#and that school was even less feasible than this one

[yeyinde]

ghoapxreader in the baby trapping series IM BEGGING 🧎‍♀️

i think i've exhausted the whole "tampering with contraceptives" thing to death by now so i would probably do something different with them. like a surrogate situation or something, but awful lmao

maybe down on her luck reader is in desperate need of cash, and these two men swoop in to save you from this horrible pit you've fallen into.

you need money. they need a baby.

simple, right?

except the simplicity falls apart when they blatantly tell you they want a natural insemination—as in, a threesome.

multiple, the pretty Scot tells you. after all, it has tae take, hen.

(and this is the part where you should have run. the moment when you'd be screaming at the television at the hapless protagonist as they walk mindlessly into danger despite the warning signs hanging overhead. but like the oblivious hero, you're too blinded by pretty, gleaming white to realise that the thing you're marveling over is a maw. cracked open wide and full of jagged, deadly teeth rearing up to sink inside of you.

but the problem with making shady deals when you're desperate is that no one really bothers to read the fine print, do they? and by the time you see past their crooked charm, you're waving your child off as they skip up the stairs to school, standing like a prisoner between them as they lean down and ask if you're ready for another—)

but that comes later.

what comes first is message on Craiglist.

one that you spend less time considering it than you should have. desperation, you find, clouds your judgement. blots out common sense. makes you susceptible to manipulation. and oh, how susceptible you are. despite priding yourself on your common sense and keen self-awareness, the overarching issues hanging over your head like an idling guillotine seem to erase that instructive need for self-preservation.

so, when the message itself pops up, you're already primed for making bad choices. ones out of malformed desperation. the barrage of texts from your landlord demanding rent, the ones sent to your family in moments of dire need asking for fruitless aid that will never come in time if the read receipts mean anything at all. the package from HR apologising for the inconvenience, but this was, regrettably, the only feasible option for the company at present, and too bad you didn't sign up for that union, huh? student loans. credit cards.

the measureable calamity of your life manifests itself in the shape of a black cloud hanging onto your aching shoulder, wrapping long, inkstained fingers around your jugular as it hisses the insurmountable figure needed to climb out of this pit in your ear.

sleepless, of course, hasn't helped.

and in that bog you can't swim through, their offer sounds far more appealing than it should.

let's meet up somewhere, comes the next message at half past three in the morning as you talk yourself in (and out) of this mess. talk about things more.

what else are you supposed to do?

job hunting sites mock you with their generic emails, thanking you for applying, and saying they'll reach out within a few business days for an interview if you're a good fit. ones sent off weeks ago. hundreds of them to no avail. it's almost like you're being plagued. blacklisted from the city.

even the fast food chain down the street refused your application when you sent it in, and the help wanted sign has been taped on the drive-thru window since you were sixteen.

it all pushes you closer and closer to making stupid choices, like replying with a simple (nervous, shaky, bile-tinged) sure to the message they sent. i'm down—

(—and drowning)

but you're smart enough to know better, so you act like it, too.

ping your location to your friends. tell them where you're going. clutch your keys so tightly in your fist that your knuckles just out through thin skin. layers upon layers of safety measures glimpsed through the various articles about how to stay alive.

but all the tremulous air is siphoned from your lungs when you see them for the first time.

something magnetic thrums through your chest. copper sutures running lines from their skin to yours until touching just seems like the most natural thing in the world. and you suppose it is when the pretty Scot folds you into a tight hug, cinching you close to his chest as if he's known you his whole life instead of just several seconds.

he's a thing of beauty. chiselled from marble, almost; David made human when he runs his tanned hand through the tumble of uneven hair along his crown. eyes the same varicoloured palette of a boscage in autumn framed in the setting sun's golden halo.

there's a distinct ruggedness about his beauty, too. one that reminds of you a lion's mane. the sleek fur of a stallion. pretty in a wild way. and as his eyes list towards you again and again, like he can't quite manage his fill of staring at you, taking you in, you think about that wildness again. the hunger in his eyes so similiar to the desperation of a predator fattening up for the encroaching chill of winter. it makes you shiver, but you can't look away

(because you know what's waiting for you when you do)

and when you finally pluck up the courage to glance at the shape devouring the light with his intimidating bulk, you come to quick realisation that if Johnny is the personification of an autumn evening, then the man standing next to him is the tried and true testament that bad things happen after dark.

he's a strange figure, one who veers almost comically into the uncanny valley with his hood pulled over the plain, black ballcap hanging low over his brow. a balaclava covering every inch of his face with the exception of a small, ovaled hole for his eyes. remnants of something ashy smear into the corners, running up the crooked bend of his nose.

he doesn't look like a real man—not with those liquid, haunting eyes—but at the same time, there's something preternaturally human about him. a stereotypical sense of masculinity—just one warped around the edges.

with his worn jeans pulled tight over thick, bulging thighs, and the silver zipper of his hoodie resting at the base of his throat, you could easily think he was just another man in the crowd, but it's off. a glitch. a skip.

like mistaking a coat rack for a man in the dead of night.

eerie.

dangerous.

if the man beside him is playfully carnivorous, a basking lion rolling onto his belly at the zoo, separated by thick glass, then he (Simon, Johnny supplies readily when the silence lingers; Simon Riley), Simon, is what it feels like to be followed home at night.

but—

there's something about fear and desire that are almost inseparable when broken down into a physiological response.

and when he steps up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body soaking into the drying sweat on your back, you liken the way your heart climbs up your throat to same as it would seeing a dorsal fin cutting above the waves in open water.

desire, you think, and then catching the white-hot burn of the stare, you add, in a thin whisper: fear.

when they sit you down, and begin to spin a story about how they just want a baby—no strings attached—you stay seated in the chair even as an itch in the back of your head starts, nails scraping at your skull.

their reluctance toward traditional methods makes sense when they explain that with their lifestyle, it's impossible—or the Scottish man does; the other one with a marbled skin of thick, ugly scars on his hands just stares, pinning you down with the weight of his gaze—and this arrangement is the only way they'll get the baby they've been hoping for.

and even though the scratching in your head sounds suspiciously like why you and run, you eat the food they bought for you in the fancy restaurant where appetisers start at $30, and a glass of water is priced at $6. volcanic spring water, the waiter explains as he pours it from a marbled glass pitcher.

you haven't eaten a real meal that wasn't microwavable or cup noodles in weeks.

maybe that's why you find yourself thinking why not instead of no.

they're attractive men. it's not the worst situation you could have found yourself in, even if the idea of parenthood—however brief it's supposed to be—has bile clawing up the back of your throat, and the bones housing your trembling heart feeling laden, heavy like iron, and starts to cinch your chest shut each day, squeezing tighter, and tighter, and—

they drop off the first the installment to you the moment your doctor starts to talk about boerhaave syndrome, as if they know the doubts that plague your head when they leave your apartment and the silence starts to mock you.

and that leads you here.

guilt for their situation. desperation over your own. an overarching need to please. it's all a dangerous cocktail that douses over rationality until you're nodding along, accepting their words as gospel until sleeping with them—multiple times—doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

until it happens. until you have Johnny and Simon actively working to knock you up. a marathon of intense sex with the single-minded goal of putting their baby in you.

Johnny drooling all over you as he ruts between your thighs, mindlessly driving himself into a frenzy as he slurres out his desires in an incomprehensible mess of English and Gaelic and animalistic grunts. barely pulling out in time before Simon is pressing your knee down to the mattress, cooing mockingly at the mess his boy made of you. cruelly taking bets as he slides into your sore, aching cunt about who will take first. his or Johnny's? and who do you want, birdie? who's baby do you want first?

fingers always shoving inside to cap the overflow when they exhaust themselves in a liquid-limbed stupor, barely conscious as you tapped out some three, four rounds ago. unable to keep your eyes open any longer as they both came to the same conclusion that cumming inside of you at the same time was the quickest way to knock you up together. ain't he a romantic, birdie?

and it's probably for the best that you passed out before it happened, drooling on Simon's scarred shoulder as he gripped the cheeks of your ass, pulling you wide open as Johnny shuffled forward between his spread legs, eyes riveted to the spot where Simon's cock split you open. the ache you felt the next morning, coming to on a broad chest with fingers stuffed inside of you—shush, shush, just keeping you nice an' plugged, sweetheart—was almost unbearable.

you expected them to clear out after getting what they want, but they stay. tend to you carefully like you're made of fine china.

or—Johnny does. bundles you up in his arms before setting off towards the bath, finally letting you wash the sticky, flaking grime from your skin, some awful mixture of drying cum, spit, and sweat, groaning in your ear as he pulls you to his damp, hairy chest about how sweet you are for them. how they're going to take care of you.

Simon caters to other things. packs your bags as Johnny scrubs thick fingers over your shoulders, pausing to grasp a sore, tender breast in his palm, hefting the weight up as he feverishly mutters about how hot it'll be to watch you feed their baby. an' maybe you'll let him have a little taste, too—

and when you finally emerge from the bath, sorer between the thighs than you were when you woke up, another mess pooling in the gusset of the panties he pulled up your legs, Simon's waiting, eyes riveted to your belly. staring at it with so much hunger, a cold sweat breaks out along the nape of your neck.

in the grand scheme of things, the threesome is the easy part. the hard part comes when they turn the arrangement into a prison, locking the shackles around your wrists when the pregnancy test comes back positive a few weeks later.

they're only doing what's best for their baby, they say, when they move you out of your apartment and into theirs. the cut lease was the only way to do it, Johnny says, shrugging. why make you pay for something you aren't using anymore?

and maybe if your head was thickened with a fog, you'd have questioned the phrasing, but as it stands, pregnancy, even as early as this one, adles you. leaves you a syrupy mess of emotions that they take turns exploiting. aren't you so lonely all by yourself, hen? don' ye want a family?

aren't they good enough for you?

it's less subliminal messaging and more overt coersion. what are you going to do after this? where will you go with your lease cut? and when the funds run dry? what then?

gonna find another couple to knock you up? Simon hisses, mangled hands mauling your belly, pinching and squeezing the flesh as if he could feel the fragile box their happiness is housed inside. should jus' stay with us if that's the case, birdie.

but it's all so sweet, in its own way—

(—sweet like a parasite nesting inside of it's host.

but at least you'll never be lonely.)

they stand by the fact that they're looking out for you. that they care. that they can't do much else but idle and watch your body evolve into something new (an' magnificent, Johnny breathes, kissing this unfamiliar shape you call home) and it grates at them because they're not used to feeling so useless, so can't you just let them do this for you? take care of you in all the ways they see fit? like cutting your lease and giving you a better place to stay. handing in your resignation from that shitty nine to five that wore you down to the bone. culling out the annoyances in your life—the friends and family—who kick up needless fits over your wellbeing, and just stress you out more than you need to be.

they're not good enough for you, is what Simon says when you ask why he blocked them from your phone, Johnny hovering by the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. barring the exits, you'll realise later. but what comes first is fear, is anger, is—

happiness. maybe. or some broken, fragile facsimile of it. a subpar humuliculus masquerading around as if it was realised flesh and bone.

"oh," you say, and think you should be touched by his care, his concern, and so you are. shape this emotion from the sludge that pools at the bottom of your chest, running fingers through the muck to find pieces of gold. and then: "thank you, Simon."

it's sweet. or it could have been if it didn't spiral out of your control when they systematically dismantle your entire life until all you're left with is loose sediment slipping through your fingers. the foundation itself soften clay they shape into the image they've been after with the whole time: you.

(or more specifically, a momma for their baby.)

and when they ask you, at the end of this thin, fraying tether, if you want to be with them—an equal, a mother—and be a mother again for them, there's nothing else you could say except yes.

nothing because they made it so.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I'm a student about to start my second year, and me and all my friends are really nervous. It feels like first year was really rough for everyone all over the place and we're all really hoping for a better second year this year! Have lecturers been noticing that too? Do you think it's because of COVID?

Oh my god yes. Jesus yes. It's absolutely the covid effect, and we're expecting to see the disruption for the next five or so years, tbh - the current 18-21 year old undergrads went through the most important years of high school during a lockdown. That not only interrupted academic development (home schooling during a time of stress, massive disruption to exams and exam-taking skills, etc), it also enormously hit emotional development (mid to late teens have the highest socialising needs of the human lifespan, and no one could meet and interact with each other.) And that latter point is having a much bigger effect than the former.

Current undergrads haven't been able to develop the same resilience, the same approach to andragogic education, the same interpersonal skills for dealing with lecturers/fellow students. University is not like school; in school teachers are giving you the knowledge, and gradually encouraging you to try and use it to formulate your own opinions. In university, we're supposed to give you the framework to then go out and do you own research. The bulk of your education comes from you, not us; we're more like facilitators.

But, we're noticing that there's a far bigger skew now towards needing to get the answer right. Anxiety is higher, and so the fear of being wrong is much more crippling for these students, and that in turn means they're less willing/able to take charge of their own education and are more passive with it, wanting to just be fed the right answers so they can rote learn them and get the Good mark. And the disconnect between that and the reality of what lecturers are expecting is pretty big, it turns out, and is causing even more anxiety and stress. Record numbers of my students have started asking me to give their assignment drafts a quick look over, just to see if they're on the right track. Which, you know, I'm more than happy to do; but I do think it's a notable pattern change from three or four years ago.

If you're worrying on a personal level though, Anon, I have some Handy Tips if they're any use!

Remember: the idea of uni is that you are doing your own research and learning on the topics your lecturers describe. They're giving you the basics, but they're expecting you to look up examples, case studies, other research papers, etc. They want to see analysis. That's what gets you the good marks. If you simply describe the information you got in lectures and don't add anything, you'll struggle to rise out of a basic pass.

What's the fundamental point of your particular course? It's important to know this, because it'll tell you how to focus your assessments and exam answers. Just within the environmental sector, you could have Environmental Science (focus: academic exploration and research), Environmental Conservation (focus: applying the academic research to actual management and solutions), Environmental Impacts (focus: philosophy and ethics), etc. In all three, you might be given a paper about the latest IPCC report, but in the first you would focus on exploring all the research papers that formed the conclusion on climate change, in the second you'd focus on case studies around the world and the applicability/feasibility of the shared economic pathways that are going to fix the problem, and in the third you'd focus on the human impacts of both the problem and the proposed solutions. You may of course include elements of all of those, but your main focus should be chosen appropriately.

Keep your notes with copies of the lecture slides in nice ordered folders. Keep a bulleted list of the topics covered in each. This makes it far easier to go and double check the right info when you're stressed out

On that note, the best note-taking system is to add notes/comments to the lecture slides where you record clarifications and things the lecturer said (INCLUDING CASE STUDIES). Don't bother duplicating effort by writing what's on the slide.

I truly do know this is easier said than done, but don't leave your assignments until the last minute. Are you struggling with motivation? You need a study group. You need to body double.

And finally, the biggest: CONTACT STUDENT SUPPORT IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING. Every time I go to an exam board and we get to a student who has failed stuff, the first question the Academic Office asks is "Has this student been working with Student Support?" Even if they aren't that helpful in your uni, working with them means they know about the things you're struggling with, and that you've clearly been trying to work around the problems. That makes the Academic Office far, far more likely to take a lenient view of a student, rather than going "Well, clearly they just don't care then, withdraw them from the program." Your Student Support should be able to help you with counselling, study buddies, a support worker that can help you organise your time and interpret your assignment briefs correctly and give you interim deadlines, etc.

Oh, and remember to schedule in rest and downtime, just as much as study time.

And... honestly, you learned a lot in your first year. The learning curve is less steep in second year, even accounting for the academic rigour increasing. By now, you're basically used to things like referencing, routines, assignment formatting, etc. There are no more surprises, really. Now's the point you can get the bit between your teeth and run.

Anyway: good luck! And enjoy it as much as you can. University is hard, no doubt about that, but it can and should be fun as well.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [1]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader is hiding from a shady past

Word Count: 4,506

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn't meant for everyone.

Chapter #01: TWO PORGS, ONE BLASTER

Chapter Summary: The Marshal is looking to hire a nanny, and you just so happen to be moving into the city.

“remember to live while you’re busy surviving.” -d.j.

Din Djarin was busier these days than he ever had been before. Even compared to years ago, when he was picking up dozens of bounty pucks and collecting quarries left and right, it was nothing compared to now. If he had known that being Nevarro's marshal would be so hectic, he may have never accepted it. At the thought, he sighed. That was a bold faced lie. He still would’ve taken the job in a heartbeat because the pay was better than anything he had ever made previously. Speaking strictly in terms of credits, it was significantly less than the various bounties he’d pick up, but the job brought him peace of mind. It brought safety to Grogu. More than just safety, it gave the child the opportunity to grow and learn in an environment where he wasn’t at risk. They had settled here a couple of months ago, and for most of that time Grogu had been happy and free of night terrors. It was a blessing Din couldn’t quantify. He’d work every second of every day if it meant the child grew up safe and loved.

At the thought of his son, he picked up his pace toward the repair shop run by Peli who had ventured from the sands of Tatooine to the growing and thriving Nevarro. She was usually the one who watched Grogu while he was working. When Peli couldn’t, there were a handful of others in town who were more than happy to help out. Din was eternally grateful that the community was willing to go above and beyond as a favor to him. In the beginning, he had actually brought Grogu with him on the job. It wasn’t absurd. Back in the day, when his journey with Grogu first began, he brought the child along on bounties. A day in the life of a small community Marshal was actually quite tame in comparison. Still, that wasn’t normal, and Din wanted normal. School would be starting up soon, as summer ended, and Din was excited to get Grogu enrolled.

He had a stable job and they had a home. Starting Grogu's education was the next step in establishing picture perfect normalcy.

The loud noise of Peli’s shop filled the air as he got closer. All three of the garage’s hanger doors were lifted and open, and Din could see it had been a busy day for the mechanic. Ships, speeder bikes, droids. There was a large collection of mechanical works being actively repaired.

“Peli! Marshal's here!” A mechanic barked out the moment he stepped into the garage. Din turned his way, but the employee didn’t bother looking up from the work they were occupied with.

Din pressed further into the shop. Helmet glanced around, looking for a blur of chaotic green, but his eyes didn’t land on his son. “Mando!” Din spun in place as the curly haired woman marched up to him. Peli was one of the few people in Nevarro who didn't refer to him as Marshal. She said she didn't want it to go to his head. Other mechanics dove out of the way to avoid her path. Though she was short in stature, Peli could command a room with voice alone. Her jumpsuit was covered in splotches of engine oil. “Took you long enough!”

“Peli.” Din nodded in greeting. “Where’s Grogu?”

“Your son,” Peli jabbed a finger in his direction, “ate a handful of bolts today.”

Din stiffened. “He what!? Where is he?”

“Just joking. He didn’t.”

“Peli, that isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

Din resisted the urge to palm the front of his helmet into his hands. He let out a weathered sigh, “Did he eat metal bolts or didn’t he?”

“Not today. No telling about tomorrow.” Peli scoffed. “This shop is no place for a kid! I’ve been telling you that for weeks now!”

Din set his hands on his hips. “No, you haven't.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking it!”

The sound of familiar babbling alerted him to his son’s presence, and Din turned in time to see Grogu quickly waddling in his direction. Argument with Peli forgotten, he grinned and scooped up the child who continued to babble enthusiastically.

“Hey there, you little womp rat.” Din rubbed his belly and Grogu wrapped his arms around his hand in response. The sound of his laugh made Din chuckle himself. As important as his goal of normalcy was, Din missed the uninterrupted time he used to have with his son. There was a lot wrong with their previous adventures, a lot of danger, but nothing beat the long days in hyperspace and hiding where his only responsibility was to care for the child. “I heard you’ve been giving Peli trouble.”

Grogu laughed again⏤ not even attempting to hide his guilt. Peli wagged her finger in his direction once more. “You see? It’s only a matter of time until he swallows one of my tools. Then what would we do? I’d be a tool short!”

“I’m sorry, Peli.” Din chuckled. “School will be starting up soon. You won’t have to watch him during the day then.”

“He’ll still need watching after, won’t he? Your work day isn’t done until evening!” Peli argued. “And what about the nights when you get called into work?”

Din winced, but he kept his head still so Peli wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t wrong. There had been a handful of times when Din's presence was required at the station and he was forced to drop Grogu off with Peli in the dead of night. She lived in a small apartment beside the shop, and her shop was on the way from their home to the station. Stopping to leave Grogu with her was too easy to resist. It wasn't like he could leave the child at home alone.

Grogu began to tap on the side of Din’s helmet and he began to bounce the child in his arms to distract him. “I’m sorry, Peli. I really appreciate everything you do for us. You know that, right?” Peli waved his words away with a huff. As brash and grumpy as the woman could be, especially on a busy day, he knew Peli loved spending time with Grogu and he knew that complaints aside she’d always be willing to help out. It was why he was so grateful for her. “My hands are tied right now. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Hire someone, you lug!” Peli scoffed. “Get a live-in nanny.”

“Live-in nanny?” Din questioned, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“Yeah. Someone who can watch little bright eyes around the clock when you can’t. Someone who’ll be there at 3AM when you get called into the office. Why do I gotta come up with all the good ideas around here?”

Din didn’t love the idea, but he couldn’t deny the merits of it. Once upon a time, he would’ve shot it down immediately. However, he wasn’t who he once was. Din had learned that going out on a branch to trust someone didn’t always end bloody. The community was filled with people Din had taken a chance on and was rewarded in his risk. He had friends he trusted, and they never would've been in his life if he hadn't taken the risk in the first place.

“Where…” Din cleared his throat. “Where would I even find one?”

“Whoop, whoop!” Din and Peli both turned to see a mechanic a few feet away. They had been buried under a speeder bike but jumped up in excitement. Dirty goggles hung around her neck and the light pink color of her skin made the black grease stains stand out more. “Howdy, Marshal Mando.”

“Nima.” Din greeted with a nod. He didn’t know every single person who worked for Peli, but Nima was Peli’s right hand mechanic. The young Twi’lek was extraordinary with a wrench if Peli was to be believed, and Din knew it took a lot to impress the older woman. “How are you?”

“Real swell.” Nima stepped closer, rubbing her hands on a rag tucked into her overall pocket. “Not to be nosy, but I heard you got a job that needs filling and I have a cousin who needs a job.” Din tilted his head and waited for her to elaborate. “My cousin is moving here⏤ well, let me clarify, she’s not my actual cousin by blood. We’re cousins by marriage. Her mom’s sister married my mom’s brother. We⏤ wait, they actually got divorced like a year ago so I don’t know if we technically⏤”

“Nima!” Peli barked. “The point!”

“Right, right, right.” Nima shook her head. “My maybe not cousin is moving to town, and she’s looking for work.”

Din lifted a hand to lightly grasp Grogu’s hands as the kid tried to pry his helmet up. “Does she have experience with kids?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Nima nodded. “She’s a superstar with kids. Total magic.”

Peli slapped her hand against the beskar of his chest plate then pointed at him. Din sighed and gave them both a slight nod. “I’d be willing to meet her, but that’s it. No promises.”

“She’ll be in town by the end of the week!” Nima cheered. “I’ll bring her around!”

Grogu began to whine, and Din thanked both women before making his way out of the garage. It was time for dinner and the child was quick to get fussy when a meal wasn’t on its way. Plus, Grogu had gotten accustomed to nights in the privacy of their home when Din would remove his helmet. It had become a part of their routine.

“Buir, buir, buir.” Grogu chanted.

“I know, I know.” Din chuckled as he unlocked the front door. Once in, he used his free hand to pull his helmet off and tucked it under his elbow with a smile.

Grogu patted his face in excitement. “Buir!”

“Let’s get some dinner ready, ad’ika.” Din stepped further in. Hearing Grogu speak Mando’a warmed his heart. Hearing him speak at all warmed his heart, really. Din was convinced his son knew more basic and Mando’a than he’d shown. The few things he did say he only said in the safety of their home. Another reason Din was excited for school to start, he hoped it’d excite Grogu into speaking more.

Din set the boy down so he could move around the kitchen easier, and he couldn’t bite back the smile of ease on his face. He loved his life, he loved his son, and Din didn’t think things could get more perfect than what it was right now. He just hoped adding in a new face wouldn’t disrupt their routine.

You absentmindedly let your fingers trace the ugly, jagged scar along your collarbone. The wound had healed months ago, but there was something about the rough skin that haunted you. It didn’t hurt. If anything the tissue there was numb, and that bothered you more than anything else. For some reason, it felt wrong that you weren’t in pain.

The transport ship rumbled to a stop as it landed, and it snapped you back into the moment. You straightened in your seat and glanced out the window. A year and a half ago nobody ever spoke of Nevarro. It had been a blip in the Outer Rim for bounty hunters and those hiding from the New Republic. Now, it was a bustling trade post flourishing with life. From where your ship sat on the landing pad, you could see the white and gray buildings of Nevarro stretching out into the black, glassed land of the mountains that sat on the edge of the lava plains. It still wasn't a very large community. Not yet, at least. Your eyes scanned the land beside the landing pad. You had lived in the beautiful greenery of Naboo, the bustling cities of Coruscant, and the sandy dunes of Tatooine. This was vastly different in comparison.

You let a few others leave before rising yourself. As you followed the very small crowd off the ship you stretched your legs out best you could without stopping. It had been a long trip from Mos Espa to Nevarro. The second your feet stepped onto the landing pad you heard your name being screamed by a familiar voice. It was almost odd to hear it said aloud after so much time, but the voice of your old friend kept you from flinching. A broad smile crossed your features and you barely had time to turn before you were tackled in a hug.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” Nima cheered in your ear. She squeezed you tight enough that all you could manage was a small pat on her back considering she had your arms pinned to your side.

“I missed you too.” You wheezed. “And now I’m beginning to miss air.”

Nima released you, taking a step back, and you sucked in a large breath. She bounced in place, her pink lekku whipping around her, “I’m so happy you’re finally here! It’s been way, way too long!” It was true, and seeing Nima brightened your mood significantly. “How was your trip-”

The beginnings of your name began to slip from her mouth, but your hand snapped out to cover her lips. Her eyebrows rose in confusion, and you just offered her a sheepish smile. "Soran. Call me Soran. Remember?" Her eyes widened and you could see a flash of regret in her eyes. She had simply forgotten. "It's okay. No biggie. Just... Soran, okay?"

"I'm so sorry. I just got so excited." Nima apologized. "Don't worry, I didn't use your real name with anyone in town or anything." You nodded and made your way to where luggage was being placed on the landing pad from the storage bin. Nima walked a step behind you. You scooped up your bag, wrapping it around your shoulders, and Nima looped one arm through yours. "I'm so happy you're here."

The words were said with such sincerity that it warmed your heart. It made you wish you had taken her up on her offer ages ago. She began to drag you across the landing pad toward the start of the town. Her cheery attitude and happy-go-lucky demeanor was contagious. She was talking up a storm, something about work, while you gazed at the street you walked down. The path was paved and the street was filled with people milling about happily. A few vendors sold goods in the open at stalls, and you could hear the music of a band from further down the street. It was a cozy and warm atmosphere, and it wasn't the kind of place you expected Nima to settle down.

You met Nima during your teenage years when part of her family married part of yours. The two of you had grown close and without a doubt she was one of your closest friends. Family really. It was why at your absolute lowest you had caved and accepted her invitation to join her in Nevarro. Nima worked at a local mechanic shop which turned out to be her calling. She had always been good at tinkering with anything mechanical, but she was thriving under the instruction of the woman she worked for. At least, that's what she was constantly telling you. Nima had found her happy place, and you were ecstatic for her.

“⏤and Peli is still awesome.” Nima continued. “When we're not busy, she's letting me work on this old Razor Crest with her. It's some sort of secret project and the ship is in really bad shape, but I'm learning so much. It’s the best job ever.”

“That’s amazing, Nima.”

“Oh! And speaking of awesome jobs, I got you one.”

Your eyes widened. “Huh?”

“A job and a place to live. I got it covered.”

“Wow. I’m…seriously impressed, Nima. So, that means your boss is okay with me helping around the shop with inventory and stuff?”

Nima paused, then cursed in her native tongue. “I knew I was forgetting to do something. I was supposed to ask Peli about you.”

“If you didn’t ask her if I could work there, then where am I working?” You questioned in confusion.

“So, the Marshal has this super cute kid, and he needs a round the clock nanny.” Nima gave you a thumbs up. You blinked in shock, unable to find the words to voice your disbelief. She took this as a victory cheered. “I knew you’d love it.”

You shook your head. “No, no. This is a bad idea.”

“What? No way.” Nima shook her head with a pout. “You need a job and you need a place to live. I got you both in one. Two porgs, one blaster.”

“I⏤That’s⏤You said it wrong.” You said.

Nima furrowed her brow at you. “No, I think you just don’t get it. It means, like, you have two problems, the two porgs, and one solution takes care of both. One blaster.”

“It’s two porgs, one stone.”

“Why would I use a stone to hit a porg when I have a blaster?”

“You wouldn’t, but if you had a blaster you could shoot way more than just two porgs.”

“Yeah, but you only have two porgs right now.”

You waved your arms in the air as if you could swipe away the pointless argument. “This is⏤ No. We're done with that. My point is, this is not a good idea. I’ve never been a nanny before. The last time I baby-sat a kid was literally ages ago, and it was for a few evenings. I didn't live with the kid or the family.”

“You’re great with kids. I’ve seen it!” Nima argued in your favor.

“Being good with kids is not the same as helping raise one.”

Nima shrugged. “Nuance. Besides, everything else in town right now is part time work and you said you wanted a full time job.” You had said that. The more time you spent busy, the less time you had to think. That was the plan at least Bury yourself in pointless work. “I mean, you could pick up the job of local physician.”

You stiffened. “Nima⏤”

“Our main doctor sucks. Like you wouldn’t believe. Laziest asshole this side of the Outer Rim. It's the one fault of Nevarro in my opinion.” Nima scoffed. “You would do so much better⏤”

“Don’t.” You said firmly, and Nima grew quiet. “I’m not… I’m not doing that right now. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not allowed to⏤ to⏤” You cleared your throat. “I’m not allowed to practice medicine until the trial is over. Officially.”

Nima squeezed your arm. “The trial will be over before the year's end, at the latest, and there is no way they aren’t throwing that kriffing asshole in jail for the rest of his miserable life.” This was the exact thing you wanted to avoid. It’s literally why you ran away in the first place. “Nothing about what happened was your fault.”

“Nima, can we not?” You blurted. “I just…” Your lungs felt heavy and even though you were more than capable of breathing none of the air you sucked in was rewarding. “Tell me more about the job. The Marshal’s kid.”

Nima shot you a concerned look before nodding. “Right.” She forced a smile onto her face. “He’s a Mandalorian and his son is a 50 year old precious, green gremlin.”

“Um, what?”

Nevarro was shockingly beautiful. You had heard it was, and that it was slowly becoming a staple of the Outer Rim, but hearing it was different than seeing it with your own eyes. The population was about four thousand and it was constantly growing. Every single person you passed took the time to greet Nima, and she took the time to introduce you. It hadn’t been an exaggeration when Nima said it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The two of you emptied out at the end of a street into a large, open plaza. In it's center sat a tall bronze statue of a droid.

“That's the Magistrate's building.” Nima pointed to the tall, intricate building behind the droid statue. It was active with people going up and down the stairs that led into the building. “Magistrate Karga is super cool. He used to hand out bounties to hunters. Wild shit.”

“So, the Magistrate was an Agent of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and your Marshal is an actual Mandalorian?”

Nima nodded. “The Marshal's Deputy used to be a Shock Trooper.”

“Wow. I’m not sure I’m qualified to even live here.” You mumbled.

“Don’t be silly. You’ll fit right in.” Nima slotted her hand into yours and began to drag you down the street. She had taken you to her small apartment first, to give you time to set down your belongings and wash up, but she was quick to pull you back out into the streets. It was cute how eager she was to show you around Nevarro, and you could tell between her and everyone you met how proud they were of their community.

Nima pointed out a few shops as you passed, but it was clear that her aim was to take you to the Marshal's station. You shot her a dry look that she only grinned at in response.

“Seriously?”

“He needs somebody super soon and you need a job. Plus, a place to live. You think I want you on my couch for the rest of your life?”

You shoved her with a laugh. “I haven’t slept on your couch a single night yet, and you’re already tired of me?”

“Just come on.” Nima dragged you building nestled amongst others. It was decorated similar as the rest of the town with white bricks and dark blue flags.

The Marhsal's station wasn’t overly large. Outside, parked to the side, were a few speeders and inside the front doors was a small lobby with a woman sitting behind a desk. Nima greeted her by name, introducing you in a rush, before pulling you through. The receptionist didn’t seem surprised by this behavior and didn’t make the moves to stop either of you. You wondered if Nima came barging in here often. Was she close to the Marshal?

The hallway from the lobby led into a clean and brightly lit room. The back wall was made of windows where the lava plains could be seen since the station was at the edge of town, and there were three desks planted in the center of the room. Off to the left side were two cells, cordoned off with silver bars, and you found yourself happy to see no one was currently being held in custody. Despite having the cells present, the entire room had a casual feel to it. A dart board was hung up on a wall, darts sticking out of it, and the desks were covered in office supplies and holopads.

“What’re you doing here, trouble maker?”

“Cara!” Nima cheered as a large woman stepped into the room from a different door. She untangled her hand from yours to rush over and greet this Cara woman with a hug. She was tall and broad, and the tattoo band around her right upper arm hinted to you that this must be the Deputy Nima mentioned earlier. The ex-shock trooper. She surely looked like someone who used to work in that line of action. “I brought my cousin by to say hello!”

Cara’s dark eyes rolled over to you in amusement. “Yeah. I see the family resemblance.”

"This is Soran." Nima introduced you with the name you had adopted months ago for the sake of anonymity. “And this is Deputy Cara Dune. Resident badass.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You offered your hand. “Can I call you Cara or do you prefer Deputy badass or…?”

Cara chuckled. “Cara works.”

“Where is everyone?” Nima glanced around the room. “I’m looking for Marshal Mando.”

“Hey, Mando!” Cara yelled back through the door she came in from. She marched past the two of you to drop down into a chair at a desk. She rested her hands behind her head and casually kicked up her legs. “Our generator out back keeps cutting out.”

Nima's eyes widened, curious, “Oh, yeah?”

“It’s been a wreck since early this morning.”

“Cara, it’s making that noise again. Can you call Peli?” A deeper, modulated voice called out. You straightened in your posture as a Mandalorian dressed in silver beskar stepped into the room. Everything you knew about Mandalorians came from legend and stories. You had never met one before. The Marshal’s broad figure and confident, yet casual pace, screamed power. A blaster was hooked to his hip. He was the picture of intimidation, and you’d find yourself nervous if it weren’t for the baby carrier strapped around his chest⏤ the one with a large eared, small green toddler tucked safely in place. It cooed happily with his hands wrapped around the fingers of the Mandalorians gloved hand.

Nima clapped her hands. “Don’t bother Peli! I’ll fix it right now!”

“I’ll show you where it’s at.” Cara pushed up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out and you watched in shock as your friend abandoned you with the Mandalorian and child. You blinked in shock, mouth held open. Suddenly, Nima stuck her head back in the room. “Oops. Mr. Marshal Mandalorian, this is my cousin I was telling you about.” She grinned at you. “Cousin, this is the mighty Marshal Mandalorian and his adorable green bean child I told you about.”

With no further words, she left once more. You were gonna kill her. Most definitely. The sound of a throat clearing made your eyes snap back to the man standing across from you. His silver helmet had a t-shaped visor of black glass that gave you no hint at the expression he wore. The two of you just stared at one another for a long moment. Awkward silences were the bane of your existence and you tried to avoid them at all costs. To a fault, arguably. You thrust a hand out to him with a nervous smile. "Hi. You can call me Soran. I'm the cousin Nima always talks about, but I'm not her actual cousin, er..."

"Right." The Mandalorian replied. He shook your hand. "Call me Mando."

"Mando? Like, short for Mandalorian?" You chuckled, and he didn't reply. You rubbed your hands against your pants. Thank the Maker, he had been wearing gloves and couldn’t feel your clammy palms. If you hadn't already decided to murder Nima for abandoning you in this situation, you would've chosen to do it for offering your services to this man. A service you weren't even qualified for. Still, you needed work, a lot of it, and if this was your best option you'd do what you'd have to. “So, is this your son?”

At the question, the child began to babble happily. His adorable, nonsensical words were a good distraction from beating yourself up over asking such a stupid question.

“Yes. This is Grogu.” He responded. The modulator gave his voice a husky quality that was hard not to notice. Grogu was still babbling, but now he released his father’s hands to reach out to you. He opened and closed his hands in a grabbing motion and at the small child’s request you couldn’t help but lift a hand up to him. Grogu grasped at your finger and you offered him a small smile. “Nima says you’re looking for a job.”

Your eyes snapped up from the kid to Mando. “Uh, yes. I am.” It was silent between the two of you again, save for Grogu’s happy voice. “To be honest though…" Your brain screamed at you to lie. Tell him you had an extensive history of babysitting and were well suited for the job. However, lying had never come natural to you. It always left a terrible taste in your mouth. You sighed, "I’m by no means a professional nanny. I’m actually not even an amateur one.” Mando didn’t respond or move his head in any way to hint his thoughts. You cleared your throat. “What I mean is, I like kids, and I’m responsible enough to keep one alive." You winced at your wording. "I just- I’m a quick learner and I'm dedicated to the work I put my mind to.” Grogu tilted his head in the cutest manner you had ever seen, but his father stayed silent. You let out a low whistle. “I am not doing a very good job of selling myself, am I?”

As seconds passed, you were tempted to throw yourself out the back window and find the nearest river of lava to jump into. Just to hide from your embarrassment. Finally, he spoke, “Where are you from?”

Your eyes widened at the direction his question took this conversation. “Oh. Naboo. I was born there, grew up there too, but I lived in Coruscant for a long, long time. Only recently moved to Mos Espa on Tatooine. That's where I just came from.”

“What kind of work do you usually do?”

As if this casual interview couldn’t get worse. You rolled various answers around in your head before settling on the best thing you could. “I worked in a medical clinic.” He was quiet and you assumed that meant he wanted more. As much as you hated lying, as terrible as it made you feel, this was a necessity you reminded yourself. This kind of lie wouldn't hurt anyone. It would protect you, keep you safe. “Receptionist." You blurted. "I scheduled appointments, re-supplied the stock, counted out credits. That kind of stuff.”

“Work…keeps me busy.” Mando said. “I just need someone else around. Keep an eye on the kid while I’m out and sometimes at night if I get called in.” Your eyebrows rose. “I haven’t ever hired a nanny before. I’m... not sure what it’s supposed to entail or the usual pay. I just need help.”

You nodded. “I can do that. I can be helpful. I’m not sure of the pay either, but I’m also not picky. Maybe just a trial period, and see how it goes? A learning curve for both of us.”

Mando nodded in agreement and held out a hand for you to shake. A sigh of relief left you and you tried to pull your hand away from Grogu who refused to let go of your fingers. You lifted your opposite hand to awkwardly grasp his outstretched hand and shook it once. You didn't quite know how to feel about this acquisition. This wasn't where you thought your life would end up. The thought of starting this job filled your belly with nervous energy. You had to succeed at this. Honestly, you were just happy the Mandalorian was willing to give you a chance. More than anything that was what your life needed. A chance. An opportunity. A fresh start. On the plus side, learning how to do a completely new job would be a good enough distraction from your past, surely.

A/N: if you see this on AO3 and think ‘omg she stole this’, I promise I didn’t. That’s me on AO3 too. Pinky swear.

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 25.5k ❧ warnings: cursing, neck/shoulder biting and marking if you’re squeamish about that, talking about like werewolf scenting and stuff, blood, brief kissing with blood on/around mouths, this is a werewolf fic either you’re into this stuff or you’re not lol ❧ genre: fluff, so incredibly fluffy and sweet it should’ve been a warning honestly, established relationship, modern magical creatures au, college au, werewolf sungchan, human reader, ft. siren shotaro, werewolf jeno & various magical neos, same universe as strawberry sunday, sequel to changer ❧ extra info: this is a sequel to changer! it cannot be read as a standalone, you must read changer first! 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 (aside from changer to this one), 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 (fourqual?) to my 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 (after changer, ofc), and if you were able to survive changer, then you deserve a medal. and this is that medal, i suppose!

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

The whole thing probably lasted just a couple seconds, but to you it felt like minutes, as every one of your heartbeats pounded through you, ricocheted around in your skull and grey matter. Could Sungchan feel that? Feel your pulse in his mouth? Was he scraping at it with his canines? Just one wrong move away from tearing open something vital?

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Sung.” You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend, holding him close with no hesitation, even as his own arms were much slower to react. But once they did, he pulled you to him with a nearly crushing force, a strength that could all but make you forget that he was only half-werewolf.

Tonight, he’d let you stay with him for one of his shifts. It was exactly because he was half-werewolf that he’d even considered it in the first place, his shifts were much less intense than full werewolves, generally less violent and possibly dangerous for anybody who happened to be around him. He’d described it to you after the last full moon, that it was more just sort of painful, confusing, and sometimes sort of like when drunk-you left problems for sober-you, like drunk-dialing people or spending too much money online. Except in his case, werewolf-him generally destroyed smaller pieces of property like school notes or clothes. When he said that he always asked Shotaro to leave the night of the full moon, you asked if you could be with him the next time. It sounded terrible to have to do that alone every month. And to your surprise, he’d only responded with a weak ‘please?’

So when you’d arrived this afternoon, you’d taken everything out of his room that you feasibly could that he didn’t want to chew up: his bookbag, textbooks, nice sneakers, photo albums, laptop, etc. And then you’d locked the door, and stayed with him.

Now he was coming out of it—a glance at his bedside clock that had been knocked out of place but was otherwise fine told you that it was almost three in the morning. You cradled the back of his fully-human-again head, not minding the matted, damp hair.

“I’m right here,” you reminded him. “I didn’t go anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt him shudder as he let out what sounded like a whine of pain. It made you worried about him staying up on his own two feet. “Sung? Do you need to lay down?”

He didn’t answer, and you realized he might not be back at the point where he could speak yet. Before you could finish weighing your options of attempting to drag the 186cm still partially-shifted half-werewolf to his bed by yourself, he’d buried his face in your neck, opened his mouth, and was resting his set of sharp canines against the curve of where your neck met your shoulder.

You breathed in through your nose, hand still on his head as he just… waited. For what, you couldn’t say. He was still whining softly, though now there was a slight undertone of need cutting through the pain you’d heard earlier.

Your hand was still resting on his head, and you gently pulled him closer, feeling the dull pressure of his teeth against your skin. “It’s okay, Sung. Whatever you need. I trust you.”

Finally, he closed his jaw. But it wasn’t a bite at all, it was more like a toddler teething on something cold to soothe their aching gums while their new teeth grew in. It didn’t hurt; he certainly wasn’t breaking skin, and you doubted that any marks would be left. The worst damage would be slobber, you were sure. If anything, it just… tickled. Suppressing a giggle at the feeling, you stroked his hair affectionately.

“There you go, Sung. There you go…” You murmured quietly. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re okay, baby…”

“Bite…” He finally let out a grunt that sounded akin to a real word.

“What? What was that?” You tried to pull your head back to be able to look him in the face, but he didn’t want to detach from you in the slightest, his whines becoming less pained and more pathetic. Giving up on the task, you shook your head just a little, “Never mind, sorry. But what were you saying, Sung? Something about biting? You didn’t chew anything up this time, actually. We kept you in check pretty well. Your wallet will thank us, I’m sure.”

Sungchan continued to mouth at your neck a couple more times before he gave another full body shudder and tremble, then fell to his knees. As wrapped up in each other as you were, you went down with him, your kneecaps only saved by the fact that he had a nice plush rug. Your forehead wasn’t so lucky, as it got cracked against his on the way down, and you bit your tongue as a result.

“Shit!” You hissed, but couldn’t even focus on your own pain for very long, because Sungchan was now leaning most of his weight forward onto you. You quickly readjusted hold him up by the underarms. “Woah, woah. You alright, Sung?”

“I… bite…” He groaned again.

“You bite your tongue too?” You guessed humorously, scooting to sit on the floor against his bed and ushering him to lay down with his head in your lap. Ideally, you’d be in the bed, not on the floor next to it, but this was close enough.

Sungchan curled up in your lap as if he’d forgotten how big he was, fitting as much of the top half of his body there as he could. It was as he turned over slightly onto his side that you finally got a good look at his face again and saw just how exhausted he looked. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, and his skin was warm, flushed, and drenched with sweat. You gently brushed the damp bangs away from his forehead with one hand, reaching your other up towards his nightstand. After fumbling around in the top drawer for a ridiculous amount of time considering you’d put it literally right on top, you finally grabbed the lunchbox filled with cold, damp washcloths and ice packs that you’d stored in there earlier.

Unzipping it, the ice packs were all melted, but the washcloths were still nice and cool, which was what you really needed. Taking the first one, you blotted it along Sungchan’s forehead, cheeks, and neck, following it up with fleeting touches of your hand to assess if it was really helping or not. Judging by the small, soft, not painful sigh he let out, it at least didn’t seem to be hurting.

“Y/N…” He panted, grabbing your wrist as you were pressing the washcloth to his cheek.

“Yep, I’m right here, Sung,” you reassured him, putting your other hand over his. “I’m right here, okay?”

“I…”

“Do you need something, baby? Water? Food?

“I want…”

You dropped the washcloth from his face to listen attentively. “Yeah, Sung?”

His eyes finally opened, letting you see that his irises were still the same glowing, burning amber as earlier in the night. Not quite out of his shift yet. He sat up until he was nearly level with your neck, breathing in deeply. His grip on your wrist tightened, then he all but collapsed back onto your lap again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Mm… I should… We should… I wan’ to…” He was slurring his words like he was drunk, chest heaving with every breath, and his grip on your wrist relaxed until he was loosely holding your hand, pulling it down to cradle your forearm to his chest like it was a stuffed animal. “Wan’… give you my mating bite… Y/N…”

You stared down at Sungchan with wide, dumbstruck eyes. As he slowly blinked, you could see that his eyes were still that same bright gold. He just shifted further up to try to fit more of himself in your lap, though, pressing his head against your stomach and wedging his shoulder in the gap left by your criss-crossed legs.

Even as you were so shocked, you curled up and readjusted to mold your body around him, one hand giving his head a soft, reassuring pat as the other rubbed up and down his arm, soothing over the surely tired muscles.

“You…” You trailed off in your attempt to get clarification, unable to even begin to try to rephrase it yourself. In packs, mated werewolf couples bit each other in elaborate rituals. Neither of you were any of those things. Could Sungchan even give a werewolf mating bite, as a half-werewolf? Could you receive one? You definitely couldn’t give him one back. Wouldn’t he want one back? Or maybe not? Not to mention he wasn’t in a pack and had never been in his life. What did a mating bite mean to him?

God, your head hurt, and you weren’t even the one who had gone through a werewolf shift tonight.

Sungchan took another deep breath, and long, slow blink, his eyes almost back to their normal brown color. “‘Cause I… I love you. I wan’ to… ‘cause I love you… my… Y/N.”

His eyes fluttered shut, and you heard his breathing even out as he finally fell asleep in just a few moments.

It didn’t seem like you’d get the answer to any of those questions tonight. And as much as the idea of going any longer without knowing made your stomach twist into painful, uncomfortable knots, Sungchan needed the rest. He wasn’t in the right state for any sort of conversation like that. There wouldn’t be any way he’d be able to answer your questions even if you could force yourself to ask them.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned over to gently peck his hair. “Your Y/N loves you too, Sung…”

Your back ached. You had a crick in your neck. And another one in your back. And another one in another part of your back. And yet another one in one more part of your back. You groaned, rolling over in bed to try to crack some of the kinks out without having to actually get up.

That gave you pause. There was definitely a mattress underneath you, blankets covering you, and a pillow supporting your head. But you remembered falling asleep on the floor next to Sungchan’s bed after his shift last night.

Squinting one eye open suspiciously, you saw that it was still very dark in his room, but you had without a doubt been mysteriously tucked into his bed. Much too tired to investigate past that, you pulled the blankets up over your head and buried your face in your pillow, very quickly falling back asleep.

When you woke up again, it was brighter outside, and at first you thought Sungchan had put a weighted blanket on you in the middle of the night. Odd choice, considering you didn’t have one on you the first time you woke up, or at least that you could remember. And then you realized that Sungchan was your weighted blanket.

Your boyfriend was fully snuggled up on top of your back, completely passed out, as you were dozing on your front. You couldn’t even roll him over, he was dead weight. With a sigh, you closed your eyes again, wondering if you’d be able to go back to sleep for a second—third?—time this morning.

“You up?” He mumbled in your ear, voice barely above a hoarse grumble.

“You’re awake?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah?”

“So you’re suffocating me on purpose?”

He rolled off onto the mattress next to you, and immediately your lungs could work better. “Oh, so when you do it to me, it’s cute and I’m supposed to enjoy it, but when I do it, it’s attempted murder and ‘Ouch, Sungchan, get off of me, you’re crushing me with your big, huge werewolf muscles.’”

“So I don’t need to ask if you’re feeling better,” you scoffed, but nevertheless shifted onto your side to face him.

He wasn’t pink-faced and sweaty anymore, instead looking unnaturally pale, with dark circles under his eyes like he’d pulled two all-nighters in a row for finals week. You cupped his cheek, gently running your thumb under one of his eyes. His skin wasn’t warm to the touch, instead it felt the same temperature as yours—cold for a werewolf or half-werewolf.

“You’ve got a chill, Sung,” you observed with a frown, taking your hand back as you prepared to get up.

“It’s normal, baby,” he reassured you, grabbing your arm to keep you from leaving. “Just uh… returning to homeostasis or whatever. I’ll be okay.”

“Alright… if you say so…” you sighed, staying put and pressing a kiss to his forehead, sneakily taking note of his temperature that way instead. “You can at least eat, right? Breakfast sound good?”

“Sure. In a minute.”

“You stay here, I’ll go make you something. Breakfast in bed. What’s better than that?”

He pretended to deliberate on this, then grabbed you with two arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest. “This.”

Tucked under his chin, you couldn’t look up to read his face, instead just staring at his t-shirt. “Really? You’re not hungry?”

“A little. But I won’t die if I don’t eat right now.”

“Are you implying that you’ll die if we don’t cuddle right now?”

“Yes,” he replied dramatically. “Absolutely. I’ll simply perish if I don’t get my Y/N time this instant.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at that, finally giving in. Not forgetting about his drop in temperature, you made sure to pull the blankets up around you two before you fully snuggled in, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“Alright, alright. Slow your roll on your imminent decay. I’m right here, Sung. Like I said last night, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He mused, tangling your legs together.

“Yeah, I did.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously. “Uhm… How much do you remember about your shifts?”

“While I’m fully shifted? Not a lot usually. Immediately before and after? Depends. Why? Did I do something?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you remembered the feeling of his teeth on your neck, of him asking to bite you, to give you his mating bite. Did he remember that? Sungchan wasn’t bringing it up… Surely he’d mention it again now if he remembered, or was serious about it.

“Well, afterwards… you were kind of saying some stuff. I just didn’t know if you—”

“Hey… look at me?” Sungchan requested as he leaned back from you. When you’d picked up your head to oblige, he looked you in the eye with no hesitation, his face entirely serious now. “Of course I meant it when I said I love you. I’m sorry I said it to you for the first time looking like a hot fucking mess, and again now not in much better shape, but I mean it all the same. I love you, my Y/N. So much. So goddamn much I feel like I could explode if I don’t tell you every 5 seconds. Except you might get kind of tired of me if I did that.”

Despite it not being the words you were expecting to hear, you were beaming from ear to ear, even managing out a choked laugh through the happy tears suddenly welling up in your eyes.

“Woah, hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry with how bad my confession was,” he joked, wiping at the first tear as it slipped down your cheek.

“Oh shut it!” You chastised him. “What have I told you about being a sweetheart?”

“Own up to it or don’t do it at all,” he recited dutifully. “I’m sorry, baby. I love you, so fucking much and I’m going to explode if you don’t say it back maybe? But no pressure? Also, I love you. And no pressure to say it back right now.”

“Oh my god, Sung, I love you too,” you laughed, grabbing his face in both of your hands to pull his mouth to yours. “So fucking much.”

Dr. and Mr. Jung lived in a two-story townhouse just a couple blocks over from campus. The old bricks on the face of it were a warm red, and as you got closer, you saw that there were shimmery flecks mixed into the rogue.

“How old are these buildings?” You asked Sungchan, reaching out to touch one of the bricks around the entryway. “There’s dragon scales in the brick.”

“There’s what?” Sungchan’s eyes widened, and you pointed to a particularly large chunk, about the size of the head of a thumbtack. It reflected amber in the setting sun.

“Dragon scales. They used to be incorporated into building materials to make them more durable. You know, before integration. There’s been really big debates at like, every open-door City Hall meeting about if we should keep buildings up that have dragon scale brick in them or not, since so many dragons had to be killed to make them.”

“Oh my god.”

“So far it looks like they’re going to move towards tearing down abandoned buildings made of dragon scale brick at least.”

“How-How many dragons? Were killed?”

“We have no way to know. And the thing is, you can gather dragon scales without hurting a dragon, it’s just not going to be enough to make dragon scale brick of any usable quantity.”

“So it should’ve never been made.”

“No. It shouldn’t have.” You turned away from the wall with a shake of your head. “Anyway, that’s why I was asking how old these homes are. They’re by the university, so pretty old, I guess.”

“I have no clue. You’d have to ask my parents.” Sungchan ushered you towards the door with a hand on the small of your back.

“I don’t think I will. Not incredible meet-the-parents dinner conversation, really.”

“As much I want to say they’ll love you anyway, which they would, I do have to agree with you. Maybe save the existential horror of the materials of their home for the second dinner.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Will do.” You nodded. “Now, are you going to knock on the door, or are we going to keep standing out here like we’re casing the place?”

“Oh, sorry, you can’t hear that. My mom’s—”

And then the sound of the front door unlocking came, and you looked up at Sungchan questioningly. It was opened by a face familiar to you only from pictures.

Dr. Jung was already beaming at you. “Hello! Oh, I’m sorry if I startled you, Y/N. I was grading in my office and could hear you two coming up the steps, got a bit excited.” She gestured to the window next to the brick that you’d been discussing.

Dr. Jung was an economics professor at your university, though you’d never taken a class from her personally.

“I was about to give you a heads up,” Sungchan patted you on the back. “I heard her footsteps, that’s—”

“—why you weren’t knocking. Of course.” You nodded, then turned your focus back to Sungchan’s mother. “It’s lovely to meet you, Dr. Jung.”

“You too, Y/N.” She was still smiling ear-to-ear as she reached forward to take your hands. “You’ll have to tell me more about the history of these dragon scale bricks, I truly had no idea.”

You looked at Sungchan in alarm, and he just shrugged. But she was already leading you into the house by your hand, your boyfriend trailing behind.

“Mom, I don’t even get a hug? No hello for your own son?” Sungchan complained dramatically, closing the door behind you three.

“Well since you’re going to be a big baby about it.” A man’s voice suddenly joined in as you had emerged from the front hallway into the living room. You turned around towards the stairs to see Sungchan’s dad standing on the bottom step, still not eye level with his son even with the added height. He wrapped his arms around Sungchan with an affectionate fake growl, and your boyfriend eagerly hugged his dad back.

Mr. Jung was a middle school science teacher, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that was where Sungchan got his love for science from. He never said it specifically, but he’d told you plenty of stories of doing home science experiments with his dad as a kid.

“Hey, Dad.” He was grinning so brightly as he pulled away, then eagerly gestured to you. “Dad, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my dad.”

“Jung Yoonseo, how are you?” The other human greeted you. But your gaze got stuck on the dip of Mr. Jung’s shoulder, where his neck met shoulder, and two-thirds of a dark bite mark were visible above the collar of his shirt.

You tore your eyes away from the mating bite to look up at his face, smiling again. “I’m good, Mr. Jung, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m very well.” He nodded to you, starting towards the connected kitchen.

“Oh, honey, Y/N was just telling me that apparently our home is made of dragon scale brick,” Dr. Jung pulled you into the kitchen as well.

Mr. Jung turned around from where he’d started peeling a vegetable to look at his wife curiously. “Sorry, you said dragon scales, Jieun?”

“Yes! Go on, Y/N. I didn’t catch much of what you were telling Sungchan, I came to get you all as soon as I heard that you’d arrived.”

You looked to Sungchan imploringly, but he just shrugged again, then mouthed something that looked like ‘go for it’ to you. So you inhaled, and went for it.

“Dr. and Mr. Jung, do you two know how old your house is?”

“I think that went pretty well,” Sungchan declared as the two of you walked down the sidewalks hand-in-hand later that evening. He had a bag filled with containers of leftovers in his other hand.

“Glad you think so. I felt like Renjun, giving people impromptu lectures at the most out-of-pocket times,” you scoffed.

“Yeah, and they loved it. My parents are big nerds like you.”

“You’re literally a STEM major.”

“Point taken.”

“So your dad wasn’t just being nice when he invited me over for tea, then?”

Your boyfriend looked down at you with wide eyes. “When did he do that?”

“When you and your mom were packing up the leftovers and he was showing me the backyard. I forgot how it came up, but I’d mentioned the boba shop, and he said if I liked tea, then I was welcome to come over for a cup anytime. Since he’s still on summer break and everything.”

Despite the smile that had creeped across his face as you spoke, you furrowed your brow suspiciously.

“What? What are you smiling for?”

He surprised you by smooching your temple loudly. “I was wrong. It didn’t go pretty well. It went great.”

“Being invited over for tea is a good sign?” You asked cautiously.

“Definitely.” He stopped the two of you on the deserted sidewalk, letting go of your hand just to immediately seize your waist, pulling you towards him. The surprised noise you were about to make got muffled by Sungchan sealing his lips over yours. You curled a hand around the back of his neck as the other gripped onto his forearm for some kind of stability as he kissed you breathless.

As he pulled back to look down at you with that same big, tender grin, you couldn’t help but let out an airy giggle.

“And what was that for?”

“I love you. And do I need a reason to kiss my amazing, beautiful girlfriend?” He punctuated each of the last three words with more kisses to your cheek this time, making you giggle again.

“Like that, in the middle of the street? Yes.” You pinched his side teasingly, earning a laugh as he squirmed away from your touch. You made sure to tack on an, “I love you too, Sung.”

“We’re not in the street, we’re on the sidewalk.”

Before you could give your retort, he’d caught your lips in another sweet kiss, and all banter was gone from your mind.

“Are you staying at my place?” Sungchan asked when you’d finally restarted your journey.

“Let’s do my place tonight, hm?” You suggested, squeezing his hand.

He tilted his head, an adorable, confused pout on his face. “Why?”

“Because I don’t have some poor roommate that we’ll be annoying.”

“Says the girl who used to specifically ask if Shotaro was going to be home before she’d agree to come over,” he snickered.

“I did that because I had a huge crush on you and you’d friendzoned me, you ass.” You elbowed him in the side teasingly. “Having Taro there made it easier to ignore the aching hole in my chest whenever I looked at you, you dick.”

You landed a gentle mock punch that was in actuality a light tap to his chest, but Sungchan was no longer laughing. He looked down at you, pensive sadness on his features.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to articulate how much I regret putting you through that. You didn’t deserve to ever feel… an aching hole, because of me.”

“Ah, Sung.” You hugged his arm to your chest, resting your head against his shoulder as you walked. “I know you would’ve never done that to me on purpose. But if we can’t laugh about it—about the uh, admittedly kind of funny scenario we put ourselves in before we started dating—then we’ll never be able to really move past it. We’re together now, and that’s what really matters.”

He sighed. “I agree. I just… I don’t think I’m past the feeling bad part yet.”

“That’s okay.” You squeezed his upper arm reassuringly. “Just don’t beat yourself up on my account. Alright?”

“Okay,” he said, and you could hear the small smile in his voice.

“So, my place?”

“I just remembered that my mom put in some leftovers for Shotaro. Kelp rolls.”

“We should probably take that to him, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“Hopefully that’ll be enough to counteract us existing around him.”

Shotaro was enthused to receive his kelp rolls, not even commenting on you staying the night as he excitedly took his food into his room.

“You want something to eat?” Sungchan asked as he put the rest of the leftovers in the fridge.

“No. I ate plenty at your parents’ house.” You shook your head. Stretching and yawning, you started towards the hallway with their bedrooms. “You make your little post-dinner snack. Feed your half-werewolf metabolism. I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“Feel free to take a sweatshirt or something.”

“Way ahead of you.”

Your boyfriend found you a few minutes later already curled up in his bed, bundled up in just one of his oversized hoodies. He scooted in next to you, encouraging you to move your head from the pillow to his lap as you went to snuggle up to his side instead.

“Whatcha eating, Sung?” You mumbled, mouth splitting into another yawn. All you could tell was that he had a bowl of some kind of finger food, as he’d brought no utensil in with him.

“Some fruit. Strawberries, honeydew, blueberries… Oh, you want a grape?”

“I’m still not entirely convinced that you’re not trying to fatten me up to eat, you know?” You said teasingly. “Like some mix of the witch from Hansel and Gretel and the big bad wolf from Little Red Riding Hood…”

“Banana slice?”

But you knew it was just his instinct to feed you, so you always indulged him to a certain extent—not so much that you felt like you were going to burst, but enough to calm his need to know that you were well-fed.

“Mm, grape.” You opened your mouth like a baby bird. He deposited the fruit on your tongue, but due to how you were laying, it landed more-so on the inside of your cheek. You had to sit up and prop yourself up on an elbow to chew and swallow properly without choking, but then promptly laid back down, nuzzling your face into his thigh.

Just a few seconds later, he asked you through a full mouth, “Baby? You want another?”

“I’m good, Sung, thank you,” you replied sweetly. “Your dad’s a really good cook, I ate a lot at dinner.”

“Yeah, he is,” he agreed proudly.

“Now finish your food so you can cuddle me to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And less than ten minutes later, you were laid on your side, pulled flush to Sungchan’s front, your back to his chest and your legs tangled together. You had one of his arms ensnared, fingers laced loosely with his as you wrapped the limb tighter around you. His face was buried in your neck, planting absentminded kisses to your skin as you were gently floating between waking and sleep.

“I used to think you liked him, for a little bit, you know,” Sungchan murmured next to your ear, clearly a sudden blurting from his own train of thought that you weren’t privy to.

Oh, this sounded like a conversation. You squinted your eyes open blearily, turning over in his arms to face him. Throwing a leg over his to pull him closer, you offered him a sleepy smile and asked, “Who?”

He readjusted to keep holding you like that, one hand resting where the bottom of the hoodie had ridden up around your hip, settling on your thigh. His thumb and forefinger messed with the hem of the sweater, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down in the dim light as he swallowed.

“Shotaro. Since you’d always ask if he was going to be at the apartment. But your heartrate never went up around him.”

You hummed in amusement, reaching out to gently pinch the tip of his nose. “Endearing that you were listening to my heartbeat to figure out if I liked your roommate.”

“But it did… go up around me sometimes. I knew that,” he confessed, his eyes locking on yours, desperate. Like he was searching, asking you for something. Absolution, penance, maybe. “And it made me happy. Even though I had told myself that I shouldn’t have you. It still… made me happy at first, but then it’d make me sad. That you hadn’t moved on. Because I thought you’d deserved to move on.”

But he’d done no sin that you needed to cleanse him of in your eyes. He was a guy who made a few mistakes and then finally made the right choice. After you smacked him upside the head with it, but nobody was perfect. The person who really needed to forgive him was himself. He was still stuck in the past, seemingly afraid that he could lose you at any moment. But he wasn’t going to, and you wished he would just believe that.

“But you got me now,” you promised, cradling his face and wishing he could feel just how much you really meant those words.

“I do.” He brought his hand up to cover your own, and you felt like you could cry. “I do got you now.”

“And I’ve got you.”

“You’ve always had me. I just hadn’t told you yet. But you’ve always had me,” Sungchan admitted with a bittersweet smile, curling his hand around yours.

You surged forward to close the minute gap between the two of you, kissing him so hard that your lips hurt. Your fingers tangled in his hair, your hands grabbed at his shoulders, his clothes, anything to pull him closer to you. He was hugging you tight to him, thank god, because it felt like you could never be close enough. Your bones ached with a need to break the laws of physics and exist in the same time and space as him, and a tiny part of you believed that if you just wanted it enough, if you tried hard enough, maybe you could.

“You know, I thought all I’d feel was relief when you and Sungchan finally got together, but instead I’m plagued by near constant nausea.”

You stopped in your tracks in the hallway. You’d been trying to quietly pee then hurry back into Sungchan’s room the next morning, but instead, you spun around to face Shotaro, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

He was standing in front of his door at the opposite end of the hall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Maybe go see a witch about that. It sounds serious,” you wrinkled your nose teasingly. Thankfully you’d had the wherewithal to pull on a pair of sleep shorts you had stashed in Sungchan’s drawers before leaving his room that morning.

“Yeah, that and my recently developed insomnia, too,” he scoffed. “Three in the morning, Y/N. Some people like to sleep, you know.”

Your skin burned as you started shuffling backwards towards Sungchan’s room. “Sorry! Bye!”

You slammed the door behind you, startling Sungchan awake.

“Huh?” He blinked sleepily, lifting his head to look around.

You launched yourself back into bed, burying your face in the pillow in shame.

“Woah, Y/N, you okay?” Sungchan’s voice was thick and deep this early in the morning, but you couldn’t even focus on that. He rubbed your back soothingly as you shook your head.

You turned your head just enough to clear your mouth to speak. “We should’ve gone to my place... No roommate...”

“Oh, Shotaro giving you a hard time?”

“‘Three in the morning, Y/N. Some people like to sleep.’” You did your best Shotaro impression. “I don’t think it was enough kelp rolls.”

“Ah, I’m-I’m sorry, baby.” Sungchan kept rubbing your back, but you could hear that he was holding back laughter.

You rolled onto your back, shooting him a glare before staring up at the ceiling. “Why do I always let you talk me into staying at your place?”

“Because you love me,” he replied in a sing-song voice, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheekbone, near your hairline.

“Yeah, but I mean, why do we always end up at your apartment, Sung? Why do you never want to come over to mine?”

The teasing dropped from his tone as he straightened up slightly. “It’s not like that, Y/N. I like spending time with you, no matter where we are. We could be in the cold vacuum of space, and I’d be fine with it as long as we were hanging out. And, in space suits so we didn’t die, you know. But, it’s just... I don’t know, I like having you here. In my space. It feels like everything’s right in the universe, like I know everything will be okay, that you’re going to be okay. As stupid as that sounds—”

“No, Sung, it’s not stupid.” You shifted to face him, brushing some hair back from his face. The same anxiety that you’d seen the night before was painted across his features again, and you didn’t like that you were seeing it more and more often. His sentiments weren’t stupid, they were loving, but the root of them concerned you. Was he constantly plagued by worries of something bad happening to you?

“Not at all...” You reiterated softly, running your thumb over the crease between his brows. “Sung? Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you have class today but… can I stay here? While you’re on campus? Then we can do something together when you get back. We can go downtown or something.”

You could feel his face relax again under your touch, and he nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, of course. If you think you can handle being around Shotaro for that long. He’s off work today.”

“I’ll manage, somehow.”

When it was finally time for Sungchan to go to class, though, you encountered an issue.

“Sung, you need to go to class,” you sighed, nudging him from where he had his arms wrapped around you. You’d been lounging on the couch when it struck time for him to finally depart for campus, but you were now dealing with a clingy werewolf.

“The professor doesn’t count attendance for a grade,” he grumbled. “I can skip.”

“You literally said this morning that you had a quiz today.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did, you liar,” you scoffed, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “And you need to go take that quiz.”

Shotaro, meanwhile, was observing the entire thing from the threshold between the living room and the hallway, a fascinating mixture of equal parts disgust and amusement on his features. You looked at him pleadingly for any kind of assistance, and he rolled his eyes, but nevertheless helped you anyway.

“Sungchan, dude, seriously,” Shotaro sighed, his tone on the border of exasperation and understanding. “Y/N’s wearing your clothes, staying in our apartment, and you haven’t let her go for I think the past four hours straight, not even to pee. You’ve scented her up enough to last the next month, a few hours will be fine.”

Your jaw set as there was a sudden spark of recognition in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t follow that train of thought in the moment. Sungchan loosened his grip on you, sitting up and blinking as if woken from a trance. “R-Right. Sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, Sung,” you smiled, standing up and yanking him to his feet as well. You practically dragged him towards the front door, shoving his backpack in his hands. “Now go, you’re going to be late.”

He looked down at you with a small, fond smile as well, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Bye, love you.”

“I love you too.” You got up on your tiptoes to give him a fleeting kiss goodbye, and he wrapped an arm around you for a hug. You were worried that this was about to be another borderline hostage situation, but he took one more inhale near your neck, then let you go and straightened up.

“Okay. See you in a few.” He said, his hand on the door handle.

“Go, Sungchan.”

“Fine, fine. Bye.”

And with that, he was finally gone. You turned back around to Shotaro, letting out a sigh of relief. The siren just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Werewolves, dude.” He flopped onto the opposite side of the couch from where you and Sungchan had just been.

You sat back down, kicking your feet up and pulling out your phone. “Yeah. Werewolves...”

Shotaro started flicking through a streaming service to try to find something to watch. “Hey wait, shouldn’t he be scenting you less since he’s a half-werewolf?”

“I... don’t know,” you admitted. “There’s not really any sort of research on half-werewolves. We don’t know anything about what they ‘should’ be like. Not even one of those unethical case studies from the 1800s.”

“Huh. But like I was saying earlier, you two make me nauseous.”

“Just put on your trashy reality TV that we know you’re going to pick after scrolling around for 30 minutes.”

“The browsing is part of the experience.”

As Shotaro browsed on the TV then eventually picked a show, you searched on your phone. The Real Sirens of Diamond Bay was great background noise as you dug through the internet, and you barely even realized the time until your friend was calling for your attention from the kitchen.

“Hm?” You looked up from the forum post that you’d been reading.

“I asked if you wanted lunch.” He opened the fridge, taking out the containers of leftovers you and your boyfriend had brought home last night. “Or if only Sungchan could feed you.”

“Yeah, sure, I could eat.” You joined him in the kitchen, stretching out your back. “So you noticed that too, huh?”

“Oh, the pre-mating behaviors? Well, you did give me a very convenient list when you were still in your denial phase.”

You punched his arm, making him nearly drop the plates he’d just gotten from the cabinet.

“Ow!” He rubbed the spot with a pout, handing you one of the dishes. “Rude... I’m feeding you food from my fridge.”

“No, I’m letting you eat my leftovers,” you corrected him. “Dr. Jung made us take all the steamed buns because she knew they were my favorite.”

Shotaro had been loading said steamed buns up onto his plate, then started shoveling the rest of them onto yours. “Calm down, I wasn’t taking them all.”

You looked at the empty container with a sigh, putting half of yours back. “Well, we can’t just leave nothing for Sung.”

After you’d made your plates with minimal bickering and warmed them up, you took them to the small dining table in the corner of the living room to eat. Shotaro continued playing the episode he’d been on for ambiance as he engaged you in conversation.

“So what were you so invested in on your phone?” He asked, cracking open a seaweed-infused sparkling tea drink popular with younger sirens. “You usually love Real Sirens.”

You popped the tab on your soda, taking a sip before answering. “I was doing some research, on what we were talking about earlier—”

“I thought you said there wasn’t a lot of research on half-werewolves.”

“Not a lot of scholarly research. But I found some people posting online about their own experiences either as half-werewolves themselves, or dating half-werewolves. About the scenting.” You explained, pausing to take a bite of your food. “And it seems like the general consensus is that most likely because their sense of smell isn’t as great as full werewolves, but they still can smell that kind of stuff, unlike humans, half-werewolves get a little more… intense with scenting behaviors.”

“Gross.”

“I meant the clothes and the hugging, dude.” You soft-balled a kick at his shin under the table. “Not my fault you’re immediately gross.”

“Does it ever stop?”

You grimaced, “Well…”

“No?” Shotaro asked with wide eyes, presumably having the rest of his recently renewed lease flashing before them.

“Again, there aren’t a lot of half-werewolves. Or at least ones talking about it. But there is one half-werewolf/human couple I found who says that the scenting took better, and the behaviors therefore decreased after…” You trailed off, messing with the strings of Sungchan’s hoodie.

“After…?”

“After they followed through with the werewolf mating bite.”

The siren stared at you blankly. “Oh.”

“They’re the only ones I could find online who has done that, so who knows if that’s a guaranteed result, not to mention that at that point they were also human married, and had been together for over five years, so there was definitely just a lot of security in their relationship not to mention they’d been living together for years so they were going to smell like each other anyway—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Shotaro stopped your defensive rambles gently. “You two don’t need to do that for me. Just wear his clothes and be annoying, it’s fine.”

You stabbed your fork into a bun. “Yeah, I know that.”

“That was some weird stressing of your words there, Y/N. Anything you want to share?”

You let out a long, steady breath, your lips just a centimeter away from being pressed together. Your mind was swirling with the memory of Sungchan’s last shift. Of him asking you to take his bite. He hadn’t mentioned it again since, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Especially because he hadn’t brought it up again since. And seeing his dad’s last night…

“Sungchan mentioned it once, but I don’t know how serious he was being, and he hasn’t brought it up again,” you admitted before tearing into the bun you’d just assaulted. It was filled with delightfully seasoned veggies wrapped in smooth, pillowy dough. God, these really were some of the best steamed buns you’d ever had.

Shotaro practically did a spit take with his tea, dribbling the sip he’d just taken back into the bottle. “He what? When?”

“Shotaro—”

“No, he brought up essentially werewolf engagement to you— What? While you two were playing video games or something? And neither of you mentioned this to me?”

“It wasn’t like that but... sure. I guess.”

“No, no, what was the context? Post-nut confessions or something?”

“God! Why are you like this?” You groaned, dragging a hand over your face in exasperation. “No, he let me be with him for his last shift, it was when he was coming out of it. He wasn’t all there, he was tired, he had all the extra adrenaline and everything else going through his body still.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “So I was right.”

You gave him an unamused look. “Think more like a boxer with a concussion.”

“And you haven’t brought it up with him since?”

“I was just focused on making sure he was okay. And now, I don’t know, he hasn’t mentioned it again. Maybe he wasn’t serious about it?”

“If he was... would you say yes? To be werewolf married?” The siren waggled his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Or half-werewolf married? Half-werewolf half-married?”

“They really need to make like even a single MCS class mandatory in the Gen Ed requirements, because what the hell are you saying to me right now?”

“You know what I mean. Would you say yes?”

“I… need to talk to some other people, I think.” You turned your eyes downwards as you tried to really think about it.

“That wasn’t a no! Hell yeah! I’m so going to be Sungchan’s best man!”

You rolled your eyes. “You have no clue what you’re talking about.”

As you finished up your lunch, your mind wouldn’t stop turning over what Shotaro had said. If Sungchan had been serious, would you say yes? You knew from class what the bite meant to werewolves within packs, but did it mean the same thing to Sungchan since he was half-werewolf? Did that even make a difference? Not to mention that you weren’t any part werewolf, the exchanging of bites was supposed to be an entire ritual similar to a couple exchanging rings on their wedding day. You couldn’t exactly bite him back. And the couple online was already legally married anyway…

Well, you did know one other werewolf/human couple that you could talk to, at least. You quickly texted Jeno.

[you: hey, are you home right now?]

Miraculously, he texted back almost immediately.

[jeno: yeah, just got back from a run]

[jeno: why?]

[you: mind if i come over really quick? need some advice on something with sung]

[jeno: oh sure]

[jeno: everything okay? should i have tissues out…?]

[you: omg no like werewolf stuff]

[jeno: oh good]

[you: thanks though. be over in a few]

Standing up from the couch, you stood off to the side of the TV so you didn’t block Shotaro’s show as you announced, “I’ll be right back.”

The siren gave a thumbs up in acknowledgement as his focus remained on the screen. You nodded before hurrying to pull your shoes on. The last thing to do before leaving was shoot off a text to Sungchan.

[you: hey sung, i’ve got a quick errand to run. i should be back before you get home from class, but just in case i’m not, i’ll be coming right back to the apartment! love you!]

“Hey, Jeno, thanks for having me over on such short notice.” You offered your friend a nervous smile as you stepped into his apartment.

“I’m not your professor that you’re seeing outside of his office hours, Y/N,” he chuckled, shutting the door behind you. “Don’t worry about it. What’s up? You said it’s something about Sungchan?”

“Is your girlfriend here?” You looked around the living room as the two of you sat down.

Jeno tilted his head curiously. “No, she’s at the bakery this afternoon. Did you need her too?”

“Not necessarily, it’s just...” You dropped your head into your hands, frustrated. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Try to start at the beginning?”

“Right. Sung let me be with him on the last full moon.”

“Wow. I haven’t even done that.” Jeno sounded genuinely impressed.

“Well… Uhm, do you know? About Sung?”

He stared at you blankly. “Need you to be way more specific here. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

You tried to pick your words carefully to give him enough of a hint if he did know without outright telling him if he didn’t know. You were sure that Sungchan wouldn’t mind if Jeno knew that he was half-werewolf, but you still didn’t feel like that was your place to go around telling people. “About his parents?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” Your friend nodded in recognition. “Half-werewolf, that’s why he was able to have you there, duh.”

“Anyway, when he was coming back out of the shift afterwards, he mentioned us... he mentioned the werewolf mating bite.”

His eyes widened as he took a short inhale before slowly starting with, “Well, I can tell that you two haven’t done that.”

“I figured. So, with Sung being half-werewolf, he’s been having a difficult time with the scenting. I think because he can smell it enough to notice it, but not as strongly as full werewolves...”

“He would have a higher threshold for scenting in order to register it, right. Hence your current attire, I’m guessing?” Jeno gestured to the large black leather jacket you were currently drowning in, which was much too hot for the sweltering summer heat that was still going on outside, but still a better option than the hoodie you had previously been in.

You gave a resigned, what-can-you-do smile. “Yeah. And he’s not going to say anything about it, but I know he’s going to be stressed when I see him after this and he can smell you and Jaemin.”

“Oh, definitely.” He snorted lightly, not judgmental, but more sympathetic. “Let me guess: he gets all needy and clingy? Likes to bury his face in your neck?”

“Exactly. And the cuddles would be nice but, I don’t know... I hate seeing him like this, you know? So... anxious. It’s not like him.” You sighed, beginning to feel more guilty the longer you stayed here and got wrapped up in the smells of other people.

“It’s the first time in his life the wolf side is in charge of him and not the other way around. He’s really understanding what it’s like being a full werewolf outside of the full moon, of course he’s not having a good time.”

“Is it like that for you? With her?”

“Kind of. I can smell everything better, so I can smell the subtler things. Without going into too much detail, all those instincts aren’t on edge for me as much as Sungchan’s are right now. And we also figured something else out.”

“Something else?” You asked curiously. Last time you saw Jeno’s girlfriend, you couldn’t remember her having a bite mark. But maybe there was something that hadn’t been covered in your classes. After all, several millennia of the cultures, histories, and customs of fourteen species just couldn’t be fit into one undergrad degree. Your bachelor’s was nothing more than a survey of the two fields, to give you the broad strokes and the tools to start wading in.

Jeno pulled on a leather cord that you hadn’t even noticed was hanging around his neck, bringing a pendant out from under his collar. It was a pale white stone, flat, the size of a coin, with opalescent flecks that caught the light as he showed it to you.

“Moonstone. We have matching ones. They’re even enchanted so that when I…” he wrapped his whole hand around the stone “…hold onto it a little tighter, it reacts, and she can feel hers warm up too. So she knows I’m thinking about her.”

“And it helps with your shifts. That’s really sweet, Jeno,” you said, watching as he tucked it back under his shirt, presumably to keep it in skin-to-skin contact so he could feel if she squeezed her gem back in response.

“But that’s what works for us. It needs to be whatever works for you guys.”

You looked down at your fingers nervously. “But you two haven’t even…”

“I haven’t bit her?” The werewolf said bluntly.

“Yeah, and you’ve been together for a lot longer than us.”

“We’re not you and Sungchan. We may have set you guys up, but we’re not you.”

“You set us up? What?” That little off-hand comment had stolen your focus for the moment.

Jeno’s brow furrowed. “Did you never get the full story of how you got sent on that first blind date with him?”

“I mean, Jaemin had shown me a picture of him from your Instagram account, and I knew that you two knew each other through your girlfriend. But no, I guess I never did get the whole story. Jaemin said something about a deal, I think…”

His wide eyes and ‘oh shit’ face said it all. With a wince, he sighed, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you this…”

“What? Jeno, come on,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together in front of you like you were kneeling at an altar.

“Ah, fine, fine.” He gave in easily, regret immediately coming to his features as you perked up, eager to hear the story. “We were all playing soccer one day and her—” he jerked his thumb at the empty space on the couch beside him that the both of you had both been vaguely referring to whenever you mentioned his girlfriend. “—and Sungchan made this bet. You see, something had happened at the park that day. There was another werewolf there, and he called my girlfriend something nasty. And Sungchan was saying that because of stuff like that, he wanted to just stick with dating other werewolves. He also kept saying something about love making my brain rot. It made sense in context. Sort of.”

You raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt Jeno for fear that you’d get him off-track and lose your opportunity.

“Anyway, they made a bet that if she was on Sungchan’s team and did her best in the game against me, then Sungchan would let her set him up on one blind date with anybody, werewolf or not. And he wasn’t allowed to intentionally bomb it, he had to actually put in a genuine effort.”

“And I was that date…” You surmised, several pieces falling into place. Specifically, Jaemin and Donghyuck’s initial pitch of Sungchan to you.

“Jaemin suggested you, and we thought the two of you would be a good fit.”

You added humorously, “And I’m not a werewolf.”

“Well, yeah.” Jeno ducked his head sheepishly like he was a puppy that was afraid you were going to notice the shoes that he had chewed up behind him. “But we really did put a lot of thought into it, I swear. And then when we heard he made you walk out in ten minutes, we were actually going to make him go on another one because we thought that he had sabotaged his one with you.”

“Amazingly, no, I think that really was his best effort at the time.” You snickered.

“Now I feel like I have to apologize for subjecting you to him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, he said he didn’t want to go on another date, he had to fix things with you first. She let up on him after that. Apparently believed his mind had been changed.”

“I don’t know how a ten-minute conversation where he practically accused me of being a werewolf fetishist for dating two werewolves, and I asked about his major and told him about my cheating ex could’ve possibly changed his mind but— Hey, look how far we’ve come.”

“And now you know the story of how you two ended up on that ten-minute, awful, terrible blind date that I almost wish we didn’t send you on now that I’ve heard what happened on it.”

“I’ve had worse dates.”

“But like I was saying. We—” he pointed between himself and the empty space proxy of his girlfriend “—are not you two. Just like in human relationships, the big steps happen at different times for everyone, there isn’t one right answer to when a werewolf couple take on each other’s bites. There’s even less of a blueprint for werewolf-human couples. So as far as I’m concerned, you and Sungchan? A half-werewolf and human couple? You two do whatever the hell you want. You’re unprecedented.”

“Unprecedented…” You repeated to yourself, drumming your fingers along your knee.

You and Jeno chatted for a few more minutes about this and that, but you soon decided that you’d have to be going. Sungchan had texted you the full sequence of finishing class, leaving campus, and arriving home while you’d been talking, and there was a pinch at your heart as you could imagine him getting more anxious with each passing minute that you weren’t there. And then there were the smells that you were going to have to deal with once you did return, too.

As Jeno walked you to the front door, your eyes drifted over to the kitchen, an idea popping into your head.

“Hey, Jeno? Can I have a glass of water?”

“Sung?” You called out into the seemingly empty apartment as you turned to close and lock the front door up. “I’m— oof!”

You were knocked off kilter by 186cm of werewolf, barely catching yourself against the door on your forearms to avoid bonking your forehead into it. Sungchan had his arms wrapped around your waist, already nosing around your hair and neck.

“Hi…” Sungchan said against your cheek, his tone apologetic. He got too excited, he didn’t mean to almost KO you like that.

Slowly, you reached over to finish flicking the deadbolt into the locked position. Then, you blindly stretched a hand back to pat him on the head. “Hey, hey.” You kept your voice calm and soothing.

He was getting down to the collar of the shirt you were wearing—one of his t-shirts, and you could feel him shifting to hold you tighter. He’d definitely noticed something was off.

“You know, I’m really sorry, Sung,” you began, turning your tone mournful and looking down at the wet patch on the front of your shirt. “I know this is your shirt, I feel really bad about this, but I spilled water on myself while I was out. Do you think I can throw this one in your wash here and borrow a new one?”

He immediately perked up at this, “Yeah, of course!”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

Success.

After your dinner and night out together in downtown, you ended up back in Sungchan’s room, fitted in your new crewneck sweater—this one for a concert he’d gone to last year. You were reclined between his legs against his chest as you half-watched him game, half-scrolled on your phone, and half-snoozed. You’d been playing the game in multi-player mode with him earlier but put your controller aside some time ago when you’d let out a couple loud yawns. Ruminating thoughts of your conversation with Jeno had kept you from fully falling asleep, though.

“Sung?” You waited for a pause on a loading screen to call for his attention.

“Mm?” He hummed back to let you know he was listening, even as the new map loaded in. He hadn’t moved his character yet, fingers frozen as they hovered over the buttons.

“Can we talk for a second?”

“Of course.” Your boyfriend quickly saved and exited the game, setting the controller beside yours on the nightstand.

He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you tighter to him, resting his chin on your shoulder as he waited attentively for you to start with whatever you needed to talk about. You could hear him take a pause to sniff the air around you, and a small, disgruntled sound came from the back of his throat almost immediately.

“Face-to-face?” You requested quietly.

“Right, sorry.”

He loosened his arms, reluctantly letting them fall from around you.

Pushing yourself up off his legs into a full sitting position, you turned around in place, still finding yourself between his thighs. He straightened up a little bit from his spot against the headboard.

You reached out to take his hands in yours. “This is something that really stresses you out, isn’t it? The smells?”

“It’s… I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like…” He took one of his hands back to run his fingers through his hair, and your chest hurt to see the distress on his features. “Imagine being able to constantly see something right in the corner of your eye, but when you turn your head, you can’t actually look at it. You know it’s there, but you can never actually get a proper look. Humans never know it’s there, and werewolves get to look at it head-on. But I don’t get either. It’s terrible.”

“Ah, Sung… That sounds awful, baby.” You grimaced sympathetically, unable to imagine how wound up and panicky he must be all the time. You just wanted to cut this conversation short right now to wrap your arms around him, rub his back and tell him you were never going to leave him again. But for right now, all you could do was squeeze his hand tighter, and hope he got the message.

“I know that sometimes you smell right and sometimes you don’t. But I don’t know why, usually. And it’s not like you smell bad like you need a shower or anything. But like… ah, I can’t describe it.” He groaned, rubbing his face. “I don’t even know what I’m smelling all the time. But it’s just—”

“Not right. I get it, that made sense. And it’s better when I wear your clothes, or spend time with you? Here?”

“I’m sorry…” He said weakly.

“Woah, hey, where in there was I asking for an apology? I’m trying to figure this out together, okay? Not make you feel bad for being unable to turn your nose off. I don’t like that you’re this stressed all the time, you know?”

“In my normal, thinking brain I know you should—and I want you to—be able to wear whatever clothes you want to wear. And I’m glad that you’re spending time with your friends, and I want to go wherever you want to go, whether that’s out somewhere, or to your place. I loved our date night out tonight. It’s not those actual things that bother me at all, it’s just that you smell different.”

“I know, I know.” You reassured him, continuing to hold his hand and gently rubbing his forearm with your free hand. “So maybe there’s something more permanent we can do to help you with the smells?”

Sungchan met your gaze uncertainly. “Permanent?”

“You mentioned it after your last shift. Me taking your bite. I found one other half-werewolf/human couple who did it, online, and they said it helped with the scent anxiety.”

“Y/N…” He breathed your name out.

“I understand if you’re not ready for it. I know it’s a really big step for werewolves. But I had to put it out there, if there’s any possibility that it’ll help.”

“This is not how I imagined this conversation going at all.”

“What?”

“The human reassuring the werewolf that it’s okay if the werewolf isn’t ready for a mating bite yet.” He laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh my god. We really are one-of-a-kind, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle too. “When you put it like that, that is pretty funny. You thought you were going to have to convince me, huh?”

“I wasn’t going to badger you into it if you didn’t want it, that’s for sure. But I mean, I didn’t bring it up again after my last shift because I wanted to do it more… I don’t know, romantically than being a sweaty, exhausted, slurring mess in your lap. I just hadn’t figured out how to do that yet because I’ve been too focused on spending every spare second I can with you.”

“I thought you were a very cute sweaty, exhausted, slurring mess when you asked me last time,” you giggled.

“Right, thanks.”

“So, do you want to do it, then?”

“Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?”

Jeno’s words came back to you: You two do whatever the hell you want. You’re unprecedented.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be doing anything any specific way, Sung. We just do it. But if you want to ask me, go for it.” You smiled at him encouragingly. After a few beats of silence, though, you pinched his thigh teasingly, “I’m waiting.”

“What—Right now? Really putting me on the spot.” Sungchan rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Well when else—”

“No, I’ve got it.” He squared his shoulders, face turning serious as he turned his eyes to you. Briefly kissing the back of your fingers first, he began, his voice much shakier than you had expected, “Y/N, I’m ready to give you my mating bite, if you will accept it. But I don’t want it to just be me biting you. I-I want you to do whatever you need to do to make it feel complete to you, too. Since you can’t give me one back. If that’s okay with you?”

Despite you (mostly) knowing what was coming, you still unexpectedly found yourself tearing up as you went to nod your head yes. “Of course, Sung. That’d be perfect, yes. You’ll have to give me some time to figure it out, but yes, I love that.”

“I love you.”

You stood up on your knees to wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a quick kiss before burying your face in his collar. “I love you, too.”

Sungchan hugged you back tightly, pulling you back with him into almost the same position as before, with you against his chest. He pressed kisses to any part of you that he could access, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your ear. You turned your head enough so that the next one he could plant on your lips, a sweet, loving kiss.

“Ah…” He sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, a bright smile on his face.

“What?” You traced over the smile lines at the corner of his eye.

He was almost nose-to-nose with you when his beautiful brown eyes were open again. Looking at you, he admitted freely, “I’m just… so happy.”

“Me too.” You beamed.

“And I can’t believe I almost let myself miss out on this, on you, so many times.”

“Let’s see… the night we actually got together.” You teased, ticking the instances off on your fingers.

“Mm-hm.” A pink flush was starting to creep up Sungchan’s neck.

“Valentine’s Day at the boba shop. Which you owe me emotional damages for, by the way.”

“Yeah. Sorry…” The pink had overtaken his neck and was starting to flush his cheeks.

“Our first date.”

Completely red-faced, he nodded and sighed. “Like I said, I’m just happy that—”

“Oh, and the bet.”

“Huh?” He was entirely frozen, staring at you with wide, unblinking eyes.

“I saw Jeno today,” you stated.

“Yes, I did smell him when you came home.”

“I finally got the full story of how you ended up on our blind date, Sung.”

“Listen, I am a proud member of the Love-Rotten Brains Club now.” He tightened his arms around you and nuzzled his nose along your cheek and neck as he spoke, making his lips brush over your skin in ghosts of kisses. “I’m the president and the whole board and the social media intern and whatever else. Never have I ever been more proud of being wrong. I’ll say it every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Ah!” You squirmed and laughed as he was over a ticklish spot. “Alright, you don’t have to do that. But I’m glad they pushed you out of your comfort zone.”

Sungchan let up, allowing you to simply rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“To my credit, I was the one who offered the terms of that bet in the first place.”

“Really? You had to know that they were definitely going to set you up with someone who was not a werewolf, right?”

“I knew. I figured I could make polite small talk for an hour and be done with my end.”

You couldn’t help but laugh loudly, from the gut. “Oh, baby, if polite small talk was your goal, then you failed miserably.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” he said remorsefully.

“Now, I’ve got to know.” You poked his chest pointedly. “Everyone seems convinced that you were like, in love with me and a changed man from that one plane crash of a conversation. Shotaro says that you kept walking around talking about how you wanted to apologize to me for weeks after. Jeno and his girlfriend didn’t set you up on another date despite you not really holding up your end because she was content that you had changed your mind. So?”

Sungchan’s chest rose and fell under you with a deep breath, and he took a pause as if piecing together his thoughts before responding. “Even if we didn’t end up meeting again, I think that date with you was always going to be an important lesson for me, about getting my head out of my ass. I’m just glad I got to take what I learned back to you and apologize and show you that. Like, yeah, our first date was only a few minutes, but I kind of hate to admit that I thought about it for weeks afterwards, because that sounds like weirdo behavior. I mean, literally until the night we saw each other at the boba place. It’s not that it was even romantic at that point, it was more guilt than anything else. I knew I was in the wrong, and I felt awful that I might not be able to tell you that I knew that.”

“I’m glad you found me again at the boba shop. Not a lot of guys would’ve had the guts to actually apologize. Probably would’ve grabbed their drink and ran. Or ran as soon as they saw me and not even ordered.”

“I just wish I had the guts to actually ask you out that night.”

“Me too. But I’m not entirely blameless either. The start of our relationship isn’t a weight that falls solely on your shoulders just because you’re the guy, or the werewolf, or whatever.” You shrugged. “And we figured it out eventually anyway.”

“Yeah, we did.” Sungchan pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Stopping in front of a familiar red brick townhouse, you ran up the couple short steps to knock on the front door before you could psych yourself out. You and Sungchan had decided to go through with the mating bite after the next full moon in one week, which was a couple days after the end of the summer semester. It gave him time to focus on his finals, and fell in the two-week break between the summer semester ending and the fall semester starting. This was going to be your last year as undergraduates, both you and Sungchan were graduating in the spring. You could hardly believe that you only had two more semesters left of your bachelor’s degree. And then you had grad school.

But right now, you had this: The front door being opened to reveal Mr. Jung to you, a smile immediately crossing his face as he recognized you. Even behind the glasses perched on his nose, you could easily see Sungchan in his features.

“Hi, Mr. Jung,” you greeted him politely.

“Oh, hey, Y/N.” He tucked the pen that was in his hand behind his ear. “Here to see Jieun?”

“Uh, no. Sorry to just drop in, but I wanted to talk to you about something, actually. Do you have time for some tea?”

He backed up, waving you in. “Sure, of course. Come on in.”

“Thank you.” You walked in with a grateful head dip, taking your denim Jasmine & Pearls baseball cap off as you passed over the threshold of the front door.

“Sungchan’s got a hat just like that,” Mr. Jung commented, leading you further into the home. “Or is that one his?”

“Oh, we actually won them in a game at the boba shop that Shotaro works at. We each have our own.” You looked over the purple embroidered logo fondly. “It’s kind of how we met. The second time.”

“Right, the boba tea place that Shotaro works at…” He echoed, recognition in his tone.

You followed Mr. Jung upstairs, which you didn’t get to see the last time you’d been over for dinner. He led you into a room with wallpaper depicting cartoon spaceships, planets, moons, and stars. The ceiling was covered in glow in the dark stars, and even the curtains were embroidered with star maps. The furniture itself was set up to be an adult’s home office, though, despite the shell having clearly been a child’s bedroom. There were still some shelves on the wall with trophies from science fairs and sports teams.

“Sorry, Jieun doesn’t drink tea, and the electric kettle in the kitchen is busted.” Mr. Jung half-explained why he’d brought you in here, another electric kettle in his hand. “Give me a second, I need to fill this up.”

“Of course,” you nodded, not entirely paying attention to what he was saying. Truly, you were still looking around at what was obviously Sungchan’s childhood bedroom.

Any kids’ furniture was gone and replaced with a desk, laptop, two chairs, and a printer. But you didn’t mind, as you leaned in to read the little engravings on his science fair trophies, and from his soccer teams, and baseball teams, and spelling bees, and mathletes competitions—god, you were dating a mathlete? He’d failed to mention that. There was a picture that looked like it was from a field trip from primary school, of his whole class in front of a space shuttle at the closest space and natural history museum. You squinted your eyes as you studied the picture, trying to figure out which one was your boyfriend.

“Sungchan’s the really tall one that you probably thought was a teacher’s helper,” Mr. Jung said humorously, announcing his return.

You turned around, the picture still in your hand, and your eyes immediately landed on the child he was referring to. Gangly, awkward, nearly a head taller than the rest of the kids, but still smiling so brightly—his crooked smile gap-toothed at that moment in time—because he was just so, so excited to be there.

“Ah, yep. There he is,” you smiled fondly, setting the picture back down.

“He gets his height from Jieun’s father. In case you were curious.”

Mr. Jung set the kettle back on its stand on the desk and started heating it up. He cleared a huge stack of papers off a second chair that was next to the desk, then gestured for you to sit. You did so, watching him take down a couple mugs from the shelves over his desk, and pull open the top drawer to root around in it.

“Jasmine?” He asked.

“That sounds lovely, thank you.”

He took out one tin, right as the kettle made a small ding to let him know the water was ready. Mr. Jung poured the water into both mugs first, then took out a couple small, empty pouches. He measured out the loose jasmine tea into each before sealing them and dropping them in the water.

“I figured you would’ve wanted to talk to Jieun about the bite,” he said as he handed you your cup. “Also, let me know if you want some honey for that.”

“I’m good on the honey, thanks,” you smiled awkwardly. “So he told you already.”

The other human eased himself down into the office chair in front of you. “Yes, Sungchan’s been keeping us appraised. He was nervous to tell us at first, since you two haven’t been together very long.”

“Well, yes—”

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s a decision for you and Sungchan to make, not his parents.”

That put you at ease again. “Thank you.”

“And it did make Jieun laugh when she heard that you were the one who did the mating bite talk with him. She likes you a lot. We both do.”

“Oh, thanks…”

“So why did you want to see me? I’m always happy to have some tea with you, but it sounded like you came with a purpose.”

“I wanted to ask about what it’s like? Taking a werewolf’s mating bite as a human?” You plunged into the conversation head-first. “The only other werewolf/human couple we know hasn’t done it, so I don’t really have a point of reference. Like, in class, I’ve learned about the sociocultural importance of it within werewolf packs for mated werewolf couples, but… Sung and I are a bit different, you know?”

Mr. Jung nodded thoughtfully. “I can tell you what my personal experience is, sure. It may be different for you since Sungchan is half-werewolf.”

“Right, of course.” You sat forward, interested. Blowing over your tea, you took your first sip, the lightness of the jasmine dancing across your tongue.

“The biting itself hurts at first. If we were werewolves, my understanding is that it’s nearly painless since their bodies are prepared for it. Humans, not so much.” He rubbed at his mark absentmindedly. “So it will hurt, which I’m sure my son will feel awful about. The shoulder will be a little sore for maybe half an hour or so after, but he won’t even draw blood. And it heals very fast, too. Then you’ll be left with the mark. Werewolves who receive bites have something happen biologically in them with pheromones or something. Again, we don’t have that going on. But that doesn’t mean that it won’t be meaningful for you at all. That meaning will just manifest differently, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jung. That was really informative.” You took another drink of your tea.

“Of course. And you know that it’s not a one and done, right?” He warned.

You let out a half-chuckle. “I do know that, yes.”

“Again, I don’t know how much it’ll vary since Sungchan is half-human, but the bite will need to be refreshed more often than if you were both werewolves. My guess would be even more frequently than if he were a full werewolf, but that’s just purely speculation.”

“That would make sense. Thanks for the heads up.” You said, watching the metal of his wedding band glint as he lifted his mug to his mouth. “Can I ask… when did you take your wife’s bite?”

Mr. Jung sighed, a bittersweet sort of smile coming to his face. “It was before we were married. We’d been dating for some time at that point, a couple years. When we first got together, there were some… vocally unhappy members of her pack, but they did quiet down after a while. However, I think they hadn’t expected us to last so long, or that Jieun was just going through a phase or something. After a while they started pressuring Jieun to break up with me and date within her pack— or at least another werewolf. We’d discussed the bite once or twice before, and she thought that if I took it on, it would make everyone leave us alone; that we’d look like any other mated pair of werewolves. It ended up doing the opposite. It was way too far in the eyes of Jieun’s pack. I already knew at that point that I was going to spend the rest of my life with her, so from there we eloped, settled down here, eventually had Sungchan a few years later.”

“And you all… have you spoken to her pack again since?”

“No. Unfortunately Sungchan has never been able to meet his family on that side. I suggested it to Jieun when she was pregnant, but she looked me in the eye and asked me if her pack reacted that way just to us being together, then could I imagine what sort of awful things they might think of our child? And would I want to put our baby through that just for some romanticized idea of family? I never brought it up again.”

“What about your family?”

There was no more bitterness in his smile anymore, just pure love and fondness. “They’ve been incredible. Never looked at Jieun or Sungchan as anything other than family. I know Sungchan would probably rather have the pack but—”

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t help but blurt out, furrowing your brow in confusion.

“I know he doesn’t tell people he’s half-human. And really, it’s alright. I get it, being a human isn’t anything to brag about.” Mr. Jung sounded like he really had come to terms with that, that his son would rather not tell people about his dad, about where he came from. Which wasn’t even true.

“That’s not why he tells people he’s only a werewolf. He’s not ashamed of you, or of what he is, on either side. He loves you, a lot. He does that because if he tells people that he’s half-human half-werewolf up front, they take it as a free pass to ask him weird questions.”

The man’s face relaxed, and he nodded his head in acknowledgement. “I never realized that. Thank you, Y/N.”

“And I mean, you didn’t need me to tell you that. Just look around you. It’s not like he’s exactly got wallpaper of spreadsheets and supply/demand graphs in here, right?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at that. “You’re right. It’s… comforting, though, to have outside confirmation.”

“I know, I get it.”

Mr. Jung gazed past you, out the window behind your head wistfully, taking another sip of his tea. “Growing up how he did… we—Jieun and I—were worried about him for a while, you know.”

“Worried how?”

“Well, that he’d spend so much time trying to protect himself from what our life was like, that he wouldn’t actually be looking for what he wanted.” Mr. Jung’s eyes focused back on yours then, and he smiled at you. “But as soon as he brought you home, we knew we could rest easy.”

“Because I’m human?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, lifting his mug to take another relaxed sip of his tea. “We would’ve loved you if you were human, werewolf, fairy, dragon, anything.”

“I’m sorry but… I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“When he was in high school… he and his mom used to get into fights. Teenager hormones, half-werewolf teenager hormones… it was a lot. I know the fact that he was the only half-werewolf at his school, and the only werewolf not in a pack, too, didn’t help either. A lot of it was Sungchan not understanding his mother’s choices, either about leaving her pack, or dating a human in the first place, or not going back to the pack, or whatever else he decided she’d done wrong that day. He’d pretty much always declare that he’d make the ‘better choice.’” Mr. Jung put air-quotes around the last two words. “You know, have a werewolf partner so that his family wouldn’t get harassed, join his future partner’s pack, things like that. Sungchan mellowed out a bit more after he started college, and they started properly getting along again once he moved out last year.”

That mostly lined up with what Jeno had told you about his conversation with Sungchan at the park, his previous policy to only date other werewolves. You frowned thoughtfully, taking a long, slow drink of tea.

“Seeing how Sungchan is with you… he’s not hiding from anything,” he finished fondly.

“I’m sorry I was so dismissive before, Mr. Jung,” you finally said, your voice quiet and contemplative. “When you were talking about Sungchan not telling people he’s half-human. I jumped in completely forgetting that you’ve known him for his whole life… and there could’ve been a lot more reasons why you would’ve thought he was ashamed to be human.”

“Hey, Y/N.” Mr. Jung put his tea down on the desk, perching on the front of his seat to gently place a hand on your forearm. “It’s okay, really. For one, I know you meant well. And two, we know Sungchan very differently. Obviously, yes, I’ve known him his whole life, but you were lucky enough to meet him now, when he has some stuff already kind of figured out. And I’m very glad you did. Because trust me, you should not have met Sungchan in high school. I love my son, I’ve always loved him, but I definitely do not think that if you two had met in high school, you and I would be sharing a cup of tea right now.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, thinking not only of the high school version of Sungchan that had just been recollected to you by Mr. Jung, but also of yourself in high school, who honestly wasn’t any more put together. “Yeah… I don’t talk to any of my high school boyfriends anymore. Saw one of their moms at the grocery store last week actually, and she still recognized me, gave me a nasty look, and blocked the aisle with her shopping cart so I couldn’t get by her. I dated her son almost five years ago now, I think?”

The other human laughed, giving your arm a couple pats before taking his hand away and reclining back in his desk chair again. “Not to mention, if we both had known him his entire life, then I wouldn’t get to tell you any of the fun stories about him as a kid. Has he told you he was a mathlete?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Team captain junior and senior year. They were semi-finalists both years he was captain and even won the State series his senior year.”

“Did he have like a little dweebus uniform or something?”

“Polo shirt, khaki cargo shorts, the whole nine.”

“Please tell me you have pictures.”

“Oh yeah, him and Shotaro.”

“Taro too?!”

[you: attached image]

[you: attached image]

[taro: HOW DID YOU GET THOSE?????????]

[taro: WHAT THE HELL I MADE SUNGCHAN PROMISE ME THOSE WOULD NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN]

[you: did you make Mr. Jung promise you though?]

[taro: does sungchan know that you’re getting blackmail material from your new bestie, HIS DAD??]

[you: what do you mean blackmail material?? personally, i think you look SO cute in those pictures in your little mathletes uniform]

[you: i didn’t even know sirens could need glasses and braces]

[you: wait does this mean you wear contacts??? i feel like it’s illegal to know this]

[taro: it is, now i have to kill you]

[you: ooooohh, wait till i tell sung]

[taro: not if i drown you first]

[you: you can’t kill me, i know where Mr. Jung keeps the mathletes photos]

[taro: damn it]

[you: and the ones from your first school dance]

[taro: DOES THIS MAN JUST HAVE A SHOEBOX LABELED “OSAKI SHOTARO BLACKMAIL MATERIAL” OR SOMETHING WHAT THE FUCK]

[you: no it’s labeled “jung sungchan blackmail material” actually but you just happen to be in a lot of the pictures too]

[taro: wait for real?]

[you: no, dumbass, he’s sungchan’s dad, of course he’s going to have a lot of old photos of his son and by extension, his son’s friends]

[taro: don’t get a guy’s hopes up like that, damn]

[taro: alright come on, let me see the bad pics you got of sungchan now]

[you: noooo, they’re not bad, they’re actually really cute 🥹🥹]

[you: attached images(+5)]

[you: like just LOOK at my little guy 🥹 he was so little and cute]

[taro: the FUCK are you talking about]

[taro: he’s clearly like 20cm taller than me and everyone else INCLUDING THE TEACHER SPONSOR]

[you: yeah, and he’s JUST a little guy, so little and cute]

[you: i wouldn’t expect you to get it, taro…………sigh]

[taro: attached image]

[taro: THIS IS YOUR MANS????]

[you: WELL WHEN YOU ZOOM IN ON ANYBODY’S FACE LIKE THAT OF COURSE IT’LL LOOK A BIT OFF]

[taro: the favoritism is so real right now]

[you: i’m so tired of your dramatic ass like what fucking “favoritism” 😭😭 of course i like sung better he’s my boyfriend]

[taro: and??]

[you: you’re not??? the fuck you mean “and??”]

[taro: and i think a good friend should be fair and impartial]

[you: i came here to name and shame you to your face, not to be fair and impartial i don’t know how you could’ve been under any other impression]

[taro: i’m so telling sungchan about this]

[you: don’t forget to leave in the part where i called him cute and you intentionally manipulated a picture of him to make him look worse]

[taro: i regret ever setting you two up]

[you: actually jeno and them did it first]

[taro: and i should’ve left you two crashed and burned and SINGLE where i found you]

[you: love you taro 🫶]

[taro: nice try demon that lives in my apartment and doesn’t pay rent 🫶🫶🫶]

[you: SUNGCHAN DOESN’T LET ME WHEN I TRY TO CHIP IN FOR HOW MUCH I’M OVER THERE I SWEAR]

[taro: i figured, which is why i don’t let him pay more than his half either]

[you: then why are you being mean to me about it 🥺]

[taro: do you feel bad enough that you’ll delete those mathlete photos off your phone now?]

[you: nice try demon that i’m never paying rent to 🫶🫶🫶]

Pushing open the door to the next shop on this street, you were pleasantly surprised by the calm, quaint atmosphere that you were greeted by. The bright red and gold pillars outside of the toy and watch shop had suggested otherwise, but inside of it were a few display cases filled with watches and other pieces of jewelry, while the other half of the shop had shelves upon shelves of toys. Every item in the store seemed handmade, and even to your untrained eye, you could tell that several had magical properties. A girl about your age was behind one of the watch and jewelry counters towards the front of the store, which also had the register on it. She was fiddling with an open watch, and you watched as she readjusted the light of the lamp above her with just a flick of her wrist—not touching a single button or switch on the device. All the jewelry and other accessories she was wearing already made you think she might’ve been a witch, but that just locked it in for you.

Some music played throughout the store, though you couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from, as there were no visible speakers on the ceiling or elsewhere. Briefly dragging your eyes over the display cases as you strolled up towards the employee, you spotted quite a few watches, of course, as well as necklaces, rings, earrings, and small trinkets. But nothing that quite stuck out to you as what you were looking for.

The witch perked up as you came to a stop in front of her, setting her tiny tools down on the small rag alongside the watch pieces. “Hi! Welcome in. Is there something I can help you with?”

“This is a magical kind of shop, right?” You asked curiously. Apothecaries usually stuck out as such, but having a witch and a couple things that glowed didn’t guarantee anything.

“Yep! This place is ran by my coven!” She told you proudly. “We make everything in here by hand in the back, fine tune the mechanics and the magic ourselves. Are you looking for any particular kind of magic thing?”

“Yes, well, sort of…” You trailed off sheepishly. “I’m kind of gift shopping right now.”

“What’s the occasion?”

After a split-second internal debate, you figured this witch had probably dealt with weirder, and you would definitely need her insight and experience when it came to the magical properties of all of the options in front of you.

“My boyfriend is giving me his mating bite in a few days, but I don’t want to show up empty-handed, you know?” You scratched at the back of your neck. “Like, it’s not an engagement-level thing for us, but it’s still big, and I want to be able to give him something too…”

She didn’t seem thrown off in the slightest, instead seeming to ponder this for a moment, tapping her chin, before her features lit up, and she slid over to the other end of the display case. You followed her down.

“Now, I’m guessing you already know about moonstone—” She explained, pulling out a small display of rings. “Helps their shifts.”

You nodded as you looked over the many rings inlaid with opalescent stones like the one on Jeno’s necklace. “Yeah. And, I mean, his aren’t that bad. Just sort of… disorienting and confusing. Though I hate how sickly he gets the day or so after.”

The witch gave you an intrigued look. “He’s… half-werewolf?”

Darting your eyes back up to her, you wondered which part of what you just said had given it away. The less intense shift? The ‘sickly’ bit?

“And half-human?” She took your silence as an apparent cue to finish her guess.

You slowly nodded.

Immediately, the rings were whisked away from under your nose. She was practically alight with excitement as she flitted over to a completely different display case, grabbing just one singular piece from there and bringing it back over to you. It was another ring, a thick silver band of one width, with no obvious gem settings or other such features.

“So, you wouldn’t really be worried about the shift itself, then. Or, at least not the pain part, which is really what the moonstone helps werewolves with. Easing the transition into and during the shift.” The employee rambled enthusiastically. “The symptoms that he really has a problem with are about getting back into balance after. Since he’s half-human, his body has to work a lot harder to return to homeostasis after an ordeal like a werewolf shift.”

“He’s said something about that before. Homeostasis.”

“Then what you really want is something like this—” She offered the ring out for you to take, depositing it onto your palm. You curiously looked it over closer. “Instead of moonstone, like most things designed for werewolves, this has concentrated moonflower essence in the chamber that makes up most of the band.”

You tilted the ring and could in fact see a small amount of mostly clear, but shimmery iridescent cobalt blue liquid shift around in the light. The container that held the liquid must have been incredibly thin to fit along the ring whilst adding negligible bulk.

Moonflower was of course familiar to you from Magical Botany Club. While the plant itself wasn’t magical, it had a slew of magical applications, and could be distilled down to a magical essence. Much like moonstone, which also wasn’t in and of itself magical, it had an effect on magical beings that were also tied to the moon, most notably, werewolves. Moonflower paste was a common ingredient in traditional werewolf medicine, and even in modern pharmaceuticals, many medications with different formulations for werewolves—or formulated to treat diseases that only werewolves got—often had ingredients derived from the moonflower. In addition to healing properties, the smell tended to have a calming effect on them as well, both in and out of their shifts (unlike moonstone, which exclusively aided their shifts).

You had a moonflower plant in your own apartment, which had been useless for any werewolf purposes as of late with Sungchan never coming over, but hopefully it wouldn’t be that way for long. It had been slightly altered so that it would be suited to growing indoors; moonflower was typically a vine, which was difficult to keep in a one-bedroom apartment with limited balcony space, so after a little bit of help from Jaemin, your moonflower grew as a cute little potted bush instead.

But there was still one more feature on the ring that hadn’t been explained to you. A single, silver, almost-circle on one side of the outside of the ring, entirely flush with the top of the container that held the moonflower essence. The outline of the rest of the circle was there, but it wasn’t quite filled in all the way, a small crescent of darkness keeping the silver from being whole.

“And this?” You gestured to the symbol.

“Tracks the lunar cycle. Waxing gibbous, we’re just a couple days away from the full moon. He probably instinctually knows what phase of the moon it is, but it doesn’t hurt to have an extra reminder.”

Turning the ring over in your hand again, you found yourself nodding and smiling. “Yeah. This is perfect.”

“And you said it’s happening in a few days? So after the full moon, right?”

“Oh, uhm, yes.”

“We could totally make another by then, if you wanted a matching set,” she offered.

“Really? So quick?”

“A lot of the initial process is the R&D,” the witch explained with a laugh. “But we already know how to make this one, it’ll be easy. Promise.”

You thought this over for a moment. After telling so many people that it wasn’t marriage or engagement, getting matching rings… But the whole point of exchanging mating bites in the first place was to match. Well, almost, since no two werewolves would have the same bite. To coordinate. To give each other your own version of the same thing. Your own version of the same thing.

“Do you think you could make it without the chamber with the moonflower essence, actually?” You asked. “Like, still with the lunar tracker. Just the main band and the little part that tracks the lunar cycle.”

She lit up. “Absolutely! Should be even quicker, actually. Probably have that done by the end of business tomorrow, morning after tomorrow at the latest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! Say the word and I’ll start as soon as you leave.”

“Yes, please!”

Sungchan hadn’t let go of you once since you arrived at his apartment the evening that you were to be receiving his bite. Either with an arm around your waist, pressed up against your back, or holding your hand. Shotaro had already vacated the premises by the time you’d gotten there, a half-excuse of him staying at Jisung and Chenle’s place tonight being given by the werewolf when you asked.

The two of you ate dinner first. He wanted to feed you, making sure you had eaten and were hydrated before. You were finally taking your class on werewolves this looming fall semester, and had already bought and read ahead in the textbook for it. Specifically, you’d lost count of the amount of times that you’d read and re-read the sections on mating bites, mating bite rituals, and anything else that you could imagine would be relevant to your current predicament.

For mated werewolf couples in packs who were going through the actual ritual, the first step was to usually share a meal consisting of raw meat—fresh kill. Neither you nor Sungchan could or would actually eat that, so you just had a hearty serving of your favorite takeout orders.

Sungchan didn’t even let you sit in your own chair, having insistently pulled you into his lap right at their kitchen table, lifting bite after bite of food to your mouth, always sure to follow it up with your slowly draining glass of water. You were mindful of him, too, making sure he didn’t ignore his half-werewolf appetite in his concern over you.

“‘M full, Sung…” You murmured, gently covering his hand with yours to maneuver the food towards his mouth instead.

He frowned thoughtfully, not parting his lips even as you bumped the spoon against them, looking like a very serious toddler who wasn’t enjoying the game of airplane being played at the moment. “You sure?”

“Yeah, promise.” You nodded with a smile. “It was delicious, and I’m all done. You took good care of me, Sung. Can you let me finish taking care of you, now?”

Your boyfriend’s features softened at that, and he parted his mouth, letting you feed him the spoonful. He happily chewed and swallowed, looking especially blissed out as you gently scratched his scalp with your free hand. In between continuing to feed Sungchan, you finished off your water, and made sure he drank his as well.

Finally, he too declared that he was done eating. Curled up in your boyfriend’s embrace, with a full belly and a full heart, you could’ve almost thought that this was any normal night; nearly forgotten what was going to come next. Nearly.

Sungchan took you to his room next, which wasn’t really necessary, since you had the whole apartment to yourselves. He held you to him with an arm around your waist as he shut the door behind you two. You raised an eyebrow when you heard the door lock.

He buried his face in your neck, wrapping both arms around you now as he half-growled, “Smells like Shotaro out there…”

“Locking the door to keep the smells out…” You hummed in amusement, leaning your head on his shoulder and resting your weight back against him. You decided not to outright point out the flaw in logic there, nor the fact that the two of you could’ve also done this at your place, where there was no smells of Shotaro or anybody else, just you. But of course, you figured it needed to be here because it smelled like Sungchan. It had been so long since Sungchan had been to your home that you were doubtful even a full werewolf would be able to catch a trace of him.

He lifted his head and breathed in like he was about to say something, but you just pulled his arms tighter around you and reassured him, “It’s perfect, Sung. Our own little space. Just you and me.”

Dropping his cheek back down to your shoulder, Sungchan let out a long but shaky breath. Putting your hands over his, your slotted your fingers with your boyfriend’s.

“Sung? Baby? Everything okay?” You asked.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this…”

“Hey, if you’re not ready for this, we can stop. If you don’t want to do it, that’s okay.”

“No, I want to,” he said, a hard edge to his voice. He coughed, his voice softening again but sounding a little strained as he continued, “Really. I mean… I can’t believe I’m doing this with you. I seriously thought I’d royally fucked things up forever. Multiple times.”

“Well, you didn’t,” you told him strongly. “Now, can I go first?”

“You… go first?” He repeated, confusion coloring his voice so clearly. Apparently, he’d forgotten that you’d be doing more than just getting bitten tonight.

“Aw, I would love to, thanks, Sung,” you tittered jokingly, patting his cheek. “Close your eyes, please?”

He chuckled, and a beat later, announced, “Okay, they’re closed.”

You craned your neck just the slightest to be able to peer at him out of the corner of your vision, seeing that he was in fact squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Reaching into your pocket, you retrieved the small pouch that you’d picked up from the coven’s shop this morning. You shook out the two rings inside into your palm, and put yours on your left middle finger first, a simple silver band with the lunar indicator welded into it. It looked almost like a full moon, but you could see just the faintest strip of black showing that it was actually beginning to wane. Next, you gently put the other on Sungchan’s right ring finger, his with a faint shimmer of the moonflower essence.

Holding the side of his head to press a soft kiss to his cheek, you declared, “Done. You can open your eyes.”

He did so, immediately holding up his hand to inspect what you’d done to it. As he looked over the new jewelry, you explained, “It has moonflower essence, all around the band. And the moon design on it will actually change with the phases of the real moon.”

“Thank you, Y/N. It’s beautiful,” he picked up your left hand, bringing it up towards his face that was still hooked over your shoulder—presumably to kiss the back of it—but stopped short as he seemed to have noticed your new accessory as well. His fingers turned your silver band until he could get a good look at the lunar tracker that matched his.

“I got one too,” you added, skin turning warmer and starting to prickle the longer he went without saying anything. “It’s a lot prettier than those phone apps that track the lunar cycle, right?”

Then Sungchan was turning you around by the hips. He grabbed your face with two hands to kiss you, and you got on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, eagerly kissing him back. You could feel the cool band of his new ring pressing against your cheek, warming up with every passing second from yours and Sungchan’s bodies.

Breaking the kiss, he reached behind his neck for your left hand with his right, bringing them both down to rest over his chest. He pressed your palm against him firmly, and you could feel his heart beating under your touch.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he said quietly, earnestly, his voice cracking over your name. “So much… that it doesn’t feel real sometimes.”

“What do you mean, Sung?”

“Like, one person shouldn’t be able to have this much love in their body. Or at least, I shouldn’t.”

“What?” You let out a breathy chuckle. “That’s what so beautiful about love, there can only be more of it, it’s infinite. Of course you’re capable of so much love. How could you think anything else?”

“I used to never understand how my mom could choose to fall in love with a human. To doom her family—me—to our life. No safety or identity that comes with a pack. Even after I realized I had fallen for you, I-I was afraid I was so… messed up from thinking like that my whole life that I wasn’t going to be able to love you like you deserved. Like something might’ve been broken in me.”

“Sung…” You touched under his eye with your free hand, where a tear had fallen. “You’re not broken. You’ve never done anything but love me with your whole heart, I know that. You’ve been so good to me, always.”

“I know,” he nodded zealously, accompanied by a sniffle. “I know now, that I’m not broken. That I can have all this overflowing love in me, and it’s so awesome, but also kind of terrifying?”

You chuckled lightly at that. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I love you so much I get a little scared too, because I’ve never loved someone like I love you. And we haven’t even been properly dating for that long, so if I already love you this much, then how much more am I going to love you in six months? A year? Two? Five? Ten?”

He snapped his head up from where he’d been gazing down at your hands, eyes locking on yours. You smiled back at him weakly. The urge to stuff your words back in your mouth was there, but you knew you couldn’t. It was the truth, that you could picture yourself with Sungchan that far ahead in your life. For the rest of it, if you were going to be that honest, but you bit your tongue before you got there.

The two of you had unintentionally moved onto the next part of the werewolf mating ritual: moonlit confessionals. The light of the nearly full moon shone down on the two of you in front of one of his bedroom windows. Your textbook hadn’t been terribly explicit on the exact content of the words exchanged at this point, just that it was an opportunity for the couple to truly bare their souls to each other, make sure there was nothing hidden that would make the other not want to go through with the rest of the ritual.

“After my last relationship… ended like it did, I thought I might be a little broken, too,” you pushed on with your confession. “I was afraid that in my next relationship, I’d just see cheating everywhere. I was honestly a little relieved when our first date blew up, because I thought that if I dated someone again, I’d treat them like a criminal. But never once has it ever crossed my mind with you, never once have I ever doubted you, have I ever felt anything less than absolutely loved and adored.”

“I do, absolutely love and adore you,” he replied. “And I’m so glad you brought up the future, because I think about it, too. Like, all the time. When I imagine my life after college, or what my life is going to be like in five or ten years… I don’t know much, but I always imagine that you’re there. Like, I don’t know what I want to be, other than happy, with you.”

You couldn’t take it anymore, grabbing him by the neck to yank his mouth down to yours. Pulling him with you towards the bed, you stopped when you felt your legs back up against it.

“Do it, Sung. Bite me,” you murmured against his lips.

He let out a low, throaty groan at your words, tipping his head back as he took a couple deep breaths. You pressed a few more open-mouth kisses to his Adam’s apple and collarbones. Sungchan made another sound that was between a sigh and a grunt.

“We should be sitting down for this,” he stated, though he made no move to follow through on his words.

You removed your lips from his skin to happily plop down into the center of his mattress. The front of you was a bit cold since you were no longer pressed up against him, though you had a feeling that wasn’t going to be for very long.

Sungchan sat down facing you, scooping you up into his arms. You easily settled into his lap, your legs finding familiar places on either side of his hips. Fondly brushing some hair off his forehead, you would’ve been rather content to just stare down at your Sung bathed in moonlight for the next several minutes, so handsome and all yours. But you had something you needed to do tonight.

Grabbing the hem of the sweatshirt you were wearing—Sungchan’s, of course—you shucked it over your head and off onto the floor. That left you just in a tank top with nearly negligible straps. You could see your boyfriend’s eyes zero in on the bare expanse of skin from your shoulder to your neck that you’d just exposed, where his bite was supposed to go.

“I had my turn,” you said, slipping the thin strap off of the shoulder he was staring at, and tilting your head to open up as much space as possible, make it as clear of an invitation as possible. “Now it’s yours. Go on, baby. I trust you.”

Sungchan didn’t say anything more, but he did grab both of your hands by the wrist—his grip surprisingly gentle—to wrap your arms around his waist. You splayed your hands out over his lower back under his shirt, indulging yourself in his warmth, and smoothing a thumb over his skin. He then wrapped his around you to hold you even closer, if that was possible, and you watched him open his mouth, his white teeth catching the pale moonlight, glinting, and looking much sharper than normal— reminding you of how they looked during his shifts.

Then those teeth were biting you, sinking into your muscle.

Renjun had described what being bitten by a vampire was like to you, once. He had a bucket list for that sort of thing—magical encounters. He said it was a small pinch, barely more than the pressure of a needle, then it was all pleasure from thereafter. Vampire venom, of course, was meant to do that so that those they were biting felt so good so they wouldn’t resist while the vampire drank as much as they pleased from them.

Werewolves were predators in an entirely different sense, with the teeth to match. Theirs were meant to grab prey, hold them in their jaws no matter how much they struggled, and rip flesh from bone. As much damage as possible in one go, so that if said prey happened to escape, they wouldn’t be able to get very far with their injuries.

It was visceral pain, the moment Sungchan bit you. You couldn’t hear the noise that you made—only aware that you made one as you felt the gurgle of something in the back of your throat—through the white noise that exploded behind your eyes the instant his teeth hit bone. You were glad he’d directed you to put your arms around him just moments earlier, as your nails were now firmly embedded in the skin of his lower back—you were sure those would’ve been drawing your own blood in your palms if they hadn’t been there.

A memory suddenly flashed in your mind. You were seven, in your backyard with your dad, watching two squirrels chase each other across the grass. Then your neighbor’s dog came out of nowhere—maybe slipped his collar—and got one in his mouth. Your dad couldn’t get his hand over your eyes quick enough. You didn’t want to pet Mr. Lee’s dog when you saw him a couple days later, despite how well he sat, the adorable way his tongue lolled out from between his razor-sharp canines, and how fast his tail wagged.

The whole thing probably lasted just a couple seconds, but to you it felt like minutes, as every one of your heartbeats pounded through you, ricocheted around in your skull and grey matter. Could Sungchan feel that? Feel your pulse in his mouth? Was he scraping at it with his canines? Just one wrong move away from tearing open something vital?

You trusted him, of course, or you wouldn’t have asked him to do this. Not let him; but suggested, encouraged, requested, told him to. Your fingernails dug into his back even harder at the idea, as much to anchor yourself and provide an outlet as to hold him to you as well. Surely you had to be breaking skin at this point.

You had the urge to bite down on something too. It was a need that came from deep in your jaw. Like when people were given something to bite on for painful procedures in old medical dramas. Or maybe reciprocity.

This go around, you kept your teeth to yourself, though, sinking them into your bottom lip. That pain didn’t even register past the supernova radiating out from your shoulder.

Sungchan finally pulled his teeth out from your flesh, and the rest of your senses snapped back into focus. Your eyes fluttered open—when did you close them?—back to Sungchan’s bedroom, your fingers slowly unfurled from where they’d dug into his back, and you could hear him talking to you as he gently inspected the bite wound.

You brought your hands back around in front of you. Your eyes widened minutely as you realized that there was bright red under a couple of your fingernails. And it wasn’t yours. The beds of your nails were perfectly intact, meaning that you really had broken his skin.

“Oh God, Y/N, the blood. I’m so sorry.” Sungchan muttered under his breath, reaching for something on his nightstand.

For half a second, you thought he meant his, and you were about to apologize as you were still staring down at your hands mostly in awe. But then you actually saw his face for the first time as he turned back around, clutching a damp hand towel.

There was a red tint to his lips, and you realized that wasyour blood. Electricity jolted up your spine before the thought had even fully formed.

…he won’t even draw blood. So much for that, Mr. Jung.

His tongue darted out to instinctively investigate the wetness on his mouth, and a sudden thrill shuddered through you as you watched. You decided not to ask how it tasted to him, despite the question certainly popping into your mind.

You pressed a kiss to his cheekbone instead, so far back it was nearly in his hairline. “I’m okay, Sung. I’m okay.”

Without a word, he started gently cleaning up the bite wound, and you had half a mind to ask for another towel for his back, though you knew that would be futile until he got you situated. So, you sat patiently, keeping your head craned to the side to give him plenty of room, and watched his intent face as he worked.

“Sung?”

He sighed, a sound that let you know he was already beginning his mental descent through the seven circles of werewolf hell. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m so—”

“Can I bite you next time?” You asked simply.

The towel stilled over your bite.

“You… next time… bite… me?” His eyes glassed over as his mouth stumbled to even form around the individual words.

“I know I won’t leave a mark like you but… so I can have something to do?” You used the hand of your unbitten shoulder to trace a line from his ear down his jugular, under his collar, to his shoulder, then back to his collarbone. You took your hand back as you went to joke, “Unless you’re expecting extravagant and meaningful gifts every time?”

“No, no. I mean yes! I mean—” Sungchan took a second to shake his head and blink, clearing his mind. “I don’t expect gifts every time. And yes, you can bite me next time. I didn’t think you would be up for a next time after I… well, after all this.”

He gestured vaguely to the wound that he’d gone back to tending to. A quick glance at it out of the corner of your eye showed you that it had already stopped bleeding and was starting to mend itself. At least Mr. Jung was right about that part.

Even through the acute worry over the unexpected severity of the bite, you could tell that Sungchan was already more clear-headed and overall relaxed, the constant nervous tension in his body gone, replaced just by a determined set of his shoulders, and momentary furrow of his brow as he cleaned up the bite. Brushing his hair off his forehead, you trailed your hand down to cup his cheek fondly. “Sungchan, this is the most yourself I’ve seen you in a long time. Yes, I’m going to keep your bite.”

Just the bright, tender smile on Sungchan’s face—the recognition of being loved and reflecting it back to you—would’ve been more than enough for you to do this again, whether or not it helped the scent anxiety. You could always work on another solution for that. But this you wouldn’t take away for the world.

He set the towel aside again, and you grabbed his hands now that they were free, messing with the brand-new ring adorning one of his fingers.

“Besides, even if I can’t leave a mark like yours next time, I can still mark you up,” you mused quietly, almost as if it were to yourself, except for the fact that you had a werewolf practically chest-to-chest with you. And you knew very well that you did. “They just won’t last as long.”

“Why wait until next time?” He suggested, and you heard the long inhale he took after. You wondered if you smelled any different to him already, or if he just needed to breathe.

You looked up from your hands to him with a smirk. “I like the way you think.”

Sungchan captured your lips in a kiss that tasted of hunger, and love, and metal— your blood was still around his mouth. And you smiled into it before doing as promised and dropping your mouth to the column of his throat, well above his collar, and letting your teeth graze his skin. You could feel his gasp rush in under your lips as his hands pulled your hips firmly down against his.

You decided that Jeno could be a ‘puppy’ all he wanted. You had a wolf, and you were more than happy with that.

“I think I made it out more marked up than you, you know,” Sungchan called out to you from the bathroom the next morning.

“Really?” You replied just as loudly, amusement in your tone as you stretched leisurely in his sheets.

“Shotaro’s going to be concerned for my wellbeing at this rate.”

Sitting up and scooting towards the corner of his bed closest to the mirror, you checked out your own reflection as you imagined he was currently doing, your fingers trailing over the dark bite mark now set into your skin. There was no scab or blood, just the faintest ring of raised skin and distinct outline of teeth. Rolling out your shoulder, you winced as a dull pain radiated out from the bite. Dropping the arm back down, you continued staring at the mark, a certain giddiness fluttering around in your stomach. You’d have this for… who knows how long. The rest of your life, maybe.

Clearing your throat and your mind, you responded to Sungchan with a disbelieving snort, “No he’s not.”

“No, he’s not,” he agreed with a sigh as he walked back into his bedroom just in a pair of sweatpants. Which let you get a great view of the countless blue and purple hickies, love bites, long red scratches, and faded remains of crescent-shaped nail marks that littered his neck, chest, shoulders, and back. You bit down on your bottom lip, a strange mixture of pride and embarrassment welling up in your chest. Sungchan fixed you with a shit-eating grin, putting his hands on his hips. “But my parents will be when we go over for dinner next week.”

“We’re going over for dinner next week?!” You yelped, covering your mouth in horror, panic, and mortification. A lot of the worst of those bruises were well above the collar of all of his shirts. “Why did you let me—”

“I’m kidding,” he cut you off with a chuckle, lumbering over towards the bed to flop down beside you on the mattress.

You smacked his arm as you hissed, “I’m going to kill you, Jung Sungchan! Don’t do that to me!”

“Ouch, full name.” He pouted.

“God, I was about to preemptively die of embarrassment!”

“So it’ll be fine for them to see that,” he pointed to your shoulder, “but not these?” He gestured from his own neck down.

“Different situational and cultural contexts!”

He nodded slowly, “Oh, right, of course...”

“You’re half-human, Sungchan, don’t pull that ‘I’m-just-a-simple-werewolf’ act on me!”

“I upset you. I’m sorry,” he apologized, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

“You better be, Sungchan.”

“I am, baby, I am.” He gave your hand a half dozen more fervent, rapid-fire smooches. “Now are you done calling me that?”

“What? Your name?” You scoffed.

“You know what I mean, baby...”

“So we don’t have dinner with your parents next week?”

“Nope. Two weeks.”

You shook your head and sighed. “And so you live to see another day, Sung.”

“I’m half-werewolf, I would’ve been all healed up by next week, you know,” he pointed out, sitting up behind you and pressing a couple lingering kisses to your shoulder with your new mating bite.

“I know, I know.”

He continued trailing sweet kisses up your neck and jaw. “Which means I’ll also be all healed in two weeks if you were to give me some more…”

“I don’t know, you just played a very mean trick on me, Sung,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest as if you were genuinely deliberating not giving in and absolutely devouring this man right now.

“I know,” he murmured between kisses, gently holding your chin with one hand to turn your head back towards him. “I’m the worst.”

“You are,” you breathed out against his lips.

“So now that we agree on that…”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” You jabbed the crosswalk button repeatedly.

“It’s going to be fine, Y/N,” Sungchan reassured you, lacing his fingers with yours. “I’ve already met your parents before and it was fine.”

“Yeah, once, for like two minutes, as my friend.” You pointed out, banging the button with the side of your fist when it still hadn’t changed.

You were of course talking about a random Sunday afternoon way back in the spring semester, before you and Sungchan had started dating. He had come over that day to help you put together your new coffee table that you’d finally gotten around to buying. Except, upon starting the assembling, the two of you had realized that neither of you had one of the tools required for it. Thankfully, your dad did, and offered to bring it by since he and your mom were about to head out to run errands anyway. Cue some very brief, very awkward introductions between your parents and Sungchan when they’d brought the promised tool. You weren’t counting, but you would’ve bet money that you had called him your friend at least ten times during that less-than-five-minute conversation, with so much stress and nervous emphasis on the word that you wouldn’t have been surprised if your parents had left your apartment that day already thinking that the two of you were dating.

But now you were actually supposed to be introducing him to them as your boyfriend, and you felt like you were going to throw up and pass out and die before you even got there.

Sungchan wordlessly let go of your hand to smoothly step between you and the crosswalk button, picking up your other hand to hold.

“Come on, you said it yourself that they were impressed with me after that two-minute conversation,” he reminded you. “Imagine how great of an impression I’ll leave after two hours.”

“All I said was that my dad told me later that he was surprised that you were a werewolf because you were so calm,” you corrected him. “He’s used to all my friends from high school who had the bouncing-off-the-fucking-walls energy like Jeno.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Which, by the way, I’ve already told them that you’re not in a pack or anything like that, but pretty much all they know about werewolves is from my classmates and friends from when I was in high school. So… apologies in advance for any assumptions or comparisons they make.”

“Right, the two packs you went to school with.”

“Yeah, them. I told them you’re not in a pack, and don’t have any of that going on. It actually made my mom relax a lot more. I think all that stuff kind of scares her.”

“What? Afraid that I’d whisk you away with my big werewolf muscles to my werewolf pack and she’d never hear from her poor little human daughter ever again?”

You burst out into an incredulous laugh. “You have got to stop talking about yourself like that or I’m seriously going to hurt your feelings one of these days, baby.”

“By saying what? It’s not like I’m lying?”

“Your ego is as stupid big as your stupid big werewolf muscles.”

“Ha!” He cheered out victoriously. “So you admit it.”

“Wasn’t falling in love supposed to rot your brain? Make you more docile or whatever? I think it’s just made you even worse…” You tutted, shaking your head.

“How could I not be on an ego trip? I mean, have you seen my girlfriend?” He retorted. “She’s crazy beautiful, and smart, and funny, and so sweet. I’d be jealous of me if I wasn’t me.”

You rolled your eyes, but squeezed his hand tighter. “Alright, you sap. Maybe the ego trip is warranted. But seriously, don’t talk about yourself like that in front of my parents or I’ll die of secondhand embarrassment. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

So far lunch was going okay. Your mom had invited the two of you over for a late Sunday lunch, which always meant sandwiches and lemonade in your house. And it was going okay, aside from the initial reaction you’d gotten when they’d opened the front door. You could still hear your mother’s shocked gasp and ‘Oh my God…’ muttered under her breath as her eyes were glued onto your neck. More specifically, you knew she was staring at your new mating bite. Or, the half of it that she could see— you weren’t exactly hiding it, so you’d picked your t-shirt today only for comfort in the lingering end-of-August-cusp-of-September heat. It was just over three weeks since Sungchan had given you his bite, a couple days shy of the upcoming full moon, and yeah maybe you should visit your parents more often. But in your defense, you’d been a bit busy between getting the bite in the first place, and the new semester starting.

Your father didn’t have much better of a reaction than your mother, eyes going wide behind his thick, frameless lenses before his jaw clenched. There was still a certain tension in his muscles that jumped every time he saw Sungchan touch you, whether it was a brush of arms, holding your hand, or an innocent squeeze of your knee as he stood up to head to the bathroom that he’d just been gestured towards.

Picking your glass of lemonade back up after Sungchan had left the room, you took only a sip before your mom was reaching across the table to gently take your hand in hers.

“Hey, sweetie…” She said softly but with a certain worried tenseness in her tone that made your stomach drop.

You tried to mimic the front she was putting up, smiling back at her brightly and innocently, “Hey, Mom?”

“Listen... We are so happy for you, and we love Sungchan, we really do.”

“Okay, then why does it feel like this is about to go somewhere that I’m not going to like?”

“Don’t you think that the two of you might just be moving a little fast?”

Entirely dropping all sunny pretenses, you narrowed your eyes at her suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“The-the bite,” she explained with a wince, pointing to her own shoulder.

“That’s sort of like marriage for them, right?” Your dad cut in gruffly.

Despite it being phrased like a question, his tone made it sound much more like an accusation, like he already knew he was right and was just letting you know that he knew the truth—or at least what he thought the truth was. It reminded you of when you’d get in trouble as a kid and he’d ask you if you knew how the vase in the living room got broken despite very much already having a good idea himself. Giving you the opportunity to fess up before he punished you even more severely for the initial bad deed and then lying about it on top of that. But you hadn’t done anything wrong this time.

“Sort of, not really, it depends. In some packs, I guess. But Sung’s not in a pack, you know that,” you reminded them firmly, straightening up in your seat.

Your mom jumped back in, “Right, but still, don’t you think he kind of rushed you into—”

“It was my idea,” you cut her off before she could even finish articulating that thought. You knew you’d get all the way pissed off if she did. It was already taking a lot to dampen your anger now and keep this at a civil conversation. It’s just because they didn’t understand. You had to keep telling yourself that, and do your best to explain, calmly, and make them understand. Not everybody had three years of Sociology and Magical Creatures Studies under their belt like you. Your mom had been a stay-at-home mom all your life, and your dad was just a few years away from retirement, having worked in a human-dominated field for his whole career. An architect.

Those same sharp eyes that would pore over building designs late at night in his home office while you sat in his lap and did your own colorful sketches in crayon—and eventually fell asleep in his arms—were now regarding you with a clear distrust. “Darling, really, it—”

“Look, when we first started dating, Sung was having a really hard time with scent anxiety,” you once again spoke over him authoritatively. “All the usual scenting stuff, it wasn’t working. He was really stressed, and anxious, and just… worried sick all the time about me like spontaneously combusting or something if we were apart for even a second. Me taking his bite was the best solution. And now, the beginning of the semester has gone off without a hitch. Classes, my Magical Botany Club, his astronomy club, his senior thesis meetings, my research mentorship project... I don’t know if we would’ve been able to do all of this apart, clear-headed like… literally a month ago. And yes, I brought it up to him. I’m fine, I promise. This is what I want, he’s what I want.”

The two of them exchanged perturbed, skeptical glances, before your mom nodded, and your father let out a resigned sigh.

“Alright, sweetheart. Like we said, we like Sungchan. We just don’t want you two doing anything that you might regret. Either of you.”

“I know, Dad. But we’ve got this. Seriously, it’s… really good with him,” you promised him, a giddy smile coming to your features with your last words.

“We’re happy to hear that, sweetie,” your mom patted your hand.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I don’t want to know anything else about how it happens, but— Does it hurt? Like, right now, does it hurt you?”

“Oh, no, Mom, it’s not painful to the touch or sore or anything,” you reassured her, carefully skirting around the how and instead focusing on the now, pressing on the bite mark to demonstrate that it wasn’t tender like a bruise.

“Good, good, I’m glad.”

The sound of the bathroom door opening echoed down the hall to you, and you turned around to smile at Sungchan over your shoulder as he started back towards you all.

“Well, I think it’s time for the tart I’ve got in the fridge, huh?” Your mom beamed at everyone, standing up from the kitchen table.

“That could’ve gone worse,” you declared as soon as your parents’ front door shut behind the two of you, leaving you and Sungchan on the sidewalk. There wasn’t much in the way of leftovers aside from the berry tart, which your mom sent you off with so that your father wouldn’t eat it all.

“You think so?” Sungchan asked warily. “Because I uh… I did hear what you all were talking about when I was in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, I thought you might’ve.” You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry about all that, Sung. I think they get it now. And really, it was my fault for not at least giving them a heads-up about the bite, it didn’t even cross my mind. We just caught them off-guard.”

Sungchan suddenly stopped the two of you on the empty sidewalk. He cupped your cheek in his hand, running a thumb over your cheekbone, then down your jaw, the side of your neck, until he stopped right over where you knew the mating bite was. His thumb once again stroked over your skin, tracing the shape of the bite and pushing aside your collar when needed.

“Hearing you say that this is what you want, I’m what you want… made me really happy,” he declared simply, eyes still locked on the mark.

“It’s true,” you replied.

A bright, giddy smile spread across his face. “I know. And I knew it as soon as I heard you say it, too.”

You grinned back up at him. “That makes me really happy to hear, Sung. I always want you to know how much I love you.”

He leaned in nearer, and you closed your eyes anticipating a kiss, but instead he just dropped a fond peck to your nose before standing up straight. “I think it’s starting to finally uh, get through my thick skull.”

“Finally,” you echoed with a giggle. “Alright, your place?”

“I actually wanted to ask… Can we go to your place tonight?”

“Finally going to give poor Taro some peace?”

“That, yeah. But I wasn’t even thinking about him to be honest. I just… I want to.”

“Okay, Sung. Come on.” You tugged him down the street in the direction of your apartment.

Sungchan had been to your place on several occasions as your friend and your boyfriend, and yet you were drawing a blank for exactly the last time he had been there. Maybe your third date? Or, technically your fourth date, but you and Sungchan had unanimously agreed to not count that first awkward blind date that the guys set you up on as your official first date. Regardless, it’d been… a while since he’d been over. You kicked your shoes off by the door and didn’t bother to turn the lights on as you deposited the leftover tart in the fridge before beginning your nightly plant-tending. There were a few that needed to be misted still, then you could fully relax. You did the majority of your plant care-taking duties during the actual day, there was just the odd handful that needed a couple good spritzes.

Sungchan watched you patiently as you did so just in the moonlight coming in through the sheers you had over a window. Then, once the spray bottle was put back down, you led the way into your bedroom with maybe a little bit of a skip in your step. While you weren’t a werewolf, you were understanding how nice it felt to have your person in a space that you felt safe and warm and good in again. Like everything was going to be okay forever, maybe.

“You want to wear one of my hoodies?” You joked, rifling through your drawers for some pajamas for yourself.

“You have anything that’d fit?” Sungchan perked up from where he was laying on your bed to ask. He’d already located his few pieces of clothing still stored away here, meanwhile you were struggling as it turns out you very much needed to do a laundry day.

“Try that.” You tossed one at him before turning back around to the dresser. After a few moments, you hadn’t heard anything from behind you, though. “Sung? Love? Everything okay back there?” You looked over your shoulder to find a very cozy-looking werewolf in your extra, extra large hoodie—which just fit him regularly. But it was the eyes-closed, soft, happy smile on his face as he had the hood up around his head, his hair strewn about messily, and he held the ends of the sleeves up to his nose that made you stop in your tracks to just take him in.

His eyes snapped open, and he dropped his hands almost sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah, all good. It fits. Thanks, baby.”

“Of course.” You nodded, feeling a fond smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

You quickly got into your own pajamas for the night and climbed into bed as well. As you reached over to turn off your lamp, Sungchan stopped your hand.

“Are you going to sleep right now?” He asked.

“Well, no,” you said, an eyebrow raised as you watched his eyes flick between your hand and your neck.

“Can we leave the lights on for just a little longer? You can turn them off as soon as you need to sleep. I just… So I can see it?” He let go of your hand and instead graced a finger over your bite mark.

You dropped your hand, nodding. “Sure, Sung.”

He smiled brightly at you. “Thank you.”

With the added light, you decided to do some reading, and Sungchan kept busy alternating between his phone, and folding and unfolding the same origami heart on your bedside table next to him. But you could feel him look over at you every so often, and you knew he was getting used to the still-new image of you with his mating bite. As you came to the close of a chapter, you tucked your bookmark—the film strip of you two from Valentine’s Day at the boba shop—back in and set the book aside.

“Sung?”

“Mm?”

Now that you’d gotten his attention, you wordlessly opened your arms, and he immediately launched himself into them. You let out a punched-out giggle as you suddenly had an arm- and lapful of werewolf. He settled in with his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder, his lips right against your bite again, his arms wrapped around your waist, and one of his legs slung over you, caging you in. You rested your cheek on the crown of his head, threading the fingers of one hand in his hair as you rubbed your other hand up and down his back. The metal of your lunar ring glinted from among his soft brown locks. Waning crescent.

“Can I turn the light off now, love? I don’t think you can see it from this angle, right?” You requested humorously.

“Hm?” Sungchan made a low, slow, questioning noise in the back of his throat, and you knew he hadn’t even processed your ask.

“Light. Off?”

“Mm, yeah, mkay.”

You could feel him nod against you.

Reaching over towards your lamp was a bit difficult, but you were finally able to stretch your fingers enough to turn it off, plunging your room into darkness. Shifting to relax a bit lower into your pillows, you returned your hand to your boyfriend’s back.

“You’re cuddly tonight,” you commented. Cuddly, not clingy like before the bite. You didn’t feel guilty for reading earlier, he’d been content to do his own thing in the meantime, and you’d been the one to initiate the cuddling now. He’d just been very enthusiastic.

“Don’t you know, Miss MCS Major?”

“How long have we known each other, and you don’t know my major?”

“‘Miss Interdisciplinary Major with a concentration in Magical Creatures Studies’ is a bit long, don’t you think?”

“It’s correct.”

“Miss MCS Student?”

“That’s… acceptable.”

“Anyway, don’t you know about werewolf mating bites, Miss MCS Student?”

“Only whatever was covered in my Intro course, the sociocultural importance of them in packs. We haven’t covered that in my class on werewolves yet. And unfortunately, Dr. Kwon’s Interspecies Marriage class didn’t fit in my schedule last year.”

“Scent swapping. After a werewolf couple exchanges bites, they swap scents until they eventually just have one new one.”

“Ah, so it’s my turn to scent you.”

“Something like that.” Sungchan shrugged. “I know that’s the scientific explanation, like, the magianthropological one or whatever. But really… I just know that being here right now feels right. Like I was never meant to do anything else. Like I could go to class, or go hang out with friends, or something. But after, this is where I’m supposed to be. With you.”

“Home.” You replied simply. “You feel like home.”

“Yeah. You’re my home.”

Unable to come up with anything to say near intelligible, you pressed a long kiss to the top of his head before nuzzling your cheek back into his hair. His arms tightened around you minutely, holding you just that much closer to him.

“And you can’t just start calling me ‘love’ and expect me to just do nothing,” he added teasingly.

“Sung.”

“Yeah?”

The darkness made it so that you couldn’t see Sungchan as the two of you laid together, but every place that you touched felt much more alive, so much more real, connected. “I love you.”

He grabbed one of your hands, just to hold it. You let him.

“I love you, too.” His words didn’t hang in the air, they laid over you like a warm blanket, wound and weaved through your mind like your favorite song, and wrapped around you like a familiar hug. You stayed silent as you basked in them, letting out a soft, content hum as you cradled his head closer to your chest.

“I think I really understand her now,” Sungchan spoke up after some time.

You were used to his non-sequiturs by now. “Who?”

“My mom… Who you love isn’t always a choice, but where you go from there is. The choices you make with that love is up to you.” His hand tightened around yours.

“I can’t wait to be there to make more choices with you, Sung,” you murmured, running a thumb over the back of his knuckles.

Entering Half Moon Bakery with a skip in your step, Sungchan stopped you just past the front door. The two of you had been out and about running various errands all day, and had finally popped into your friends’ workplace for a little breather.

“I’ll be right back.” Sungchan pecked your forehead.

“I’ll go order.” You nodded, watching him disappear around the corner that led to the restrooms.

As you walked up to the counter, you offered the familiar wolf behind the counter a big smile. “Hey Jeno!”

“Hey, Y/N!” He grinned back. “So what can I get—”

He was cut off by a clanging from the kitchens behind him that made you jump out of your skin. The werewolf whipped around, concern etched on his features. He looked to you apologetically, “Sorry, I need to—”

“Go check on her,” you agreed, not liking the distinct lack of cursing that had accompanied the raucous noise. “I wanted to pick something new today anyway, so I’ll need some time.”

“Thanks, be right back!” And with that, he darted into the back.

You did in fact meander over to the display case of pastries, bending at the waist to peer at your options. Humming along to the song playing over the speakers, when you heard footsteps coming up behind you, you figured that it was Sungchan.

“Back so soon, love?” You asked with humor in your voice, standing up straight and turning around. All warmth that was in your chest froze and turned to dread when you saw who was actually behind you.

“Y/N. Been a while since you called me that.” You hadn’t seen your ex in over a year. Not since a week after you’d found out he’d been cheating on you throughout the entirety of your short-lived relationship, when he’d come to pick up what few things he had at your place. But somehow he was at your friends’ bakery now.

“I never did.” You reminded him through gritted teeth. “And clearly I didn’t mean to now.”

Pivoting back around, you crossed your arms and stared straight ahead at the menu board behind the counter.

“Back to your old type, huh?” He was peeling back the collar of your blouse to reveal all of your mating bite.

You snapped around, slapping his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Humans weren’t good enough, so you’re back on the werewolf dick, of course.”

You couldn’t stand to be in here for another second with him sneering at you like this. He wasn’t worth it. You could leave, go around the corner and text Sungchan and tell him where you are and what happened. The two of you could just go somewhere else for the afternoon.

“I’m not going to justify myself to someone like you, so if you’ll excuse me—” You tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

He seized your wrist. “Y/N, come on—”

“Let go of her.” Jeno had appeared at your side, stepping in between you and pulling your ex’s hand off of you.

“Oh, Jeno,” you breathed his name out as a sigh of relief, almost absent-mindedly, as you withdrew your hand back to your chest.

The human was unfazed, though, a sick delight lighting up his eyes as he looked Jeno up and down. “You must be the lucky dogboy. I should tell you, for your sake, she has a type, if you know what I mean. Dated two werewolves before me, and she broke up with me because I just couldn’t satisfy her like she was used to.”

“You’re disgusting,” you hissed.

“She broke up with you because you’re a cheating scumbag, actually.” Sungchan was back from the bathrooms, and strode up behind your ex, a deep frown already etched onto his features.

“That’s the lucky wolf whose girlfriend you just manhandled.” Jeno pointed up at him.

Sungchan clearly hadn’t witnessed anything, as his eyebrows raised minutely at the word ‘manhandled’ before his frown became a hard glare and he pushed your ex back against the wall by the shoulder. “If you grab her again, you lose the hand and the arm it’s attached to.”

The human looked around Sungchan at you with wide eyes. You nodded firmly in agreement with what your boyfriend had just said. Sounded plenty reasonable to you.

“Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back, we don’t want scumbags for customers,” Jeno growled, folding his arms over his chest.

The human had to wrench his shoulder out from Sungchan’s grip, giving the lot of you a final glare before storming out of the bakery. When you could finally no longer see him, you let out a shaky breath, and Sungchan immediately came over to wrap his arms around you. There was a vein protruding on his forehead that you weren’t used to seeing, and his jaw was still clenched tightly.

“Thanks, Sung.” You pressed yourself into his side, all too happy to be back in his familiar warmth. You weren’t going to forget about your friend that had come to your aid first, though. “You too, Jeno.”

“Yeah, thank you, Jeno.” Sungchan clapped the other werewolf on the back sincerely. “On one hand I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, Y/N, but on the other… I’m kind of glad I wasn’t because—”

“You might’ve actually broken his hand if you had been. I know, I know.” Jeno interrupted him humorously, despite how not humorous that outcome would’ve been. Satisfactory in the moment, yes, but ultimately not worth the criminal charges he could’ve pressed against Sungchan. “Try some werewolf meditation apps.”

“They have those?”

“You’ve never had to look into those before. Ha! Mr. Zen Werewolf taking advice on werewolf meditation apps from me! Oh, hold on, she’s going to get a kick out of this one, I’ve got to go tell her.” Jeno pointed to the kitchen over his shoulder with a thumb, turning around and pushing a door open, laughing the whole way back.

As Jeno relayed this hilarious revelation to his girlfriend, Sungchan led you over to a small loveseat in the corner of the bakery, settling the two of you down on it. Judging by the dual cackling laughter now coming from the kitchens, it was going to be a while before you’d be able to get your pastries.

“I know I can’t prevent everything bad ever from happening, but…” Sungchan laced his right hand with your left and rubbed slow circles into your skin with his thumb. “I hope you’ll always let me be there with you after.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, gazing at your lunar rings displaying matching half moons. “Always, Sung. We made a deal, remember?”

“Of course,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist

[drdemonprince]

ive seen you talk about FIRE/mr money moustache and i am interested in how you balance that with your politics. i ask because i am also interested in FIRE but struggle with the idea of saving 2mil+ to retire early when people need money NOW to survive. not just broadly but even loved ones and community members in my immediate vicinity. i dont mean this in an EXPLAIN YOURSELF sort of way, just so many of the FIRE etc people i find writing about it dont really address this aspect and its something i struggle with internally myself.

Sure, I don't mind speaking about this at all. I wish I more frequently had the occasion to because it's a major special interest of mine.

First, I'm not interested in the saving 2 million dollars (if that were even feasible) school of financial independence/ retire early. I'm more of an adherent to the r/LeanFire, r/BaristaFire type approach of maintaining a consistently very frugal standard of living that is sustainable for me, on a relatively smaller savings, and pursuing a life of relatively little consumption.

I also think that MMM, despite his many flaws, is broadly accurate in stating that when people continuing working all their lives, they also create more ecological devastation by consuming a whole of a hell lot more resources on convenience and burning more fuel, while chasing after a steadily rising living standard set by the norms of their profession. By taking myself out of the workforce sooner rather than later, I will be contributing less to climate change and waste because I'll need fewer convenience meals, fewer car rides, fewer flights, fewer hotel rooms, fewer fancy professional clothes, and so on and so on.

I also spend a lot of time on the Socially Conscious Mustachians group on Facebook, which focuses on investing one's savings in ways that are less ethically problematic. The easy mode version of this is simply putting one's money into index funds that exclude oil companies, gun manufacturers, etc. But honestly, today, with interest rates being as high as they are? It's pretty easy to just sock one's money into a CD or a bond, collect the cool 5.4% interest, and avoid having to contribute to the stock market directly at all. There are even high-yield savings accounts at credit unions that pay out about that much interest these days, and those entities typically do not invest in oil pipelines, BDS targets, or anything all that objectionable.

As for the hoading money while others are in need piece: Well. yeah. that's a difficult ethical challenge that we all must consider. how much can i hold onto for my own wellbeing in the spirit of "putting on one's oxygen mask first" without it being wealth hoarding? how much should i give to other people when i see that they are in need --someone could easily make the case that I have the moral obligation to give away what i have to my very last cent, and I couldn't really argue with them on that. maybe a person should do that. but i'm not going to do it. and of course the effective altruism freakos would counter that if i invest my money and grow it now, i will have more to give to others in the long run than if i cash out now.

realistically, i won't be able to continue working for much longer without having another health episode or worse. i will not qualify for disability benefits because high maskers who have had careers usually do not. and social security's coffers will be entirely drained long before i reach the age to qualify for it. if i enter my non-working years without any resources, someone else will have to worry about me staying housed and medicated and fed.

i tend to think of my retire early stash as my own little private disability benefits fund that will allow me to live safely and will hopefully allow me to take care of other people that i love as we age, and that will give me the freedom from having to do any morally compromising capitalist labor ever again, and only put my energies towards causes that either fulfill me or benefit others.

but it's still rooted in a highly individualistic capitalist system, this holding onto money under my own name and investing it thing. im sure a lot of people would choose instead to sock all of their money into some kind of cooperatively owned communist farm or something, and you know, some day down the line i would love to put money toward a big multi unit building that lots of people i am in community with could live in, with no financial obligations for them. but i dont have anywhere near that kind of scratch. as hannibal buress (that landlord piece of shit) said, "i don't have fuck you money, i have strongly worded email money." and you know, being able to write a strongly worded email to people who would otherwise be exploiting me into another huge burnout does feel good.

thinking that one day i might not work anymore is one of the only things that keeps me going. i am always on the razor's edge of not functioning, i dont think people really realize that, how could they, the mask is there to prevent them seeing it. im beyond privileged to even get to CONSIDER the dream of getting by on my savings for however long human society continues to exist. and it sure would be better if i could extend that kind of freedom and peace of mind to others. my life still feels very precarious and it always has and ive had to be stable for the sake of others for a long time, ive had to be financially responsible for others for a long time. i cling to the idea of FI/RE because it offers me a way to finally break down and be weak. but something more community oriented and interdependent would sure as fuck be better. in the meantime i guess im saving for something like that i could trust enough to give myself over to.

i also have a really strong fetishistic desire to be someone's completely brainwashed sex pet for the entire rest of my life, and having an early retirement account would really help me facilitate that

[madfantasy]

New 3 things that happened:

*I got my new ID, my id expired and to renew it I had to get photographed, and since I just opened my bank account a year ago it depends on it so already I was giving up on the idea to keep the account but by miracle a photographer agreed to picture us at home, and it turned to us cuz I wanted all my sibs to have theirs taken with me too and because I had to argue first time to get my ID forever, so i didn't have the energy to keep doing it for the rest of my sibs so now it was the chance. The day of the photographer coming I was shaking with fear and I thought I would never leave the bathroom gotten ill. I fear seeing people more than dyin so I don't know how I held it together, I literally don't remember how it went or how I did, but I recall my sibs looking the same as I felt but it was finally done. parents too taken their shoots and because one needed their passport renewed to renew their id, them alone costing 1k$ and the appointment was set 6 months ahead, we R now close to it anyway, and the thought of how we have to pay to exist some more costly made me think of my worthlessness and helplessness even more, making me ashamed of still living.

The thing that blinded me, me the first to be tested on lo

*my eye is better, I still see a dark spot looking in a certain direction, getting an eye mask surprisingly helped keeping my eyes less dry cuz they be the most when I wake up and I had the driest time before it got infected and swelled, and already I'm used to the spot and can ignore it..

*I'm still drawing, literally it's making me live love and laugh, I don't care about improving or drawing my best constantly, ai can get poisoned for all I care as it continues to dehumanise the whole point of art-- keeping humanity alive ( btw use glazing ❤️🖤)

I realised that I don't have any physical collection of my art & since I can't look at the screens forever just to browse, nd printing all my stuff isn't feasible, then I came across those mini albums Nd I got the idea to just print one sheet = 9 pics! They look good too for trashy quality, I love it 8' and yes, purple and silver is the 10% obsession to my 90% red and black pallets, thanks to remembering Freeza c'x

But as usual posting my drawings never cease to eat me alive with anxiety, but I think I'm slowly becoming indifferent to it, even if the thought of that no one actually sees my art but me, which is the main case cuz I am living in isolation and being drawing in secret till few recent years because of my conservative surroundings, I feel much calmer when I'm not seen and maybe it's self destructive in a way cuz to stay posting I need to be commissioned cuz net bill, but it became irrelevant cuz I accepted that i can't have the mental capacity to be a social media person or chase anything that I already knew I can't maintain, I had an art block for a year I almost believed that was it for my art drive and me cuz it my sanity— cuz burning out so bad. If my post has a description it was in my drafts for months cuz I plan for every piece I share, but if can't form words I allow myself to let it be captionless, I draw faster than I form words and that's why art is important to me on a personal level, it's my first way of express even if its indirect, the only bit of human Mani left to live in me to put through lines and paint splodges. Even if no one sees it, and to be honest with myself, have very weak chances of being seen on a level that benefits me financially, I'm on the other side of the world, never seen the sky beyond my schooling days, nonverbal irl and know that I can get taken advantage of easily in social manner because it either I don't get the social cues or can't say no..

I'm grateful that at least I got the chance to experience being in a loving nurturing fandom like Sev's that made me experience genuine human goodness and care I never thought possible, made me have some self worth, personality beyond a made for marriage caretaker, and allowed me to get art tools and clothing that I was never allowed or could afford, and many first time small life pleasures like perfumes, food and toys, even if I only recognise 5 or 10 of you dears now, by DP liking my posts- (I suck at remembering names sorry)

I'm also grateful to have a room after endless years of couch and house movings, I have a safe space to still be able to draw and be cool under an AC in this 50° weather..

I think realistically that's the best it can get having spent all my life trying to get anywhere but isolated, and nothing working. At least I'm indifferent and fine of being the caretaker of my disabled guardians and siblings, I need them as much as they need me, even if it caused me the same cycle of mental anguish and earth leavings hehe

Wish U all the ease and peace and yummy peas 🫶🏽

4 am, sleep deprived

[contentloadingandstuff]

This is not a post about writing. Sorry.

I don't want to put personal things on this blog. You're here to read the stuff I write, and don't want to listen to me whine. I understand that. And yet here I am.

As predicted, though it came much faster. It's already been a week and I'm starting to have enough of this. The entire day was spent at the university because my lessons are spaced out throughout the day. I have added another two annoying, condescending and egoistic professors. I miss high school already, and I never thought I would - everything was better organised back then. Classrooms packed, stuffy, filthy chair-desks. Every teacher has their own rules and programmes. Every one of them says that it's going to be difficult. Thanks, I didn't realise that when I signed up for five years of law. They give tasks and homework that involve other people, people that I don't know and that seem to not give a flying duck about me when I try to seek them out. So much boring text to dig through, while not even knowing which parts are important. I got into the highest language group (C1) in English. My reward? Two years spent working my ass off with a nasty hag as my teacher. I have to commute ninety minutes to campus. I missed my bus today by two stops. Now it's forty minutes more commuting as punishment. And then twenty minutes on foot. I left my house at 8, I will come back at 20. Twelve hours. Every Monday since now. Half of which are actually spent on learning.

I'm tired. The bed is tough, the flat cramped and lonely. I have left everyone behind for this. Sure, I can travel back to them by train, but that costs. And my teachers allow just two missed classes, else you fail. Money management is giving me decision fatigue. I have long started digging into my savings, the stuff I got on my birthday. The rent is high. I need to get a flatmate to reduce the costs because my grandparents won't let me stay in this tiny flat for less than 3000 PLN (750$) monthly.

On top of that, my friends have gotten less talkative. I don't blame them, they have their own lives. If anybody texts or calls me, it's my family - only to learn about how I fare. Not in general, just at the university. Because there is nothing more to me. They tell me 'ah, yeah, that's going to suck :D' with a cheerful tone. Oh it already does. But I have to answer them that I'm fine, because it wouldn't do any good to tell them to piss off, or at least shut up if they have to be on my back.

I was excited at the prospect of being alone. I wouldn't have to be ashamed, worried or hide things. Independence, privacy. It quickly wore off. I stay up until 3 am, get five hours of sleep and go to uni. I play video games, but even they don't excite me as much as they used to. I feel like I've watched every single video on YouTube by now. I don't have the strength to go for new things now.

Writing is nothing but another source of stress now. When I do my dailies in Genshin I am reminded that I'm not writing. NAU stares daggers at me. I've killed it, but the first remade chapter isn't even halfway ready as of now.

I'm not going to the gym, or leaving the house that much. I'm eating trash food, for just a moment of distraction. I've bought more Lego than I bought for years recently. Just to get a moment of happiness when putting it together. I've spent money on things that I won't use. They don't seem as interesting when they are built. I can't sell them, I've opened them already. I lost two instruction books. They are useless.

I don't have a choice, I need to keep studying, but I don't want to. Now I have nobody to guide me through this mess. I need to work things out myself, but it's not what I can feasibly do.

I hate it here. I hate it now. I regret living up to this moment in my life. I wish I spared myself of all this. But I didn't have the strength to do it, even when I had the best chance.

So uh, writing is gonna be slow alright.

[shortnotsweet]

growing pains

It’s only been nine years. They’re not in their thirties yet—and won’t be for a while—but it’s worth noting that things are different. Maybe it’s them, maybe it’s the boardwalk, or maybe—well. Logan is a different person than when he was a high schooler. He’s less assured than he was. That could be it. Louise is almost certainly different than she was then, but even now she still hates his guts. Maybe some things don’t change after all.

Notes Transcription

Main Episode Outfit Variations

Louise would be into layering, I think. She’s multifaceted, practical, and resourceful. Harsh structure in conjunction with more layered pieces; tendency towards color blocking, but she keeps it sharp. She’d be into casual, pragmatic clothes. If not very structured, she has loose-fitting, draped fabrics like sweatshirts or heavy pants (cargo material, corduroy, denim?)—draped and bulked, but not baggy. Something easy to run and move in; sneakers or combat boots.

Not opposed to dresses. Keeps it compact, simple lines. No frills but does lean into triangle shapes or rectangular blocks. Color blocking => neutrals will take up negative space, highlight colors are accented.

Sticks to main colors (green and pink) for consistency, but relies on neutrals like beige, black, and brown. Less cool-toned than Tina, either spring or autumn coloring. Bright colors are muted with exception of a highlight, usually pink (hat or laces). Green varies from lime to olive to sage to forest, etc. whichever tone is appropriate.

Occasional purple or blue in reference to the snowball fight/sled episode with Logan (he was in blue, Louise was in purple). Louise could lean into purple (imposing, mysterious, feminine but still intimidating) for off-episodes. Not frequent, though; too similar to Tina’s color palette.

Hairstyle options include braids, pigtails, or just loose. I’m growing partial to braids; they feel utilitarian, almost boyish, useful. Could emulate the bunny ears under the cap.

Beanie vs. Baseball Cap. I like the beanie, but to me it lends to this aspect of laziness? Not the worst, but i like the structure and sharpness of the baseball cap. Also obscures the eyes occasionally, or could be worn backwards.

Timeline + Basis

Loosely, 9 years post-canon timeline (ambiguous). Louise is 18, Logan is 25. The age gap is too big for them to feasibly be in high school together, so the second storyboard shot by the lockers is him visiting the high school for some errand (maybe Cynthia needs him to deliver something, maybe he’s got a younger sibling by now?), Louise passes by him in the hallway and doesn’t move to accommodate him (almost slams into his shoulder) and he almost looks back at her but continues on. He recognizes her when he visits the diner, which he later frequents because it’s one of the closest places in town that has good food that’s affordable and keeps him out of the house.

That’s one of the reasons, anyway. He isn’t conscious of it, although Gene picks up on it early on an often gloats to either Louise or Logan, both of whom are baffled or irritated at first. Linda is overly supportive of the idea to the point of humiliation, Bob doesn’t want to think about it and refuses to see it, and Tina writes extremely detailed romance novel drafts about it.

Logan becomes ‘aware’ in the following year, then feels really gross about it and avoids the diner for months until confronted (member of the family is up for debate). Realistically, nothing ‘tangible’ happens between them for three years (kiss? Weird face touch? Jealous outburst? Freudian slip? Something fun, idk [Louise: 22, Logan 29]).

I think Louise regresses at this point, and tries to distance herself like that episode of iCarly when Sam realizes she’s in love with Freddy and literally institutionalizes herself in a mental ward. Very much LALALALALALALALALA I can’t hear you, that didn’t happen. Logan is not feeling great at this point. Heart-to-heart with Bob snaps her out of it.

One more year of slow burn, actual relationship starts (Louise: 23, Logan 30).

Logan gets married, eventually, in his early thirties. Gene is an unintentional omnipresent narrator.

Additional Notes

Keep Logan in primary colors (mostly red or blue), but keep him out of dark neutrals/monotones (no black or charcoal gray), because it’s too heavy of a countermeasure against Louise’s color blocking—too unbalanced.

Decent height difference, although it varies depending on Louise’s shoes (sneakers or platform boots, she’s usually in sneakers in the restaurant). She’s right over his shoulder (?)

Concept comparison of them both around the ages 14-16 are for comparison only. Their ages do not coincide.

Occasional pet names, always mockingly derogatory.

Montage shots of her leaning over the counter while they talk. He used to sit in the booth seats but eventually began sitting at the counter instead. No reason. It means he can talk to her more easily and bother her with less effort.

They’re the kind of couple who publicly argues over the pronunciation of ‘egg’ type beat. Bickering keeps it exciting for them, but they make it a point to apologize in any serious disagreements, usually by the end of the episode. Similar difficulty in admitting when they’re wrong, often attempt to compromise by sharing/taking on blame in some equal capacity. Sometimes this is healthy, sometimes it’s more de-facto.

Mother-in-law beef goes crazy

[yandere-paramour]

Chapter Seven

After breakfast you started to feel a little stronger. You had some food in your stomach, the cloudiness and pain in your head cleared, and your limbs felt a little easier to lift. You weren’t at 100%, but it was almost comparable.

You sat obediently in your chair as Atalanta took the plates to the sink. There was no point in trying to run right now. She had ears like a hawk, looking back with a watchful eye any time you even breathed a little too hard. Your legs were still wobbly, and you would never make it to the door. it wouldn’t be feasible.

“Now, Darling,” She came back, placing a hand on your head and gently smoothing down your hair, “I have the whole day to spend with you, my love. What would you like to do?

You wanted to escape, but you weren’t going to tell her that, so you just stayed quiet, pretending that the tiles on the floor were arranged in the most interesting pattern in the world.

A little frustrated by your lack of response, she knelt in front of you, putting one hand on your knee, gripping firmly. With the other hand, she used her fingertips to slowly tilt your chin up until you looked her in the eye.

“Darling, I know you’re still adjusting, but you cannot ignore me when I am speaking to you. It is rude and I won’t tolerate it,” She scolded you like you were an errant child, and your face burned.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Forgiven, Darling. Just remember for next time,” She strokes your cheek a few times and you resist the urge to lean into her touch for comfort after your chastisement, “How about I give you a tour? This is your new home, after all.”

A tour? You visibly perk up. Mapping out the layout of this blasted apartment will make it ten times easier if you ever need to hide or set a trap or whatever.

“Sure!” You say, trying to seem happy and excited.

Atalanta looks a little startled by your enthusiasm, but she quickly controls herself and smiles back, holding out her hand in a way that looks both effortless and well-practiced, “Lovely. If I may escort you?”

You appreciate her giving you the illusion of choice, but you know that unless you either want to fall or make her angry, you are going to have to take her hand. You take it, using her strength to pull yourself to your feet. She barely reacts; she seems to be much stronger than you thought, her muscles barely flex when pulling you up.

“Let’s start here then go upstairs. First up, the kitchen and dining room,” She laughs, showing you the rooms you both are in and can see.

It is a pitiful attempt at a joke, but the way she says it is both awkward and endearing. You crack a smile, and she lights up. She explains that her chef comes over in the early evenings to make dinner and prep things for breakfast, but she makes it a point to tell you that you are welcome to cook/make/bake anything you like, as long as you be careful. She does not want to see you hurt, she explains, and she would like even less to see you hungry.

You know what the living room looks like, and the next room is a small bathroom, so you spend little time on those. Down the lefthand hallway are two rooms across the hall from each other. Atalanta unlocks and opens the door to show you her training room. Every surface below six feet off the ground is padded. The walls have those blue squishy pads you’re used to seeing on the walls of high school gyms for wayward basketball players, and the floor is covered in those spongy pads you would usually associate with small children. When she leads you in, you like the way they squish and give under your toes.

“Is this your… gym?” You ask

“Of sorts. In the mornings before work, I like to come down here to exercise and practice martial arts.”

“You practice by yourself?” This could potentially be important information.

“Sometimes, but I have a trainer who comes a few mornings a week to spar with me. I can only practice kicks and punches on that for so long,” She gestures behind her to the rubber man-shaped dummy standing stoically in the corner, “I have a tackling dummy too but it’s not nearly as fun alone.”

“That’s… cool?” You stammer. Was that a threat?

“Come, we still have much to see. Do you like flowers?”

It is when she is ushering you out of the training room that you remember you haven’t seen the room across the hall yet. You reach for the doorknob and she catches your wrist in a firm grips. You tug away instinctually, but in your weakened state, she has you in a vice grip.

“Atalanta-” You start.

“If you truly want to see that room, I will show it to you, but it will not hold good memories. I prepared that room to be one of contemplation.

“C-Contemplation?” You must’ve looked a little scared because she softens her grip.

“When you misbehave, this room will be a form of minor punishment. You will be required to stay in here a number of hours corresponding to whatever infraction you committed. Knowing this, do you still want to see?”

You shake your head no, and she releases your wrist, pulling you close to her and wrapping her arms around you. You stay stiff, not wanting to relax into her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Darling. It’s just going to be difficult to adjust these first few weeks,” She pats your head, “Come, let me show you the terrace. If it’s not too cold, we can stay out there a while.”

Atalanta was right; the terrace was lovely. It was divided into two areas, enclosed with white walls almost six feet high. If you stood on a chair, you maybe could’ve seen over them, but as you suspected, you were high up, at least 10 stories. One area was a sort of sitting area. Comfortable cushions rested on a wooden base, and multicolored flowers surrounded them, making a sort of cute nook to rest in. The other side was dedicated mostly to plants, bushes, and even small trees. It was a veritable garden up here, complete with small lamps strewn over the top of the wall. You guessed they would provide cute ambient lighting at night. 

Atalanta was amused by your shock, “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” You said in awe, “How much did this cost?”

She waved your query off, “Irrelevant. What matters is the beauty. I often come out here in the evenings to read and relax.”

“That sounds amazing,” You give her a genuine smile.

“I’ll have to take you out sometime. The flowers are switched out with seasonal varieties so they are always blooming. It remains pretty year-round. Like you.”

You blush, turning away from her, “L-Let’s go upstairs.

Upstairs is more predictable. There is your Atalanta’s master bedroom and bathroom, along with two other unused rooms. Atalanta’s office doubles as the library; it is a very large room with an entire wall being glass, letting in lots of natural light. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves cover the walls, and you even recognize a few titles. It seems Atalanta has kept every book she’s ever read since college. It is so comfortable and clean, everything in you screams to grab a book, sink down into one of the plush chairs, and read for the rest of the day.

Next door to the library is a medium-sized screening room. When you enter, you gasp. You thought only rich people in mega-mansions had their own movie theaters but clearly Atalanta does. The largest grey couch you’ve ever seen dwarfs the room, facing a large projector screen. There are beanbags in the corners, ready to be propped right in front of the movie.  A stack of folded blankets is in a basket by the couch.

“I do not get a lot of chances to watch movies, but sometimes I work at home and work in here,” She tells you, “What do you like to watch?”

You can barely think, “I-I’m not sure?”

“That’s okay. How about we relax and watch a movie after dinner tonight? I can have some sweets brought up if that would please you.”

Your eyes light up, “Sure!”

The rest of the day is spent rotating between Atalanta’s study, the terrace, and the bedroom. You still feel tired, and soon after reading for an hour or so in the study you begin complain that you feel sleepy. She walks you to the bedroom and puts you down for a nap; you close your eyes obediently, curling into the warm blankets. After 15 minutes, she evidently judges you to be asleep and leaves, heading somewhere else in the apartment.

You sit back up; now you can think in peace.

You cycle back through the tour in your mind, creating a map. If everything goes to plan, you will be able to slip out sometime tonight. Atalanta slept like a rock, and you tested it last night, starting with a small wiggle and working up to fully sitting up in bed. She only moved when you sat up, and even then she only rolled over. 

She promised a movie in the screening room tonight. If you could get her distracted by the movie, she would forget to give you the sleeping drug. She might even forget to turn on any security measures for the apartment. Once she fell asleep herself, you could inch yourself out of her hold, steal a pair of her shoes, and slip out the door. If you left in the very early hours of the morning, you’d have a large window of time before she even woke up, let alone tried to find you. 

Laying back down, you tried to conserve your energy. You truly were tired, and of your plan to be awake all night was ensuing, you would need as much rest as you could get.

[ishouldgetatumbler]

"I'm going to be somewhat less strict than many of your teachers here. I am purely invested in your education, which means trying to meet you halfway. So if you have to go to the bathroom, get a drink, stretch your legs, whatever, just get up and go. Just come back okay? Passing this class will be very easy as long as you are in class for most of it."

And that was all the eye contact Danny could stand before his hand started to doodle and his eyes made a break for the page. He wrote the date on instinct; then stared at it. He erased the day, then paused. He erased the month, then wrote the correct date.

"Now for grading, exams are not as big of a deal on my class. Exams are about five percent of your grade. In addition homework isn't really... feasible? So don't worry about that. What will make a big chunk of grade is classwork, which is mostly answering when called on, raising your hand, asking questions, and showing up. Really just showing up and showing me all your lovely beautiful faces should be enough in my book, but for the stiffs upstairs you know-"

The teacher stopped, like they were expecting the class to laugh. It was silent. Danny was just drawing lines. Long, zagging, looping trailing lines. The teacher recovered swiftly.

"Chatty bunch. Well I guess that's fair, its first day jitters and all, and I am making it sound like this class is breeze, so what's the catch right? Most of your grade is tied up in what we're supposed to call 'labs' but I prefer to call it 'live practice.' I don't want you to get too worried about results, it's alot more about 'mucking in' as they say. Just show me you're making an effort and improving because, hey, we're all learning right?"

Squiggling lines has lost its therapeutic effect. Danny moved on to drawing his instructor farting while being struck by lightning, exclaiming "YOWCH!" His personal explanation was that they stank so much god saw fit to punish them.

"I know this class gets a bad reputation, and heck the entire business, especially in America, for those of you from there, but all I'm looking for is participation. And hey, guys, eyes here? I'm gonna get up on my soapbox here."

Danny looked up from his half completed drawing of himself as a demon-cat hybrid. He made eye contact with the glaring intensity of the instructor.

"Torture is important okay? You may not use it in your day to day life, but it teaches you important ways of thinking, and 'enhanced interrogation' as we're supposed to call it DOES work, but it's not a science and its not shopping for yoga pants. You can't repeat the same test on a different subject and get the same results, and its not one size fits all."

That was all Danny could take before his lunch made a run for it and he curled over his desk and covered his mouth with a clammy hand. His swirling, sloshing lines made his nausea only worse. Somehow he'd forgotten Vlad picked the school. The teacher on his paper exclaimed "YOWCH!"

"Teacher?"

"Yes, Mr...?"

"Wayne-Al Ghul"

Shoes tak-tak'ed on the floor as the instructor stepped back to the desk at the front of the room, and scrawled a check on the attendance.

"Yes Damian?" They asked finally.

"May I be excused on the basis of experience? I feel this introductory course has nothing to teach me." Damian said promptly and matter-of-factually.

The teacher sharply exhaled in amusement, then said "Well, like I said before, I believe we're all learning. Every year I teach this class I learn something new. Heck I have learned more teaching than I ever did in the business. Really, it's about approach. Everyone can learn something from someone else's approach, and even if it isn't mine or one of the ones I teach you, I am certain you can learn something from your classmates."

Danny was finally starting to figure out why he was so damn nauseous. The words were disgusting of course, but hearing yourself talked about like veal to be dissected and portioned guilt up an immunity to that. No, this was something more.

Ghosts are more like an ecosystem than a living thing. When you die, all your thoughts get split up up into a million different mini ghosts. When someone has all of their thoughts and emotions tied into one thing, they stay somewhat as they were after death, but most people break up. Those break ups leave some small amount of stragglers, who can't or haven't yet made it to the ghost zone.

The room was covered in little ghosts. Caked in them, floor to ceiling like the whole room is painted in a thin, semi-transparent sheen of death. He hadn't even noticed. He just assumed the paint was discolored.

"Ah, yes, you have a question Mr...?"

"Fowl."

"Ah, Artemis, I see you on my attendance sheet. Isn't that-"

"A girls name, yes. Why are we being taught to torture?" The small pale boy asked.

Internally, the nausea abated slightly: finally someone was asking sane questions. His rendition of himself as a demon cat smiled at him from the page.

"It's like having a lesson on how to smash a computer screen. Or a demonstration on how to burn fine art. Why use such wasteful destruction when a fine eye for detail will suss the computer's password, or the painting's secret?"

The teacher sighed before replying "because sometimes art is dangerous, and sometime you need to smash a computer. Assuming you already have all the tools to solve every problem in your future will do you no good."

Artemis snorted but did not offer a reply.

"Right. Do we have any questions that are not 'why do I have to take this stupid class?'"

The room was silent and coated in thin, viscous death.

"Great, I'm going to be passing out your packets, these will contain some practice quizzes and any of the reading for this semester. You'll get another packet in the winter and spring."

The teacher laid a thick stack of stapled papers on Danny's desk, then paused. Danny looked up in terror into their slightly excited face, as the hand on his desk pushed the packet out of the way and pulled out Danny's paper.

They nodded appropriately at the contents of the paper, then held it up for the class.

"See this?" they said, pointing to the drawing of themself being hit by lightning and flatulence, "even something like this indicates to me that you are invested, that you're paying attention and that you're thinking about what I'm saying."

"Is that a demon cat?" someone blurted out.

And that was all it took, the bottom fell out of Danny's stomach and he hurled.

[jemmo]

that final scene in this ep of utsukushii kare. it feels like someone just ripped out my gut, slashed it open and trampled over the bloody remains. i want to sob. I want to out loud, fat tears, shaking my body sob. but all im stuck on is hira’s brokenly confused face, kiyoi on top of him grabbing onto his clothes and crying, an absolute tornado of emotion the likes of which he’s never shown, all to hira, all because of hira, and yet hira sits there and it’s like the storm covers him but he’s inside this impenetrable building and not a single drop of rain hits him. he knows it’s raining, he can hear it battering down on the roof, but it’s just rain. he doesn’t understand the full extent, doesn’t know the wind is ripping down trees and lightening is cracking the sky in two. and because he’s inside, he doesn’t need to know, doesn’t care to know, doesn’t want to know. hira will happily stay inside, in his bubble, in his constructed world, and he will be alone, and he will suffer, but that’s alright bc he’s not out there.

it’s like he’s gotten used to the internalized problems he faces, and they stick with him, almost a comfort to him now, in that he’ll see them when they’re not there. the external things that make him worried and anxious now, they’re less so, but hira still is that high school kid, getting picked on for his stutter, that faded into the background. he’s stuck there, and he’s never grown past it, and there’s almost a security in not growing, not changing, even if the thing you’re stuck as is worry and anxiety and invisibility and self doubt and constant internal doubt and criticism and lack of confidence. at least he’s used to it. at least there isn’t anything new to challenge him. and it shows, bc whenever he is challenged, in the sense that something that doesn’t fit he’s established world and role happens, he puts himself down and apologizes, like it’s a practiced, default reaction. that’s how he got through before, it’s how he learned to get through. but now, in the place he finds himself, in the situation and relationship he’s in, this is not a place for that reaction. the people he’s around, kiyoi, he doesn’t need hira to put himself down. he doesn’t need apologies. he wants understanding. and hira just resolutely refused that, said that he not only doesn’t understand hira, but that he doesn’t want to, and he’s not going to attempt to. and I don’t think he could have said anything more heartbreaking to kiyoi. all he has ever wanted was for someone to see him and understand him and love him for it. hira gives him love, unendingly and uncritically. he’s love is irrespective of anything kiyoi does or says or feels. it’s love of an idea, of a theory, of a concept in a pretty shell. it’s not love of the human inside, it can’t be, bc he just said he doesn’t want to understand that person, and without that there can’t be love. you can’t love something you can’t see or comprehend, that there’s a person kiyoi that isn’t the god kiyoi there is in his universe.

and the thing is, I think hira could’ve understood kiyoi, back when he saw a side of kiyoi that no one else did and still showed him love. I think down the line he could’ve gotten to know that person more and liked him, but the thing is, it’s different bc of kiyoi’s feelings. bc kiyoi’s feelings contradict so much what hira believes about himself that he can’t understand him. it’s easier to not know kiyoi that way and stick to his established universe, rather than understand kiyoi fully, bc in that he has to reevaluate everything, about himself and his place in the world and kiyoi’s place too. that is not an easy task. and it’s not that hira wouldn’t, I don’t think. I think there is a feasible future where hira recognizes that choice he can make and chooses kiyoi, chooses to challenge himself out of love for kiyoi and a want to understand him, and maybe even a want to understand and love himself. but bc he doesn’t recognize that as a choice he can make, he can’t do it. and I think that’s what hira needs to face, which I think is more than kiyoi and his feelings and care for hira can manage to accomplish. hira’s mental dissonance is gonna be a work in progress, it’s just a matter or him realizing it and getting to a point of actually working on it. the only thing is, in the meantime, can kiyoi be patient with hira, and the hurt he makes him feel? should he? bc when hira outright refuses to understand, when it feels that rigid and definite, when there’s no feasible future where he will understand, what’s the point? that’s the heartbreak. that hira is constantly worrying about forever, but he just denied a forever with kiyoi. and the problem is him, just not for the reasons he thinks he is. he needs to realize there is no forever with kiyoi the god, bc gods don’t last forever, they’re ephemeral, they’re fleeting. there can be a forever with kiyoi though, the man, the person, the human being, he just needs to step outside, into the storm, and let it soak him. bc when he gets to stand with kiyoi in the rain, he’ll see it’s worth it.

[possessionisamyth]

The status of Chris and Claire's parents are "presumed dead unless stated otherwise", so this is going to be thoughts where I try to build something out of extremely little information and basic life knowledge. Fun way to say this is all complete speculation and rambling.

I don't think Claire would willingly drop going to university to raise Sherry. I think she'd do it because she'd feel like she'd have to not because she wanted to. I also think Leon promising to take care of Sherry so Claire can leave to find her brother was to remove that genuine concern from her shoulders. The age difference isn't big, but Leon is slightly more adult than Claire. He's already finished his education as far as he wanted it to go, hence the whole being a cop thing. He already had an apartment in RC he was going to be in, so he has some kind of credit history. He can legally do things at 21 that Claire can't at 19 in the US. Plus, he probably knows a lot about the law. He could probably figure something out so Sherry gets the proper care once they made it somewhere safe.

Claire, on the other hand, was a fresher adult. She's barely gotten to experience independence before Raccoon City, and her duty to her family is one she's not going to toss away.

I don't know if the Redfields were a military family, but the other reason a lot of people join the military is because they need the money and benefits. Chris joined the air force as young as he was able to. If Chris has been supporting Claire for most of their lives, it's very likely Claire worked super hard to get into college. She's also probably worked twice as hard earning scholarships to help pay for the experience and take as much financial weight off Chris' shoulders as possible. If she was super lucky, she did something that got her a full ride scholarship.

Were she going somewhere mega ultra cheap for her schooling, she would've been living with Chris while she attended a community college in Raccoon City. In the US, going out of city or out of state to attend college can get expensive fast, and you have to live in a dormitory of some kind if you're not lucky to stumble upon cheap housing with/without roommates. She's definitely risked losing most if not all scholarship support she might've received while looking for her brother. She was gone for an entire semester. Some programs have files you can send for emergency situations, so I could see her brother helping her out with serious but feasible excuses to keep her money, but those are still weighed by people who may or may not deem those reasons as acceptable.

I know Sherry is very important to Claire, but I think both Leon and Chris would act as the voice in Claire's ear saying she needs to set herself up better if she wants that responsibility. Chris would be speaking from experience as someone who took care of Claire. Leon would be speaking from the concerned perspective of a friend. It would definitely come off as a "Let the adults take care of it" interpretation at first, but the logic would bleed in next. She saw how much Chris struggled. Leon already has a career in mind he can walk into, even if it's shitty. A degree would get her a better job, which equals more money, which equals less struggling.

The circumstances in which she acquired Sherry weren't ideal or even in the radar of imagination, but she knows she's not in a position to keep her. Not at 19. If Claire dropped everything, what kind of job could she get that could support them? Would an apartment even sign her? What about balancing work with Sherry going to school? What about balancing school and work with Sherry's schooling? What if Annette was right and Sherry wasn't completely healed? What if something happened to her later like it did with Steve? What does putting Leon there add? Another check but with higher bills and another mouth to feed? Who knows!

There's also a lot of angles to play with if Claire does raise Sherry. Does she lose all those scholarships and drop the degree goal to avoid paying out of pocket? Does the government learn about her experience in both RC and Rockfort and decide to leverage her in exchange for paying for everything? Does Leon catch sight of her at his training facility and become devastated knowing the same thing happened to her? Does she lie to Chris about being able to keep those scholarships while working for the government?

Or does she get off scott-free and STILL loses those scholarships to end up working somewhere she can network? Does she still end up at TerraSave due to those connections? How is she minding Sherry now that she has to travel out state or out of country somewhat often? Is she taking her with her and thus making Sherry miss school, or is Sherry staying with a friend or a babysitter? How does this affect Sherry's development? What happens the first time Sherry gets a serious injury only for them both to watch it heal on the way to the hospital? What does Claire do? Where can she take Sherry? Do they walk out of the ambulance like nothing happened?

Or does she never end up at TerraSave or with the government and ends up in a mirror position of where she was when she was a kid? Is she alone raising Sherry with just enough money to pay bills and put food on the table with nothing else? Does she stretch this for as long as she can until Chris finds out? When Chris finds out, does he immediately roll her into the BSAA? How does she adjust? How does Sherry adjust? Do they move out of country?

What about if she keeps all her scholarships? How does she get the apartment? What role does Leon play with financial support since his job was holding Sherry over his head? Is he ever there? How does Claire's schedule clash with Sherry's schedule when she can't delay taking a required class for her degree anymore due to the timing? How late is Sherry stuck at school until Claire finishes the lesson and breaks the speed limit to pick Sherry up? How late is Sherry getting to school if she doesn't take the bus? Is Sherry bullied for it? Who's name is the apartment in? Chris' or Leon's? One of theirs hopefully so that if Claire misses a payment, she's not left in the red.

There's just so much here! There's so much to think about and play with other than, Claire and Leon and Sherry moved in together and everything was fine! What effect does this have on Claire! What happened to her! How does she handle this when she's never been a caretaker before no less a mother! Let's go people!!!!!!!

[batbeato]

How unbiased do you think the Battler we see in Umineko is?

We know that pieces can not act out of character compared to the person they come from. So, however they are written, it must be some action that is feasible for them to make.

Specifically though, I’m wondering how - based on who is writing the person - how exaggerated/how much emphasis a certain part of their character gets.

Best way I can describe it is “In-Character” and “Bias” being separate aspects?

I’m looking at three ‘layers’ of Battler, I guess?

We have ‘Piece’ Battler in the Question Arcs, specifically in Legend and Turn, who was written by Sayo/Beatrice.

We then have ‘Piece’ Battler in the rest of the episodes, written by Tohya (?).

We have Meta Battler (and I’m actually unsure in Meta is actually included in the forgeries, or if the forgeries are specifically the gameboards/influences on the gameboard alone).

From what I understand the first two game boards that Battler plays with Beatrice are the message bottles Sayo cast into the ocean, or they are derived from those tales.

Therefore the ‘piece’ that Battler uses in either game (or, really, just Turn, because I’m unsure of when Ep1’s tea party is compared to the rest of Legend).

Sayo last saw Battler six years ago, when he was twelve. Furthermore, she only saw him once a year, most likely (if she was always on rotation during the family conferences?).

In writing the message bottles/gameboards, she’d be working off the memories of Battler from six years ago, and more, from one or two days out of the whole year.

In the Meta, she’d also likely be working off the memories of Battler from the day of the actual family conference in 1986, on top of general events that would have happened (middle school, high school, puberty, etc, which is why he’s so vague about the six years away in Legend, I think?).

So, the day of October 4th from 10:00(?) onwards, to the entirety of October 5th up to midnight on the 6th, (and I’m unsure of how much either Shannon or Kanon interacted with him in reality?), and an unknown amount of time in the early morning on the 6th as it was sunny when she and Battler got into the boat and left the secret harbor.

(and it’s really fucked up to think they were on the island the whole day with everyone else’s bodies laying around, in the guesthouse or mansion or in the rain, since the massacre kickstarted somewhere after midnight, and Sayo regained consciousness around an hour and twenty later, maybe less).

So, Piece Battler’s line of thoughts and actions, though ‘in-character’ to how Battler would actually behave in some situations, is influenced by Sayo’s memories of twelve-year old Battler? Even when (Meta) Battler instructs his piece to move, it’s influenced by that bias?

If the rest of the gameboards were written up by Tohya, then Battler’s “piece” would be maybe less biased than Sayo’s, considering Tohya might have a better grasp on what went on in Battler’s life day in and out after leaving the family?

but it would also be…influenced by his fear of Battler’s killing him, and his lack of memory about the incident itself, plus his guilt in regards to Sayo (and maybe even Ikuko’s own bias, because I think you mentioned once that we don’t know how much Tohya wrote himself, vs Ikuko, because they were joint writers for the forgeries?).

The concept of Meta and The Golden Land itself spins my head, so I’m not even sure what category Meta Battler would be placed into.

If he’s literally Battler’s soul, the part of him that is separate from Tohya, then as the ‘real’ Battler - not just a piece - he would have aspects of both the biased pieces -

Unless Meta is literally part of the forgeries? Example being Erika? Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense.

Sorry it took me a bit to get to this ask!

I think it's complicated, and it... really depends on someone's interpretation of the intersection between reality and fantasy. For example, subscribing completely to reality, of course Battler, in every iteration/appearance, is written in a biased way. Sayo hadn't seen him for six years, and then Tohya is completely dissociated from Battler and is terrified of becoming him, so he would naturally have incredible bias in writing him.

And then, delving more into fantasy, we have to determine whether the fantasy sections are also present in the bottles/forgeries, and if the written works have any impact on fantasy at all. For me, I vacillate between the idea that the fantasy sections are completely present, and the idea that while they are not present in full, they are there in the written works in some way, or else deeply influenced by the written works/authors.

As you mentioned, we also have to decide whether Meta-Battler is Battler's "soul" or not, though this is really just part of a general thing in Umineko, which is whether or not we accept the pieces/characters on Rokkenjima as the people themselves, or as pieces/fictional constructs that resemble those people. We have this same problem of bias with everyone, really - can we trust Sayo to write Rosa without bias, given Rosa's abuse of Maria? Can we trust Tohya to write Eva without bias, given Eva's abuse of Ange?

For me, I think the answer is that there is bias in how Sayo and Tohya write Battler - there's a clear shift in how he behaves and speaks starting in Episode 3, so for me it seems certain that the shift in writer had some impact on Battler's portrayal. However, that bias does not mean that Battler is out of character, or incorrect. Everyone has different aspects of themselves that present more at certain times. A coworker relating a story from work would portray a very different person than a romantic partner relating a story from domestic life, for example. So for me that bias is more like that: a different lens, but not a wholly inaccurate one. I think it must still be in-line with the real Battler, whether it's Sayo or Tohya (or Ikuko?) writing, because we have the author-given guarantee that pieces cannot act out of character.

The Battler we see in Umineko might not be the entire picture of who Battler was as a person, but he was still undeniably Ushiromiya Battler, in my opinion.

[hogmilked]

bought like actual skincare products for the first time in years and have some notes.

the whole anti-aging cosmetic industry is really hard to avoid. i was getting stuff at a marshall’s (discount store, carries a lot of overstock from brands) to save money and it took me almost an hour to find a handful of products that weren’t advertising “anti-aging” and “youthfulness” when i just wanted a cleanser, toner, and sunscreen to help with both peeling skin and greasiness

no seriously. i found ONE facial sunscreen that didn’t have retinol or hyaluronic acid or collagen or any of that stuff in it. it was tucked away in the men’s section with beard oil and cologne because apparently facial sunscreen with no added bullshit is only for men, and women (this is borderline a fast fashion store it’s highly gendered) can only protect themselves from skin cancer if it also makes sure they never develop a smile line

so many of those serums and creams and shit are bullshit anyway. hell a lot of people can just do a wash and sunscreen and be all set. at most a basic cleanser, basic moisturizer, and sunscreen are the absolute most you need. i threw in an exfoliating toner to help even out a couple gnarly acne scars and help with how flaky my skin gets sometimes. if your skin needs more than that, you really should probably just go to a dermatologist or look for actual dermatologist’s advice instead of dumping a bunch of random oils and serums and creams n shit you saw on tiktok or instagram on your skin and hoping the benefits listed on the box will be true for you

IN MOST CASES no amount of skincare products can make up for lifestyle change. i decided to put a little more work in because the lifestyle changes i need to make to help be less oily (i literally get so greasy it makes my eyes burn) and flaky aren’t currently feasible, so i’m trying to give my skin a bit of a boost, but literally the best my skin has ever felt was when i was just drinking a shit ton of water and eating super well

other people’s skincare will rarely work the same on anyone else. everyone’s skin needs are different. when i was in high school i had a gnarly abrasion/chemical burn under my eye because i had tried a routine i saw online that was way too rough and overbearing for me. again, you 100% don’t need a 30 step routine

that being said, i used a $4 korean cleanser, a $6 glycolic acid toner (exfoliant), 100% pure african shea butter, and some sunscreen formulated for use on the face. my skin feels great. my acne doesn’t itch as much. the toner was the most expensive part. the beauty industry is a scam

[stargazer-dreamer]

Erratum Discussions

character: spike spiegel

reader: gender neutral

content warnings: implied/referenced self-harm. intrusive thoughts. inability to move on (from past relationships)

notes: also on ao3. 1k+ word count. “spike centric” in a way that’s more about spike and less about the reader

Page after page, it’s hard to move on. It’s hard to find out who you are, and what you are, and why you are, and where you are, and—

Spike tries. He tries so hard. Page after page.

---

He likes to read, occasionally. It’s no good to train only the body, after all.

Not every bookstore was the same—big or small, cluttered or pristine—but there was something about that particular one, the one that sold them used, located down in the asteroid belt, that he found himself traveling to more often than not, when he found the need for something new.

If he were an honest man, he would wager that it would be more accurate to say that his visitations were for a particular person and not the selection in which they sold. Paperbacks, worn and pre-thumbed, with the corners bent, and notes scribbled in the margins—he had no part in any of that. No; while it was true that Spike enjoyed a good book here and there, he could not possibly work through the text at the rate he was buying them.

He is not an honest man. He would walk in, nonchalant, and browse the selection. After a while, scanning the shelves, he would end up near you; he’d strike up a harmless conversation—“Have you read this one?” “Does this sound interesting to you?” And, well, he couldn’t just leave empty-handed, right? His nightstand became cluttered, and the coffee table grew unusable. The bridge, the workshop, the glove compartment in Swordfish. He bought a bookshelf.

“I get good recommendations when I go there,” he argued, trying to be nonchalant about it when Jet had figured it out.

They were a poor choice of words, Spike realized, when his partner said: “Sure,” with an amused smile playing along his lips; humor and warmth dripping thick in his voice. “Book recommendations. I understand, Spike—that’s your business.”

“No, really,” he suddenly felt like a school-child; the overwhelming urge to defend himself, violently. And it would be a while longer yet for him to fully understand exactly why he was feeling this way, but—“Books. I go there for books, Jet. Books. Why else would I go to a bookstore?”

“Yes, I get it,” Jet still looked at him in a way that pissed him off. “Books.”

Despite the teasing remarks, Spike held firm in his stance. He even believed it himself, for a time. There could not possibly be any other feasible explanation as to why he kept coming back to this specific location, on this small of a settlement, so far out and away from their usual haunts, than the particular selection they held.

Not so soon after his previous relationship. Not when his heart still beated for her. Not when she still appeared in his sweetest dreams. No, this could not be that, especially when he did not know you and you did not know him. Strangers—less than so. You only spoke to him pleasantly because it was your job, and it was his own disillusioned mind that saw it as anything more.

So, he stopped going. He worked through a stack or two of paperbacks, crumpled and tattered. Life resumed as usual.

But he missed chatting with you. After your attention was on him, he would ease the conversation out of the confines of the small store—“Life treating you well?” “You ever worked out your situation?” And the two of you would talk; minutes, sometimes up to an hour, the clock ticking away until the old manager would come out from the backroom and tell you to get back to work. 

There wasn’t much work to do, you had told him, after the manager would hobble back out—probably off to go play solitaire on his outdated computer—and it would be just the two of you, once more. Update the database, tidy up the shop. Foot traffic was slow, most days. You would rather be talking to him, you had said, once, offhand.

Perhaps you were simply indulging him. Maybe he was too friendly. All the more reason to stay away. He didn’t want to appear as a creep. He didn’t want to appear desperate.

Not after her. Not after he couldn’t stay away.

Jet seemed to pick up on the lack of asteroid belt-related trips. Before, Spike would find a multitude of excuses to go. Now, he came up with reasons to avoid it entirely.

“There’s nothing there,” he would say, deliberately avoiding his partner’s eyes. “Not even any good bars—hey, why don’t we hit some bounties? We could use the extra money.”

But that pocket change used to go towards his collection of books. After amenities and necessities, he would spare some for the trip he would inevitably take; paperbacks in the back of his mind and you at the forefront. Always.

It slowly dawned on him that he didn’t have many hobbies, outside of that. He would drink, he would smoke, go out and play pool. He didn’t know if he even liked reading, if he were being completely honest. It was just something that he’d always done, after they taught him how. Something that they said he was good at. A good hobby. Enriching. Enlightening.

She had even appraised his collection, that first night she came over. Spike wondered—if he went back, would that apartment be empty? Those shelves he had spent years filling; text after text, ripped to shreds, left to cover a landfill—or did they preserve it? Collecting dust and bad memories, waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

Waiting for what?

He looked at his room aboard Bebop and found it mostly empty; his closet, his bed. Not much had changed, except the fact that everything had changed. He looked at his bookcase. He wondered if you would praise it, just like she did. Or would you look at it with disgust? Would you scan the titles and recognize every letter—every stain and scuff—and tell him he was a freak? To stay away from you. To never speak to you again.

Spike closed his eyes and stared into the abyss. He came out on the other side and saw only himself. Like looking at a mirror. He wanted to shatter it; to throw it against the wall and watch the splinters crack his reflection—he wanted to grab the shards and watch him tear himself to shreds. Hundreds, thousands of pieces, so broken and battered that no one could ever dream of repairing it ever again. To see his hands wet with it, to hold it tighter, to stop waiting around and finally finish the job himself.

Kicking, and screaming, and dry-heaving, Spike wanted. He wanted—

He didn’t know what he wanted. Perhaps he never did, at all. A man, with his two own eyes, sitting there on the piano bench; sitting, and reading, and waiting, and wanting, and singing—grab a glass because there’s going to be a flood!

Spike knew one thing for sure: he was always good at reading. So, he read. He worked through a stack. Then another. Life resumed like normal. Bullets, and blood, and books, and blue.

He thought of her. He thought of taking her home, to his apartment too big for him, and her looking at his shelves, all in a neat little line, backs against the walls, in every room. With bated breath, he would watch her. He imagined her eyes, wide with disgust and blue, and she’d turn to him and say, “Freak. You’re such a freak.” And that would be that. Finally.

He thought of you. He thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he—

And he wanted.

No, Spike is not an honest man. He never has been. But he likes to read, occasionally. It’s no good to train only the body, after all.

[blushcoloreddreams]

Good tidings! I'd like to ask about how you maintain time for prayer/worship while being a med student and likely very busy--it's so impressive you're doing everything at once and I've love some advice if you're willing! Thank you~ ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Hi! Thanks you so much for the kind words! I’d like to start this by saying that my routine is far from perfect, it’s not every day that I can accomplish everything I planned on and I have my bad days as well. Remember that what you see on the internet is only the portion of people’s lives they choose to share so please don’t compare yourself but here’s a list of things that help:

1. Consistency over perfection

In the modern world we have a lot going on, and sometimes we are not going to be able to do everything and that’s ok! I know that sometimes we see Christian influencers going to church multiple times a week, doing over and hour long bible studies and having this elaborate prayer routine and even if that is truly beautiful it’s not achievable for all of us. A little heartfelt prayer before bed or just an “Our Father” when you wake up is better than nothing at all. Also don’t let these days that you can’t do it feel like you are less worthy of God’s love or that you should just stray away from religion because you were not able to dedicate as much time as you wanted to. To quote St. Thérèse of Lisieux

Remember that nothing is small in the eyes of God. Do all that you do with love

2. Have a routine

Routines are the best way to build habits, open a space in your routine to pray. As stated before it doesn’t need to be something huge, as a kid I’d start my mornings with the triad of « Our Father », « Hail Mary » and the Guardian Angel’s prayer followed by a more personal prayer with the things I was thankful for and my intentions/ wishes for the day, and when I grew up I also added the Apostles creed. Its not as long as it seems and it’s enough to set the day. I like to do it in an morning because it’s a moment i have for myself without the rush of studying and my routine has started. Take your holy day seriously, if you are Catholic really go to church on Sundays, if you are Protestant it might be Saturdays, but this weekly moments with God will make a difference. When you have extra time longer prayers like praying the rosary and taking some time reading the Bible is great. You can find a lot of yearly bible reads planners, dividing it in 365 chunks makes it feel way more feasible than trying to speed run it, and already moving to the next top if you compromise to do it with someone it will also be easier and more fun.

3. Have Christian friends

One of the things that really helps me is one of my best friends, she’s not only very knowledgeable about theology but she introduced me to a other young people and also from other ages that shared the same faith as me. It’s great to have someone you can be with in your religious journey. I love going to mass, praying the rosary and doing bible studies with them or even just sharing silly Catholic memes, books (Catholic or not) and experiences. Having people around you that you can talk about more spiritual things and be with you when you are drifting away is one of the things that will really lighten that path for you. It in your personal life (school, work etc etc) you don’t have a lot of friends like that church groups are a way you can meet new people like you