overwhelm your nose, in case there were any smells you’re particularly sensitive to,” you explained, picking up the menu that was already sitting on the table.

“You did your research.”

“Oh, I’ve dated a couple werewolves before, actually.”

“Really? You got a type or something?” As soon as the word were out of Sungchan’s mouth, he went to take them back, seeming surprised even at himself, “Sorry, that was—”

“No, no, I get it,” you cut off his apology, your tone reassuring. You knew that there were people who had a disturbing preference for werewolves, so you could understand why you dating now three werewolves might initially look a little suspicious. “Uh, I went to a kind of small high school. Private school. There were a couple of packs in my area that sent like all of their kids there, so my graduating class ended up being like 75% werewolves. It was just kind of statistics, I guess.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry about that, again,” Sungchan apologized once more, relaxing in his seat a bit more as he actually started to peruse his own menu.

“Anyway, that’s not a great first date topic.” You forced out a light-hearted chuckle.

“What’s not?”

“Past relationships? I think that’s third or fourth at least, don’t you?”

“Mm, yeah, of course. Sorry.”

Desperate to redirect the conversation to a much lighter, neutral one, you asked, “So what’s your major, Sungchan?”

“Earth Sciences.”

“Geology or Climatology track?”

He perked up at this. “Meteorology and Climatology.”

“And what made you want to study that?”

“Well, at first I thought I wanted to study astrophysics, but it was too much math and too little actual space. But I really liked my Intro to Weather class I took my first semester to cover a random credit so I switched to that and it stuck.”

“Wait, was it a morning Monday-Wednesday-Friday with Professor- Professor...” Suddenly, the memory struck you. “Oh! Hwang? Fall semester three years ago?”

“Yes, I believe so...” He answered, head tilting with intrigue.

“I think I had it too!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I took it to get that Science credit as well.”

“I’m sorry to say that I don’t remember you at all.”

“It’s okay, I don’t remember you either,” you laughed, just amazed at the coincidence. “It was a big auditorium.”

Sungchan must have figured out what he wanted, as he set down his menu and leaned his elbows on the table to give you his full attention. “So what are you studying?”

“I’m an Interdisciplinary Major,” you told him happily, thrilled that the conversation was going much more smoothly now. “I was a bit indecisive, too. Except I couldn’t find one thing that stuck like you did. So I chose two: Sociology and Magical Creatures Studies.”

His eyes dropped from yours as he scoffed under his breath, sitting back in his seat.

And there went your pleasant conversation again.

“What was that?” You asked tersely.

“I didn’t say anything.” He shook his head like he was trying to clear the unpleasant tone from the conversation, but you weren’t going to let him go that easily.

“No, but clearly you have an opinion. So go ahead.”

“Not really, I was just wondering if you’ve even dated anyone that wasn’t a werewolf.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You think my major is just me cruising for a new boyfriend or something? Very expensive and essay-intensive compared to dating apps.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N,” Sungchan held his hands up, looking back up at you again. His features turned apologetic. “I just… I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“So were you going to actually ask me that if I didn’t confront you, or were you just going to make assumptions?”

“That really was rude of me,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, I mean… how do you ask someone something like that without coming off as a bit rude?”

“I suggest phrasing it like a genuine question instead of an accusation.”

“Right.” He took a second as if to compose himself, then asked, his tone much more conservational, “So, you said you dated a couple werewolves in high school. Uh, have you dated anyone else since coming to college, then? Before this?”

You did your best to return your own voice and manner to civility as well. “Dates here and there, but as for serious relationships, just one, I dated a human guy briefly.”

“And why did you break up? If you don’t mind telling me. I get it if it’s too personal.”

“It’s fine. He cheated on me.”

“So you’re of course looking for loyalty. Like, you know, a dog.” Sungchan fired back spitefully.

“Okay, I think we’re done here, Sungchan,” you declared, putting both your hands on the table to prepare yourself to stand.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he rushed to try to apologize for the umpteenth time that night, but you’d heard plenty by now.

“No, it’s fine, really,” you assured him, still moving to get up out of your chair and grab your purse. “You’ve obviously had some bad experiences in the past, none of which I’m privy to. It’s not fair to you to constantly be suspicious that your date has ulterior motives for being with you. But it’s also not fair to me to have to constantly defend myself either.”

He was quiet at that.

You continued, “We both deserve to be able to relax and have fun, and that’s clearly just not going to be able to happen. It’s okay, sometimes things just don’t work out. So, I’m going to go, and I hope you have a great rest of your day.”

And with that, you turned around and left the café.

The ringing of the bell above the door of Jasmine & Pearls barely registered in the back of your mind as you lumbered right up to the cash register the next day.

“Good afternoon, Y/N!” Shotaro greeted you cheerily.

“Hi, Shotaro...” You couldn’t muster up anything close to his level of enthusiasm, letting out a sigh. “Same old, same old, please.”

“Uh oh. Sounds like the date didn’t go so well?” He surmised, ringing you up then starting on your order.

“No, it didn’t,” you leaned against the counter to keep talking to him. “Barely lasted ten minutes.”

“That’s rough. You end it or did he?”

“I did. It was for the best but still... I thought I was going to really like this guy.” Based off nothing but social media posts and word of mouth from friends, but you really were hopeful. You’d had a good feeling, and had trusted Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck. And it blew up in your face.

Note to self, never fucking trust those three again.

“Don’t feel too bad, Y/N. Seems like it’s going around.”

“What do you mean?”

“My roommate’s date last night was a bust too.”

“We should make a club,” you chuckled cynically.

“Or I can set you up?” The siren offered hopefully.

“Thanks, but I’m good. I said I was going to take some time to focus on myself after my last relationship, and I meant that. Last night was me testing the waters, and I fucking drowned.”

“That special, huh? Or, I guess not, in the end.”

“Well, at least now I know, you know? No ‘what if’s to mess with.”

Shotaro enthusiastically slammed your drink down in front of you. “Hell yeah, Y/N. A clear head.”

“Exactly.” You pulled the cup over to you.

He put the packaged straw down on top emphatically. “Fuck that guy.”

“Bit extreme, Shotaro, but I appreciate the sentiment,” you grinned, hitting the straw against the counter to pop it out from the plastic wrapping.

“You’re coming to our Valentine’s Day event next month though, right?” Your friend asked, pointing to the poster taped to the wall advertising the event. The evening of February 13th at the boba shop, with a special themed drinks menu and activities to do.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Great!” He beamed at you.

“Anyway, I’ve got to go, and you’ve got more customers. See you.” You took your drink with you towards the exit that a whole gaggle of high schoolers had just come through, waving to the siren over your shoulder.

“Bye, Y/N!”

Pulling open the door of Jasmine & Pearls some weeks later, you were immediately greeted by an array of red, pink, and white. The entire store had been redecorated for the event. A short stage was set up against the far wall of the dining area, a small photobooth in another corner, and a station where you could learn to make an origami heart, if the pictures on the instructions taped to the wall above it were anything to guess off. The shop was already bustling and buzzing with energy, filled with couples and groups of friends. All in all, it looked like it was shaping up to be a successful night for them.

You got into possibly the longest line you could remember having waited in at Jasmine & Pearls in a while—you’d learned the rush times and had become a pro at avoiding them in order to get your boba fix as quick as possible—and continued looking around with a smile on your face.

Unfortunately, you were flying this one solo. Your friends were all either working or studying tonight, and you weren’t going to flake after already promising Shotaro just because you couldn’t find someone to come with you. But you could have plenty of fun by yourself. And, you didn’t make any promise to stay the whole night. You’d stay just to finish your drink and maybe make an origami heart or two, depending on how good you were at them.

Finally, it was your turn to order, and you walked up to the register already with a big smile on your face.

Shotaro was manning the register while another employee fulfilled the orders. Your friend’s face lit up immediately. “Y/N! You made it!”

“I told you I would. Did you doubt me?” You questioned in mock offense.

“Not for a second,” he declared. Pointing to the little standee menu that was on the counter, he asked, “So what’ll you have? I recommend one of our specials for the occasion, obviously.”

You looked over the three new drink options that were advertised as for tonight’s event only. One in particular caught your eye, strawberry milk tea with heart-shaped brown sugar tapioca pearls, and an added feel-good charm. “That Lovebug sounds good.”

“Perfect! I knew you’d get that one! Coming right up!” He rang you up, but only took your credit card from your hand. “Sorry, no regular punch cards tonight. Instead, every purchase of a drink comes with a special event-only punch card.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows as he handed you a small pink card with four circles on it, one already punched out with a heart-shaped hole punch.

“Yep! If you complete all the activities we have tonight, you can redeem it for a free drink! You’ve already gotten a punch for purchasing a drink, then we’ve got the photobooth—” he pointed to the large box. “Just bring your photo strips up here, and I’ll punch the card for you. And the origami, same thing. They don’t have to be professional, as long as you tried, just show them to me, and I’ll give you another punch. And then my boss, Baekhyun, is going to be hosting Valentine’s Bingo in like ten, fifteen minutes. He’ll punch everyone’s cards who participates.” He gestured to the stage, where you now saw a man starting to mess with a microphone and small table. “Don’t worry, you can play single.”

“Huh. Sounds good to me.” You tucked the card into your pocket. “Thanks, Shotaro.”

“Your drink will be out in a second!”

When you finally heard your name being called out by the other employee, you walked up and took the cup from him gratefully. It was another siren, who you weren’t nearly as familiar with as Shotaro, but you still offered Yuta a smile as you accepted the drink.

You looked at the heart-shaped boba at the bottom of the cup fondly. “Cute. Thanks, Yuta.”

“Of course! Now enjoy the ambiance.” Yuta shooed you away with a smirk.

You saluted him casually. “Heard.”

Meandering around the store, you took in the kitschy decorations in various heart, Cupid, rose, and arrow shapes all around. Despite your own striking out in the romance department as of late, you couldn’t find yourself wanting to muster up any morosity for the atmosphere. It was too endearing, and you were someone who just loved love. And maybe the feel-good charm in the boba pearls was doing its job pretty well.

Legally, Jasmine & Pearls couldn’t sell any charms that had effects as strong as alcohol, drugs, or hexes, or they’d need special licenses for that, but the little charms and enchantments available in some of their boba options could influence one’s mood for a short amount of time. Feel-good, tranquility, energy, focus, that kind of stuff.

A lot of the tables had been pushed to one side to make room for the stage, so you took your drink to the bar seating that was against a window, keeping your eye on the figure on stage. As he was readjusting the microphone, you caught a flash of scales under his skin, realizing that he too was a siren, and suddenly the employment choices felt a bit more intentional than coincidental.

Red and pink heart-shaped confetti had been sprinkled along the bartop, and you brushed some of it aside to be able to set your cup down. You were humming along to the love song playing over the speakers as you scrolled on your phone when you swore you heard your name. Straightening up a little, you listened carefully for it again.

“Y/N?” Someone gently tapped on your shoulder this time.

You turned around atop the stool you’d been sitting on, not prepared for who was behind you. Jung Sungchan was standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn black leather jacket. Honestly, you hadn’t thought much about him since your date five or six weeks ago. Your focus had been on school— with this being your junior year, you had a lot to get together in order to be ready to apply for grad schools, Botany Club, still going to work, and keeping up with friends around all this somehow. One failed date that wasn’t even in your top five worst dates hadn’t really been keeping you up at night. And yet somehow here he was.

You were sure that the surprise was evident on your face, and you probably left just too long of pause hanging in the air before you finally said something. “Oh, Sungchan, hi.”

“I thought that was you. Hey.” He offered a friendly smile.

“How are you?”

“I’m—” He was cut off by a distant shout of his name that only got closer.

“Hey! Sungchan!” It was Shotaro, the siren approaching with a prepared drink and straw, shoving them in the werewolf’s hand. “Dude, you can’t just walk away from the counter like that while we’re making your drink, then I have to come chase you down when you don’t hear your name.”

Sungchan accepted it from the employee guiltily. “Sorry, Shotaro.”

“Anyway! I’m glad you two have met.” Shotaro beamed at the pair of you, throwing an arm around Sungchan’s neck. “Y/N, this is my roommate I was talking about, Jung Sungchan. Sungchan, this is Y/L/N Y/N, she’s a regular here and goes to our college.”

Your eyes widened minutely in alarm as you suddenly connected way too many dots. Oh god, Shotaro’s roommate had an awful date, Sungchan is Shotaro’s roommate, you and Sungchan had gone on a date that night, the very same date you had also complained to Shotaro about. And who knows what terrible things Sungchan might have told the siren about the date, about you. After all, you had been the one to walk out on him.

You felt like you were going to puke as Shotaro gave Sungchan a sharp slap on the shoulder, winked at you behind his roommate’s back, and walked back to his station behind the counter.

After a heavy, long, awkward pause, Sungchan finally spoke up. “So… what did you get?”

“Oh, uhm… the Lovebug. What about you?”

“Me too, same. Lovebug.”

Another pause as you watched Sungchan open his straw and poke it through the plastic seal covering the top of the drink.

“So are we going to address the elephant in the room?” You decided to just get it over with.

“Which one? I feel like we have a whole herd at this point.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Okay, fair. I meant Shotaro. I’ll be the first to admit that I confided in him after our—I’m sorry to say but—disaster of a date.”

“That’s a generous assessment, actually.” Sungchan agreed. “And I told him about it too. I mean, we live together, it was hard for him not to notice when I came back home less than an hour after I left.”

“Ah, yeah…”

“I didn’t say anything bad about you, by the way. I told him it went horribly, because I ruined it, of course, but you were perfectly lovely. Truly way more level-headed than I deserved.”

“Oh, no, Sungchan,” you tried to reassure him. “Really, like I said before— Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“I know. But still, I treated you awfully, and I am really, really sorry about that.”

“Thank you.”

A crackling came from the speakers up front, snapping your attention back to the man on stage. Baekhyun had gotten the microphone connected, and you saw Shotaro darting from the stage to his spot at the register as his boss called for everyone’s attention. “Hello? Hello? Great, this is working.”

He flashed a dazzling smile to the small crowd. “Hi, if you don’t know me, I’m Byun Baekhyun, I own Jasmine & Pearls here. If you’re in line, don’t panic, we’re not starting quite yet. I just wanted to thank everybody for coming out here tonight, this is honestly a much better turnout than we had expected. I, of course, also want to thank my two incredible employees, Shotaro and Yuta, for working tonight too.”

The two sirens behind the counter both waved as they got a round of applause, then everyone’s eyes were back on Baekhyun.

“We’re going to be starting Valentine’s Bingo in about five minutes or so. I just want everyone to know that you will need a partner for this. So if you came out here by yourself, find another single person out there and you know… get talking.” He grinned, and you swore his gaze lingered on you and Sungchan for a millisecond too long to be coincidental. “Okay, awesome, I’ll be back up here in five to get it started.”

Your eyes flashed over to your friend that was working, remembering exactly when he told you that you could play the game by yourself, and now suddenly you needed a partner. Shotaro was contentedly ringing up a customer’s order, though, seemingly not even paying you nor Sungchan any mind.

“So, uh, want to partner up? For the bingo?” Sungchan asked, then rushed to tack on, “Unless you’re waiting for somebody?”

“I’m not waiting for anybody,” you smiled, gesturing to the stool beside you for him to sit down.

“How have things been with you?”

“Good, they’ve been pretty good. Just a lot of school and Bot Club.”

“Bot Club?”

“Magical Botany Club. I’m the Vice President this year.”

“Oh, cool. So that’s how you know Jaemin, then.”

“Yeah, yeah. Him and Lee Donghyuck, we’re all on the board together.”

“How’d you get into it?”

“Because I sucked at gardening,” you admitted with a laugh. “My freshman year, my parents gave me this cactus to have in my dorm, and I killed the thing somehow. They can survive in deserts and the most extreme climates in the world, and it perished in my dorm room. I joined Bot Club hoping for some tips, and everyone just immediately thought I was beyond help. Jaemin and Hyuck were the only ones who actually took the time to help me. And it took a lot of time.”

Sungchan was smiling too, genuinely. “You must have grown to really like it, to stick around after getting your cactus caretaking tips.”

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded. “What about you? How’s school been for you?”

He grimaced a little. “Could be better, honestly.”

“Oh no? Why? What’s wrong?” You frowned.

Before Sungchan could answer, another person had approached the two of you. It was Baekhyun, a stack of square bingo cards in one hand and box of markers in the other. His silver eyes seemed to glitter in the lights as he smiled at you, his opalescent scales refracting a whole rainbow of colors where they sat just under his skin along his cheekbones, bridge of his nose, and forehead.

“Hi!” He greeted the two of you cheerfully. “Are you two together?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” Sungchan nodded, reaching out to grab your bingo sheet and marker before the store owner flitted off to the next pair of customers.

He set them down on the counter in between the two of you, but your focus was still on your conversation.

“So what’s wrong, Sungchan?” You asked, taking another sip of your drink.

“I mean, it’s just been a bit stressful is all,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “One of my professors asked me to do research with him, and then I took an SI position with another professor too, on top of all my classes. Just kind of got a lot on my plate.”

“Oh, okay. But that sounds like a great opportunity, at least. Your professor asking you to do research with him.”

“It is, it’s some seriously cool stuff.”

“What’s—”

Baekhyun clearing his throat into the microphone from the front cut you off, and you gave the werewolf an apologetic look.

“Sorry. But I do want to hear about it later, Sungchan,” you squeezed his arm before turning around to face the stage.

“Alright, we’re going to be getting started then.”

As Baekhyun kicked off the first round of bingo, you found yourself tapping the marker against the bingo card as you sat there. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sungchan awkwardly leaning over as he tried to look at the sheet too, and you realized you’d been hogging it.

“Oh, sorry, here,” you moved the sheet more into the middle, at the same time that you scooted your stool over towards him to lessen the gap between you. “Is that better?”

Sungchan’s shoulder was just behind yours as he looked over you at both the card and the stage. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

“Did you want to mark them off? Sorry, I just grabbed it without thinking.” You offered the permanent marker out to him.

“No, it’s all yours.” He shook his head, then tapped his finger to the middle spot. “But you did forget the Free Space.”

“Oh, shit, thanks.” You crossed it off with an X.

Baekhyun called out number after number, and you and Sungchan worked together to search the small card for them.

You clicked your tongue as you couldn’t find the one the shop owner had just called out, and were about to pick your cup back up to take another sip of your drink, when Sungchan spoke up happily.

“Found it!”

“Oh, where?” You hovered the marker over the card, scanning the little letters and numbers.

“Right there.” He’d pointed, but his hand was gone too fast, and you lost it again.

“Wait, where?”

“Right…” he reached over to wrap his own hand around yours that was holding the marker, and dragged it over to the correct square. You giggled as he guided your hand to draw a messy X like you were a toddler learning to write your letters for the first time. “…There.” He finished, letting go of your hand.

“Ahh, okay,” you nodded slowly. “I see… I’m illiterate.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it.”

“Hey!”

Sungchan laughed as you gave a half-hearted smack against his chest, and you couldn’t help but smile too. After all, it was your self-deprecating joke first.

He patted your back, apologizing through his chuckles, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Apology taken under consideration.”

“Oof, I don’t like the sound of that. Anything I can do to better my chances here?”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think as you tapped the capped end of the marker against your bottom lip.

Sungchan watched you, his elbow resting on the bartop and his cheek in his hand. The only thing separating you two was the bingo sheet, the game which you weren’t even focused on anymore. Your back was entirely turned to the stage now, gaze set only on the werewolf next to you.

Just as you’d parted your lips to make your proposal, you happened to hear Baekhyun announce the next number.

“O13!” The siren’s voice carried well through the speakers. “O13!”

You let your eyes flick down, immediately catching on that open square on your card. And it completed the row. You marked it off, a giddy grin spreading across your face as you went to elbow Sungchan. “Look!”

“Oh damn! Nice!” He raised his hand, as did you, as he called out. “Bingo! We got bingo!”

Baekhyun’s features lit up as he stopped his progress of reaching for the next bingo ball. He practically purred into the microphone, “Well, well, seems like we’ve got our first bingo. If one of you could read it out so I can double-check it, then we’ll see about getting you two your prizes.”

Sungchan called out your five spaces, and Baekhyun nodded with each one, the room erupting into applause when he declared that you two had won that round.

“Alright, come up here so I can give you your prizes and punch your tickets.” The siren waved you up.

You looked to Sungchan expectantly, and he gestured for you to go up ahead of him. Instead, feeling a bit uneasy with the entire café’s eyes on you, you latched onto his forearm and dragged him up right alongside you.

“So you each are getting a gift card to the shop—” He handed you two small cards, then turned around, where Yuta had appeared with a couple more items. Baekhyun then handed each of you a denim baseball cap that had the logo of the shop on the front in lilac purple thread. “And Jasmine & Pearls embroidered hats. Thank you so much for coming here and playing.”

You accepted both prizes from him, feeling over the embroidery on the cap with your finger.

“And if you’d give me your event punch cards, I’ll go ahead and give you your punches now, since you unfortunately, won’t be allowed to play to win again. Fairness and all that.”

You and Sungchan handed over your punch cards, and the siren gave each of you another heart-shaped punch before giving them back.

“Now, we will be playing two more rounds, so don’t worry if you didn’t win this time,” he announced to the rest of the crowd as you and Sungchan headed back to your seats. “I’ll hand out brand new cards to everybody, and we’ll restart. Y/N and Sungchan, you’re free to play again for fun, if you’d like. You just can’t play for profit.”

Sungchan looked over at you in a silent question, and you shook your head. You were happy to play and win just the one time. After all, with everybody else still occupied, this would be the perfect time to do the other activities with little to no lines or crowding.

“No thank you, we’re bingo-ed out for tonight,” Sungchan called out, and the host nodded graciously.

“Very well. Everybody else hold tight while I come around to distribute new cards.”

As the two of you finally sat back down at your seats and looked over your prizes, you realized that you had never introduced yourself to Baekhyun. Not when he had passed out the cards, nor when he was giving you your prizes. But he knew your names. You snapped your head up towards the counter suspiciously again, but Shotaro was once again minding his business, cleaning out one of the machines.

Sungchan was readjusting the sizing of his hat, then finally pulled it on, offering you a lopsided grin. “What do you think?”

“Looks good on you.” You tapped the brim of it, feeling a familiar airiness in your chest, one that you hadn’t felt in some time. “You wear baseball caps a lot?”

“For sure, so I’ll get good use out of this.”

“Wear them for fashion or do you play a lot of sports?”

“Oh, uh, both, I guess? I like how they look, and I usually wear them when I’m out playing whatever to keep the Sun off my face, yeah.”

The pictures from Jeno’s Instagram of Sungchan on their trip to Cape Solaria suddenly came to mind, and you diverted your eyes down to the gift card in your hand as your skin started getting warmer and warmer. At this rate, he was going to be able to hear your heartbeat picking up the pace and the idea of that in and of itself was embarrassing enough to make it gain even more speed.

“So…” Sungchan inhaled, and you looked up with both your eyebrows raised.

Admittedly, you’d completely forgotten where the two of you were in your previous conversation. “Hm?”

“Do you want to finish the other two punches together?” He asked. “I know they’re not partner things, but we’re both here, and everyone else is busy doing bingo, so it’s probably the best time to do them and—”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” You grinned at him, standing up off your stool. “I’d love to, Sungchan. Besides, you’re still supposed to tell me about your research, remember?”

His features lit up as he followed you over to the origami station. “Right, right! Are you sure you want to hear about it, though? It’s on climate change and how it affects human disease, it’s a little doomsday-ish.”

“Ah, perfect for the holiday.” You pointed to the giant paper cut-out of a cartoon Cupid hanging above your heads, then reached for your first square of red paper. “I’m sure, go for it.”

“Okay, cool,” he beamed at you, grabbing a piece of patterned pink paper.

As Sungchan walked you through all the intricacies and machinations of the topic that his research with his professor was on, you were genuinely happy at how much you understood. He didn’t mind slowing down to answer your questions, or explain concepts that you didn’t know already. And you two could have an actual conversation tangential to the topic, because you had taken a Magical Conservation class just last semester that dealt directly with how climate change was affecting a lot of magical creatures, such as sirens who typically lived in and around glaciers that were now losing much of their native habitats due to the lack of year-round sea ice at the poles. And all the while, you both tried your damndest to make an origami heart.

“Okay, what the fuck?!” Sungchan huffed, cutting himself off in the middle of a thought about disease vectors. He smacked his crumpled piece of paper that looked nothing like a heart onto the table. “I’ve taken engineering classes, how am I getting bested by a primary school arts and crafts project?”

“It’s not a—”

“It literally says ages 8 and up on the instructions.”

You pressed your lips together in a line. “Ah. So it does.”

Yours didn’t look much better. It seemed as though you were both getting bested by a project meant for children.

“Well, Shotaro did say we just had to show him we tried and we’d get the punch,” you reminded him.

“No, no, I can get this,” he shook his head, grabbing a fresh sheet. “I just need to focus, and not talk while I do it. You’re too much of a distraction.”

“My apologies, I’ll be quiet this time,” you chuckled, covering your mouth with your hand as you leaned against the table to watch him try again.

He made every fold with precision, but you found that you weren’t really watching him fold so much as you were watching him. His brow was set in concentration, a small crease emerging in the knit of his brows, his eyes narrowed slightly, and the very tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips. It was cute, adorable, endearing, everything in the thesaurus, and you could’ve sat there and watched him fold origami hearts all night if he wanted to, punch card and free drink be damned.

Sungchan stood up straight, his features relaxing into a proud grin as he held his completed piece up for you to see. It was definitely a heart this time, a simple baby pink color, and you were amazed at how straight the lines were.

“Nice, Sungchan!” You praised him. “That’s what those engineering classes were for, huh?”

“I wasn’t going to let some project for ages 8 and up that Shotaro picked out get the best of me!” He declared, and you could practically see his chest puffing out with pride. “I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “So that’s what this was? Fragile STEM major ego?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Isn’t sociology a science?”

“I think you’re the first hard science major to ever say that.”

“It ends in -ology.”

“So do phrenology and astrology.”

“Fair. But seriously, is it not?”

“It is. But usually, you engineering and whatnot majors don’t like to consider us ‘soft sciences’ like sociology and anthropology and psychology to be ‘real sciences,’ whatever the hell that means.”

“Ohh, yeah… I’ve got better shit to do than tell a scientist that they’re not a scientist.”

“Like make children’s crafts.”

“Exactly.” He gave you another smile brighter than the Sun.

You nodded firmly. “A much better use of your time. Now, are you ready to take these to Shotaro?”

“Yeah, let’s go!”

As the two of you walked up to the counter, you continued your earlier conversation, “And I will remind you that I’m actually an Interdisciplinary major, and also study MCS. Both of which are considered humanities, a label that I wear with pride, even more so than the ‘soft science’ one.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Sungchan’s mouth as he looked down at you. “Noted.”

Shotaro was standing at the register, hands folded over each other and a smug smile on his face as he watched the two of you approach together. “Well, hey, guys! Congrats on your win!”

“Thanks, Shotaro.” You smiled back, holding your paper heart out to him. “We did the origami too.”

Sungchan held his up too, and you could see the proud look on his face as he did so.

“His is a lot better than mine,” you admitted as the siren took just a second to appraise them. Seeing the two side-by-side, yours was a bit misshapen, folds across parts that were supposed to be flat from you having to undo and redo parts over and over again.

“That’s okay! You guys just had to try,” Shotaro reminded you, picking up the hole punch. “Punch cards please?”

With just one punch left, you and Sungchan headed over to the photobooth in the corner. It was set up so that you didn’t have to pay for any of the films. Sungchan climbed in first, and you watched nervously where his head almost hit the top of the entrance.

“Goddamn this thing is tiny,” he observed as soon as he had poked his head in past the curtain.

“Is it small or are you a giant?” You asked pointedly.

Sungchan had fully entered the photobooth then, and retorted back, “Get in here and find out.”

As you parted the curtain and put just your first foot in, you immediately realized how cramped the two of you were going to be. “Okay, maybe a bit of both.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sungchan was already sat on the bench, and pressed himself as far back into the corner as he could to give you enough space to sit next to him. Your leg was squished in next to his, and his arm ended up around your shoulders. He was warm, as expected for a werewolf, whose body temperatures all ran naturally higher than humans.

As he shifted his shoulders and arm to settle around you, he double-checked, “Sorry, is this alright? It’s tight in here—”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you turned your head to give him a smile, but were instead caught off-guard by just how close his face was to yours. If either one of you shifted forward right now, you would hit noses. Your breath hitched in your throat as you made eye contact with him. Oh, he could definitely hear your heartbeat in the tiny space afforded by the photobooth, surely as clear as you could hear it thudding in your own ears. God, you’d always thought he was cute, but something about being so close, and the lights in here hitting the angles of his face just right, he was striking, handsome. You curled your hands into fists in the material of your pants, not trusting yourself not to grab him and do something too wildly out of pocket.

The screen played a short melody at you, knocking you from your trance, and you turned your focus back to your task.

Pressing a couple buttons on the touchscreen, you looked between the height of the camera and Sungchan, squinting. “Is your head even going to show in frame?”

Sungchan swallowed, then cleared his throat before he spoke, as if his mouth had gone dry. “Guess we’ll find out after.”

“Alright, it’s a four-cut.” You announced after skimming the easy illustrated instructions. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He gave you a thumbs up.

“Okay. 1, 2, 3.” You pressed the start button before sitting back in your seat against him again.

You smiled and held up a peace sign for the first one, and in the split second of the flash going off, you heard the werewolf next to you curse under his breath, “Fuck! That’s bright—” accompanied by the feeling of him flinching back, and immediately followed by a distinct thud.

Turning around as much as the space could allow for, you saw Sungchan curled in on himself, his eyes squinted shut presumably both in pain from the flash and from where he had just smacked the back of his head against the wall of the photobooth, judging by the hand he was cradling it with.

“Ooh! Sungchan, are you alright?” You asked through giggles, unable to get over the comical thunk! sound that his head had made.

Another flash went off, startling him into hitting his head again with another bonk! and this time you couldn’t help but burst out into full-bodied laughter, turning back toward the camera to not laugh directly in the poor guy’s face. You could barely see the third and fourth flashes because your eyes were squeezed shut as you laughed, running out of air and having to prop yourself up with a hand on Sungchan’s knee to not keel over.

Finally, you started sobering up enough to squint your eyes back open, and through your tears, you saw Sungchan smiling down at you as well.

“Alright, I don’t know if it was that funny…” he sighed, still holding his head.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” you tried to apologize through your wheezes. “It was the sound, and the two in a row, it was just too much for me. I’m not laughing at your pain, I promise. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks.” He reassured you, dropping his hand from his head and resting it on the one that you still had on his knee. “I… I really like your laugh.”

Your hand suddenly tingled. “Oh. Thank you…”

After a beat, he shifted his gaze from yours. “So where do the films print out at?”

“Uh, on the outside of the booth. Should be two, one for each of us.” You said quickly, getting up to exit the booth and put some space between the two of you again.

Sungchan followed you out, and you easily found the dispenser, where there were in fact two film strips. He grabbed them for you, looking over them first. A smile spread across his face as he continued holding them, and you started getting antsy the longer that you hadn’t seen them.

“What, are they that bad?” You asked with a light chuckle.

“What?” He snapped his focus up to you.

“You’ve been smiling at them for an awful long time. Did I blink or something?” You joked, knowing very well that you were laughing for half of them.

He sucked in air through his teeth, shaking his head regretfully. “Yeah, I think for your own sake, I should keep both of these. I mean, I look great but—”

“Sungchan, let me see!” You reached for them, but he yanked his hand back from you at the last second.

You lunged for them again, but he once again kept them just out of your reach, a sly grin on his lips. The next time you tried to grab them, he held them above his head, and he most unfortunately had a significant height advantage over you.

You were already in his personal space from grabbing for them before, practically chest-to-chest (well, really chest-to-face), and now had to crane your neck straight up to look at them. With a huff, out of breath, heart racing for more than one reason now, you weakly pulled on his shoulders as you pouted, “Sungchan, please!”

“Here, I warned you.” He said melodramatically, handing you one copy of the film strips.

You eagerly held it in both hands, scanning over the four pictures on it. The first one was normal, it looked like Sungchan had taken your lead and both of you were smiling and throwing up peace signs. The second one was where everything went to chaos. Sungchan was wincing in pain in the corner, holding his head, as you had the back of your head to the camera, one hand reaching uncertainly towards him. In the third, you were turned back towards the camera, a little blurry as you laughed, and Sungchan was squinting one eye open to look at you. And in the last one, you were still laughing, leaning on Sungchan for support as there was nothing but simple joy on your face; and Sungchan’s features had relaxed out of pain as he gazed down at you with a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Not as wide as yours was, but no less dim.

“These are so cute! You liar!” You elbowed Sungchan in the side.

“You didn’t let me finish. I look great, but you look radiant.”

“Good save.” You joked, but couldn’t suppress the smitten grin that wormed its way across your face. “And I’m keeping mine.”

Sungchan reached into the pocket of his jacket then, pulling out his pristine, baby pink origami heart from earlier. He held it out to you. “I-I wanted you to have this, too.”

“Aw, Sungchan…” You accepted the paper heart from him.

“Feel free to throw it out when you get home, I get it.”

“Hey, stop that.” You pinched his forearm where the sleeve of his jacket had fallen down. “Don’t do something sweet and then immediately take all the sincerity away by covering it with a layer of self-deprecation. If you’re going to be a sweetheart, own up to it or don’t do it at all.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, and you could see a flush creeping up from his collar to his cheeks. “You’re right. I wanted to give you that, sans trash can.”

You were beaming, tucking it into the inner pocket of your jacket and patting it. “Thank you, Sungchan. I’d offer you mine, but I think it really should go in the trash.”

“Look who’s not taking her own advice, hm?”

“Alright, if you want it,” you sighed, taking your own lumpy attempt at the origami heart out of your pocket and handing it over to him.

Sungchan plucked it from your fingers smugly. “Thank you.”

“I expect you to be buried with that now, by the way.”

“I’ll be sure to write it in my will.”

The two of you were still chuckling as you walked up to the counter again, your film strips and punch cards in hand to show them to Shotaro. Your siren friend reviewed the pictures with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You guys are so cute,” he commented so very subtly. “But uh, what happened here, Sungchan? Did you hit your head on something? How did you manage that one?”

As you covered your mouth to hide your giggles at the memory of the double bonk! resurfacing, Sungchan took his film strip back from his roommate. “Alright, are you going to give us the punches or not?”

Shotaro punched the final heart-shaped holes into both your cards. “And with that you’ve completed all the punches! Unfortunately, you can’t redeem the free drink tonight, but by all means, you are more than welcome to stay and hang out some more. We’ve got extended hours tonight, so you can keep doing the activities if you like, or just, you know… stay and chat or something.”

“Right, thanks, Shotaro.” Sungchan led you away with a hand on your back.

You ended up back at your original seat that you had sat at for the bingo game. The game finished while you were in the photobooth, the other patrons now milling around the shop again. Some were sitting, sipping on their drinks and enjoying each other’s company, others at the origami stations, others lining up at the photobooth, and still others back at the register ordering again. You looked down at the film strip in your hands before tucking it away safely with Sungchan’s origami heart. Looking around, you saw that Baekhyun was making rounds now that he was done hosting bingo, greeting customers and having conversations with everyone he stopped to talk to.

You didn’t want to leave yet, to have this night be over, to have your time with Sungchan be done. At least not without knowing if you’d see him again. This had been fun, really fun, and you wanted to see him again. Every bad first impression of him you’d gotten from your date had been wiped away.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You snapped your focus back over to him at the sound of his voice, trepid and unsure. You offered him a reassuring smile as you replied, “Yeah, Sungchan?”

He had taken his hat off, and was messing with the seam along the bottom band nervously. “I know I already said this, but I really am sorry for everything I said to you before. I was so incredibly wrong about you.”

“And I’ve already said thank you, so I suppose I’ll say I forgive you this time.” You squeezed his forearm. “So would you stop apologizing now?”

“I know we can’t start over completely, but…”

“Yes?” Your voice pitched up hopefully, your heart soaring along with it.

“Friends?”

Splat. Your heart plummeted back down with tremendous velocity.

It took all your willpower to keep your face from showing the disappointment you’d felt, and even then, you were sure it still fell minutely. You slapped on a rehearsed, customer service smile for him, too shocked that you’d apparently misread everything so badly to do much more than go through a script of what you should say. “Yeah, sure. Friends.”

Sungchan beamed at you, another heart-stopping, adorable, lopsided grin that now made your chest squeeze painfully. “Okay, great! Thank you, seriously!”

You threw open the door to Jasmine & Pearls the next morning so violently that it swung back the other way and rang the bell twice.

“Shotaro.”

The siren perked up to greet you. “Oh, Y/N! Back to redeem that free drink already, huh?”

“Sungchan here?” Your eyes flicked around the shop warily. You couldn’t see him, but now that you knew that the two of them were roommates, you had to be more careful.

“Oh, I see.” Your friend grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, you just missed him, actually, he had class, popped in on his way to campus.”

“Thank god,” you groaned, collapsing into a stool near the pick-up counter, face in your arms.

“Uh, I’m going to make you a drink. Your usual?”

“Sure…” You mumbled, the sound even more muffled by your arms.

As Shotaro prepared the drink, he picked your conversation back up. “Now, what happened? You two looked like you were having a lot of fun last night. Not to pat myself on the back too hard.”

You lifted your head up just enough to rest your cheek on your arms so your friend could hear you when you spoke. “Did he tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Remember that awful date I went on last month?”

“Vaguely.”

“And Sungchan went on a bad date the same night.”

“Yeah. Did he do some kind of ‘all cards on the table’ confessional with you to try to scare you off?” Shotaro sighed, tossing his hand towel over his shoulder and putting his hands on his hips. “Listen, don’t worry, I know he says he ruined his date that night, but really he’s a big puppy—don’t tell him I said that, he’ll tear my throat out.” He paused, as if realizing what he had just said. “And don’t worry about that ‘tear my throat out’ thing either, I swear he’s super sweet. Honestly, something must have been wrong with that girl, he’s not—”

“It was me.” You cut him off bluntly.

“Huh?”

“Sungchan and I were each other’s terrible date that night.”

The siren slapped a hand over his face with a groan. “Oh my god, what did he do?”

“Now you think he did something? Two seconds ago, you swore there was ‘something wrong with that girl.’” You raised your eyebrows.

“Yeah, but I know you, Y/N. Him saying he fucked up and made you walk out? I can believe that.”

“We don’t have time to unpack all of that, but thanks, I guess.” You settled your cheek in your hand instead. “Anyway, it was all a mismatch at the time. He had his reasons, and I had mine, and I left. I didn’t harbor any ill will towards him, nor had I even thought about him until last night.”

Shotaro snorted, placing your finished drink in front of you. “Oh, well, can’t say the same for him.”

“What?”

“Whatever he did, he felt terrible about it. He kept talking about how he wanted to apologize to you, but he didn’t think you’d want to see him.”

You blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“I just thought it was like when you accidentally say ‘you too’ when the waiter tells you to enjoy your food and then you can’t stop thinking about that interaction for the next six months.”

Remembering the gist of your very short conversation from your one and only date with Sungchan, you shook your head. “No, not quite.”

“But it seems like you two made up last night, right?” Shotaro asked, head tilted.

“Yes, last night was so much fun. It’s what our first date should have been. We got to talk, and get to know each other, and joke, and laugh, and maybe flirt a little bit; and he’s funny, and smart, and a lot of fun...” You explained, trailing off pitifully at the end.

“So what’s the catch?”

“Well, I don’t know why I thought that at the end of the night, when he said,” you dropped your voice to mimic Sungchan, “‘I know we can’t start over completely, but—’ I don’t know why I thought that was going to be followed up by him asking me out, but it wasn’t.”

The siren’s jaw dropped. “It wasn’t?”

“Nope. Friends...” You said with weak enthusiasm, giving him two thumbs-up and a feigned smile as if you were being held at gunpoint.

“Ooh, Y/N...” Shotaro grimaced.

You dropped your head into your hands in defeat. “And somehow I feel even stupider than I did leaving that date.”

“I’m going to ask him what the hell he’s thinking.”

“No the fuck you’re not!”

“Y/N—”

“I told you this in confidence, Osaki Shotaro, not so you could you blab how pathetic I am right back to him!”

“But I just did that with him to you.” He pointed out innocently. “Seems a bit unfair.”

“Thanks for just agreeing with me on the pathetic part.”

“Well—”

“You’re not helping!”

“I’m trying!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. With a sigh, he came up to lean against the counter, voice turning sympathetic once more. “Look, Sungchan probably just thinks that you would want nothing to do with him romantically after he ruined it so stupendously last time. So he doesn’t even want to put you in the awkward position of rejecting him again— or, he at least thinks you would reject him again.”

“You really think so?” You asked quietly, watching a bead of water run down the side of your cup.

“Best I can come up with.”

And all the hope in your chest puttered out like a limp, half-filled balloon. “So that was a guess.”

“I’m a siren, not a mindreader, sorry.”

“Ugh, I’ve got to go. Thanks, Shotaro. For the boba. You were useless otherwise.”

“Bye!” Your friend waved to you cheerily.

Being friends with Sungchan was pretty easy, actually. You already had a lot of the same friends (it was sort of weird that you hadn’t met before that date, you realized), and as long as somebody else was there, it was easy to ignore the ever-present, ever-growing crushing pain in your chest whenever you were with him. You didn’t like that it was like this, you hated being that person pining over one of their friends who had explicitly said that they just wanted to be friends. You’d tried to get yourself to feel like this about other guys—the cute phoenix in your Criminology class, or the funny gryphon that you were partnered up with for a project in your Introduction to Interdisciplinary class. But it was useless, your thoughts always came back Sungchan. And you weren’t friends with him in hopes that one day it would be different, either; you really didn’t want to be that friend. You were just enjoying Jung Sungchan, in whatever capacity you got him in.

And right now, that was a rather tenacious study buddy. When you’d off-handedly mentioned an upcoming test that you hadn’t studied for yet, he immediately made you compare schedules so that the two of you could do a study session before it. So now you were reviewing flash cards of some key concepts as Sungchan was hunched over a notebook of his own. Working on his research with his professor, you were pretty certain. He switched between his computer and handwritten notes so frequently that you weren’t sure how he kept it all straight, and all the numbers and Greek letters and letter letters made your head swim trying to decipher it. As long as it all made sense to him.

It all mostly made sense to you when he would explain it to you, if you were actually listening to the words he was saying and not just thinking about how nice his voice sounded, or how pretty he looked that day. Your brain was truly rotting from the inside out.

And you two were alone. You didn’t know if he had invited any of your other friends and they couldn’t make it or if this was a “just us” thing. That was something that he did that always made it so hard for you to keep your rule of never hoping for more. Sometimes you two would hang out and invite Shotaro and Jaemin and Jeno and Jeno’s girlfriend and maybe even some more of their friends that you weren’t as familiar with; and sometimes when you’d ask if you should invite anybody, Sungchan would reply with a shoulder shrug and a casual non-explanation that this should be a “just us” thing. You could never delineate what made an activity worthy of a group invite or a “just us” thing.

You stared at your screen with immense focus. Not on what was on the screen, your thoughts had long drifted from dryad folk tales and were now in an endless rumination on what the hell a “just us” thing was. You’d been to group study sessions and study sessions with just Sungchan. Group movie nights and movie nights alone with Sungchan—those were an especially bittersweet kind of awful, as he liked to share blankets. Group dinners and dinners with just the two of you. So what made something a “just us” activity? What was the—

Something in your periphery caught your attention, and snapped you out of your pensive thoughts that you’d been stewing in. It was a small, white, origami heart being pushed up from the bottom corner of your computer screen. You took it, smiling at Sungchan across the table from you, who sat up straight now that he no longer had to reach so far to deliver it to you.

Upon second glance, it looked like the heart was made out of notebook paper from his spiral notebook with notes on it in blue ink. You squinted to make out some of It in his messy scrawl, but gave up after reading just a portion of a complicated, technical word.

“Thanks, Sungchan.” You ran your fingertip along the crisp edge of the paper heart.

This had been one habit he’d picked up since the Valentine’s Day event at Jasmine & Pearls, he now made origami hearts whenever his fingers grew restless and he had access to a suitable piece of paper that could be torn to size if needed. You were usually the target of receiving them and now had a steadily growing collection in a small jar on your coffee table. You didn’t have it in you to throw them away.

“Something wrong, Y/N?” Sungchan asked. He had presumably noted the intense way you’d been staring at your screen the moments prior. “Or is the material just that bad for your test?”

“Ehh…” You sighed, rolling your neck out. “Just tired. Ready for the semester to be over, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is this made of your notes, by the way?” You held up the origami heart.

“Stuff I had to rip out and redo, I messed it up.”

You then stood up to crack your back, groaning at the cathartic cracking sounds that came with it. “God, I think my spine needs to be folded up like that origami, holy shit.”

“Fix your posture,” Sungchan snorted. “You sit like a little shrimp using a computer.”

Your jaw dropped as you put a hand to your chest, unsure of whether to laugh or be offended. Ultimately, you keeled over with laughter, having to plop back down in your desk chair—hunched over—to catch your breath again. Sungchan was watching you with a fond smile, reclined back in his chair with some not very great posture himself.

“A shrimp?”

“A little shrimp,” he corrected you. “A cute little shrimp using her little computer and fucking up her back in the process.”

“Alright, it’s not my fault you’re literally a tree. Anybody is a little shrimp compared to the man who almost broke a photobooth because he was too tall for it,” you teased him back through the fresh squeezing of your chest at him calling you ‘cute,’ even if it was followed by the words ‘little shrimp.’

“You’re never letting me live that one down, huh?”

“Never. I’ll be telling that story at your funeral, where you’ll be buried with my mangled origami heart, remember?”

“You’re banking on the fact that you’re going to outlive me in this scenario.”

“Right, my bad. Werewolves are the hardier species, so obviously you’ll outlive me.”

“Well, statistically—”

“Statistics say nothing about the power of spite, Sungchan. I will outlive you out of spite, so that I can tell that story at your funeral. And if not, I will have a backup recording of me telling that story, and in my will, have orders that it be played at your funeral.”

“You’re going to put it in your will to make sure you have the last word in case I outlive you? Which, statistically, I will.”

“Yes.”

The two of you held your defiant eye contact for another moment before you burst out in coordinated laughter, all tension fizzling out.

“I do expect that fucked-up origami heart to go down with you, though,” you pointed at him through your laughs, still only half-serious.

“Only if one of the hundreds I’ve given you by now makes it down with you,” he nodded, holding his pinky finger out.

You linked yours with it. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

As you walked out of the library together after you’d finally determined that your studying was over, Sungchan checked his watch.

“You doing anything else tonight?” He asked.

“Nothing in particular.” You shrugged. “Eating dinner. Sleeping. Why?”

“Want to come over?”

“Is Shotaro going to be home?”

“He’s closing at the shop today I think.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Apparently sensing your hesitation, Sungchan nudged your side as he teased, “What? Am I not fun enough for you? You need Shotaro there to convince you to come over, too?”

“Yeah, you’re such a snoozefest, Sungchan,” you wrinkled your nose, elbowing him back. “Taro’s the only thing that keeps me from falling asleep every time I’m over at your place.”

“You hurt me, Y/N.”

With a melodramatic sigh, you relented, “I suppose I’ll make an exception. But I will nap where I see fit if you bore me too much.”

“I’ll take my victories where I can get them.”

At Shotaro and Sungchan’s place, you followed Sungchan into his bedroom. Normally, if Shotaro were home, the three of you would all hang out in their living room. But it was just you and Sungchan.

He toed his shoes off and flopped onto his bed face-first, spread-eagle.

“Oh, and who were we worried about taking a nap?” You scoffed, taking his desk chair. He had a gridded whiteboard above his desk that was mostly taken up by a to-do list of upcoming deadlines. But a small area labeled “Notes” by the company who made it was dedicated to pictures instead: the film strip of you two from Valentine’s Day at Jasmine & Pearls hung there by a magnet in the shape of a hurricane, a picture from the group trip to Cape Solaria from last summer under a tornado, and another of a younger Sungchan and Shotaro (early high school if you had to guess) at an arcade pinned by a tsunami.

Your friend rolled over onto his back. “I’m not napping, just basking.”

“Basking? In what?”

“Being done with today.”

“Have a bad day?”

“Just long. Had a long week, long semester, long three years.”

“Mm, felt that,” you agreed, knocking your own shoes off and folding your legs up in the desk chair.

The two of you were quiet for a while, and you would’ve thought that Sungchan had actually fallen asleep, if you couldn’t see that his eyes were open as he apparently just stared at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. You let the silence remain, content to just rest your arms on the back of the chair with your chin atop them, and look at him.

“Y/N?” He finally spoke, his voice soft.

“Yeah?”

Sungchan’s head lolled so he could look over at you, his warm brown eyes focused on your face. He had an unreadable expression on his features; not one of sadness, or pain, or really much of anything. It was like he didn’t even know what he was feeling. “Have you gone on a date? Since... you know, the one we went on?”

You blinked. You weren’t sure what exactly you were expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. After a moment, you shook your head. “No, I haven’t. Have you?”

The corner of his lip twitched, but from your positions, you couldn’t tell if it was pulling towards a smile or a frown. “No.”

Another beat of silence. You continued staring at each other.

“Do you want to?” He asked, his voice so unnaturally devoid of intonation that you once again couldn’t glean the purpose of this discussion.

“What?” The word tumbled out of your mouth fast, defensively.

“I-I mean, are you going to? Like, is there anybody...?”

You looked at him, taking a good few seconds before you answered. He at least seemed nervous now, stuttering, his eyes flitting between you and the ceiling fan.

“No.” You answered plainly. No qualifying statements: any attempts at expounding would just land you in trouble. “You?”

“No...” He echoed. “You would tell me, right? If you were?”

This felt like a trap. Not from Sungchan, you knew he wasn’t like that, but from the Universe, somehow. And no matter what you did, you were going to fall into the spike pit.

“Yeah, Sungchan, of course.” You mustered up your well-practiced casual smile. “Always need approval from the counsel of friends for that kind of stuff.”

He did smile at that—not a full one with teeth, and it didn’t reach his eyes—but he smiled and nodded. “Good. Got to make sure they’re not a weirdo. You know there’s all kinds of magical creatures who will just date human women for the ego trip in bed, right?”

“I did know that,” you chuckled. “But thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always am, Y/N. And I always will be.”

Rocking back and forth from your heels to your toes nervously, you kept your eyes trained on the apartment door in front of you. Sungchan knocked on it. Your actions were stopped by your friend grabbing your arm and pulling you back down to flat feet.

“Y/N, I told you it’s going to be fine, seriously. They’re your friends, too,” he reminded you for probably the twelfth time that day.

When he’d randomly texted you earlier that morning asking if you wanted to go to Jeno’s birthday party with him tonight, you were very hesitant to accept. Mostly because you hadn’t received an invite from the birthday wolf himself. But after some more pestering from Sungchan, you gave in. Maybe if you didn’t have such a weak heart, you would’ve been firmer on your no. But instead, here you were, having signed your name under Sungchan’s on the birthday card the two of you bought on your way over, a gift card tucked inside with enough money pre-loaded on it to cover a nice meal for Jeno and his girlfriend.

“Then why didn’t he—” Your whispered question was cut off by the door swinging open, the bright smile of Lee Jeno greeting you.

“Hey guys, come on in!” The werewolf opened the door even wider, not seeming surprised at all to see you there next to Sungchan. He gave the both of you hugs after closing the door behind you.

You patted his back in the hug, offering a sheepish smile, “Hey, Jeno, Happy Birthday. Sorry to just show up. Sungchan insisted it was fine…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Everyone knows if we’re inviting Sungchan that we’re inviting you, too. It’s cool.” He said brightly. “You want something to drink?”

Trying not to get stuck on that little information bomb he’d dropped so casually, you looked around the fairly packed apartment, recognizing most everyone who was there, including a couple people by the drinks table. “You know, I see Jaemin and Donghyuck over by the drinks, I’ll go get it myself. Thank you, though, and Happy Birthday again.”

Jeno perked up in a different direction as if he’d heard his name being called—which he very well could’ve with his superior hearing—and he took off, disappearing into the kitchen. You’d been to Jeno and Jaemin’s place a few times before, mostly to hang out with Jaemin over the time that you’d known the dryad from Bot Club, and more recently, a couple times for group hangouts since Jaemin, Jeno, Jeno’s girlfriend, and Sungchan were all friends.

“I’m going to get some food,” Sungchan nodded towards the same direction Jeno had gone in. “Want anything?”

You stood on your tiptoes, unable to discern any of the options they had available, other than the fact there would be a lot of it to feed the werewolf guests. “Just get extra of whatever you think I’ll like, I’m not very hungry right now.”

“On it.”

While he went to do that, you made your way across the living room to the two dryads you had spotted earlier, both standing by the drinks table.

“Hey…” You said, still feeling awkward despite Jeno’s easy acceptance of you.

“Y/N! Hey!” Donghyuck greeted you cheerily.

“You made it!” Jaemin gave you a one-armed hug.

“Sounds like you were expecting me then?”

“Well, yeah.” Donghyuck said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world (which was bewildering to you, considering you didn’t even know you were coming until this afternoon).

The two dryads exchanged a look.

“I mean, Sungchan was coming, so…” Jaemin shrugged.

Donghyuck peered around the party. “Speaking of, where’d your wolfboy go?”

“He went to get some food. And he’s not. my. wolfboy, you little shit.” You glared at him. “And don’t call him a wolfboy either, you know he doesn’t like to be called stuff like that. Call Jeno ‘puppy’ or whatever all you want but leave Sungchan out of it.”

“I thought he didn’t like dog terms, but wolf terms he was fine with, since he is a werewolf.” Jaemin said.

“Yeah.” Donghyuck nodded.

You put your hands on your hips with a frank sigh, “As if wolfboy isn’t also diminutive and meant to—”

“Woah, abort, abort, Y/N’s going into Renjun-mode.”

Jaemin looked over at the other dryad regretfully. “Worse than Renjun-mode, this isn’t just educational.”

“You two are so obnoxious, I’m going to stage a coup in Bot Club one of these days,” you declared with a scoff.

“Hey...” Another voice entered the conversation from over your shoulder, and you looked up to see Sungchan stepping in between you and Donghyuck, a plate loaded up with food in his hand.

“Speak of the wolf and he shall appear.” Donghyuck had a wicked grin on his face. You were amazed sometimes that he wasn’t a fairy.

“What were you guys talking about? Y/N didn’t look happy.”

“It was nothing, Sungchan, don’t worry about it.” You tried to reassure him, sending pointed stares at each of the dryads with you.

Donghyuck was apparently not going to let up, though. “Hey, Sungchan, you down to do a little thought experiment with me?”

“Thought experiment?” The werewolf echoed.

“Yeah, just real quick. I ask you a hypothetical question, you give me a hypothetical answer. Just for fun.”

“A thought experiment with Donghyuck. Sounds thrilling, sure.” Sungchan agreed humorously, popping a piece of food in his mouth.

“So, if someone were to call you dog-like terms—which we know you’re not cool with and would never do—who would you most be okay with doing that?”

The werewolf narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why would anybody do that?”

“It’s a thought experiment, Sungchan, come on. Play in this space with me!” Donghyuck whined, shaking the other man’s shoulder.

“Let’s rephrase then,” Jaemin joined in, a mischievous glint in his eye. You looked around to make sure Chenle wasn’t secretly listening in or something, because this surely had to be the work of your fairy prince acquaintance. You spotted the fairy very engaged in his conversation with his dragon roommate Jisung and a few other people. It seemed like the two dryads really were just deciding to be the absolute worst all on their own.

“Narrower scope. Would you be okay with, for example, Y/N calling you stuff like that?”

“Why would she do that?” Sungchan asked, confused.

“Yeah, why would I do that?” You asked, angry. They were clearly trying to get at something specific, make him admit something.

Jaemin offered an example, “Well, you know, Jeno’s girlfriend calls him ‘pup’ as a term of endearment.”

“And why would I do that?!” You repeated, feeling your stomach drop to the floor at how exactly he stressed those words.

“We’re getting off-topic here, it’s all hypothetical, remember?” It was amazingly Donghyuck who sort of saved you. “We know Y/N would never do it. But like… if she did, for some reason unbeknownst to us, what would you do? Would you be okay with it?”

Sungchan’s brow was furrowed as he seemed to genuinely contemplate this while he ate another bite of food. You, meanwhile, were plotting how best to kill two dryads. You knew enough from Bot Club, maybe a super-strong version of the magical weed spray you used would work... Were dryads more plant or more person?

“Well…” The werewolf finally began his answer, seeming to choose each word carefully. “Since I know Y/N, I know that if she were, in this batshit, hypothetical scenario, to do that, that she wouldn’t mean it in a derogatory way. So I guess I’d be more okay with her doing it than other people. Definitely more than you two weirdos who are posing this thought experiment that isn’t fun at all.”

“Thank you, Sungchan.” Donghyuck grinned at him, then turned to Jaemin. “I thought that was very fun and enlightening. What about you, Jaemin?”

Jaemin nodded thoughtfully. “I had a great time. Y/N?”

“You guys are so fucking annoying.” You groaned, grabbing a piece of food from Sungchan’s plate. “Leave me out of your thought experiments next time, please.”

The spring semester ended not long after Jeno’s birthday party, and you very thankfully didn’t have to take any summer classes, freeing up a lot of spare time for you. Sungchan, on the other hand, had to take a couple courses in order to make sure he would graduate on time. While you jokingly whined and complained when he told you about it, you were secretly relieved to have extra reasons to avoid him. As terrible as that sounded.

This afternoon, while he was in class, you had gone down to the river with Shotaro and Yuta, who miraculously both had a day off work at the same time. You didn’t even realize Jasmine & Pearls had enough employees to let the both of them take the same day off.

You were sat in your pop-up chair on the small beachy area, pulling your phone from your bag to check it while the two sirens continued lazing about in the waist-deep water. There was a text from Sungchan from a few minutes ago, and as you opened it up to read it, you realized that he was just sending you a funny picture he’d found somewhere online.

[you: aren’t you supposed to be focusing on class right now?]

“Sungchan?” Shotaro called out to you knowingly.

“What?” You yelled back, holding a hand up to shadow your face from the sun. Looking around your chair, you grabbed your baseball cap that you’d won in Valentine’s Bingo, pulling that on now that you were out of the water.

“You’ve got this little smile on your face that you only get when Sungchan texts you.”

“No I do not.”

Yuta stood up from where he had been floating on his back, shaking the water out of his hair as he asked you with a smirk, “So you don’t have a text from Sungchan on your phone screen right now?”

Your phone buzzed then, a welcome excuse to not have to answer that.

[sungchan: allegedly]

[you: i don’t want you whining to me when you fail that class]

You clicked your phone off, showing them the blank screen. “Nope, nothing on my screen.”

“You’re such a liar,” Yuta sighed, saying it as if it were as simple of a fact as the sky being blue or the grass being green. He trudged through the water up the shore until he could join you, plopping down in his chair next to yours. They had both kept their legs this afternoon instead of bringing out their tails, and he kicked his apart as he got comfortable.

Shotaro jogged up from the water too, grabbing the cooler and rooting around in it for a second. After securing the other half of his sandwich from the lunch that you all had eaten earlier, he sat down next to Yuta, taking a big bite from it.

You took Yuta’s lead and settled back in your chair, closing your eyes and just enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon Sun.

“He talks about you all the time, by the way.” Shotaro cut into your peace and quiet. If you had something within arm’s reach other than your metal reusable water bottle, you would’ve thrown it at him.

“Shotaro...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. You didn’t even need to ask who he was talking about.

“Seriously! ‘Y/N and I did this today.’ ‘Don’t wait up for me, I’m going to the movies with Y/N.’ ‘Y/N told me this funny story today.’ ‘Did you know such and such about this or that? Y/N’s so smart.’” He admittedly did a pretty good Sungchan impression. You would’ve laughed at it in any other context, but instead you were just annoyed.

“Yeah, well, we’re friends. We hang out, and do things together. He’s going to be talking about me,” you snapped. “He talks about you a bunch too. Because you guys, you know, live together. He also talks about his professors, and Jeno, and—”

“But it’s not the same.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He insisted.

Shotaro clearly wasn’t going to let up, so you momentarily engaged this line of thinking, hoping you could squash it. “What’s so different, then?”

“He’ll find just any reason to bring you up, for one. We’re grocery shopping? ‘Oh, Y/N likes this flavor.’ ‘We should pick this up for when Y/N comes over.’ ‘Shotaro don’t get that, Y/N doesn’t like it.’” His impression turned more high-pitched and whining. “We’re watching TV? ‘This reminds me of when Y/N and I did this...’ ‘I bet Y/N would love this show, we should watch it the next time she comes over.’ ‘Y/N has a shirt just like that character.’ We’re hanging out with other people? ‘Hey Sungchan, what uh, what are you giggling at on your phone over there?’” He first kept his normal tone of voice, then switched into his over-the-top fake-Sungchan. “‘Oh, Y/N just texted me something funny. But it’s an inside joke, so you guys wouldn’t get it, sorry.’ ‘Man, I wish Y/N could’ve come, sucks she had to work.’”

“Are you done?” You asked tersely, unamused.

“I could go on ad nauseum—”

“One could argue you already have.”

Yuta snickered.

“—but let’s call it there.”

“Thank God.”

Shotaro wasn’t done with his spiel yet, though. “I have had multiple friends, when he’ll first bring you around somewhere, quietly ask me if you’re Sungchan’s girlfriend and they like, missed when you two started dating.”

“I get it, I get it.” You said firmly, bringing a hand up to rub your face.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Y/N, you’re an MCS major, I’m sure you’ve heard about what can happen to werewolves if there’s something discordant in their lives that isn’t alleviated?”

“You think he’s going to get pupsick because he’s allegedly got a crush on me?” You sputtered out in disbelief, your voice caught between a chuckle and a scoff at how absurd that sounded to you.

“It happened to Jeno.”

“Yeah, but he’s Jeno. With all due respect and no intention to kinkshame, he probably lets his girlfriend put a collar on him.”

Yuta shot up as he cackled, slapping his knee and coughing. He scrambled to grab his water bottle, taking a couple sips as he struggled to catch his breath.

Shotaro pushed on like you hadn’t said anything, “Now, I don’t want to have to put up with a pupsick Jung Sungchan, do you? That sounds awful. For me, obviously, since I live with him.”

“Shotaro, you are half-right about one thing.”

“And what’s that?” He asked smugly.

“I am kind of an MCS major. So I also know that Sungchan isn’t overly touchy with me, he hasn’t given me anything of his that smells like him, he doesn’t feed me, or do any other pre-mating behaviors that are ingrained in werewolves.” You ticked them each off on your fingers. “Look, I hate stereotyping you guys by your species. But if he’s apparently so down bad that he can’t help but talk about me every waking second of the day, wouldn’t at least one of these things that are literally instinctual to him have happened?”

Shotaro raised an eyebrow. “You do know that he’s half-werewolf, right?”

“What?” You blinked at him.

“Yeah, his mom’s a werewolf, and his dad’s a human.”

You’d had an MCS class on the Effects of Modern Integration, which had a unit specifically on the subject of cross-species offspring. Some species could have offspring together while others couldn’t, it depended both on genetic similarity and compatibility of their magic. With humans having no magic, that left only genetic similarity as a factor, making them a lot more compatible for producing such cross-species offspring. Werewolves and humans were one of the more common pairings to have such offspring, as they had one of the most extensive histories of living together.

Sungchan’s behavior on your first and only date immediately sprung to mind. His hesitance around humans dating werewolves just because they’re werewolves. “Are they...?”

“Happily married. They helped us move into our apartment last year.” Shotaro apparently knew exactly where your question was going. “But yeah, Sungchan’s half-human. As best I can tell, he’s kind of like a super-zen werewolf. Able to control everything a lot better than full werewolves because all of the wolf instincts and stuff aren’t as powerful.”

“He still shifts?” Despite the estimated number of half-werewolves being greater than the confirmed population of sphinxes, unicorns, and phoenixes combined, there was little actually known about them academically. It was all word of mouth, as no large-scale study had been able to be done on them. They were apparently reluctant to come forward and make themselves known to researchers. And their friends.

“Yeah, every full moon. Which I think is why he really just considers himself a werewolf.”

“I didn’t know,” you admitted, biting the inside of your cheek as you were still absorbing this information.

“Anyway, he can probably control whatever pre-mating instincts he does have a lot better than full werewolves!”

“And he’s probably doing that because he knows that you know what pre-mating behaviors look like and thinks you would get weirded out.” Yuta suggested, finally entering the conversation instead of just letting you two go back and forth over him. “Since you’re kind of an MCS major.”

“Exactly!”

You pursed your lips, an uneasiness creeping up on you about the whole situation. “I don’t know guys…”

“You said he doesn’t feed you?” Yuta questioned thoughtfully.

“No, he doesn’t. And you two are around us plenty, have either of you ever seen him try to?” You asked pointedly.

“No, but what Shotaro was saying about grocery shopping. He always buys your favorite foods, flavors he knows you likes, even makes Shotaro put stuff back that he knows you think are unappetizing.”

“I’ve never asked him to do anything like that.”

“And yet he does. Now, overly touchy is subjective. Does he—”

“No, we’re not doing this.” You cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Doing what?”

“Dissecting mine and Sungchan’s friendship and putting it up on a conspiracy board. I’m not playing. And if that’s all you guys are going to do, then I’m leaving.”

Shotaro jumped in, “Y/N, why can’t you even consider that—”

“Because he already asked to be friends and I said yes,” you said angrily, feeling your blood finally reach its boiling point. “I knew what I was getting myself into, and having you guys trying to convince me that it’s something that he already said it’s not, isn’t fucking helping.”

They were both quiet for a beat, and you clenched your jaw. You couldn’t keep sitting right now, you had to go somewhere, do something. If you stayed here, somebody’s feelings were going to get hurt. You stood up, stuffing all of your things haphazardly back into your bag. “Actually, fuck it, I’m leaving anyway.”

“Y/N, we didn’t mean to—”

“I know, you think you’re trying to help or whatever the fuck. But just drop it, okay?” You shoved your feet back in your shoes and slung your bag over your shoulder. “I need to go or I’m going to end up saying something nasty that I don’t really mean and regret it. I’ll see you guys later.”

And with that, you took off, leaving the chair you had borrowed from Yuta on the shore. You took your baseball cap back off to mess with your damp hair as you speedwalked down the city sidewalks. All the angry energy from wanting to just go off on your friends was still coursing through you, and despite Yuta having to pick you up and drive you the couple miles or so to the river, you figured that you might as well walk the whole way back home to blow off steam.

A little more than halfway home, your phone buzzed in your hand with a call, and you glanced at it intending to just send it to voicemail. But it was Sungchan. You stared down at it as you waited to cross a street, an unsure thumb hovering over your screen.

Glancing between your phone and the crosswalk signal, it changed to walk, and you rushed to cross. The call went to voicemail.

Just a few seconds later, your phone lit up with the missed call, a voicemail, then a text from him. You sighed, clicking on the voicemail first.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sungchan’s voice came through clearly. It sounded like he was outside, probably on campus and fresh out of class, if you had to guess by the time. “It’s Sungchan. Obviously. Uh, anyway, I just got out of class, wanted to see if you maybe wanted to come over? I know you’re supposed to be with Shotaro and Yuta, but Shotaro just texted me and said—well, it’s kind of a long story. Just let me know if you can come over, and I’ll tell you when you get here, okay? I’m headed back to my place right now. Okay, bye.”

Shotaro.

Still fucking meddling after you asked him to drop it. If you were less than halfway back from the river, you’d turn around and throttle him.

You checked the text from Sungchan.

[sungchan: hey! i’m out of class. are you busy?]

[you: i can be over in twenty. is that okay?]

You shifted uncomfortably as you stood in front of the front door to Shotaro and Sungchan’s apartment. Your hair wasn’t as damp thanks to your long walk in the hot Sun, and your skin was dry, but you still held yourself as you stared down the center of the white door. You hadn’t knocked yet. You didn’t want to know what Shotaro had told Sungchan, having already convinced yourself that it was everything. That you were about to walk into Friendzoning 2: Electric Boogaloo, this time with Letting Y/N Down Easy. It made your stomach churn, your chest squeeze like a vice around your heart, and your head feel like it had been cast in lead.

You shifted your weight between your feet on the welcome mat, trying to muster up the strength to just knock on the fucking door, when it swung open.

Sungchan was in a pair of dark sweatpants and a dark red t-shirt from your school’s astronomy club—dated for fall two years ago. He offered you a familiar smile, stepping back from the doorway to make room for you. “Hey, I thought I heard you. Come in.”

“Hey. And thanks.” You nodded, slipping by him into his apartment.

Wordlessly, he started leading the way further back towards his room. You longingly looked at the wide-open space of the living room as you disappeared down the hallway. In his bedroom, you saw his desk taken up by his laptop and a spread of notebooks and papers. His bookbag was in his desk chair.

“Sorry, I know that’s your usual spot, but I was doing some homework.” Sungchan had noticed where your gaze was focused. He patted the foot of his bed as he went to sit down against the headboard. “Come on, you can sit with me for once.”

You swallowed and nodded, stepping back out of your shoes and setting your bag down. Climbing onto the end of his bed, you sat with your legs criss-crossed, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap.

“So why did Shotaro text you?” You decided to just go straight into it. No small talk or pleasantries about his class or what homework he was working on. “What’d he say?”

“He told me that he told you that I’m half-werewolf,” Sungchan said bluntly. “I figured I owed you a bit more of an explanation.”

Oh. Well that wasn’t what you were expecting at all.

“You really don’t owe me anything, Sungchan,” you shook your head, your eyes trained on his comforter. “You don’t have to explain who you are to me if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.”

It was a touching sentiment, but it felt like a hot knife right in your gut. He wanted to because he cared about you as a friend. Not in the same way that you cared about him.

You could only manage a soft, “Okay…”

“It’s not some big secret, really. I’m not ashamed of my dad or anything. I love him, he’s a cool guy.” Sungchan started, and you felt like that first part was more to reassure you that it was okay for you to know. He was pointing to a picture that you’d seen a countless number of times before, hanging next to the mirror above his dresser. It was of him at his high school graduation, flanked on either side by his parents, proud, beaming smiles on all of their faces. You’d always assumed they were both werewolves when you’d looked at that picture, and only ever noticed that Sungchan got his smile from his mom, and his nose from his dad. The height difference between his mom and dad never really registered to you, as Sungchan towered over both of them, but now you did see that his mom was almost a head taller than his dad. Not a trait intrinsic to either species, just more of a trend.

But then, his tone turned a little more pensive, “I just... don’t tell people at first because I get a whole slew of questions, from the mundane stuff like ‘How was it growing up with one werewolf parent and one human parent?’ Which like... I don’t know, it was like growing up with two parents? To the people who think that I’m some oddity and therefore they can just ask me completely unprompted about what my dick looks like. And then at the end of it, it doesn’t really matter anyway. I’m just some dumb mutt to them, no matter how you look at it.”

“Sungchan—” His name came out of your mouth instinctually, pained, as you could only imagine what he had experienced to ever be able to call himself that, even cynically as he was doing now.

“It’s okay. I don’t really care about those kinds of people.” He reassured you, offering a small smile. “That’s why I don’t waste my time on them anymore. I just say I’m a werewolf, and eventually they’ll find out more if they need to.”

“I’m sorry, that Shotaro just—”

“Y/N, it’s fine, seriously. I’m okay with you knowing. I know you’re not going to be weird about it. And Shotaro knew that too; I’m sure however it came up in conversation, it made sense for him to tell you.”

You thought about the context of when Shotaro revealed Sungchan’s lineage, wincing minutely. “Okay. Thanks.”

“You can ask me questions, I don’t mind since it’s you.” He then added teasingly, “Come on, Miss Magical Creatures Studies, I know you want to…”

“Not because I think you’re some oddity to be studied, but because I care and I want to understand more about you…” You prefaced your question. “Shotaro said that you still shift every full moon. Are your shifts any different than full werewolves?”

“From what I can tell watching other wolves shift, it’s not as painful, for one. So, bonus!” He said the last word with mock excitement. “The shift itself doesn’t last as long. And some wolves, especially younger ones who are going through their first shifts, tend to get kind of moodier in the days leading up to the full moon. I never got that. Just, everything is kind of… less for me.”

“Everything?” You asked, brows furrowed with confusion.

“My senses are more heightened than a human’s but less than the average werewolf, when I’m not shifted.”

“Ah.”

“And I probably wouldn’t fare great in a werewolf arm wrestling championship,” he tacked on lightheartedly.

“Damn, I had you signed up in one for this weekend,” you joked, clicking your tongue in the back of your throat in fake disappointment. “Put money down and everything.”

He played along, “Well, I guess I can still try for you.”

You smiled to yourself, then looked up at him as you took a deep breath. Whether or not you two were here because you cared about each other in different ways, you at least still cared about each other. And you’d be an idiot to throw out that kind of connection. You’d have to suck it up, hunker down, and connect with him on his terms.

“Thanks for being so open about this with me, Sungchan. I know it wasn’t your choice to tell me, and I know you already said it wasn’t a secret either. But still, I feel... very grateful that you would want to share any part of yourself like this with me.” You tried to pick your words carefully, to convey as much genuine emotion as you could without veering too far into romantic territory. You could still easily picture yourself saying something like this to Jaemin, or Shotaro. Maybe not Donghyuck, though.

“Ah, what’s that?” Sungchan squeezed his eyes shut, a bashful smile coming to his face.

“What’s what?” You asked with a breathy chuckle, feigning offense. “Am I not allowed a moment of sincerity?”

“No, you’re not.” He said it in an overly joking tone, so you knew that he wasn’t actually upset with you.

“And why not?” You mimicked his tone.

He sighed, teasing falling from his voice as he fully leaned back against his headboard, seeming to take you in for a few seconds before answering. “Not if you’re going to be looking at me like that when you’re being all sincere.”

“Like what?”

“Never mind.”

“No, no sir. You do not get to start an avenue of conversation like that and not finish it,” you pointed at him accusingly. “What am I looking at you like?”

The werewolf held your gaze steadily as he said, “Like you want something more.”

You felt your stomach drop as you rushed to get up from his bed, putting even more distance between the two of you. “I’m sorry, Sungchan. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He knew, he knew, he knew.

“Y/N, don’t get me wrong, please.” Sungchan stood up after you, grasping your hand before you could run out on instinct. His grip was loose so that you could leave if you wanted, but the presence was enough to let you know that he still wanted you there, to listen to him. His hand was warm as it held yours, but it burned like you’d grabbed red-hot metal. “I-I think you’re one of the most incredible, smart, fantastic people I’ve ever met. And I’m so grateful that you gave me a second chance.”

“But you don’t like me like that. Yeah, I can see where this is going.” You shook him off, searching the floor for your bag and shoes. This was going to be embarrassing, putting sneakers back on after getting rejected like that.

“No, I do.”

Sungchan’s words stopped you in your tracks, and you slowly turned back around to face him again. Your heart was a drum banging in your ears, you couldn’t trust that they weren’t all—your heart and your ears—playing tricks on you.

“You… what?” You were dumbfounded, staring up at him with a mixture of disbelief and thinly-veiled suspicion. You’d spent far too long convincing yourself that he just liked you as a friend to throw it all out over three words.

“I was going to ask you on another date, that night at the boba shop, I really was,” he explained. “But I realized just how lovely and wonderful you were. And I thought that you didn’t deserve... all the hatred that would come with it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I love my parents, but growing up I got to see firsthand just the worst sorts of people… The things that my parents would be called, that I would get called, by other humans and other werewolves. It’s gotten a lot better, but I mean, Jeno’s girlfriend got called a knotslut at the park out of nowhere. And you don’t deserve to have that be your life.”

You narrowed your eyes up at him. “You think you’re not worth it?”

It was his turn to be thrown off-guard. “What?”

“You think that you, and being with you, aren’t worth it?” You reiterated.

“I wasn’t really thinking of it like that,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“Do you think that? That you’re not worth it?”

“Well now that you say it like that, no, I don’t think that.” He frowned thoughtfully, his brow set with determination.

“And, I know you didn’t mean it like this, Sungchan, but you took the choice away from me. For a very sweet reason, I acknowledge that. But you didn’t give me a say in the matter. Imagine how that makes me feel.” You sighed, watching guilt flicker across his face. “I’m not going to pretend like I know at all what it was like for you growing up. Or what it’s like now. But I can tell you that I want this, that I want you. I want to be there for you, just like I know you’d be there for me if something ever did happen.”

“Of course I would be,” he declared.

Taking a step closer to him, you tentatively let a familiar airiness return to your chest, chasing out the painful squeeze that had been suffocating you since February. “See? We’ll have each other, Sungchan. Someone calling me something won’t matter as long as you’ll be there with me afterwards. You don’t have to prevent everything bad ever from happening, just hold my hand afterwards until it’s all better, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded resolutely. “I can do that.”

“And I’ll do the same for you. Deal?” You held your pinky finger out to him.

He hooked his with yours. “Deal.”

Sungchan lowered your connected hands, and you watched curiously as he unlinked his pinky, only to turn your hand over with both of his and trace gentle circles into the palm of your hand with his pointer finger.

“Y/N?” He murmured.

You snapped your focus back up to his face at the sound of his voice, trepid and unsure. He was still gazing down at your hands as you replied, “Yes?”

“I know we really can’t start over completely now, but…”

“If you say ‘friends’ right now, even as a joke, I’m going to kill you with my bare hands, half-werewolf strength be damned.” You whispered through gritted teeth.

He sputtered out a chuckle, shaking his head fondly and the circles on your palm never slowing. “No, no, I wouldn’t do that to you. That would be a terrible joke.”

“Good.”

“I was going to ask...” He inhaled shakily, finally drawing his eyes up to yours. “If we could try that date again?”

A smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, and you nodded quickly. “Yeah, Sungchan. I’d love that.”

Sungchan beamed at you, a heart-stopping, adorable, lopsided grin that now made your chest flutter with hope. “Okay! Thank you, thank you!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. “You’re welcome.”

Leaping to your feet at the knock that just came from your front door, you ran to answer it. You threw the door open, abuzz with excitement.

It was just about a week later, and you and Sungchan were finally trying that date again. You’d actually seen him once in the intermittent days, at a previously scheduled group movie night at Jeno and Jaemin’s place. The two of you were all knowing smiles and questionably accidental bumps and brushes of skin under the blanket that you shared that night.

But tonight Sungchan was in your hallway, smiling nervously down at you. “Hi.”

“Hi, Sungchan.” You fidgeted with your shirt. He had specifically told you to dress casually and comfortable, but you still felt weirdly underdressed, even seeing that he was in a t-shirt and jeans himself.

“These are for you,” he said quietly, bringing out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

As you accepted them from him, you immediately realized that they were made of paper, intricately folded tulips, lilies, and roses of all colors. You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp, thinking about how much time it must have taken him. “An origami bouquet. Oh, Sungchan…”

“I figured you had plenty of hearts by now…” He said as he flushed from his neck upwards.

“They’re beautiful.” You got on your tiptoes, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

His cheeks were bright pink as you turned around to set them down inside, then looked back to him expectantly. The werewolf led the way out to the parking lot, except you didn’t see his car anywhere around. There was a familiar old blue pickup truck, however, which he was walking towards.

“Your car in the shop or something?” You asked curiously. “Why are you driving Yuta’s truck?”

“Utility.” He answered cryptically, opening the passenger door for you.

“What does that mean?” You questioned with a chuckle, scooting into the middle of the bench seat.

You’d gotten your seatbelt situated by the time Sungchan had walked around and opened the driver’s side. He didn’t seem to have been expecting you to be in the middle, pausing for a second, and looking around flustered as he climbed into the truck too.

“It’s a surprise, like I said,” he muttered, fastening his own seatbelt and starting the truck.

Sungchan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on his leg next to yours. You drummed your fingers on your own knee contemplatively.

“Sungchan?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Wh— Yeah, of course.” He laughed shakily as you laced your fingers with his. “You don’t need to ask me about stuff like that.”

“Well you’re so tense right now that I was afraid that if I just grabbed your hand, you might freak and crash the car.”

He cringed. “So you can tell?”

“Yeah, I can tell.” You patted his arm with your other hand. “What’s got you so wound up? It’s just me.”

“Well, yeah, it’s you,” he repeated. “I’ve already messed up so many times with you. I don’t want to fuck up again.”

You contemplated this for a second, watching the passing streetlights. “Think about it like this: Could you possibly fuck up again worse than our first date?”

“I hope not.”

“Then you’re already off to a great start.”

“Y/N, I think you need higher standards,” he said without an ounce of humor or joking in his tone.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at that. “Sungchan, you made me an entire origami bouquet and organized a whole night out to surprise me. I think my standards are pretty okay.”

“Alright, but you’ve got to promise that this is my last chance. Like, three strikes and I’m out. Seriously, if I was some other guy, I would’ve told you to throw me to the curb a long time ago.”

You looked over at him incredulously. “Are you seriously advocating against yourself right now? Is this some kind of reverse psychology flirting technique that I’ve never heard of?”

“No, I’m just not going to stop being a good friend because you’re on a date with me. I told you I would always look out for you, and I meant it, even if it’s not in my best interest.”

Nodding with a raised eyebrow, you decided to take his advice at face value. “Okay, your input is noted as part of the council of friends’ round table on my new guy.”

You saw a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

“So, did you tell Shotaro what we were doing?” You asked, curious now that the topic of friends had been brought up.

“I told him we were hanging out.”

“Did you tell him it was a date?”

“No. Did you?”

“If I did, do you think you would have gotten out of your apartment unscathed?” You snorted.

“Fair point.”

The car ride passed with mostly idle chitchat, until he made a turn away from the city center, off onto a back road that you were unfamiliar with. The buildings gave way to trees, the streetlights being replaced only with moonlight and the headlights of the truck or any lone car that you would pass occasionally. A while later, the asphalt became a dirt road, the trees around you getting thicker and thicker. You looked around in interest as he slowed the truck to a stop in a clearing.

“We’re here?” You asked, looking over at him. Your eyes had long adjusted to the nighttime, and you could clearly make out his features.

“We’re here,” he confirmed with a nod, turning the vehicle off.

Sungchan climbed out, helping you down with a hand, and you immediately knew why he’d had both of you dress casually. You were in the middle of the woods, being led to the back of the truck by the hand by your date. He opened the tailgate, and let go of your hand to hop up into the empty bed.

“Wait there,” he requested, now well and good towering over you.

You nodded.

He retrieved a large duffel bag from the truck bed, and you looked curiously at everything he brought out of it. Pillow after pillow, blanket after blanket. The truck bed soon looked like a bed bed, and Sungchan came back over to plop down on the tailgate, toeing his shoes off and setting them aside at the end. He gestured to the bedding with little fanfare.

“All done!”

You hopped up next to him, pulling your shoes off as well and putting them away next to his. Looking at him with a knowing smirk, you nodded to the fact that the two of you were still sitting up. “Now what, Sung?”

“Ah, you’re going to make me spell it out?” He rubbed the back of his neck, ducking his head awkwardly.

“No,” you laughed. “I’m not.”

He took that as his cue to lay down first, leaving an open space right beside him. You settled into his side with no hesitation, resting your head on his chest as he pulled a final fluffy blanket over the two of you. Being a half-werewolf, Sungchan was pretty warm, but you were grateful for the extra comfort anyway.

Up above you two was a gorgeous expanse of a night sky. A waxing gibbous glowed down at you, stars twinkling and winking in and out at irregular intervals.

“It’s so peaceful…” He murmured quietly, shifting under you, still settling in.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of scary out here…”

Sungchan moved to sit up slightly, looking down at you with concern. “Really? You think so?”

“Yeah, what if there’s wolves?”

“Oh my god you’re so annoying,” he groaned, even as he readjusted his arms to hold you closer.

You, meanwhile, were giggling maniacally at your incredible joke, hiding your face in his shirt as you tried to recover. “You mean I’m the funniest person you know.”

“In your dreams.”

Looking back up at the sky, you pointed to a random speck of light. “Do you know what star that is?”

“Which one?” Sungchan asked, craning his head to try to get in your line of sight.

“I don’t know, any of them.” You dropped your hand back down to his front. “You’re in astronomy club, tell me about them, you big Earth Science nerd. Which I say with great affection and fondness.”

“Okay, so you see the Moon?”

“That’s not a star. I do know that.”

He chuckled, which you felt underneath your cheek. “I figured as much. So, starting at the Moon, if you go due North—” he pointed, and you tried your best to follow the path of his index finger. “The first and brightest star you can see. See it?”

“Yep!” You nodded, seeing the exact star he was talking about.

“Then go the right, just a little, there’s a pair of twin stars, see them?”

“Mm… mhm! Yes!”

“Okay, down, and over to the right some more, we’re tracing out the top of a head, then we’re going back up, there’s another pair of twin stars, you see?”

You squinted, losing the top of the head he was talking about, but finally found the second set of twin stars he’d mentioned. “Yeah, found them!”

“Cool. Straight down from that pair, we’re going to find one, two, then over to the left to get the chin, over and up to get the other cheek, and up to round out the head.”

You nodded, vaguely able to picture what he was talking about. “Okay… so whose head was that?”

“Oh, I get to teach Miss MCS Major something!” Sungchan teased.

“Interdisciplinary major…” You reminded him under your breath.

“So that was Lykos, the great wolf in the sky. As in, lycanthropy.”

“Back when scientists thought werewolves were humans with an affliction that could be passed on to other humans. The quote ‘condition’ they were diagnosed with was lycanthropy.” You easily pulled a basic definition of it from class. “Of course we know now that’s not true. Like witches, werewolves are an entirely different species, not just a variety of human. And there’s never been any credible account of a werewolf turning a human into a werewolf.”

“Why is it that humans just think everything is also a human, even when it very clearly is not?”

“Well, if I were to give us humans benefit of the doubt? Uh, to relate to it? Empathy? Recognition of yourself in the other? I mean, it’s better than labeling everything a monster and hunting it down. Which, we also did a bit of.”

“Us monsters did plenty hunting of you guys, too.”

“You say as if you’re not also half-human.”

“Hey,” he frowned down at you suspiciously. “Are you recognizing yourself in the other with me right now? I think we should really save that for the second date—”

“Oh, shut up!” You gave his front a smack as you let out an indignant scoff.

Sungchan was kicking his legs under the blanket as he laughed from his stomach, and when you looked up at him, you saw his eyes squeezed shut tight as he cackled. You watched him with a smitten smile, unable to even pretend to be annoyed for any longer as his guffaws petered out to chuckles then to giggles until he eventually sobered up, and settled his gaze with a heart-stopping grin on you.

The two of you were quiet for a moment, just looking at each other, then he broke the eye contact, turning his eyes back up to the stars. “Uhm— I didn’t finish telling you about Lykos.”

You settled back into your spot, and with your ear to his chest, you could hear that his heartbeat was faster than it’d been before. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing about yours in that moment.

“So, Lykos,” Sungchan picked up where he’d left off before. “You can easily find him by starting at the moon to find his left ear. According to werewolf stories, Lykos was the very first werewolf that we’re all descended from. Because he was so great and powerful, once he passed, his soul ascended to be in the stars to watch over all of his descendants.”

“Wow…” You looked at the stars harder, willing Lykos’ shape to be a little more visible to you than before.

“In astronomy, though, the two twin stars that make up his left ear are called LK 1C04 and LK 2C04. They’re both red giants.”

“Are they going to explode any time soon?”

“Stars are kind of always exploding,” he explained enthusiastically. “They’re perpetually combusting and performing nuclear fusion. Well, most stars, if they haven’t run out of fuel yet.”

“What about when they run out of fuel then?”

“Depends on how big they are. LK 1C04 and 2C04 are both red giants, so when they run out of fuel, they’ll turn into white dwarves. So instead of being a burning ball of gas, they’ll just be emitting a very faint light from the remaining energy leftover from their previous nuclear fusion reactions that they can no longer perform.”

“So they don’t get to go out with a bang.”

“No, not really.” Sungchan pointed up at the sky again. “Okay, you remember Lykos’ chin?”

“Yes…”

“So that’s actually the end of the tail of a squirrel, according to some dryad traditions, or a gecko in some human ones.”

Sungchan sketched out the next constellation for you, then relayed the accompanying folk tale. Some scientific factoids would be interspersed too, and you loved hearing the enthusiasm in his voice as he told you about something he was very clearly interested in. And at some point, with his legs tangled up in yours, your hand curled around his waist, your cheek pressed against his chest, his hand casually rubbing up and down your back underneath your top as he still spoke so eagerly, you found your attention slipping away from black holes and how legends of ancient wyvern society said this or that about some other constellation. You were suddenly grabbing him by the collar with two hands and yanking him over to look at you.

“Y/N?” He asked, absolute bewilderment in his features.

“Jung Sungchan, I’m going to say this once, and please don’t take this the wrong way,” you murmured, holding eye contact with him very seriously. “You’re very attractive when you talk about things that you’re passionate about, and if you don’t kiss me right now I think I’m going to explode.”

Sungchan didn’t need to be told twice, reaching up to cup your cheek. Despite your rather blunt and unromantic request, he still tenderly guided your lips to his. Your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into the kiss, the grip you had on his collar relaxing. His mouth was soft as he moved it ever so slightly against yours. His thumb stroked over your cheekbone, the hand on your back pulling you even closer to him. One of your hands grabbed his waist to anchor yourself down to something on Earth.

It ended all too soon for your liking, though. You were pretty sure you could kiss Jung Sungchan forever. He pressed one more quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before leaning back to drink you in.

“You’re so beautiful…” he murmured, stroking your cheek again.

“Sung?” You whispered.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

He nodded, and you leaned forward to bump your nose against his. A giddy smile spread across your face.

“Good. Me too.”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist

[coneyislandbabey]

crossed wires. -> w. rojas

WARNINGS: profanities (as usual), mutual jealousy, idiots

SYNOPSIS: A night of complicated feelings and jealousy lead to a revelation between you and warren. (based on this ask). word count: 1,527

Billy and Camila’s housewarming party was well underway by the time you arrived. You had lost track of time, swearing to Warren and Eddie when they’d left that you’d be right behind them, and then another hour of you reworking notes in your notebook had gone by without you even realizing. The sun was fully set, and the warm glow of the yellow lights through the windows and faint party sounds you could hear even from the street were incredibly inviting. You straightened your floral dress, which had gotten twisted on the ride over, and grabbed your gift– a few bottles of champagne for the party– from the back seat, heading inside. 

“(y/n)! Finally!” Camila shouted, spotting you as soon as you opened the door and coming over with her arms spread wide for a hug. Laughing, you squeezed her tightly, before presenting the champagne to her. 

“The house is beautiful, Cami, and so’s the party,” you said earnestly. 

“Thank you, and thank you for this,” she grinned, holding up the bottles you’d given her. “I think the guys are outside, if you’re looking for them.” 

You nodded and left her there to greet a guest that had come in behind you, winding your way through the crowded house toward the yard. You had to say, Camila had outdone herself. The lanterns hanging from the low tree limbs outside, the beautifully patterned cloths covering the little tables, all of it was magical. You warmed at the thought of your best friend making this place her own, making it so wonderful for her daughter to grow up in. 

You found yourself a drink and idled in place for a moment, looking for someone that you recognized– or, rather, recognized and liked enough to want to talk to. Unfortunately, a lot of the guys in the music scene were just creepy, and a lot of the girls were there trying to scout out a rock star to makeout with. Finally, you spotted Warren’s familiar head of hair on the other side of the yard. You were about to make your way towards him, but then you caught sight of the rest of the scene: a blonde you didn’t recognize wearing a micro skirt and go-go boots was standing in front of him, close enough that their noses were almost touching. She had a hand on one of Warren’s shoulders, and as you watched, she tossed her head back, laughing flirtatiously. You fought against the way the scene made you feel sick by taking a large swig of your drink, and turning on your heel, walking back the way you came. 

In all honesty, you didn’t know why it bothered you. It wasn’t like Warren was anywhere near celibate– neither were you, for that matter– and you’d seen him with groupies plenty of times before. Especially recently; as his style got more out there, more rock staresque, more and more groupies came looking for him after shows. And usually, you didn’t mind. Really. Sure, every once in a while seeing him disappear with a groupie after a show snagged strangely in your chest, but you didn’t feel like trying to work out what that meant. 

You walked around toward the front of the house until you felt a more secluded spot and sat down, sullenly nursing your drink. Suddenly, you didn’t feel much like partying anymore, and that in of itself made you mad. You didn’t even want to think about the why you didn’t feel like partying anymore. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was over here,” a voice sounded from behind you and you turned to see a man you didn’t recognize had come around the front of the house as well. He wore tight jeans and an equally tight t-shirt, with a mess of longish, unruly blonde hair on his head. Probably a member of a band you didn’t recognize. When you didn’t speak, he did so again. “Are you okay?” 

“Me? Oh, I’m fine,” you said, knocking back the last of your drink. “You can stay, if you want. Not like I own the place.” 

“Okay,” he said quietly, meandering over and sitting near you, but not near enough to be creepy. 

“You’re part of the band, right? The Six?” he asked eventually. 

You nodded, and stuck a hand out for him to shake. “(y/n) (l/n), nice to meet ya.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he grinned. “Danny Whalen. Drummer for Dingbatz.” 

Drummer. Of fucking course. You sighed to yourself, thinking maybe the drink you’d had was a lot stronger than you first thought, because your brain was telling you it was a very good idea to bring Danny inside the house and go find an empty room. 

***

You fumbled, knocking into a piece of furniture, lips still locked on Danny’s. Neither of you had bothered to turn a light on when you found the unoccupied room. You tried to lose yourself in the feel of his hands all over you, of your mouth slanted over his own. He was attractive, surely; maybe not exactly your type, but the type that you had to be blind to not realize how hot he was. And when you flirted with him, there was that immediate receptive smile. He wanted you. He wanted you, and you wanted that to be enough. For now, at least, it needed to be enough. 

When it was over, Danny straightened his jacket and left the room with a simple ‘bye’. You took an extra few seconds to fix your hair a bit, to right your dress, and then walked out after him. The hall was empty, save for the only person you didn’t want to see at that moment. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Warren asked, gesturing vaguely behind him, where you assumed Danny had disappeared to. “You let the fucking drummer of Dingbatz–?” 

“So what if I did?” you asked defensively, eyes narrowing at the man in front of you. 

Warren scoffed, wiped a hand over his mouth. “Unbelievable.” With that, he turned and walked away. 

Instantaneously, rage bubbled up in your chest, and you began stomping after him. What kind of fucking audacity did he have, judging you for who you decided to get with, with the way he conducted himself? The idea of his judgment was so ridiculous that you would’ve laughed if you weren’t so infuriated. 

You weren’t able to catch up with Warren until he was out the front door, and on the street. 

“Warren!” You yelled, trotting down the stairs after him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He turned as you met him in the street, and whatever judgment and anger had been written on his face minutes ago was gone. He rested his hands on his hips, posture tense, like he was wound to to turn and get the hell out of there at any moment. “Nothing, man. Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Then what the fuck was that?” you asked, arm gesturing back in the direction of the house. “You have no right to judge me for anything like that, Warren. Not when you carry on the way you do. Is it ‘cause I’m a woman? Huh? You think I shouldn’t be allowed to do what I want?” 

“What? No!” Warren shouted, eyes wide with surprise at your outburst. “It’s not like that, man, okay? Can we just forget that happened?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I want to know what you meant, you’re supposed to be–” 

The end of your sentence was swallowed up by Warren surging forward and pressing his lips to yours, hands grasping either side of your face. You stood for a moment, shocked, unmoving, arms dropping to your side. What the fuck even is this night? Just as it seemed Warren was rethinking his action and about to pull away, you grabbed both of his wrists, keeping his hands in place as you kissed him back. 

When you finally did pull away, breathless, you kept your hands on his wrists, kept his hands on your face.

“Now what was that?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“Something I’ve wanted to do since I met you,” Warren responded. His voice had gone all soft in a way you had never heard before, and it was doing funny things to your heart. 

“Aw, Warren,” you said, voice taking on a teasing tone as things clicked together for you. “Were you jealous before?” 

You had to hold in your laughter at the way his cheeks immediately reddened. 

“So what if I was?” he shrugged, mirroring your earlier words. 

“You’re such a fool,” you laughed, shaking your head, a grin working its way onto your face. 

“Yeah, a fool for you, mama,” Warren retorted cheekily. 

“For the record, you could’ve had me the first day we met, if you tried,” you told him nonchalantly. 

“Are you serious?” Warren asked, his face dropping as you nodded. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. “God, don’t tell me that. All the wasted time…” 

“Well, kiss me again and start making up for it!” 

taglist: @eonnyx

[what-have-i-unleashed]

i dream of one so far away, far away

as promised, twisted fluffy kross

(cw: toxic relationship, tell me if i need to put in more warnings)

cross puts down the last moving box into the living room, feeling quite proud with himself. this new house he's moved into is in a fairly peaceful universe, with only monsters living in this part of the city.

cross opens one of the boxes, with the housewarming presents from dream and ink. an intricate flower vase from dream, and a painting from ink - nothing surprising coming from those two. a note from ink that cross doesn't want to read just yet. along with a vial of something golden shimmering inside - killer's required dose, courtesy of dream.

"killer?" he calls out, his voice ringing in the empty house. "can you help me with this?"

after a few seconds of silence, killer appears in front of cross in a shortcut. cross takes a quick glance over killer. everything seems to be fine at least.

with killer's help, unpacking boxes and organizing furniture in the living room do not take a lot of time. they get everything done under three hours.

cross sinks into the plush sofa, satisfied. killer sits next to him, watching some cat videos on his newly acquired phone. a bit bashful, cross closes the distance between them and carefully envelops killer's hand in his. he leans over to watch the screen with killer, occasionally tilting his head to see the smile on killer's face.

"feeling okay?" cross asks, to which killer hums in affirmation. "do you want to take a walk near the park?"

"yeah sure," killer says, pocketing his phone away.

their walk is uneventful, which should be a good thing for killer. it is around noon on a weekday, so cross doesn't expect there to be many people out and about. though it is quite strange to have killer so docile next to him. he has said nary a word throughout the whole walk. cross expects he himself has to get used to it somehow, but he can't help the instinctual feeling of discomfort. and uncertainty.

"killer," cross says, holding killer's hand. "you're… fine there, right?"

killer's heart-shaped soul doesn't waver as he replies, "… i suppose so, yeah."

the sun is at the highest, casting light and heat right above their skulls. cross fidgets, watching their shadows underneath their steps as he feels something itchy creeping down his throat. "there's nothing you want to change?"

they walk in relative silence for a while. the park here is quite beautiful, cross has to admit. the grass is lush with paved path for guests to walk. there are some strange magical flowers planted in certain plots that he would want to look at later. a monster manning an ice cream stand notices the couple and waves at them. cross waves back hesitantly, while killer barely notices the guy.

they are approaching a water fountain to sit down when killer opens his mouth again.

"… nothing i want to change, but…"

cross turns to look at killer. the other has stopped, looking at something in the distance.

"i feel like i changed… somehow."

killer's soul wavers, as if unsure of what shape it wants to make. its owner stares at it, his eyelights gone.

"feel like i'm supposed to be somewhere else. something else entirely. why… why can't i reme-"

whatever killer is about to say next, he gets interrupted by cross sweeping him into a hug. cross' eyelights take on a distinct purple hue as he forces himself to relax and not crush killer shoulders with his grip.

"it's fine. everything's fine. you're fine," cross whispers, his tone frantic. "you are what you always want to be, killer. you don't need to change anything about yourself."

"cross-"

cross releases killer, making killer stumble a few steps backwards. cross stares at killer in the sockets, a lavender haze creeping into his vision. "if you have the chance to maintain the order of the world and another chance to be happy, what would you choose, killer?"

killer stares back at cross, his soul now slowly but surely taking on the shape of a target. black liquid starts to trickle down from killer's sockets, staining his pristine white face.

"… would be stupid to defy fate, no?" killer tilts his head, his smile strained at the corner.

"… i see."

cross takes a step towards killer. to killer's credit, he doesn't flinch or step back. the monochrome skeleton takes off his golden heart locket and delicately loop the chain behind killer's neck.

"it's okay if you disagree with me. maybe one day we'll be enemies again. but," cross hesitates, mulling over his words carefully. "know this, killer. even if that was to be the case, i would wish to create a world where you are happy. even if i had to fight the gods, i'd do it for you. again and again."

cross clasps the chain of the necklace and steps back, smiling as he sees killer looking at the locket with an indescribable expression on his face.

"consider it my promise to you, killer."

[lightseoul]

asymptōtos

synopsis. you needed him to meet you halfway. he couldn't.

cw. fem!reader, student-turned-worker!reader, busy prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~22 yrs old), established relationship, fluff, hurt/(may or may not have) comfort

word count. 5.8k words

The first time it happens, it leaves you more in a state of awe and adoration than worry and disappointment.

In your defense, you never thought you’d end up dating anyone in college, let alone during your very busy senior year marred by senioritis and thesis woes, but the universe decided it has other plans for you.

And so here you are, on your first date with the #2 Pro Hero, no less.

Of course, credit must be given where it is due. All of this wouldn’t have happened without the notorious meddler and your elementary best friend Ashido Mina, who took it upon herself to be Bakugou’s wing-woman during her housewarming party two weeks ago.

Not only did she serve as the pesky glue that resisted all of your attempts to stray away from Bakugou’s immediate circle, but she also later on confessed to having begged him not to delete your number that she not-so-sneakily saved in the man’s phone.

You got so embarrassed when you received your first text from him, imagining him being held at gunpoint by Mina just to send the darned message. You contemplated not replying to save the poor guy but decided against it. You’re glad you did, though, because he ended up surprising you with his responsiveness and consistency, resulting in daily texts until he finally asked you out on a date.

In a very roundabout way, too:

Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime.

Which brings you to the present, post-said dinner, seated on one of the benches in a park you’ve never heard of until now, admiring the view.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Your head whips to look at Bakugou, surprised at his sudden statement. Things have been silent since you left the sushi restaurant.

Well, until now.

“What—go out on a date?” you joke, meaning to lighten the mood.

At that, he visibly reddens, and looks away.

“Dumbass,” he mutters under his breath.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” you start, “I just thought—you being you—you’d have far more experience than I have.”

You can see him hesitating before looking you right in the eyes, “Wow.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “This is the first time someone’s referred to my being ‘me’ as a compliment.”

“Really?”

He merely gives you a firm nod. You can tell he’s trying to be cool about it, despite how much vulnerability this topic is requiring out of him.

You sigh, shaking your head, “Well, that’s bullshit.”

His voice is quiet when he replies. “...Ya think so?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him, “I mean, I like you. Being Bakugou Katsuki should make you proud.”

You don’t realize the carelessness of your comment until you see his eyes widen in shock. Yours follow suit upon realization, “I mean–”

“Yeah–”

“I didn’t–”

He interrupts, “Don’t worry. I get what ya mean.”

You could only stare at each other in astonishment until you look away in embarrassment.

Fuck.

You’re about to change the subject in the hopes of clearing the air and replacing the awkward silence that has befallen the two of you when you feel a feather of a touch graze your pinky.

You hold your breath in anticipation—willing your palm’s sweat glands to magically close in case Bakugou’s making a move to hold your hand—but that’s when it happens.

A piercing wail echoes throughout the park, and you both rip your hands away from each other.

Embarrassed (Bakugou), confused (you), and alarmed (both), you whip your heads towards the source, only to find a crying kid and who seems to be his father crouched down, frantically shushing him.

You narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what’s the matter from your spot on the bench.

“Kid’s dumb cat got stuck in that tree,” Bakugou points with his right hand, and sure enough, an orange Tabby cat is perched comfortably on the sakura tree near where the kid and his father are standing.

How he managed to figure out the problem in a millisecond is beyond you, but you couldn’t spare a single moment to marvel at his hero senses because Bakugou’s now standing up, palms cracking with mini-explosions.

He sighs heavily, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was annoyed.

Whatever scowl he might’ve had on his face is schooled into a neutral expression when he turns back to tell you to give him a second.

You nod, too stunned to speak, and the explosions on his palms begin to heighten in degree. He starts toward the direction of the civilians, before hesitating in his steps.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, back still turned towards you.

“...For the record,” he looks up to the cat still balanced expertly on the tree’s branches, possibly to avoid your gaze for what he’s about to say next.

“I like you, too.”

The second time it happens…is a bit different. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware this sort of thing was coming. On the contrary, you anticipated it, knowing full well what you were getting yourself into the moment you agreed to become Bakugou’s girlfriend.

But expecting and dress-rehearsing for pain doesn’t make it any less wounding once the actual thing does roll around.

It was your graduation day, and everything was going swimmingly. Bakugou got to officially introduce himself as your boyfriend to your parents while you were waiting for the ceremony to begin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but just by his body language alone, you could tell he was fucking nervous.

(Later on, during dinner, he’d whisper to you how he barely got any sleep the night before. Who was the one graduating between the two of you, again?)

Your parents’ reception of him was favorable, thanks to the briefer you gave them about his media presence not at all being an accurate depiction of the real thing. Your father tossed you a somewhat withering look after the encounter, but you chose to let it go. You weren’t going to let anyone rain on your parade today.

By all accounts, everything was going great. At the end of the program, everyone who you wanted to be present was there congratulating you, giving you bouquets of flowers, and taking pictures for remembrance’s sake.

After bidding goodbye to your college peers, you then headed to your favorite high-end restaurant to celebrate, where you sit now, listening in amusement as Bakugou gets grilled by your family and friends.

“So, Bakugou-san,” your mother continues, “what do you like about our Y/N?”

“Mom!”

Needless to say, you didn’t expect to be dragged into the grilling session.

Your mother only looks at you like you’re the one who’s lost your marbles. To your left, you can hear Bakugou snicker under his breath. You elbow his side in retaliation.

“What? You can’t expect me not to ask him that.”

“Yeah,” your cousin chimes in from the end of the elongated table, “we’re curious.”

You glare at her, “Shut it, C/N.”

“Y/N!,” your mother exclaims, “Don’t be rude.”

You could only pout in response while Bakugou clears his throat beside you, and you find yourself anticipating his response despite the circumstances.

“Well, she’s the most caring person I know,” he eyes you, and you can’t help but look away, feeling bashful under his gaze. “And is incredibly sharp, and she makes me feel understood and appreciated.”

Squeals and cheers erupt from the table, and you laugh in embarrassment at his words and everyone else’s reactions.

Bakugou pinches your thigh to catch your attention, “What?”

You snort, “You’re so cheesy.”

He smirks, “Says the one blushing.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s sporting redness on his cheeks the same way he’s saying you are. You can’t help but grin in response.

The noise dies down upon hearing your father clear his throat, “Bakugou-san, what do you do for a living, again?”

You internally roll your eyes. On the outside, though, you look at Bakugou, who straightens his posture at your father’s questioning.

“I’m a Pro Hero, sir.”

Your father hums in acknowledgment, “You’re Pro Hero…Dynamight?”

“Yes, sir.”

Everyone’s silent as you watch the tense conversation unfold before you.

“You face a lot of danger in your line of work, then?”

Bakugou remains unwavering as he goes through the kind of questioning that would otherwise annoy him, “Yes, sir. But we’ve undergone extensive training and immersions to be able to handle them accordingly.”

This time, your father only grunts in reply, returning to his plate of Grilled Akita Beef Sirloin as if he hadn’t just interrogated a guy. In the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou deflate, from relief or disappointment, you can’t tell.

“Anyway, Bakugou-san,” your mother interjects in an attempt to salvage the conversation, “what’s it like having a job of a Pro Hero? Nobody in our family took that career path, you see.”

“Well, I—”

He barely gets two words out when All Might’s voice comes booming throughout the entire restaurant, and you see Bakugou lose his cool and scramble for his phone to turn it off. Everyone’s eyes are bugged out, probably reeling from the fact that the #2 Pro Hero has such a corny ringtone.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. You chance a peek at the caller ID, which reads ‘Deku’, and you look up to see the frustration in Bakugou’s eyes.

Despite yourself, a sense of worry settles in your stomach. Midoriya never calls Bakugou unless it’s something important, and he’d already been informed about Bakugou being MIA for tonight. Surely he’s not calling for nothing…

“Who was that?” Your mother asks.

Bakugou presses the lock button on his phone and pockets it. “Sorry—it was just a colleague,” he frowns, “I don’t know why they’re contacting me, I already filed a leave for today.”

“Well, if it’s nothing important, I guess we–”

The ringtone, once again, floods the entire room, but this time you urge him to take it as he tosses you and everyone else an apologetic look.

“Sorry. Please excuse me.”

With that, he stands up and heads towards the corner of the restaurant, leaving you with the rest of your family and friends in silence.

“He seems nice,” your cousin offers, and you shoot them a look of gratitude.

“Are you sure about him, Y/N?” your other cousin asks, and you can’t help but freeze upon hearing the question. “Dating a Pro Hero doesn’t seem like easy business.”

“I bet it isn’t,” your father adds gruffly.

You’re about to spit out the best defense in history when Bakugou rushes toward your side, although he doesn’t sit back down. You brace yourself for what’s about to come next.

“That was Pro Hero Deku—there’s been a sighting in the Chofu district of this high-profile villain we’ve been tracking down for weeks,” he fixes his gaze onto you, “And they need both top heroes on the field, ASAP.”

You spring onto your feet with no hesitation, “Okay, but be careful, Katsuki.”

He nods, “Of course.”

With that, he faces everyone else and bows, “I apologize for having to leave early. I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He doesn’t wait for their responses, attention now shifted back to you.

“Congratulations again, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, forcing a smile on your face in the hopes of easing his worries. He bends down to kiss your forehead, shooting you an apologetic look before excusing himself for the last time and heading for the exit.

You hold onto that congenial smile plastered across your face as your eyes trace his disappearing figure. Once he’s gone, you go back to your seat and will yourself to meet the eyes of those around you.

You see the all-too-familiar worried look on your mother’s face, while your cousins and friends have their eyes down on their plates. Your father, on the other hand, has the same withering look he’s been wearing around you and Bakugou the entire day.

“I bet it isn’t,” your father mutters under his breath, but you heard him clearly.

The third time it happens, it hits closer to home than you expect it to.

After a flurry of important firsts with Bakugou, as well as major life changes that have gotten you breaking down more often than you’d like to admit, your birthday finally rolls around.

As you’ve gotten older, birthdays have indubitably become more mundane. Nevertheless, you went ahead and took the day off of your new job as recruitment personnel in Mirko’s agency, not to celebrate it in crazy ways but in the hopes of spending the entirety of it at home with Bakugou.

Ever since you landed your first job, time spent with your boyfriend has become more and more negligible, with schedule conflicts and inflexibilities of work commitments barring you from seeing each other.

Today was no different.

You wake up to the scent of Bakugou and his citrus body soap, who, as per your request, spent the night prior in your apartment. When you reach out to his side of the bed, though, you’re met with cold emptiness, and your heart sinks in disappointment upon the realization that he’d left.

You at least wanted a good morning kiss for your birthday.

Half awake and reaching blindly for your phone, you bring it up to eye level and check your messages.

It’s only 9:07 AM and your inbox is already flooded with greetings, but none of them is Bakugou’s. Instead, the one text message from him reads:

Hey. Sorry I had to leave early, got some agency-wide meeting Shitty-hair and I are presiding today or something. See you when I get home.

Despite yourself, you deflate at his lack of acknowledgment of your birthday. You shake your head, feeling the ugly emotion of hurt creeping up your spine. Instead, you choose to focus on the fact that he just called your apartment home. Besides, he’s probably just busy right now, you think to yourself. He’ll remember later.

He didn’t remember.

At least, as of 11:45 PM, he hasn’t.

You were still optimistic about things when the day started, going around the house—cleaning to soothe your racing mind, as well as opening the gifts your friends and family had sent to your apartment. By the time lunch rolled around, you had food delivered from your favorite restaurant, which you happily devoured while rewatching a comfort film.

Now and then, you’d thumb at your phone to check if Bakugou’s messaged you a greeting or an update, only to be met with messages and notifications that were the least of your concern.

You lost count of how many times you’ve sighed in discontent, restless for the moment he comes home and proves to you that he absolutely, positively, certainly, hasn’t forgotten.

But before you know it, it’s already 11:45 PM and he still hasn’t walked through your doorway—the last you’ve heard of him being the one text message he left you this morning.

You’re staring blankly at the dinner you’ve prepared for the two of you, devoid of any more expectations, when the door finally clicks open at 11:47 PM and he stumbles in, decked out in his hero costume and visibly exhausted.

“Oh, you’re still awake.”

He seems stunned to see you.

“Patrol went overtime,” he curtly explains as he toes off his boots, “I’m fucking beat.”

You only stare at him from your position on the couch, eyes following his figure as he marches towards the bedroom, possibly to wash off the day’s dirt and grime, barely sparing you a second glance.

“Hey, babe,” Bakugou calls out from the bedroom, who, from the sounds and smell of it, has already come out of the shower.

You hear a rustling noise, “What’s with all these fuckin’ wrappers? Is it your birthday or some shi–”

He falls silent as realization dawns on him, and you shut your eyes in dreadful anticipation. Earlier, when you were still fired up with the day’s anger, you thought you could handle this confrontation (if he ever realized what day it was), but you might’ve overestimated yourself.

Because now, you’re on the couch, hugging your knees and feeling completely pathetic as you hear his footsteps get closer and louder.

Suddenly, your face to face with Bakugou Katsuki, who’s kneeling to peer at you.

And he looks absolutely guilty.

“Y/N, I am so sorry—”

You shake your head. That shuts him up.

“I’m not in the mood for apologies, Katsuki,” you start, “I’m—I’m not mad at you for not having prepared or set aside anything.”

Swallowing the ball in your throat, you press on, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and I understand.”

He eagerly nods. You sniff to help hold back the tears that are threatening to spill out, and Bakugou’s hand shoots up to cradle your face in response.

You let him.

“I’m just…” you look down, unable to meet his eye, “disappointed, Katsuki.”

You will yourself to look at him again, “I figured you’d at least remember what today was.”

“Fuck,” he warbles, and now you’re both crying, “I’m sorry, princess. I…”

He trails off, and some twisted part of you is thankful for it. You already know what was going to come out of his mouth—either their staff was a pain in the ass today and he had to step in, or a villain came around to stir shit up, resulting in overtime and him not having the time or energy for anything else.

This way, he could spare both of you the excuses that have seemed to etch themselves onto the tapestry that is your relationship.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says instead.

You don’t know how he plans to do that, but at this point, you’re too tired and hurt to ask or fight back. You gingerly nod your head in agreement.

And with that, he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom, all the while trailing soft, almost hesitant, kisses at the expanse of your neck.

He lays you down gently on the bed, and he climbs on top of you, hovering, until he has his forearms at both sides of your head.

You find yourself melting under the intensity of his loving, albeit guilty gaze.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Bakugou whispers, before diving in for a scalding kiss.

And make it up to you, he did.

The day after your birthday, he files for a leave in his agency, as well as cashes in Mirko’s favor from when he saved her ass in a past mission together, successfully giving you an extra paid leave for the day.

He ends up taking you out to a fancy soba restaurant recommended by Todoroki, and to an exhibit you’ve been wanting to see for the longest time, but haven’t gotten around to due to the ungodly wait (thanks to his Pro Hero card, though, you were able to get special passes).

And, it was at the end of that art exhibit when Bakugou pulls you into a private room and tells you he loves you for the first time.

Needless to say, you were over the moon.

But as a great author once said, one can’t undo the pain one caused. One can only atone for it.

Despite yourself, a seed of unease takes shelter and grows inside of you.

The fourth time it happens, it finally escalates into a full-blown fight.

It was a Saturday night, and you were enjoying a nice, stay-in dinner with Bakugou in his penthouse. By some miracle, he was able to take the night off despite the busyness that came with December and the looming holiday season.

“Stop staring at me,” he had said while expertly chopping the assortment of vegetables you bought fresh from the market earlier that day.

You grinned at him, “Not my fault you look sexy when you’re cooking.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” he retorted, but there was no bite to it. If you knew any better, you’d say he was blushing. “Now come help me with this.”

And that, you did. More like fumbled around his luxurious kitchen while he took the lead, but you tried your best. Which brings you to now: you, seated across from Bakugou at his corner coffee table, overlooking the city skyline.

“Eat,” he commands.

You happily indulge him.

Scooping a spoonful of the imoni stew he graciously prepared for you, you bring it to your mouth, all the while not breaking eye contact.

“Mmmm!” you exclaim the second the flavors explode in your mouth, “this is so good!”

He only smirks in response, but you can tell he’s pleased with himself with the way his chest puffs up with pride, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot.”

You giggle at how his words juxtapose the way his tone sounds so smitten. Hastily chewing the cabbage, you regard him after you swallow, “Right, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

At that, he visibly stiffens, and your stomach drops, feeling a shot of dread replace the elation that’s been coursing through your blood ever since the night began.

“Yeah,” he starts, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” you mentally slap yourself at how nervous you sounded.

He looks you dead in the eye, “And I think it’s about time we move in together.”

You can’t believe your ears.

That’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he places his utensils back on the table, “Think about it, we’ve been dating for almost a year now, and my place is closer to the agency and Mirko’s.”

He shrugs, “And we rarely see each other these days. I figured we can solve that by having you move in with me.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out stilted, “Don’t get me wrong—I’d love to move in with you, Katsuki.” At that, he deflates in what you think is relief.

“But I have to ask—what prompted this? We’ve never talked about living together before.”

He looks down at his clenched fists on the table, and you can’t help how your body tenses in anticipation of the worst.

“This has nothing to do with asking you to move in with me,” he starts, “but there’s another thing I have to tell you.”

Your voice comes out meek when you reply, “What is it?”

“I got chosen to go on a very important solo mission.”

What’s the caveat? your mind immediately conjures the thought. Instead, you say, “Really? That’s awesome, Kats. Congratulations!”

He flashes you a grim smile, “Thanks.”

You force yourself to smile back, chuckling, “But?”

At your utterance of the three-letter word, he sighs, smile now erased from his face, “It’s overseas. Estimated to take about two months.”

You stay silent, just staring at him. He takes this as a sign to drop the last bomb.

“It starts next week.”

At that, you spring onto your feet, “Seriously? Do you even know what you’re gonna miss?”

He follows suit, “Of course! Shit—I’m not a fucking idiot,” he looks to the side in frustration, “I know, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I can just pass up.”

The snarky rebut of ‘It actually is’ dies in your throat when the fact of how much being the best matters to Bakugou crosses your mind.

“...But you promised me you’d spend the holidays with my family.” Your tone is quiet now, in stark contrast to earlier. You don’t even get started on the two-month absence.

He huffs, “I know. But I—”

“I’m sorry Katsuki,” you look down in shame, unwilling to look him in the eye, “and I know this is unfair of me, but I just can’t help but feel like you’re choosing your career over me.”

“But this mission could possibly make me number one,” he pleads, “Over shitty Deku, Y/N.”

You can practically hear the pain in his voice when he murmurs the next few words: “Number one.”

You shake your head in resignation—you know where this is going. You’ve gone through the motions of these arguments a hundred times before.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

“I know.”

At your quiet affirmation of his reasoning, Bakugou circles the table and wraps his arms around you, albeit cautiously. Tightening his hold on you, he whispers a soft thank you, and you feel your heart clenching in pain at how awkward and distant he feels despite being so close to you.

You have the urge to ask him if he only asked you to move in with him to soften the blow of what he was going to say next, but you hold your tongue. The last thing you want is for you to go on your separate ways for two months while in the middle of a fight.

You did end up going back to your hometown for the holidays, although with one less companion. Having to answer your family about Bakugou’s whereabouts was a huge pain, with you eventually resorting to terse responses the more times the question got reiterated.

Your family got so involved in the state of your relationship, with your father dropping I told you so’s ever so often that you finally decided you’ve had enough on the night of Christmas, and resolved to leave for Tokyō the next day.

You were planning to just spend the rest of the holidays in your apartment (you never got around to moving into Katsuki’s home), and wallow in your sadness over your relationship, but fortunately (or unfortunately), you ended up going out of your unit to spend New Year’s at Mina’s instead.

You note the profound role her persistence has played in your life.

Fast forward to now, with you having stepped out of the crowded party in her living room and onto the balcony, grateful for the cool, night breeze.

You hear the sliding door creak open behind you, and you don’t need to look over your shoulder to see who it is.

Footsteps pitter-patter against the floor until you find Mina standing there at your right, uncharacteristically quiet.

You don’t want to hear any comforting words about Bakugou’s absence, so you speak ahead, “Thanks, Mina.”

Her head whips to look at you, and she smiles warmly, “For what?”

“For inviting me to celebrate here,” you will yourself to smile back, “I think I needed this.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulders and squeezes you, “Of course. I—uh,”

She pauses, and you look over at her expectantly, “You what?”

She slowly lets you go and fully turns towards you, the ledge supporting her body weight as she leans into it. A serious expression now adorns her face.

“Just that…I’m not the one you should be thanking.”

You mirror her stance, facing her and narrowing your eyes, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, “Don’t tell him, but Bakugou’s actually the one who told me to check in on you.”

You take a step back from her in surprise (or hurt, you’re not sure—the emotions you’ve been feeling these days have been nothing but complex), but Mina’s quick to step forward and grab your hands, holding it in hers.

“He sounded really sorry about having to leave you alone for the holidays, you know.”

You feel the pinprick of tears at Mina’s words, bringing you to look down at your feet as a means of hiding your sadness from your best friend, even if you know that barely conceals how you’re feeling.

“Come here,” she ushers you in for a gentle embrace.

And you do.

You both stand there for what feels like an eternity, with her rubbing small circles on your back and you crying silently on her shoulder.

“He really loves you, you know,” she whispers, after a long pause, “Eiji and I have talked about it with the rest of our friends—we all agree how it’s practically clear as day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and allow yourself to bask in the gravity of Mina’s words.

“I know.”

The fifth time it happens, you astound yourself with your lack of resistance.

While Bakugou was out in the US for his solo mission, you decided it was the perfect time to put in the extra effort in your own work.

Whether it was to make something of yourself or to distract yourself from the loneliness that came with Bakugou’s absence, it didn’t matter. The bottom line was you finally had something to work towards, and it felt good.

You’ve been eyeing this promotion to be the Recruitment Lead in Mirko’s hero agency for over three months now, with the deliberation process taking longer than you’d like, only for it to end with you falling short of the other candidate.

You clench your fists at the thought of having received the news earlier that day.

Insecure and dismayed, you’ve been waiting for Bakugou to come home so you can tell him about it. It’s gonna have to be a long story, seeing as you haven’t even gotten around to telling him about wanting the promotion in the first place. In anticipation of the conversation, you stocked up on his favorite snacks and drinks.

Finally, at 8:54 PM, you hear the lock open with a click.

You rush to the entryway of your now-shared home, and flash him an inviting smile, “Welcome home.”

He’s in his regular clothes, having stripped himself of the grime and dirt back in the agency. Good, you think to yourself, you’ll have more time with him like this.

You’re about to ask him if he’s eaten dinner and if he can spend the night talking when he practically, and unceremoniously, collapses on top of you.

You’re agile enough with your arms shooting up to help carry his body weight, clutching his waist and arm to keep you both steady.

“Katsuki?” you squeak.

He only burrows his nose in your neck and huffs, “I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Let’s go to bed, please?”

You can’t help but ache at the sight and sound of you Katsuki beaten to exhaustion like this. So, like the good partner that you are, you nod in affirmation and assist him as you walk to the bedroom, and help him out of his clothes until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

Now lying on the bed and under the covers, he holds his arm out open for you.

His voice is low and rough: “C’mere.”

And you do.

You climb into bed next to him, settling into his side as a muscled arm drapes across your waist.

You look up at his face, and a part of you hopes his eyes are still open and twinkling with invitation.

For conversation. For intimacy.

For anything.

But you’re only met with the peaceful, sleeping face of your lover.

That was the fifth time it happened.

And the last.

“Is there any reason you dragged me out of my pajamas to come here at–,” he checks his phone, “8:14 PM?”

You ignore Bakugou’s incredulous question, choosing instead to look around the view of the park from the bench where you’re both seated.

You glance at him, all in his bedhead and glasses-wearing glory. He had a long day, as per usual, having arrived home thirty minutes after 7 PM, but you had to have this conversation sooner than later.

“You seriously don’t remember this place?”

“‘Course I do,” he says in a heartbeat. “This is where I took you out on your best first fucking date ever.”

You snort, “That was yours.”

He sits up and scowls at you, offended, “Fuck that shit. That was both of ours.”

You laugh, unable to tease him any longer, “It was. You even flexed your hero skills to me and all.”

He slinks back into the bench, huffing as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Damn straight.”

You roll your eyes, “Show off.”

He snickers, “Simp.”

You shake your head, trying to fight off the grin that’s spreading across your face. Now was not the time for flirty banter. Not with what you’re about to tell him…

“But really, though,” Bakugou pipes up after a few minutes of silence, “what’s up?”

You can tell he’s trying to sound more playful than he usually does. Still, there’s an air of tense anticipation surrounding the both of you, and it’s been there since you asked two weeks ago if he could clear out tonight’s schedule, as you had something important to say.

Here goes nothing.

You exhale, albeit quite shakily, and close your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore, Katsuki. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him holding his breath, visibly on guard.

Bakugou’s smart. You’re sure he knows what you’re talking about, if not because of his intelligence but of the way he gulps nervously, no matter how imperceptible that was.

But he still retorts with, “You can’t do what anymore?”

You gesture vaguely at the distance between the two of you. That’s only been growing in the past few months.

“This. Us.”

You heave in a deep, shaky breath, refusing to look at him. He takes your hand into his.

“I can’t bear it anymore. Forcing you to choose between your hero work and me.”

You chance a glance at your Katsuki, and he’s staring at you, eyes brimming with tears and with such intensity that knocks your breath away.

Still, you march on. You have to get this out of your system before you chicken out.

“It hurts me to make you choose. Especially knowing how much you love what you do and how much you’re needed by other people.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but you still end up choking, “But I need you, too, Kats.”

“And, I can’t keep on getting disappointed and hurt like this every time I don’t get chosen.”

At that, you finally let the tears you’ve been holding onto fall down your cheeks, “It’s all too much.”

A part of you still hoped he’d hop onto his feet in protest and beg for you to stay with him and proclaim how he’ll try harder, despite knowing, more or less, that no objections will pour out of his mouth.

True enough, Bakugou remains silent, like the tears that quietly drip down onto his clenched fists.

Because deep down, he knew.

He knew, from the very beginning.

Before he even decided to keep your number. Before he plucked up the courage to send you that first text. Before he sucked it up and asked you out on that first date.

He knew—that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t meet you halfway.

tagging. @katsukis1wife

extra credits. katsuki's first date line (tweet). quote about atonement.

[thenightfolknetwork]

so, i've got this friend - let's call her "casey". and she's a really sweet person, i love her to bits. the thing is, casey really wants to be a witch. and not just like, doing some spells for herself and her friends, kind of thing. she wants to be a professional witch. she's obsessed with this dream of hers, pouring so much time and energy into making social media posts about her spellwork and trying to mimic her favorite witchstagram influencers.

but the problem is… she kinda sucks??? none of her spells work and sometimes they can really backfire. she made me a housewarming charm for my new apartment, and within a day of putting it up, my neighbors were banging on my door accusing me of cursing the whole building! but instead of working on her craft, she's totally focused on building this social media persona. she honestly isn't getting the kind of traction she was hoping for - probably because, you know… she sucks!! is there any way i can convince her to at least take a bit more time in training before she tries to go pro?

I'm afraid there isn't much you can do here, dear reader. I understand your concerns – it's no easy thing to see a person you love embark on a path you consider foolish. But it Casey is her own person, and needs to be allowed to forge her own path.

As her friend, you need to decide how much you can be there for Casey in this endeavour. I certainly don't think you should lie to her – neither of you will be served by you pretending you think this career change is a wise decision. But you can find other things to praise – her commitment, her bravery and her enthusiasm, if nothing else.

Besides which, I'm not sure I actually see anything in her “business plan” (a term I use extremely loosely here) that actually involves any magical ability. You say she's pouring her energy into social media posts and developing her Instagram profile. None of that constitutes becoming a professional witch in any actual spell-crafting capacity.

If she does pivot to trying to make money from her actual craft, she may well run into some rather obvious obstacles – namely that her spells do more harm than good. I see no reason to discourage her in this. After all, perhaps a slew of negative reviews and refund demands will spur her into developing her craft a little more (hopefully under the guidance of a more experienced practitioner, and not a fellow 'witchstagram' enthusiast).

Confronting her about her lack of skill will only upset her. Concentrate instead on being her friend and supporting her as and how you can without undermining your own integrity. It simply isn't your place to try and guide Casey on this matter. She will do as she wishes, and needs to make her own choices – and her own mistakes.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[sleepingdeath-light]

pregnant s/o hcs ; hunter

requested by ; anonymous (30/04/23)

fandom(s) ; the owl house

fandom masterlist(s) ; main | hunter-only

character(s) ; hunter wittebane

outline ; “hcs for hunter x pregnant! reader 👀 id place them at about 27 years both they have their lives planned and it just happened! + The gangs reactions”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

now neither of you had necessarily planned for this to happen — like, at all

yes you’d had the conversation about kids when you first started dating because you wanted to make sure you were on the same page

because being young didn’t mean that you weren’t dating to stay together

so you both knew that you wanted a kid, eventually, and you were both at a point in your lives where it was stable for the first time ever

you’d just moved in to your first family home, one on the titan’s stomach so you had a wonderful garden

hunter was making excellent money as a palisman carver and you’d even started growing your own palistrum saplings in a little nursery at home

magic was just starting to stabilise after the whole belos situation

and you’d settled well into your job as a teacher at eda’s wild magic university

it was the perfect time and it… well

it just happened

you’d started feeling a bit unwell and your cycle was late and you were starting to feel a little bit bloated and hunter was worrying himself sick

so you went off to a checkup at the new hospital, perfectly calm and sure nothing would happen

and then you got the news

you were like actually really pregnant

neither of you knew how to react, staying silent and frozen for a few beats, before you finally realised what had just happened

and you just started grinning and celebrating and hunter picked you up and spun you around in a circle as you giggled and repeated the news

you were going to be parents

you were going to have a baby

like for real

and you couldn’t wait

you’re given a few potions to take for your nausea and your doctor insists you stop by for regular appointments since your pregnancy is a very new phenomenon — hunter being a grimwalker, and all

and that was when the next chapter of your lives together officially began

you gathered everyone at your home under the guise of a housewarming party to deliver the news and everyone was thrilled for you

king made a joke about being your ‘practise baby’

luz and amity were crying and amity was just barely holding back her girlfriend from tackling you

willow was grinning broadly as she pulled you both into a hug and said she was so insanely happy for you

(as well as touching your stomach and very sternly telling your baby to behave and stop making you ill)

gus used his illusions to pull together a whole celebration out of thin air and said how excited he was to be an uncle

eda slapped hunter on the back and told him he’d done good

lilith was trying to hold back her tears as she gave you both a hug and congratulated you

camilla kissed you on the cheek and gave hunter a kiss and said something about how all of her babies growing up

(she said something similar at luz and amity’s wedding a few years ago)

and darius and eberwolf were just sticking with hunter and joking with him about finally tying you down — darius tried to hide how teary-eyed he was behind a remark about finally getting to be a grandparent

which made hunter cry

but yeah you all made a day of it and you couldn’t ask for a better support system of aunts and uncles and grandparents for you baby to have in their life

even if willow and eda were getting really into the idea of teaching them to play grudgby and flyer derby…

as your pregnancy progressed your sickness gradually went away and hunter started to make a point of sitting down and talking to your bump every night

like you’ll be laying in bed, comfy as can be, and he’ll sit down beside you and just place his hand over your bump as he talks in this loving voice to your baby

he talks about his day, how he grew up, and how he’s changed

he tells them to behave and stop giving you heartburn and kicking your bladder

he promises that he’ll never make them feel unloved or unwanted — that they’ll never doubt themselves for even a second of their life

and you cry and tell him he’s gonna be the best dad

and he says that he knows he will because he’s got you by his side

and you spend the rest of your pregnancy prepping the nursery and clothes and crying over how small baby shoes are and being more in love with your boyfriend than ever

you can’t wait to start a family with him — and by the size of your bump you won’t have to wait much longer

[tailsbeth-writes]

Thanks for the tag @typicalopposite! I feel like I'm always waiting around thanks to my darn British timezone 🥲😂

Here's a snippet from the a frightening magic I cling to sequel, aka Henry learns self love fic:

Henry's hand runs over Alex’s chest, he's slightly obsessed with the smattering of hair he has. He's on his side, his legs still entwined with Alex’s under the sheets. Sheets he knows they'll have to change again, he thanks their devious friends for buying them a few extra sets than most would think necessary, for their housewarming.  Alex’s hand is playing with Henry's hair on the pillow, he's looking at the ceiling. Henry thinks it looks like he's trying to project his thoughts above him.  ‘What are you thinking about?’  ‘It’s stupi-’ Henry puts a finger to Alex's lips, Alex shifts to look at him.  ‘None of your thoughts are stupid.’ ‘Even when I asked if you'd still love me if I was a worm?’  Henry stifles a laugh and raises an eyebrow.  ‘Okay, that one was a little daft but not stupid.’

Tag You're It: @run-for-chamo-miles @taste-thewaste @onthewaytosomewhere @duchessdepolignaca03 @myheartalivewrites @bitbybitwrites @adreamareads @caterpills @seths-rogens @tinyarmedtrex & open tag 🫶🏻