#honestly doing all this stuff was fine the first couple months but i feel so burnt out now LOL

[kaoharu]

im not built for living bro

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[reilemon]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊Cool Off₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

♡︎ pairing: Zayne x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: unprotected sex (oops), office sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, I think that's it?

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ synopsis: what to do when you "accidentally" flash your doctor?

♡︎ a/n: I haven't written smut in like three years. So if you think my writing is cringe, just keep scrolling idk.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎ @its-de ♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

You finally have a day off and you want to use this free time to run errands. However, it's also a hot summer day and you need to dress accordingly. After cleaning your apartment and stocking up your fridge, you have -

meet up with your friend

shop for some new summer clothes and bed sheets

doctor’s appointment

You'd just skip the last one because you feel fine, even during the hot weather.

But you know damn well Dr Zayne will not be pleased with you if you do that. And he's not only your doctor now (and a childhood friend), but an actual friend who you spend most of your free time with. Circumstances of him being your assigned physician, some other stuff that happened in the last few months, brought you so much closer that you couldn't help but develop a huge crush on him. And how could you not when he's so kind, warm, attentive, always makes time for you, funny in his own way... you could spend the whole day thinking of all the stuff that makes you want to be more than friends.

Actually, you might be more than just friends. Lately, you’ve been going on a lot of “dates”; visiting festivals, trying new restaurants but also frequenting your favorite ones, dragging him to the arcade… he’s started insisting on being the one to drop you off at home after a night out. Just a couple of weeks ago when you were sick, he came to your place and took care of you. Both of you ended up falling asleep on your bed watching your comfort movie – actually, he wanted to read his book but ended up invested in the plot and eventually fell asleep before you, tired from his shift and nursing you back to health. You had enough strength to get up to pull out a freshly washed blanket from the closet and cover him. You lied back down, finding comfort in watching Zayne’s peaceful sleeping face. That’s how you fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself waking up on Zayne’s chest, your form enveloping his. He was gently stroking your back, waiting for you to open your eyes. You don’t know whether you were the one that latched onto him during the night, or if he’s the one that pulled you in; nonetheless, it felt surreal to wake up like this. You looked up into his beautiful hazel green eyes, and you just shared a moment of pure intimacy. Then you got self-conscious of him having a close up of your morning face, which made you immediately jump from the bed and sprint to the bathroom. So, he did manage to nurse you back to health in one day.

You really wish he made the first move already. With all the stolen glances, lingering touches, cuddling, you genuinely think he feels the same way. But you are also his patient, so maybe he feels uncomfortable starting anything, like he’s crossing a boundary and abusing his position as your physician? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Or maybe you’re just delusional and ovulating.

Okay, back to the present. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity to see your crush (this is more than just a crush, honestly) and you add one more task to the list

get some dessert for Zayne

And you want to look cute for him, so you opt for your new backless summer dress.

☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊

“Thank fuck, I look okay.” You murmur as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom of Zayne's office.

It's just before 8pm, your scheduled checkup. Both of you were too busy to hang out for more than a week, and you can’t wait to see him. You took this opportunity to leave the heavy shopping bags on the sofa, the bag with dessert on his desk, and quickly freshen up in the bathroom. It was so hot today, still is, but thanks to the dress you didn't sweat that much.

You exit the bathroom the same time he enters the office. You catch how his usually stern gaze behind his glasses softens at the sight of you.

“Hey!” You don’t waste any time and shorten the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a peck on the cheek.

Zayne’s hands stiffly hover over your waist, stunned by the enthusiastic greeting. You always have a big smile on your face when you see him, but you’re only this forward when you have some alcohol in your system. He doesn’t smell it on your breath now though.

“Did you miss me that much, or are you trying to coax me to skip the check up?”

You pull away with a pout and a blush on your cheeks. Feeling a little embarrassed, you go and sit on a chair across his desk, steering the conversation towards the dessert you brought him.

With an entertained smirk, he sat on his chair and indulged in just chatting with you, and making plans for the evening. He feels at ease now that you’re here.

Zayne cuts the conversation short to take care of some paperwork, so you entertain yourself with your phone, checking what cafes are open. You sit there in silence, not wanting to disturb him. The room is air-conditioned and you would think you'd start to cool down, but it's impossible to do so when your crush is right across you. You try to focus on your phone but your eyes keep darting between the screen and Zayne’s handsome focused features…his hand holding the pen… his long fingers...

“You need to ask me something?” Zayne peers over his glasses.

Busted!

For like a hundredth time.

You fidget in your seat. “Um, no. I don’t wanna disturb you.”

He closes a file and puts papers aside. “I’m done. Go ahead.”

You make up how you wanted to ask him if he wanted to visit the café on your screen, only to for him to point out it’s closed when you show it to him. Not smooth at all.

You nervously scratch your back, and that when it hits you. You didn't wear a bra today!

In your defense, of course you're not going to wear a bra with the backless dress and when it's so hot outside, and it would be okay if this was just a hangout, but the main reason why you're here is because of the check up! Well, now you're getting even more flustered and you can feel nervous sweat forming everywhere. Great.

Zayne's voice fades into focus.

"Is everything okay?"

“Yeah, let’s just go find a cafe that’s nearby!” You prop yourself to sit up and make a run for it, but the seriousness in Zayne’s tone stops you.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You wave your hand “I feel great, you don't need to -"

"That's good to hear." He humors you, setting the stethoscope around his neck, eyes not leaving yours.

You engage in a short staring contest, but you never win those with him. You hold back the bratty whine as you get up and walk towards the chair. Should you address this? What would be more awkward – saying that you don’t have a bra on or just slipping off the top of the dress, flashing him? But Zayne is a professional; he probably saw plenty of breasts from other patients and didn’t bat an eye. And maybe he even noticed that you’re braless.

You sit on the chair next to him and Zayne gives you an amused look. “Good girl.”

It was like a reflex - the moment you heard those words, your hands slipped off the top of your dress. Zayne pauses, his eyes locked at the sight before him. Oh shit, did you manage to make the situation awkward after all? Just when you wanted to open your mouth to say anything, he blinks and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to do. You suck in a breath when the icy cold stethoscope touches your chest spreading goosebumps across your skin, making your nipples hard. Zayne's eyes are focused somewhere to the side, but you can see light redness peppered on his cheeks. The two of you sit there in silence while he checks your heartbeat. You try to compose yourself, take slow breaths, but your heart is giving you away.

When he’s done, he takes off the instrument and places it on the table. He clears his throat “Nothing irregular, your heartbeat is a little faster, but the heat is probably to blame.”

Right, the heat.

You hope that the redness, still on his face, and his ears, is not from the sun.

Again, you have two choices – do you pull the top up and act like nothing happened, continue the same ‘will they, won’t they’ routine – or do you want to do something about this, take the first step and find out once and for all if this infatuation is one sided?

You take his hand, making him look at you, ‘Well, can you help me cool down, Doctor?’

Zayne eyes widen slightly, switching between your hand and your gaze, only guessing where you’re going with this.

You gently place his cold hand just above your left breast ‘Is this okay?’ you whisper.

Zayne’s irises are almost black from how dilated his pupils are. As he gazes into your doe eyes, the hand resting on your chest travels up across your skin and lands on the side of your neck. He takes off his glasses, leans towards you, his lips a breath away from yours, “You’re walking on thin ice, darling.”

He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. Zayne is kissing you like a man starved, like he's been waiting for this for so long, afraid that this moment will slip away all too quickly. His other hand wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your chests together, feeling each other’s heartbeats. You moan into the kiss, surprised by the intensity of it and the desperation of his embrace. His lips are so soft and tender, just like you imagined too many times. The hand on your waist travels up to grab your breast, the sensation of his big cold hand on your heated skin making you gasp against his lips. He seizes the moment to lick your bottom lip, then slipping his tongue, yours quickly meeting it.

Suddenly, both of his hands land on your shoulders pulling away.

He utters ‘fuck’ (this might be the first time hearing him say the f word, and you’re embarrassed how excited it made you.) He holds your chin with thumb and index finger, ‘Do you wish to continue?’

You utter ‘yes’ and grab him by the black necktie locking your lips again. His hands find the top of your thighs, then sneaking their way down to bunch up your dress over your knees.

“Hold onto me.” He murmurs between kisses, and you oblige, catching onto his shoulders. Zayne grabs you by the back of your soft thighs, lifting you from the chair and placing you on his desk, so effortlessly and swiftly, like you weigh nothing.

Your fingers comb through his soft, thick hair, relishing in the fact of being able to touch it like this. His hands cup your face, distancing his lips from yours. You expectantly look up to see his tender, yearning gaze. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he kisses you again, this time softly, slowly deepening it, stealing your breath away. His soft lips move to kiss and nip at the side of your neck, his hands giving attention to your breasts again. He caresses both of them, and it doesn’t take long for one of his hands to be replaced by his lips. His hot tongue teases around the nipple. But when he starts sucking on it, while simultaneously playing with the other one with his fingers, a loud moan escapes your lips.

Zayne’s smirks against the sensitive nipple, “You need to stay quiet, darling.”

You were so dazed with lust that you completely forgot that there could be people outside his office. You bite your bottom lip and nod.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, one hand bunching up your dress more and resting on your hip, while the one on your nipple sneaks its way down, teasing the band of your underwear. You feel his fingers slide down, rubbing you over your soaked panties, making you move your hips, craving more friction.

“Fuck.” He breathes against your ear, “You’re already so wet for me.”

The fingers travel towards the band of your underwear and tug on it, and you lift your hips to let him slide it down your legs. Then he stashes your panties into the pocket of his pants.

He catches you by surprise when he kneels down in front of your cunt, your legs closing on reflex, but Zayne grabs your thighs before they could squish his head.

He gently strokes them, "Let me see you."

You’re hesitant about it, but you remember that you took extra steps when you freshened up in the bathroom. Slowly, you spread your legs, lifting your feet to rest on the edge of the desk. Cool air against your soaked pussy sends shivers all over your body.

His hands rest on the plush of your inner thighs. His eyes are mesmerized by the sight in front of him. You almost feel self-conscious by the close-up he’s getting.

"Zayne –" You squirm under his stare.

Snapping out of his daze, he meets your eyes "I’m sorry. You’re just so much more beautiful than I imagined."

Than he imagined? The statement makes your cheeks even deeper red, your pussy more wet and impatient.

Feeling impatient himself, Zayne starts by placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh. The hand on the opposite side follows the same trail, his slender fingers stopping to tease your wet folds, the contact making you gasp and involuntarily clench your thighs.

"Relax, angel." His breath fans over your pussy, not making it easier but you try anyway.

The digits slowly glide over the wetness, bathing in your juices. Your hips flinch as his fingertips lightly circle your clit, thighs trembling as digits are replaced with his hot tongue. It glides flat over your folds, stopping to circle the sensitive nub. The tip of the tongue flicks over it, circles it, again and again, your cunt dripping with both his saliva and your arousal. His middle finger slides in, ring finger shortly after, curling to reach and rub that delicate spot inside you; he sucks and licks your clit while finger fucking you, and your thighs are now shaking, toes curling, as intense waves of pleasure course through your body.

Your hold onto Zayne’s hair, and roll your hips in the same rhythm of his fingers, chasing your release, "Zayne… I’m gonna–"

He locks eyes with you and continues what he’s doing; you come shortly after, covering your mouth with your hand.

Zayne helps you come down from your high, places soft pecks on your thighs again and stands up, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Your hands frantically find his belt and start unbuckling it.

Zayne breaks the kiss, ‘I don’t have any condoms here.’

You shrug ‘Just pull out.’

‘That’s not very respo – ‘

‘Well, you’re a doctor; you can prescribe me some plan b pills.’ you innocently flutter your lashes.

He chuckles and starts taking off his tie and shirt, and you take a moment to gaze at the strong, chiseled muscles of his torso, his arms and those shoulders. Zayne, amused at your dazed and shameless ogling of his  shirtless physique, reaches down to unzip his pants, taking them and underwear off in the same go, his hard cock smacking against his shaved pelvis. You suck in a breath when your eyes land on it. He's long and thick, curved just right, tip glistening with so much precum. You hand wraps around it, stroking and feeling the pulsing veins under your touch.

Zayne’s breath hitches ‘Are you sure – fuck…’ He groans when you press his length against your slippery folds, teasingly moving your hips.

‘Yes… I need you.’

With those magic words, Zayne swipes all the papers off the table, grabs you behind the knees and lifts your legs further, and you lean back to rest on your elbows.

His dick strokes your slit, tip teasing the entrance, but you're so impatient.

'Zaynee-' you whine.

He closes his eyes, jaw clenched. Even though your ‘friend’ is the embodiment of calm and collected, right now he’s barely holding onto his composure. His flushed cheeks and red ears, ragged breathing are exposing how badly he wanted, needed, this and how he’s trying so hard not to cum right here before even slipping the tip in.

But he doesn’t want to wait any longer; with your needy whines spurring him on, he places his red cockhead against you, your drenched pussy making it easy to slide it in.

His leg muscles tremble, trying to restrain himself from bottoming out the same second; with shallow thrusts, he slowly slides it all the way in. He towers over you, one hand resting on the desk, the other cupping your face. His hips roll at languid pace, his hooded eyes never leaving your face, watching you adjust to his size.

As you get comfortable, you grab him by back of his neck “Faster, please…” You breathe. He leans down, locking your lips into a sloppy kiss.

He slowly picks up the pace, his hand starts playing with your nipples again, and now it's really hard keep your voice down. You keep breaking the kiss in desperate need to catch your breath, but moans escape your lips as well. Zayne grabs your upper arms and pushes you down further. His muscular torso pressed against yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit.

“Zayne - I'm close”

“Try to stay quiet, angel.” he grunts, his eyes locked on your face, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He angles himself so his hand can reach down and rub your clit, and it’s too much for you - you cum a few seconds later and Zayne has to slip two fingers of his other hand into your mouth to keep you from screaming. You still whimper and moan over his fingers. He slows down to help you ride out the orgasm, and pulls out the fingers to kiss your lips.

'Is it okay to pick up the pace now? I'm so close.'

You only nod, unable to form any words. He plants a kiss on your temple and moves onto kissing and sucking your neck. Then he goes back to just looking at your face while he picks up the pace, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him even deeper. You bite your bottom lip, but at this point, you feel it's impossible to stay quiet. And now it's not only you who is making noise, but the desk, although sturdy, is starting to move and creak.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you off the table with his big arms wrapped around your torso. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him. His hands grabs your ass and starts moving your hips in unison with his, his throbbing dick thrusting so much deeper, all the juices leaking down his balls and onto the floor.

You latch your teeth onto his neck to keep yourself from screaming while he’s panting feverishly into your ear.

‘I’m gonna come soon –‘

You meet his gaze ‘Don’t pull out.’

His hips stutter at your words, eyes widening for a second. He curses under his breath and picks up the pace. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, lewd gasps and pants interrupting.

His hands squeezing your ass in a bruising grip, he grunts against your lips, and you feel intense throbbing of his cock; warm liquid filling you up, sending shivers all over your sweaty body.

His slow pumps let his thick cum drip out, making a mess of his pants and the floor. You can feel how fast his heart is beating against your chest. The two of you catch your breath as your lips share a languid kiss, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

After pulling out, Zayne sits you on his chair. He kneels in front of you, caresses your cheek, his eyes full of adoration. “I never thought our first time would look like this.”

You lean into his palm, looking at him with sweet innocent eyes, “Oh? What did you imagine then?”

“I can show you later.”

[alotofpockets]

Mini mate | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Reader

Summary: Katie meets your kid for the first time, and they have an instant connection.

A/n: Part of the Mini Mate Universe

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.5k

-----

You were falling for Katie more and more after every date you had been on together. Besides her busy schedule, and your life with a toddler, you have managed to go on quite a few dates over the past two months. When you told her you had a child, and wanted to take things slow, she understood and respected that right away. Overall Katie had been great, and you loved the time you got to spend together.

Today you were out for lunch with your now girlfriend of a week, while your next door neighbour watched your son. Being a single mother, without any support from your family was hard in the beginning, but when Linda from next door had found out you were raising your boy alone, she had offered to watch him as often as she could. She was retired, and loved children. You had found a quick friend in the older woman, and honestly she was a lifesaver. 

You were a couple bites into your lunch when your phone rang, you looked down at the screen and saw your neighbour's name on the screen. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It could be about Jake.” Katie nods, “Yeah, of course.” You pick up the call, “Hi Linda, is everything okay?” On the other side of the line Linda responds, “Yes dear, little Jakey is doing just fine, don’t you worry. It’s just that I am afraid that I have double booked myself sweetheart, I have to be somewhere in half an hour, and I’m afraid I can’t take him with me.” You relax your shoulders when you realise that your son is alright. “Alright, I will be right there then. Thank you for calling.” Katie had already flagged down a waiter to pack your food as doggy bags. “My neighbour got something mixed up, so I have to go pick up Jake. I’m sorry for having to cut our date short.” She shook her head in response, “Don’t worry about it, darling. The waiter is just bagging up our food, and then I’ll drive you home, okay?” 

On the way home you were thinking how kind, and understanding Katie had been, something you weren’t all that used to. Your heart only warmed at the way she had treated you, which got you thinking. “How would you feel about meeting Jake?” You asked when you were almost back to your place. “I would love to meet him, but only if you’re ready for me to. There is no rush on my end.” Her answer made you smile, she was always making sure you were okay. “Yeah, I am.” 

Katie parks the car, and the two of you walk into your home. After putting away your lunch in the fridge you walk up to Katie. “Do you mind waiting here for a moment, while I pick him up? I want to give him a little heads up that someone else will be at home.” Again Katie was very understanding, and told you it was all good. So, you head next door. “Hi sweetheart.” Linda greets you when she opens the door. “Again, I am so sorry. I hope I didn’t ruin your date with the lovely lady.” You shake your head at the woman, “No need to apologise, I promise. And the lovely lady is actually sitting on the couch, waiting to meet Jake.” Linda brings you in for a hug, “Oh dear, I am so happy for you.” Linda had been a close friend of yours over the years, and had heard all about your growing liking of the woman you had been dating. 

Once Linda lets go of you, you hear little footsteps running your way. “Mommy.” The boy says full of excitement, he keeps running and jumps into your arms. “Hi kiddo, I missed you.” You pepper his cheeks with kisses. A car horn sounds outside, “Sorry honey, I have to leave, can you close up when you leave?” You nod, “Thank you, Linda. Have a good day!” 

You put Jake down, and start walking around to gather his stuff. “Did you have fun with Linda?” He nodded his head excitedly, he had been doing that a lot recently, and you loved his new adorable habit. “I play twains!” You sit him down on the couch, to put his shoes on. “That’s great baby, I’m glad you had fun.” You placed a kiss on his forehead once both his shoes were on. “There is someone waiting at home that I would love for you to meet. Are you ready to go?” He nodded again. “Okay, let's go then.” 

With Jake's hand in yours, you enter your home. Having Katie meet Jake was a big deal, and you were slightly nervous. You really liked Katie, and her and Jake getting along was very important to you. 

Katie was sitting on the couch, and waved to Jake who was shyly hiding behind your leg. “Hi buddy, my name is Katie.” Her kind smile, and soft voice made Jake move out from behind you. “Hi Kawie” Your heart melted at the way he pronounced her name. Jake let go of your hand and walked towards Katie, holding his bunny up to her. “What a cute bunny you have there, buddy. What's your bunny's name?” He hugged the bunny to his chest again, “Benny.” Katie smiled, “Benny the bunny, I like that.” 

The boy yawned, and started rubbing his eyes. “Hey kiddo, it's nap time. Can you pick out a book?” Your home was full of books for the toddler, and you loved giving him the freedom of choosing which story you would read before bed. He came back with a book in one hand and his bunny in the other, and walked straight up to Katie. “This one pwease.” Your fears of the two not getting along instantly fade away, when you see him reach up his arms for Katie to pick him up. She sat him on his lap and started reading the book to him, pointing at all the animals the book talked about. You snapped a quick picture, while watching the heartwarming scene in front of you.

When you came back downstairs after putting Jake down, Katie had plated your packed lunches from the restaurant, and had set the table. “You are amazing,” You say when her eyes meet yours. “and you were so great with him.” A tear escaped your, and you quickly wiped it away, but Katie had noticed. “Come here, darling.” She brings you in for a hug, and rubs her hand over your back soothingly. “I'm sorry, I've just been so worried about the two of you not getting along, and seeing him just walk up to you with his book, that meant so much.” She smiles and moves you so she can look at you. “Don't you ever apologise for that. You are a great mom, and I am so grateful that you wanted me to meet him.”

While Jake was down for his nap, you and Katie settled on the couch, cuddled up together while watching some TV. That was until you heard Jake start talking over the babyphone, letting you know that he woke up from his nap. You place a kiss on Katie’s lips before you get up. “I'll be right back.” 

“Kawieee” Your son runs to her the moment he notices that she is still there. She picks him up and twirls him around, “Hi my mini mate, did you have a good nap?” He does his excited nodding, as a response, and giggles when Katie tickles his belly. 

“Mini mate?” You ask once she has put him in his highchair for his post nap snack. “Yeah I call all my friend's mate, so he's my mini mate.” You laugh, “It's cute. I like it.”

Katie came over more often after that, the bond between the two of them only started to grow, and you couldn't help but fall in love with Katie over the next few weeks. Katie would be staying the night for the first time, you had stayed the night at her place before, but never at your place with Jake at home too. Jake was actually over the moon that Katie would be able to read his nighttime story, and help tuck him in. 

Once you got back downstairs you plopped down on the couch. Katie had gotten Jake a small Arsenal ball, and the three of you had been kicking it around in the backyard for a good part of the afternoon, so you were pretty tired. “You know how I was so worried for the two of you not to get along?” Katie moves her fingers through your hair and hums. “Well, I couldn't have been more wrong. He really loves you, you know?” She nods, noticing that you weren't done with what you were wanting to say. “I do too. Love you, I mean.” You were getting nervous, and messing up what you wanted to say, so you started again. “I love you Katie.” She smiles and moves her hand to your cheek. “I love you too y/n.” She pulls you in closer and kisses you. The kiss was soft, but at the same time it was filled with passion. 

A few weeks later you found yourself in the stands at Meadow Park along with Jake and Linda, cheering on Katie for the first time. Before the match started Katie had found you in the crowd and waved in your direction. Jake started excitedly waving back once you pointed her out.

You had watched Katie play on TV a couple of times since you had started dating, but never before had you experienced the game in such an environment. The crowd cheered and sang chants the whole time, it was truly amazing how much support the team got.

Arsenal won the match, and after she finished signing jerseys and posters, and taking pictures with fans, she made her way over to you. “You played so well. Good job captaining the team!” She brought you into a hug. “Thank you baby.” She hugged Jake next, and lastly she greeted Linda with a hug as well. “Kawie.” Jake said, making grabby hands towards her. She takes him from where you were holding him on the railing, “Did you and Benny like the football match?” Jake hugs Benny tight to his chest, “Yesss.” He adorably drags out the ‘s’. 

“Katie!” Is being called from behind her, “Katie, can you come here for a moment?” Katie sends her teammate a thumbs up, letting her know that she would be right there. “Duty calls.” She tries to hand Jake back to you, but he holds on tight. “Mini mate, I have to go for a bit, but I promise I will be right back.” She tries again, but to no avail. “Me with Kawie.” Katie looks up to you, “Do you mind if I take him with me on the pitch?” You shake your head, “Go for it. Jakey, listen very well to Katie, okay?’ You ruffle his hair before you let them go, and start your conversation with Linda back up. “You found a good one, honey, I can see how much she loves the both of you just from her eyes.” You blush at her words, she had always been very truthful with her words, even when they weren’t what you wanted to hear, so hearing her say that meant a lot. 

The team was waiting for Katie to do their post match team huddle to recap on the match through the eyes of Jonas. Once Katie joined, Jonas started talking right away, so no one had time to question Katie joining the huddle with a kid on her hip. At the end of the speech, Katie was the one to announce, “Team on three.” After which everyone put their hands in the middle, Jake wanted to join and put his hand on top of the rest of the girls. “Team!” The group said before moving out again. Though, some of the girls stick around. Katie was tickling Jake’s belly, pulling loud giggles from the toddler's mouth. “Who is this little guy?” Viv asked, tickling the boy’s belly as well. “This is my mini mate. Can you tell Viv your name, buddy?” The boy was loving all the attention. “Jake.” Katie smiles and holds her hand up to give him a high five, “Good job, buddy.” She then moves her focus back to her teammates surrounding her, “He’s my girlfriend's kid.” This piqued the interest of her teammates even more. “Your girlfriend is here?” Beth asked, and Vic quickly followed with, “Can we meet her?”

You watched from the stands as Katie was twirling Jake around, and walking back towards you with a few of her teammates. “Hi darling, they wanted to come meet you. This is Viv, Beth, and Vic.” She introduced them one by one. “It’s very nice to meet you, and good game by the way.” Katie sets Jake down on the ground, and starts softly kicking a ball to him, like you had done together in the backyard. He was loving all the attention he was getting from the girls, while you were getting to know Katie’s teammates. 

Katie had often talked about her teammates being like family, and the way they were interacting with your son, made you see that right away. You looked at the group of girls playing with him, and the big smile on his face, and in that moment you realised that your little family was going to be expanding over the next couple of months, in the form of lots of aunties. 

Jake was happily running around with Beth and Viv, a few steps away from you, when Katie joined you, both keeping an eye on the little boy. “What are you thinking, darling?” She says while wrapping her arm around your shoulder. “Just that I love you, and seeing him happy means the world to me.” You both smile at the giggling toddler. “I love you too. Beth and Viv asked if the three of us would like to join them for dinner tonight.” Katie turns to Linda, “You were invited too, of course, I just know you already have plans tonight.” Linda waves her off, “Don’t worry about me, honey, you kids have fun.” 

Katie kisses you before she heads down to the locker rooms, “I’ll see at the car.” You walk out of the stadium with Jake on your hip and Linda by your side. “Did you have fun, little Jakey?” Linda asks. His excited nods once again making an appearance. “Kawie and Beffy and Vivi play ball.” His pronunciation of their names brings a smile to your face. “Guess what kiddo, we’re going to see them later too.” His eyes widen before he hugs his body closer to yours, which you took as a sign that he was excited for it too.

-----

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[sleepysnk]

a/n: i needed something to post, so i decided to make these headcanons. i hope y’all enjoy!!

characters: bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, oliver aiku, michael kaiser

warnings: established relationships, nsfw, virginity loss, virgin!reader, corruption (oliver), praising, use of pet names (baby, princess, my love), daddy kink (kunigami + oliver), fingering (kunigami + kaiser), oral sex f!receiving (oliver + bachira), breeding kink (kaiser + kunigami + oliver), creampie.

VIRGIN KILLER HEADCANONS.

bachira meguru:

you and bachira had been dating for almost a year. he only found out you were a virgin because one night when he went down on you, you confessed to it. being the good boyfriend he was, he had no problem with that. if anything, it turned him on even more that he could potentially be the one to take it from you at some point. the idea of your pretty pussy being filled with his cock made him harder than a rock, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck you better than anybody else.

eventually, you got comfortable with him and after some talking, you both decided to have sex after a date. he was completely in love with how pretty your naked body looked underneath him. your skin and curves were made from the god’s themselves and he honestly didn’t know where to start first. he started off by eating you out until you saw stars in your vision. you tasted even more divine than he imagined and your sweet cries for more only furthered his assault on your cunt. his hands were squeezing and groping at the flesh of your thighs, massaging the fat to make you feel even better than you did right now. his tongue was skilled and you almost squirted from how it dragged along your sensitive bud.

nothing compared to how great his cock felt inside of you for the first time. you always knew how long it was. there was a small vein that ran just underneath the base and, when he entered you, you could feel it dragging along your pretty walls. he made you feel so full with barely just a few inches and my god he found those spaces inside of you so quickly. he loved how tight your pussy was. it was all his, after all. he wasn’t going to let somebody else enjoy how your cunt spasmed at every rut of his hips. he couldn’t hide his smirk when you clawed at his back as your orgasm reached its peak. he fucked you through your high, almost cumming the second you tightened around him. you made such a mess on his cock, but he didn’t give two shits about it.

“hehe.. look at you. you made such a mess, but it’s perfectly fine, baby. i think it’s cute..”

kunigami rensuke:

kunigami had been your boyfriend for a couple of months. he treated you like a princess and nothing more than that, but when he found out you were a virgin, he was pretty surprised.

kunigami was a big guy. his cock was long and thick and he wasn’t sure if you’d be able to take it the first time. he worried he could possibly hurt you and the last thing he wanted to invoke harm on you and your body. first times were meant to be memorable with the right person, so he wanted to play it safe with you when it came to sex. you guys both talked and after watching a movie, you decided to make a move and finally take that step with him. he started off with foreplay, because he knew full well that he couldn’t just put it in without it. he decided to use his thick fingers to prep you. they were so filling and they curled and twisted inside of you, making your whole body twitch. he truly was gifted with those hands of his.

the stretch of his cock was so great that you gasped sharply when he first entered your cunt. he made your toes curl and no amount of prep could have prepared you for the way his cock felt inside of you. kunigami could hardly believe his cock fit, but he managed to stuff you full with it. he was scared that you were in a lot of pain, but when you tried moving around to feel some kind of friction, he knew you were ready. all he wanted was to make you feel good and he was doing just that. nothing could have prepared him for when you moaned out “daddy” through glossy lips. he almost came right then and there, but he only continued fucking you. kunigami wasn’t gonna stop until you were a complete mess because of him.

he had the urge to fill you to the brim with his cum. he knew it was your first time, but he just couldn’t help himself. the way your walls gripped him like your pussy was made for him to fuck was driving him up the wall. he begged you to let him cum in you and when you agreed, he completely let go right then and there. his thick seed filled your womb, making you moan in pleasure at the warmth that spread across your belly. it was just too good.

“i’ll fill you until your pregnant, princess. I’ll make sure of that..”

oliver aiku:

oliver was quite shocked to hear that his girlfriend of nine months was a virgin, but that completely turned him on more than he would like to admit.

you were untouched and there hadn’t been another man who had seen you in such a manner. the idea that he was the only person who would have that access to you made his mind go crazy with ideas and thoughts, but he had to compose himself because you were his girlfriend. he knew he had to be smart with you about your first time, so he told you that when you were ready he would gladly take your virginity. that day came after the two of you had your annual anniversary date that evening, and he was more than ready to take that step with you.

oliver was completely mesmerized by your beauty. he knew you would be beautiful already, but seeing you in that manner was just amazing to him. he took his time praising your body and calling you beautiful. when he took off your underwear to eat you out, his mouth watered at how delicious your pussy looked on display for him. it was already soaking wet with your slick and he wanted nothing more than to taste you. his head game that night was unlike any other. his tongue dove deep into your folds, slurping and sucking on your clit to make you dig your nails into his scalp. the sensation was so foreign, but you craved it more than anything else. once he made you cum, he was able to push his cock into your tight hole. his cock was big and somewhat girthy, which made you feel so full.

oliver was losing his mind while he was fucking you. your pussy was so warm and perfect. he loved how you felt sucking him in. he whispered to you to call him daddy and once you did, he started fucking you at such a rough pace you almost lost all of the air in your lungs. he made you beg for his cock and to let you cum. your brain was completely under his control and all you wanted was his dick and nothing else. he had the desire to fill you up with his cum and with your consent, he did so. there was nothing more satisfying than watching his thick white cum leak from your cunt that was all his.

“good, huh, baby? let’s go for round two.. yeah?”

michael kaiser:

kaiser wasn’t that surprised to hear that you were a virgin. plenty of people were and it didn’t bother him one bit that you were. he honestly thought it was kind of cute. he would be the one to take care of you when that moment came and he honestly thought about it a lot.

after the two of you hung out, you decided to make that move and tell him you were ready. kaiser was somewhat shocked but he didn’t really mind much. he prepared for that moment and he was ready to show you what he could do with himself. he made sure you knew that your body was beautiful and just as gorgeous as you were as a person. he played with your cunt, making sure you were almost dripping wet. he wanted you as prepared as possible and he was so excited to see what you would be like in bed. he wondered it often, and seeing your cunt get sticky the moment his fingers dipped under your panties was an answer for him.

once your body was prepped enough, he pushed himself inside of you and he almost came the moment he slipped inside. you were so tight and wet. your pussy hugged his cock perfectly and he almost struggled to move because of how intense the feeling was. kaiser wanted to fuck you so good, but he knew he had to be patient. it was somewhat dwindling because he just couldn’t keep himself composed around you, but he tried his best to remain that way for your sake. however, you started becoming needy, whining his name like it was a prayer. he had to let go and just let you have it.

kaiser heard this voice inside his head telling him to breed your cunt. he tried to ignore it but he just imagined how hot it would look with his cum inside your pussy. he kept asking you in your ear and when you nodded your head vigorously, he allowed himself to empty his balls inside of your cunt. your red walls were now painted white with his cum and there was a mess coming from within you. it drove him mad, and he knew he would do it again if he had the chance.

“aww, look at you, my love. all fucked out, are we?”

[mysicklove]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

DAY 22: A/B/O

With: Isagi Yoichi

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Omega/bottom Isagi, Top/Alpha/Gn reader, omegaverse stuff (slick, claiming, scenting, etc.), isagi is in heat, readers pp could be read as strap or dick, marking/biting, slight blood, possesive behavior, instincts and stuff, isagi lowkey being feral

A/N: i like this one. and dont ask me why i know so much about a/b/o dynamics.'

Isagi was completely fine with being an omega. Sure, in the beginning he thought it may affect his soccer career, but as he grew and matured, he realized that it wasn't a problem anymore. Scent blockers and suppressants were a gift from the gods, and key factor of how he went pro. Without them he didn't know where he would be.

But, it led to an addiction. Constantly hiding his scent, hoping people may mistake him for being a beta so he doesn't have to deal with the slander omegas get on the field. And without heats he doesn't have to miss practice. Hence, every morning he puts a scent blocker sticker on his neck and wrist, and the second he feels a little amiss, he pops a heat suppressant. And he lived fine.

Except then you came into his life. An alpha. 

Heats are supposed to be spent with you. His body was begging him to spend it with someone, but he shuts it down immediately. Its unhealthy, and he knows it. A doctor has reminded him for years now, but he brushed it aside. 

The two of you had fought about it for about a year now. It was damaging his body, but he was too deep in his soccer career to sacrifice those multiple weeks of the year. You couldn't force him to do it, but every time you saw him pop that pill, and instinctual dread flooded your veins.

He hasn't had a real heat in five years. More than twice longer than what is considered “unhealthy” for an omega. It means when he finally does fall into it, its bound to be painful, and long lasting. Not only that, but his instincts are supposed to be heightened more than usual, so he doesn't know what he will say or do once he goes into it again.

But you finally convinced him spend it with you. He has been hinting for months now that he wanted you to mark him, but when he finally bluntly asked you to claim him, you said you would only do it during his heat. He agreed with much hesitancy.

It's a dread to think about, and honestly he is a little scared. But he promised you he would do it. He (very reluctantly) called off two weeks from soccer practice during off season, when he felt his pre-heat begin to creep up on him. 

So, here he is. Going to have his first heat in five years. 

The two of you stayed at his place. It was probably better to be at a spot he is comfortable with after all. The days before it weren't too bad, you forced him to put away the scent blockers for a couple of days, so the house smelled strongly of him. He went out of his way to scent as many things as possible, growing anxious as the days went by. He also built a nest on the space next to his bed, covered in blankets, pillows, and too many items from your dirty hamper. He was antsy during this time, finding himself clinging to you, and following you around the house. It was cute honestly, watching him have a slight pout while he grips onto your hand.

His body temperature started to pick up by the third day of his preheat. He started wearing less clothing, and you hand fed frozen fruit to him, hoping to cool him off just a little. He tosses and turns in the night, whining out for you to hold him, comfort him, make the strange feeling stop. It was so confusing and he hated it.

And finally after four days, he experienced his first heat since he was a teenager. It was in the middle of the night, the two of you in his nest, and you were fast asleep when he awoke. Every inch of his body ached, and he was panting. Sweat dripped down his temple, and he could feel slick stain his boxers. It made him groan in frustration, but he couldn't do anything about it because he was so horny.

Everything in him screamed for him to get filled, and as quickly as possible. He doesn't even think about it, tearing off his shirt and boxers. His now naked body trembles and he pants into the back of his hand, before turning to your sleeping form. He quickly finds himself scampering over to you, shaking you awake.

You turn to him with a groan, eyes blinking in the darkness to try to adjust themselves. “Yoichi?” You question, voice hoarse from sleep.

He basically tackles you, collapsing his entire body onto yours, and burying his face into your neck, scenting it quickly and desperately. “It’s h-here–dont know what to do. H-Help. Hurts. It hurts. Make it stop!”

You snap awake in an instant, resting your hand on the back of his head. He straddles your leg, beginning to hump at it. You croon at him, the sound low and comforting, hoping to calm him down just slightly. “What do you need me to do, Yoichi?”

He shakes his head back and forth in your neck. “I don't know! J-Just touch me. Please, alpha!” 

You cup the back of his head, letting him rest in your neck, while you reach to grab his toy bag the two of you packed just a couple days earlier. You flick on the lamp on your nightstand and he glances at the bag in your hand, letting out a small growl and nipping at your skin.

You flinch, and he continues to growl, low, not threatening, but annoyed. “Don't want the toys. Touch me,” Isagi hisses, grinding his cock onto your leg.

“Feisty omega,” You murmur, setting the bag on the other side of the nest, and moving to reach behind him.

He gulps at the words, feeling bad already. His hormones are all out of wack, and he can't seem to think straight. He nuzzles into your neck and purrs, lifting his hips up to meet your fingers. 

You use a finger to prod at his entrance, eyes slightly widening at the feeling. “Wow love, you are so wet. You're dripping all over your legs and the pillows,” You murmur in astonishment, dragging your finger around the hole.

He whines in embarrassment, cheeks flushed from his heat, and now from humilation. “D-Dont know why. I woke up and it hasn't stopped,” he complains, voice low and gruff. You continue to pet his hair, trying to comfort him.

You hum in response, pressing your other finger into his hole. He shivers at the feeling, clinging onto you in the darkness. When it slips in easier than usual, you prod another one, finding it just as easy to slip in. “Fuck Yoichi, you’re just begging to be fucked aren’t you. Taking it so easy.”

His back is arched by now, pressing into the fingers that are now scissoring him. “More. ‘ts not enough. Please, please. I need more, alpha!” He cries, both sides of him now leaking. His face is flushed, and his whole body feels like its on fire.

You shush his mewls, letting out a soothing scent and he moans into your neck. “Alright, alright. I’m going to make you feel good, relax,” you whisper, trying to pull yourself a way for minute to prepare yourself. He doesn't let you go far, arms wrapping around your entire body, breathing into your skin. The scent seems to make him feel grounded, and it's what he desperately needs right now.

“Here, lay down for me,” You encourage, trying to pull him off just for a second so that you can line yourself up with him. He doesnt seem to listen, shaking his head and panting. Sweat beads at his temples, and he's already beginning to beg again, but you push him to the bed, pinning his hands up for a moment while you press the tip into him.

He groans at the feeling, already borderline oversensitive. “Hold me. Please. Hold me, ‘s hot. I can't–”

You kiss his neck, pressing further inside of him, and his eyes widen, gasping at the feeling. His nails dig into your back and you try not to hiss out, continuing forward till you bottom out in him. Slick continues to leak out and onto the nest, but you don't say anything, afraid of embarrassing him.

But you couldnt help but notice the way his back arches, and the wet feeling now on the both of your stomachs. His breaths are shaky and his hold on you is weak. It gives you a chance to pull away for a second, glancing at the cum spread between the two of you. 

He covers his face with his hand, blushing profusely. “I'm sorry. Don't know what happened. J-Just felt…really good,” He warbles, not daring to look at you, but feeling himself begin to grow hard again. 

You giggle at him, planting a soft kiss to his lips. “S’alright. So cute, Yoichi. Wanna take a break then?”

His eyes are back onto you in an instant, wide and panicking. “N-No! You can't stop, please keep going!” He begs, lifting his hips to grind his cock on your stomach in a plea.

You know it's the heat talking, so you don't dare to tease him, afraid of pissing him off. So you abide by your omegas command.

“Fuckkkk,” He breathes, eyes rolling back when you start to pick up the pace. You grip at the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss, and thrusting forward. His legs wrap around your waist, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. Your thrusts are hard, short, and make a lewd slapping noise from the skin to skin contact. 

Isagi pulls away from the kiss, eyes cloudy, and mouth slightly swollen from the attention. “Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha,” He chants, mewling at every thrust, while slick drips down his thigh.. 

You kiss his cheek, humming to him in question. “Right here. I'm here. Doing so well. Such a pretty omega,” You coo in response, and the effects are immediate. He purrs at your voice, nuzzling into your neck and scenting you with a small fucked out grin.

“Mark me.”

You pause your movements, eyes flashing to his blue ones. He whines at the interruption, grabbing at your hips to pull you in closer. “Right now? It's so early,” You reason, growing dizzy off his warm scent.

It turns sour in an instant. “Y-You dont want me?”

He was being unreasonable, but that was the heat talking. His brain wasn't in the right place, and the second you didn't agree, it hurt. Way more than it should have. Tears prick at his eyes, and he begins to push you away, feeling gross with himself.

You don't let him go far, releasing a calming scent, and crooning to him. “Not what I meant. Relax, omega. It's okay, you're okay. I'll mark you, will that make you feel better?”

He clings onto you immediately, scent light again. “Please please please. Wanna be yours. Your omega. Please bite me!” 

You groan, grabbing his hips and forcing him back down onto the length. He gasps, trembling, but now baring his neck to you. 

“You're going to be the death of me, Yoichi,” You sigh, not liking how much control he has over you. Between the scent and his lewd words, which would never come out of his mouth if he wasn't in heat, it was hard to stay present in the moment.

“Please please please,” he cries, grabbing your hair  and forcing you toward his very own neck. You glance at him one last time, looking at his glassy eyes, and flushed cheeks. He nods at you, a whine slipping past his lips. 

You take one last deep breath, inhaling your lovers intoxicating scent and bury your teeth into his neck. He yelps, gripping onto your hair as tears drip down his cheeks. But his back arches, and hes cumming again from the action. His head spins as he feels your tongue lick at the wound, crooning out apologies for the pain.

Your thrusts have slowed down slightly, but they are deeper, harder. After cumming two times Isagi feels himself grow tired, weaker, but every cell in his body is screaming at him to go again and again. Till he passes out, if he must. 

“You alright? My omega…All mine,” You whisper, brushing away his sweaty bangs. He feels light headed, absolutely amazed at the feeling of being claimed after all this time and your words, but frustrated from your bare neck. It's not fair.

A possessive nature takes over him, and he lets out a small growl. You raise your eyebrows at him, confused by the sudden aggression. He was always pretty temperamental, but you granted his wish, and were fucking him, what more could he need?

A pair of canines dig into your neck before you could even process his movements. It makes you wince, hissing out and shivering as you feel his tongue lick over the wound. “N-No warning?” You half complain, not minding the feeling of being marked by him.

He doesnt seem to be listening, heat clouding all coherent thoughts. “My alpha. Mhmmm. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Possessive little thing. S-Supposed to be my line,” You laugh at him lightly, and he pulls away for the first time tonight, maneuvering you until he is sitting on your lap, and beginning to raise himself up and down. Two hands fall on your stomach to help steady himself as he begins to grind on the length, head falling backward as he pants at the ceiling.

His movements are frantic, desperate even, as if he was afraid he would never get a chance to cum again. His own cum on his stomach is beginning to dry up, but he doesn't seem to mind. His cock flops back and forth at his movements, and sweat drips down his neck. His whole body seems to be a pinkish shade, covered in sweat. It makes you slightly worried, but knowing him, if you force him to stop so that you can check on him, he may try to kill you.

He cums again without much warning, his fingers curling up and eyes rolling backward. The stream is weaker, dripping pathetically down his cock. His whole body trembles and he collapses forward onto you, pawing at you to hold him again.

You grab water from the nightstand and basically force it down his throat, the excess dripping down his chin and onto your chest. He gulps it down without much complaint, staring at you with lidded eyes the entirety of it. “Lets take a break,” You mumble, caressing his cheek and wiping away the water.

He purrs into your touch, and realigns himself up again, a drunken smile on his face. “Not a chance, alpha,” Isagi says, sinking onto the length to try to chase his fourth orgasm that night. 

The two of you get little sleep, and you awoke to him grinding on your leg, and biting at your ear, begging you to make him feel good again, full again. But even in your exhausted state, you didn't mind too much, because how could you say no to your precious omega? 

PREV POST | MASTERLIST | NEXT POST

[lloydfrontera]

javier slowly moving into lloyd's room, one pillow and forgotten shirt at a time, and lloyd not noticing it until he realizes it's been a couple months since javier has slept anywhere that wasn't lloyd's bed

he is in fact the last person to notice this

marbella and arcos thought they were trying to be discreet and didn't want to rush them on announcing their courtship. all the servants thought it was about time, as sir asrahan slept in master lloyd's room every night anyway and it was getting a bit pitiful to watch him do the walk of shame every morning even if he did manage to make it look classy. emily has been delivering both of their clean laundry directly to lloyd's room for weeks now, it made little sense to separate it and do two trips when she was gonna end up picking most of it from the young master's room anyway.

in javier's defense, while he did start to subtly leave more and more things in lloyd's room, (justifying it to himself by reasoning something could happen to lloyd while he was off picking and dropping stuff from his room he was gonna use every day anyway so really it just made sense to leave in lloyd's room permanently-), he didn't intent to completely abandon his own room and he genuinely thought they were on the same page when lloyd told him to just climb on the bed already, my back hurts just looking at you, i promise i don't kick that much

there really are just so many things someone could possibly mean when they invite you to share a bed with them after all, right? and if lloyd didn't really seem eager to do anything more than just sleep together then that was fine with javier, he would take whatever lloyd was willing to offer. the fact that sometimes they would wake up entangled with one another, having gravitated towards each other through the night, was an added bonus that he was happy to enjoy when it happened but not something he would force or even insist upon.

lloyd did actually offer to share a bed out of completely platonic reasons. because he knows first hand how uncomfortable sleeping on a chair can be and it simply wouldn't do for his knight to be in anything less than top shape over something that can be so easily fixed. (and if he wasn't able to fall asleep for hours the first few nights because the knowledge that javier was so close he could feel his body heat through the blankets and yet so out of his reach in almost all the ways that mattered taunted him mercilessly,,, well no one could prove anything.)

the cuddling was a bit of a curve ball but he was very proud of being able to feign nonchalance and act just as casual about it as javier had despite wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole out of mortification.

he almost has an apoplexy when he finds out javier thought they were,, something already. he hadn't known anything else besides platonically sharing a bed was even on the table!! and is honestly a bit offended no one thought to mention it to him. he could've been getting railed for weeks now. months even!!! outrageous he demands backpay immediately >:(

[tsumtsumrry]

my masterlist 🤍

tiny disclaimer: everything here is stuff that has been posted on this account, to find any of my old stuff that hasn't been posted here you'd have to go to my old account ch3rrybabyhon3y. i would post everything here but i'd feel so annoying flooding the tags lol. if there's anything specific you'd like to see/read again, send me an ask and i'll be more than happy to post it. kisses.

ordered from new to old 🤍

indicators: smut ☆ fluff ❁ angst ♪

one-shots:

Doctor's Orders: in which you have an interesting visit with your gynecologist when you come to him with an inconvenient problem.

or

“M’name is Dr. Harry Styles. You can call me Harry, Dr. Styles, or Doc. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m personally fine with it all. I know your name already and…” he blows out a breath with his eyes comically wide “…basically your entire medical history so I think it’s safe to say we’re well acquainted!” You take his hand and shake it softly, a small giggle leaving your lips. You don’t miss the way he glances down at the contact. His hand feels nice. And you know it’s weird to be thinking that about your doctor, especially when that same hand will probably be somewhere near your genitals in the next couple of minutes, but his hand feels really nice against yours. Calloused and sturdy, yet gentle and soft.

You appreciate how he immediately got in tune with how cracking jokes made you more comfortable. It feels like extra effort to you and a warm feeling blooms in your chest at how attentive he is. You can tell that he cares about his patients and takes pride in his job, and it makes you feel so much more comfortable. 

“Okay m’darling. Says you’re here for a regular check up. Are you sure there’s no concerns? Nothing we should be worryin’ about? S’more helpful if you tell me now so I know what to look for.” His hand goes out to motion you to lie down on the examination table. You oblige and he grins at you again, waiting for your response. 

Second Visit (part two)

Film Bro: in which sleepy best friend Harry gets a little too worked up while you guys cuddle. ☆☆❁

or

The poor baby’s worked himself up somehow and doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, doesn’t realize how needy he is. His face wears a tortured expression, his eyebrows arched and pushed tightly together. The desperate soft sounds continue to leave his slightly parted lips and all you can think about in this moment is how much you want to kiss his lips, soft and bitten. 

Honestly, you’re at a loss of what to do in this situation. Do you wake him? Do you let him keep going until he ruins his pants? Do you just will yourself to go back to sleep and pretend this never happened? You know that last one’s definitely not going to work considering how ridiculously turned on you are. With every thrust against your ass, an onslaught of butterflies assault your stomach and you feel the pool in your underwear only getting wetter. 

You don’t want to stop him. 

Favorite Holiday: in which you and Harry are friends with benefits ☆❁ ♪

or

"He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet. 

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips. 

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history."

Sex Therapist: in which Harry helps you out a bit, and he's not actually a sex therapist. (but he might as well be)☆❁

or

"“Maybe you need someone familiar.”

You can tell he almost regretted it when he said it, but there was also something of what seemed like determination in his eyes. You can only imagine the mental battle he’s having right now.

���Someone…familiar?” You say, your tone is nothing less than breathless.

“Mhm…someone you know, someone you trust, someone that can take care of you.” You know Harry’s noticed your change in breathing, the way you tried to subtly press your thighs together, you know he’s noticed and that’s why his voice has lowered to a calculated sultry tone that you know he only reserves for times like this. He’s downright seducing you and you don’t seem to have a problem with it, “any ideas?”

Good Boy: in which harry is a brat. ☆❁

or

"“So sit down, and listen to me like a good boy.” she says, watching as Harry rolls his eyes. She scoffs because she knows it’s all an act, but also because she knows he’ll regret this later, when he’s on his second denial and begging her to just ‘please, baby let me come’. She knows he’ll regret it.

“No? This is how we’re doing it tonight? Alright then.” She loves it when Harry is soft and submissive and just does whatever she wants off the bat, but she can’t deny the fun in making him submit. She knows he loves it too.

Harry, is on cloud nine, he loves this, he lives for it. Being forced to submit, making her hurt him. Gives him a high like no other, really gets him going. Sometimes he regrets being smart with her when he’s on third orgasm, or his third denied orgasm, but still, he loves it."

Morning After: in which you wake up next to harry after your first night together. ☆❁

or

"They had sex for the first time. 

In no way were they virgins, but it was just as special as anyone’s first time. She had been holding off on having sex with anyone since her last relationship, scared to give all she had to someone only for them to hurt her and walk away like her ex did. She never wanted to feel that pain again. 

She was dead-set on becoming a nun before Harry found her and swept her off her feet. He loved and cared for her, showing her he would never hurt her like her ex did. It took some time, but she finally learned to trust Harry. And as soon as her walls broke down, she loved and trusted him fully. She gave her all to him. 

Harry wasn’t expecting from her, he just wanted to love her. So when the opportunity came to love on her, there’s no way he could’ve passed that up."

Piper: in which sub-harry let's go. ☆❁

or

"Piper shakes her head at his pout and opens her mouth to speak, “I have an idea.“

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his pout lessens a little bit, “wha’ is it?” He’s talking slower and thicker due to how overcome with lust he is and Piper fight the urge to shift her thighs at the sound of it.

“Well…” she pauses to give him a slow kiss, “you’ve been working so hard lately, been so good. Was thinking I could dedicate a night to just you. Hmm? Make you cum so hard you see stars?”

Harry’s mouth parts slightly at her words and he tries to prevent his eyes from rolling back into his head at the butterflies that just swarmed through every part of his body."

Alexa: in which you're an assistant for one direction ❁♪

or

"“Do you want a coffee or something? I feel weird just standing here without getting you something…” Alexa mumbles and Harry’s face falls. Her words served a (very) painful reminder that she just worked for him. She was forced to be around him. Doesn’t mean she liked him. After all she only came up to him because Niall told her he needed help with something. Harry feels pathetic.

“No…no thank you.” he murmurs and Alexa nods quickly and turns on her heel to walk away.

Harry doesn’t understand why he can’t just talk to her. Every other “employee” feels like a friend (or even family) to him. Why can’t he cross that line with the one person he wants to?"

She: in which we dream with harry ❁☆♪

or

"The drive of his life, where his passion is derived from. He wouldn’t be where he is without her.

Some people may say it’s foolish to be so codependent on a dream, but he doesn’t see anything wrong with it. As long as he keeps seeing her when he closes his eyes, he’s at peace.

He imagines the color of her skin, the smoothness of her body, the volume of her hair, the sound of her voice. Every day he imagines it all. Every day he dreams about it."

Laura: in which you've had enough. ♪♪

or

"She hates herself for feeling weak, for showing him any emotion. She’s stuck between wanting him to know that he’s hurting her and not wanting to give him the power to know that he has any affect on her at all.

“You keep acting like you didn’t know how it was going to b-” Harry starts, but Laura interjects with an angry incredulous tone, feeling like if this were a cartoon you would surely see the steam coming out from her ears.

“Are you kidding me? This isn’t how it was when it first started, even when you were doing the first album, hell, even when you were on fucking tour! This is an us thing, this isn’t just a ‘studio’ thing and you know it!”

blurbs/asks:

sub ceo harry ❁☆

friends to lovers h ❁❁

sex with h headcannons ☆❁

friends to lovers angst ♪❁

sub bestfriendrry finding your vibe ☆❁

request that's basically just porn (lol) ☆☆

subby co-worker harry ☆☆

enjoy to all your heart's content. love you loads and loads. kisses. 🤍

[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

[the-froschamethyst4]

Baby talk

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Price x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, daddy Price, married couple, children, language,

𖤐Summary: Y/n was on a girls trip with her friends and Price was told by his wife that when he's not around his daughter Iris talks, so he tries when Y/n is away.

————

—————

"Okay, you got everything?" Price asked his wife.

"Yes, I have everything, do you have everything under control?"

"Yes, my love, I have everything under control, now go have fun," Price hurried his wife out of the house as she went to her best friends car. "Bye-Bye, see ya' Saturday night," Price kisses her lips and pats her butt as she walked off the porch.

"MAKE SURE MY WIFE COMES BACK IN ONE PIECE PLEASE!!"

"WE'LL TRY!!"

Price walked back into his house and saw his 12 month old daughter Iris, sitting on the ground hitting her knees and kicking her feet as there was a cardboard book sitting at her feet.

"Baby girl," he coos getting her to look up at him, she smiles and kicks her feet again. "Come on, baby," he claps his hands and grabbed the book from her feet and laid next to her.

"Okay, baby, I was told by mama, that you are talking...I bet I can get you to say dada before mama gets home...I should not say m a m a in front of you first off," he says. Iris laughs and kicks her feet. He smiles at her and gently pinches at her plump tummy.

"Huh? Dada...dada...da...da..." he says, by Iris laughs and crawls on her hands and knees to grab her stuff lion that sat a few feet in front of her. "Iris, baby girl, say dada for me please. M a m a, says you can talk, you've talked before, say dada." Price begs her but she doesn't listen.

Price let's out a groan and fell on his back arms out wide and he looked up at the ceiling. Price mumbled to himself as Iris waddled to Price, she squats next to him and then gets on his chest.

He gives out a soft huff as she plopped on his chest. She laughs at him.

"Are you laughing at my pain?" He asked, looking up at her, she just giggles. "You are such a giggly girl," he says.

Price picked up his daughter, she laughed and kissed Price's cheek. "Aww~, thank you, baby girl," he says, kissing her forehead.

--------

Iris sat on the couch next to Price, he was watching his football match (soccer for the Americans). Price looked down at Iris and picked her up on the cushions and made her look at him, she was giggling kicking her feet and bring her fists to her mouth.

"Ah! Don't do that, you're too old to do that," he says, giggling at her and pulling her hands from her mouth.

"Ah!" She coos.

"...Dada?" He says.

"Ah!" She coos again.

"Okay..." he sounded like he was going to give up but wanted to keep trying. "Can you say football?"

"Ah!"

"Come on, I know you can talk, baby girl."

"Ah!" She points at the Christmas decorations and pointed to an ornaments on the Christmas tree. He gets up and holds Iris to his chest.

"Which one, baby?" He asks, she points to one that had all the classic Disney dogs like Tramp, Lady, Pluto, Pongo, Max, Copper and Bolt. In the middle was a picture of Iris when she was first born.

"What's his name?" He points the classic dalmatian.

"B-Bongo," she says. It shocked Price hearing her speak.

"P, baby. Pongo."

"Bongo."

"Close enough," he chuckles rubbing his noses on hers. "Who's this one?" Price points to the white dog.

"Bolt!" The one she could pronounce.

---------

Price had called Y/n and she thought something was wrong but luckily Price was able to reasure her.

"No, my love, everything is fine, she finally talked!" He says, excitedly.

"Oh, Price, that's good news," she says, he can feel her smile through the phone.

"Her first word is bongo."

"Bongo?"

"Not so long story, we were looking at that ornament with the dogs on it."

"Oh the Disney dogs?"

"Yep," he says popping the 'P'.

"Well, not really, Price. Her first word was mama."

"WHAT!?"

"I told you that, remember?"

"I honestly think I was half asleep when you told me that." She giggles at him. "Man, I wanted her to say dada first."

"You're a little late in the game there, daddy."

"Don't tease me like that."

"Like what? Daddy."

"Y/n."

"Price~" Price was trying to hold back some words of his own but he was interrupted by Iris whining from the couch on where Price might have gone.

"I'm being called, I'll talk to you later?"

"Maybe~" she teases. He shakes his head.

"Bye, my love." He says, hanging up. He places his phone down on the marble counter and goes back to his daughter picking her up and kissing her forehead and cheek to tell her he was back and everything was just fine.

"It's okay, baby," he says as her whines slowly disappeared.

"Mama," she whines.

"I know, baby, mama's away right now, she'll be back soon, I promise," he says.

---------

"UNCLE SOAP IS IN THE HOUSE!" Soap calls out kicking the front door open and holding bags in his hands.

"Don't kick his door, you fucking idiot," Ghost hits Soap upside his head.

"Ow."

"Hey, fellas," Price said, picking Iris up. Iris immediately makes grabby hands towards Ghost. His mask fascinates Iris. He takes her from Price's grasp, she's immediately trying to take his mask off. But he does it for her exposing his face that was slightly covered in scars and a busted up bottom lip.

"What happened to your lip, Simon?" Price asked, taking the bags from Soap.

"He got into a bar, fight." Soap says.

"I didn't know she has a boyfriend."

"Ohh~ Simon," Price says.

"She flirted with me first," Simons says.

"Can we start cooking? I wanna watch the game," Soap asks.

--------

The guys had made burritos for the night, their own style and Iris was eating some food Price had made for her some mash potatoes, mashes peas and some diced carrots.

She sat between Price and Simon eating her food, she was pushed against the back cushions, her plate on her lap and sat ate the peas and carrots, Price leaned back to look at her as Simon leaned on his knees and turned to look at her as well.

She just eats her carrots with her plastic pink fork and looked up at her father and gave him a big smile. Simons' heart fluttered seeing her smile.

"See what I mean, Simon?"

"It's the baby fever," Simon says, leaning back against the couch cushions and looking down at Iris.

"COME ON!" Soap yells making the other two men see what they are missing and yelled with Soap, Iris didn't know what was happening and wanted to yell as well.

So, as the grown men yelled, you can barely hear a high pitched scream over the loud men. Once the goal was made the guys cheered some more and Price looks down at his daughter smiling at her.

--------

Saturday

"Mama's coming home," Price says to his daughter.

"Mama?" She says.

"Yep, mama," he says, kissing her puffy cheeks.

As Price and Iris stood by the kitchen window they saw Y/n's best friends' car pull up into the driveway. Price opened the front door as Y/n was getting out of the car.

"My baby!" She calls out. Iris giggled and kicked her feet as Y/n took her from her father's arms, she kissed her daughter's forehead and kissed Price's lips.

Price got her bags from the car and waved 'goodbye' to her best friend and they went back inside the house. Y/n kissed her daughters cheeks again and rubbed her nose on her cheeks as well.

"You smell like lavender baby," Y/n says.

"I just gave her bath," Price says, coming up behind Y/n and holding her waist as Iris placed her head on Y/n's shoulder and played with her necklace that Price gave her on their honeymoon.

"I'm missed you two," she says, cupping her husbands face with her right hand and kissing his lips and looking down at her daughter in her arms.

"Dada!" Iris says, looking up at her father.

"HUH! YES, ME DADA!!" Price takes his daughter and peppered kisses all over her face.

[boydepartment]

Hey pookie,, may I request a rich!enhypen headcanon(?) where they spoils the reader. Thank you🥰🥰😚😚

thank you for requesting ILY! sorry it was late!!! i haven’t felt well!!!

MASTERLIST

Rich! Enha x Reader- Headcanons

Jungwon- Jungwon always wants what's best for his baby! You can expect to get the best quality food, clothes, jewelry, etc. He wants you to feel the best. You've reassured him multiple times that he doesn't have to but part of him loves that he can take care and provide for you. He loves spoiling you and seeing your shocked face at the new thing he bought you. "Jungwon you didnt have to!"

"Oh I know! I just wanted to :]"

Heeseung- Unlike Jungwon, Heeseung I could see spoiling you with more stuff like a new car, or next months rent totally paid already. He loves to spoil you in practical ways that make your life easier. When your life is easier he knows you'll be happier which makes him happy. That is what is most important to him. Plus when you're in a better mood you smooch him more- so its a win win. "Oh next months rent is paid by the way"

"WHAT? Again? Heeseung you didn't have to..."

"I know I just love you, I wanna help whenever I can."

Jay- Jay is a mix of both. Anything you want you can ask for and he will deliver. Sometimes he will deny you, but then when you get home its already there on your bed. He loves to surprise you and he loves seeing you happy. So he pays for your bills on top of little surprises. He will never admit it but he likes the little :< you do when you ask for something and he says no at first. "Jay oh my god can we get this? I think it would look so pretty in the living room!"

"No."

":<“

"fine... :)"

Jake- Total husband material. The way you're feeling is really important to him. If he notices you're stressed it's an immediate vacation for the both of you. He absolutely loves traveling with you so it works out because he doesn't have to go alone. If he's on a work trip you are going with him. Anything you want from said country he will get for you. He loves seeing you stress free and if running away for a couple days is what does it- then he will drop everything for you. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I am... Thank you, I really needed this."

"Anytime :)"

Sunghoon- Sunghoon really enjoys doing things with you, so to spoil you (on top of endless clothes and little handbags) he likes taking random fun classes with you. Like a cooking class in Italy or an Art class in France. All of the classes he makes sure are fun and he loves that he can experience new things with you "I CANNOT BELIEVE WE COOKED THIS!"

"We did SO well- I told you those classes were a good idea!"

Sunoo- Anytime Sunoo is stressed he goes to you and tells you that you guys are going on a trip. On that trip he spoils you with anything you want. That dress you eyed at the store but then put it down due to the price? That is going to be your next birthday present. That bracelet that you loved so much in the store? He came back later to pick it up for you. Sunoo takes notes on what you like especially on getaways and he brings everything home without you knowing. "Was this from our trip to Hawaii like 3 months ago?"

"Mhm! I noticed you eyeing it!"

Ni-ki- Honestly, Riki is kinda insane. He would be the type of rich person to like go pet lions or something just for the thrill of it. I hope you like adrenaline because those experiences are very common with him. However, he does spoil you in little ways. Riki is kind of shy so whenever he buys you something he always leaves it for when he's not there. The presents are always very cute and thoughtful. Jewelry with your anniversary date on it, etc. "Why'd you leave? I wanted to open my present form you with you..."

"I- Just open it or whatever..."

"AWWWWW RIKI!"

[peachjagiya]

I hope you don’t take offense to what I am about to say cuz i’ll speak freely. I think the issue here is, so many taekookers kept talking about how much Jungkook didn’t want to do the show and even went as far as claiming that he was forced to do this show no matter how much Jungkook verbally proclaimed how much fun he was having and how he loved the show. Let’s also be serious here, does anyone really believe that Jungkook would have continued shooting in other locations if he hated the first experience in NY? Before someone comes up with the contract excuse, I need to remind everyone that this show was never the company’s idea. It was Jimin who thought of it, told Jungkook about it and then pushed at the level of the company to make it happen. I had never gotten chance to watch ITS friendcation with Tae because honestly I am more a music fan and their variety shows or other healing shows kinda bore me but I recently watched Friendcation and it was Tae too who wanted to film the show with his wooga squad and from what I understood from what they said at the beginning, he was the one who took the idea to the company and they let it happen. So I don’t think it’s fair to claim that Jungkook couldn’t back out of the show even if he didn’t like it because he was contractually bound.

Right now if I were jikookers I would gloat too because so many people have claimed that Jk looked miserable, looked disinterested, didn’t want to do the show at all or didn’t see the point but from his own words we know that is far from the truth. Not only did he declare how much he loved the show and how free he felt during the show, he also thinks that out of all the trips he been on in his life, these trips for AYS were the best. He also mentioned wanting to go back to the start of their trip so anyone still claiming that Jungkook didn’t love being on that show is not being realistic or reasonable at all. He could have just not said anything if he didn’t feel that way because ofcourse he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the trip if he didn’t (or maybe he could) so knowing how blunt Jk can be if he said he loved it, then he loved it. So I think it is wise to just stop with all the stuff about him not liking it or not not wanting to be there because nothing we have seen and heard from him supports that line of thought. He clearly looked bummed that the trip was ending, him and Jimin, and someone wouldn’t feel that way if they didn’t enjoy the trip. I feel like those trips to him, were an opportunity for him to break away from his excessive work load for a few days and just unwind, have fun and eat to his hearts delights. In hindsight, I think it was a great Idea that the show was there to film as after watching his documentary and seeing just how much he worked and pushed himself, I think those few days inbetween schedules to just have fun did him some good.

This is just me stating my honest opinion and I hope I didn’t say anything condescending or rude.

Honest opinions are fine and you're welcome to them.

The only thing I want to query is that jimkookers should gloat. What is this victim storyline? Oh well they're only gloating cos we were so mean to them?

They spent a couple of weeks saying JK visibly hated Tae, laughing at misinterpreted jokes to make it look like JK wanted him gone, mocking their short lay down. Did they all bow at our feet when he finally said it was better with Tae? No they absolutely did not. What they did was just carry on. Cos they perceived events a different way. And I couldn't give a fuck if they do that.... until they get pissy when others do it.

I have never, in my life, been to a JMKK space to "gloat." Or to say anything actually. I've often wondered about their thoughts on things and I just haven't ever. It's not my space.

Imagine if the tumblr Taekookers reacted to, for example, Hawaii this way. Ran into Jikook spaces to "gloat". Because as you say here, we had plenty of reason to. After months and years of "JK can't stand being around him" and "Tae just lies" that became too much even in the short time I've been around, there was vindication. Yeah, we could have gloated.

I bet if we'd done that, the first thing the jmkkrs would say would be "why hasn't this made you feel good?"

What actually happened is we just had a couple of exciting days being dorks about it, feeling good and happy in our "community" here.

So they should go do that.

[mandos-mind-trick]

Hi.

It's currently 8:00 on a Sunday night so I don't think anyone is gonna see this but if I don't do this now I'm going to talk myself out of it.

First off, I wanted to say thank you again for everyone's kind replies and messages regarding my last post. I do appreciate every single one of you and your kindness. It's nice to know others do/have felt the same way. Y'all really are too kind. I'm honestly not sure if recovery is possible for me but it's nice to hear about others who have recovered.

I now come to you to share a bit more of what's going on and why things are just so fucking bleak for me. I'm honestly a little ashamed to even be sharing this and everything in me is begging me to not say anything which is why I need to post this now before I talk myself out of it.

So, late last year I found out that I was likely going to be laid off from my job sometime in January. I kind of knew it was coming and expected it but in December (literally the week of Christmas) I learned that it was going to happen for sure. I still don't have a date, and still have a schedule but those of you that have been laid off know it could literally come at any time.

Of course I was saving money through the busy season (or at least trying to, I'll get to that in a moment) because I thought I was going to get laid off last week, or even the first week of January. A lot happened in the last couple months that really kind of threw things into the toilet. I had to start paying on a student loan (a private one so I have no choice) and I had some back pay on some stuff that I had to take care of to avoid you know, getting sued.

Things would have been fine, it all would have been okay, except that I wasn't expecting my job to cut my hours so drastically before they laid me off. I went from 40 hour weeks to 24 hour weeks. So yeah. I'm kind of fucked right now.

I haven't even been able to pay rent this month and it's not looking like I'm going to be able to. I'm not at risk of being homeless yet. My landlord can be willing to work with people but they've been lenient with me in the past when I've struggled and I'm not sure how willing they will be to do that again.

And before anyone asks, no, I don't have family or friends that could help. I'm quite literally on my own in this world so that's not an option for me.

So, on top of everything else, I also have this to deal with.

I appreciate everyone's kind words and offers of help but there's no help for me. There's no hope for me anymore. This is why death feels more welcome than whatever the hell I'm doing now. I wouldn't call it living.

[mel-155-a]

I fucking hate being trans and also transitioning was the correct decision and I have no idea how to square those two things.

Hormones took way too long to do way too little, almost twelve years down the line I still get constantly misgendered, my tits are...fine. I guess. Average, which is honestly more than I expected so.....woo.

Vocal training makes me suicidal and a significant majority of the people offering it are actually offering extremely overpriced singing lessons when they aren't even qualified in anyway to do that beyond "being good at singing". I'm still stuck in a shitty cycle of trying it and failing hard every couple of years, because my voice makes me cry when I fail to disassociate properly from it in my day to day life and actually hear it.

It took me ten years to get the first stage of a colovaginalplasty in July, and it's been three months of pain, frustration, anxiety, and fear as my reward for the previous ten years of endless humiliation and stress that was constantly getting fucked with by surgeon's offices and insurance companies. I have never been particularly horny, but even for me, three months of any kind of masturbation or sex being complicated and difficult to get anything out of is a whole fucking lot to deal with.

I am getting the second stage in December, and the wait is hellish and the healing process is going to be worse, another extended painful, frustrating, anxiety and fear inducing healing period that will likely last at least a year, maybe longer. And it may or may not be over at that point, I might need revisions which will require more healing and frustration and pain.

I could try to get some kind of FFS so I could look in the mirror without cringing, but god, MORE surgery? Having to go through another years long process to try and force an insurance company to cover it, only to get the chance to be miserable for a year or more? Yeah, sounds great. Just what I wanted.

Make-up is a no go because of the face stuff, clothes generally don't fit me because I am a freakishly large 6'3" 230 something pound giant, and even when I do find something, a new skirt might feel good for an afternoon if I am really lucky. Getting misgendered in it regularly lasts forever.

And the trans community is just FUCKED. I know I am a traumatized, depressed, downer pretty regularly, and that is after ten years of therapy and trying really hard to get better. There are quite a lot of trans people who have not had the chance to do that ten years of work on themselves and oof. It shows. It's not their fault, but god is it draining to constantly be around.

Add in the fact that I am a trans woman who has the gall to not be bright, happy, and conventionally attractive, that I am not the girldick sex bunny AND I am also not the humble non-passing ogress who is none-the-less so proud and happy to be trans, who has pride flag everything and a dozen Blahajs around and just...ugh. I can feel people just waiting for a reason to make the call-out posts and when I eventually come across them where they think I won't see, I just want to never talk to anyone again.

Nothing about being trans is good for me. It is all an exercise in misery both internal and external that I can never escape. But it was also the right choice, not transitioning was worse. What the fuck do I do with that?

It's made even worse because I feel like I am "betraying the cause" or something, hurting all the other vulnerable trans women around me and the non trans femmes I love and have in my life, by being this just constantly screaming pain parade. That there should be a finish line to all this and I should have reached it by now, and been able to come back and happily report to everyone else that their time wandering in the desert will end as well.

I am just stuck. I don't have the resources or ability to disappear into the background and leave being trans behind except as a historical footnote, and it's all so normalized that any joy or novelty is long, long gone, leaving just the pain. I am not sure the joy and novelty were EVER there for me personally. If they were, the memories are so distant and faded as to be meaningless.

So...what the fuck do I do? There isn't a Transition 2 to get me out of the rut. This is just my life. And it fucking sucks.

I feel really apprehensive about posting this, I feel like people will be weird about it. But I am pretty sure that I can't be the only person who feels like this. Who feels stuck, left behind, and unwelcome because they are miserable with the thing that they are constantly told should have saved them. So, if that sounds like you, you aren't alone. I don't have any answers either, but we can have a little pity party together I guess. Wooooo.

[featureenvyproductions]

my thoughts on how to do Basically Kinda cel animation but cheap as fuck. strap in this is a long post and there are many swears PART 1

Really long intro

ok so I was animating my thing the other month right, and I was going to infodump on how I do cel animation without the right training from the comfort of my chaotic mess of an office. But I got into it and I was like "my god, I'm going to have surgery in a few months and my gofundme has accumulated dust, I can't be buying fucking $1/each cels and more paint". that got me thinking like....MOST people are probably like "wow I'm broke as shit I can't do this" even if they want to, but I think you can, so I took a couple weekends to hurl myself face first into seeing if I could do this - the version for if you're broke as fuck or don't want to spend money.

Obviously if you want something good quality AND you don't want to make this a struggle, splurge on good supplies like real cels and paint if you have the money. But if you don't or you just want to fuck around, this info dump is for you.

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional (if you can't already tell lol 👀👀👀) and I have no idea if this is what cal arts would approve of or whatever the shit but to be brutally honest, I also don't give a fuck, they're too busy fulfilling their role as the gatekeepers of the human-expression-to-corporate-tax-write-off pipeline to watch your heartfelt if low res artistic expression so come join me in this pit and let's just do whatever the fuck we want with whatever we got.

My goal is to give you ideas so you too can do the fucking thing. It's not gonna be Snow White. It's not gonna even be Steamboat Willie. That's fine. The point is to do the thing anyway and make some shit you wouldn't have tried otherwise. (And share it with me here on the internet bc I'm bored and depressed. If you feel like it) because sure you can go and pull up your 2d animation software and rig some shit up and blow anything I can do by hand out of the water in about 3 min flat but THATS NOT THE POINT IS IT THE POINT IS THAT YOU TOO WANT TO EXPERIENCE ART AS SUFFERING AND MAYBE ALSO UNDERSTAND THAT SOFTWARE DOESNT MAKE ART FORMS OBSOLETE.

Anyway let me just stow this soap box under the counter real quick.

There.

K So I'm gonna go through how I tackled this challenge - cheap ass cel animation - starting with prep, then the drawing steps, then getting the shit into some form where you can put all the frames together.

Prerequisite suggestion

This ramble assumes that you at least vaguely understand how drawing works and understand the basic idea of how animation works. How to animate overall - like the principals of animation- is a wee bit outside the scope of this post, in no small part because I know there are a BILLION people out there who understand those principles and execute them better than I do. I think I followed some of Aaron Blaise's videos to learn, but there are also other tutorials on YouTube. I also just learned from watching pencil tests and filming references of my long suffering friend in which i gave her instructions like "ok NOW put your hands on your hips dramatically in the direction of that rock". But yeah like I said the principals of animation themselves are better off taught by someone who isn't me (and I'm honestly still practicing).

Alright that's enough intro. Let's start with setup

FINALLY THE INGREDIENTS LIST

Most of the stuff in this ?tutorial? is really probably honestly laying around your house right now, especially if you live with any 50+ people who have ever had an office job. But I will talk about costs anyway in case you're starting from scratch. I found pretty much all of the stuff at Dollar Tree, and yeah, it's not an ideal place to go, but also this is a tutorial for if you're broke. And also unlike things that you have to repeatedly buy that cost you more per unit in the long run, most things you are using here are one time necessities, so you really are saving money. ....Now I'm in the US. If you're not in the US, I think there are also similar stores in other places....It'll be similar to something like if there's a shop that sells stuff for 1-2 euro or whatever. Things at dollar tree range from about 1-5 bucks, but I managed this with the $1.25 items (some were actually less than that but I lost track of my receipt).

You will need the following shit for part 1 of this vaguely educational series:

The smallest cheapest strand of fairy lights you can get. Mine were battery powered, doesn't really matter either way. If you can get white ones get white ones. (I could Not find white ones :/)*

Batteries if they need batteries *

An 8.5x11 drawing pad (at the dollar store I got the 64 pg one)

A translucent container with a flat bottom. I got a little 8x12 storage basket for this. You probably can't get anything big at the dollar store but try to get something with a bottom as close to the drawing pad size as possible (it's ok if it's a little smaller) *

Scissors (or a knife/craft knife you don't mind destroying. You may want safety goggles if you don't have them. These also exist in dollar tree)**

Clear tape**

Something small and tube like. Maybe plastic straws. I actually used flagpoles from those tiny flags, you know the ones (ok these in the picture are NOT from dollar tree and i will provide excuses later on in this document. You could also use straws i think)

Hole punch

Super glue (or the strongest adhesive you can otherwise get if this isn't available to you)**

pencils (I don't know why I didn't take a picture of them but you're on the gay art website I feel like you've probably seen a pencil in your life)

sharpie (you'll use it more later but you might as well get it now)

A pack of sheet protectors (you may or may not need more depending on how many frames you're doing but for now one will do but for this first part you only need one)

* this is part of an optional component but you WANT TO HAVE IT TRUST ME

**if you are REALLY not in the mood to buy these things and you don't need the tape/scissors for the above optional item, you can technically just go to FedEx and like make a cheap b/w self serve photocopy of something to avoid the employees yelling at you and then quickly go use their choppy thing and the tape and scissors they have laying around in the self serve area. They may have a hole punch too idk

And now FOR THE MAKING PART

First thing to make: substitute peg bar

Some things I'm doing here are optional, but the one that really isn't is the peg bar. That's the thing that keeps all your stuff lined up. Without this your frames are going to be moving all over the place and movements won't register the right way. It's got (if you couldn't guess) pegs on it. And these match up with the holes in your paper or cels.

This is a real peg bar

I think this is like 16-20 bucks if you buy it on Amazon, maybe a smidge cheaper if you go through someone else (I will discuss traditional animation supplies for when you're NOT broke as shit in another post). The problem is that this is for acme punched paper (notice how two of the holes are long). Yes it helps things register better, but we're going to be punching our own paper and a 700 dollar acme punch is NOT in our budget today.

There is a version of a peg bar you can get that fits normal hole punch holes. But this isn't the buy things the easy way tutorial, this is the broke as fuck tutorial. So we're going to be making this shit.

Steps to make the thing (I'm sorry about this list not being numbered apparently even when you fuck with the html directly you can't put images in a numbered list on this webbed site):

Ok first we need some cardboard or cardstock. Something sturdier than regular paper. OH GUESS WHAT WE HAVE THAT. If you don't have other stuff to use laying around, take all the backing cardstock off the drawing pad. Be careful to keep as much of the adhesive stuff left on the actual paper as possible.

We're going to cut that into strips. Keep them as straight as possible. They should be like 1/2-3/4 in wide.

(You may want to skip ahead in the steps a bit to see how we're using this so when we use tape in this step you can avoid putting it where the pegs go. You don't have to but things will stick better) Stack them and tape them together as tightly as possible. This will be the bar part of the bar.

Take one of your page protectors and place it on the bar and try to center the middle hole on the bar. Trace that hole onto the bar and pick two others to trace (pick circle ones that fit entirely onto the bar).

Now we make the pegs. You will use the flags for this (or straws, see flags and note in the Ingredients TM list) So I actually had these pride flags from Walmart (please remember we are trying to stay dirt fucking cheap here, I promise I don't usually go to Walmart at all.) Bc my dollar tree doesn't have them yet, HOWEVER I KNOW THEY WILL BECAUSE IVE GOTTEN THEM BEFORE so technically by the time I finish writing this you will be able to get them there most likely. Now the great thing about cheap flags is they're cheap. That means they use shitty hollow plastic tubes as poles. That's great for us because we are going to snip off the ends and use them as pegs. You want to measure up a 1/2 inch from the bottom and cut them. Do this on 3 SEPARATE flags, because you want at least one perfectly flat end for each (that's likely the factory end, so keep track of which end that is). You can also use plastic straws for this probably, or paper sticks for thick lolly pops. The idea is whatever you use needs to fit the page protector holes.

Take your super glue or other adhesive and put a little on the "pegs" and attach them (factory side down) to the bar where you marked the holes in step 4. (note that the pic shows that I taped both this and the thing you're making next to the leftover cardstock to keep it all together, which is an option but you don't have to if you like to suffer)

Let this dry while we work on the next part.

Second thing to make: "light box" (I use this term COMICALLY loosely. Optional but you will have an easier life if you have one)

This is the LED Light pad I use for animating. If you can afford like 30 bucks, just splurge and get one. It helps you cheat and see your previous pencil drawings under the current one so you can better draw the current frame. (And before you ask yes I know it looks like I dug it out of apocalypse aftermath rubble I will not be taking criticism at this time,,,,)

If you can't afford that, we're going to MacGyver together a little apparatus that works basically the same way. The "we have LED light box at home" if you will.

(I mean you can also just tape a peg bar to a window and go at it which is free but your arms are going to hurt drawing like that. You can also just get really good at page flipping while drawing. I am NOT good at that )

Steps to make the thing:

Remember how I made you get a plastic container with as flat of a bottom as possible? (It can be flat on the inside or outside bottom doesn't matter) We're going to mutilate that. Put on your safety glasses if you have them and you're scissor-cutting something that tends to crack rather than bend because the occasional plastic shard will fly off. Cut the sides off the container. It's probably easier with a knife but I was all about suffering. Try to get as much of the sides off as possible. It's ok to leave some of them if that's the side you'll have facing down. (For me my container had an annoying hard to cut rim on the bottom so I just decided to cut the sides off entirely and have that side down).

Take your fairy lights out and unwind them. If you have battery powered ones... Pry the cheap little battery compartment open (you can see there's a screw driver there so use one if you have it but this plastic is so cheap you'll probably be able to just bend the cover and pry it open and rotate it out of the way tbh) and stick the batteries in. We do this first to make sure the lights work before we waste time using them.

Cut a little notch in the side of your plastic piece where the wires can go.

Flip your plastic piece so that the side facing you is the side you want facing down the rest of the time when you're actually drawing on this thing.

Feed the wire from the battery box (or coming off the plug if no battery box) through the little notch , with the battery box OUTSIDE the plastic area, and tape the wire in place.

Now arrange the strand so you have as even as possible a distribution of lights all over the plastic, and tape the wires down to hold the arrangement in place.

Flip it back over and switch it on. Voila shitty light box. Now you can't put a lot of PRESSURE on this but it'll do the job. You can see like 1-2 previous images through it too believe it or not. And this is with these horrible yellow lights I found, if you have brighter ones it should be more effective. (Now switch it off so you don't eat battery life)

Now let's get the paper ready

Now that the first part of your setup is done you need shit to do your pencil tests/preliminary animation on. (The thing you'll eventually trace onto the cel)

Take the paper you removed the backing from. We're going to mark and punch it. We'll be punching from the ADHESIVE/PERFORATED SIDE. This is important because it will help keep the pages and therefore holes aligned when we take the hole punch after it.

Here's how you go about it for the best result in my humble opinion:

If you made your peg bar as above, you've already removed the cardstock cover of your cheap drawing pad so go to step 2. If you haven't, then remove the cardstock cover/backing from your pad now. Try to keep the adhesive intact as much as you possibly can (basically you want to keep the pages from slipping when you eventually punch them so they need to stay in a neat little stack. If you're having trouble or you're having to use a different type of paper such as ink jet paper, you can probably also achieve this with binder clips in a pinch- is that what they're called? the black things? look like 90s butterfly hair things if you squint? Just make sure the paper is stacked evenly and the stack is held firmly together. )

Still trying to keep the adhesive holding the stack together as much as possible, carefully separate the paper into 2 or 3 smaller stacks. (ignore the hole markings in this picture I took it after I realized I needed to demonstrate this step)

Take one stack and put one of the sheet protectors over it, lining the side with the holes up so that that edge is along the perforation in the drawing paper (if you're using a different type of paper than the dollar store pad, line the edge of the sheet protector up with the edge of the paper, but move it about 1/8th to 1/4th inch away from the edge. basically you don't want the holes right on the edge of the paper). Trace the holes onto the paper with a pen or pencil. (Note: if you're using a manufactured peg bar, use that to determine the hole placement instead of a sheet protector - it'll be easier to modify the holes in sheet protectors if necessary later).

Carefully, keeping the stack of paper all lined up and together, punch each of your three holes with the hole punch. (The reason you made stacks is that do you really want to do this with each individual page? I didn't think so)

Ok Let's Try It Out!!

Alright here's a shot of me using this to draw some frames from my animation about some creepy deer (coming soon to a feature envy productions official tumblr near you). You take some paper and carefully place it on the pegs, sketch a key frame, and then place another sheet over that on the pegs, switch on the "light box" and sketch the next key frame, referencing the first one. (Oh and of course make sure you're drawing on the smooth side - not the side you taped the lights to). Like I said, this is definitely like. If you have no other options you might as well try it - You generally can see through about 3 sheets of paper in a dark room. At least the key areas. So you should be able to in between with this setup as well. Not great but hey! If you're on a strict budget, you can still do this, and it beats buying a bunch of expensive shit on Amazon. I'm pretty confident that most people have almost all of these items laying around their house like I said, but let's break it down - If you're like me and you animate at 24 fps but on 3s, that's an average of 8 frames per second. So for each pad of dollar store paper, you're getting about 8 seconds of animation (maybe more, maybe less). You can factor that in when deciding how many drawing pads to purchase (keep in mind if your backgrounds are very simple, you may be able to use the additional cardstock for this purpose as well instead of using up sheets of paper).

Stay tuned because we're not done yet!

Part 2 will be Inking and painting. (Note: on the day I'm writing this I have a placeholder post there, but if it's still a placeholder when you look, please keep checking, I will add the second part, I just didn't want someone to have to HUNT for it if you're looking at this from like a year from now) Yes ink and paint. You didn't think I was getting you all excited for a vine's worth of pencil tests were you? no we're doing the whole expensive process from pencils to final product. And I'm going to show you the cheapest way I could figure out.

[cheshiresense]

Anon:

Fandom: Harry Potter (CLV kinda?)

Character or Ship: Hadrian from CLV, I love Hadrian/Orion but that might not work here so it's totally up to you!

AU/Trope: I'd love to see an AU where instead of the CLV dimension, Hadrian is sent to a universe still with BWL!Neville but more similar to canon. Maybe with Slytherin!Hadrian and Hadrian taking some of the other Slytherins under his wing? I just really like the idea of a world where the "good guys" win and instead of (or in addition to) Orion it's the Slytherins who need Hadrian in their corner. Doesn't have to be all of them, whoever you prefer writing is fine. I am also down for bashing if you need to work that in. Thank you!

Tags: CLV AU, Slytherin!Hadrian, Canonical Prejudices, Draco Malfoy Bashing, kind of?, tbh this is more or less how I see him in canon lol but I know he's a fan favourite so fair warning, he's not the CLV version here, at least not yet.

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Author's Notes: Hello, it's been a while since I've worked on these. I think I mentioned before that my tumblr inbox got glitchy so I actually couldn't find the other 6 requests from the last batch of 10 you guys sent in for 5+ Headcanons. So I set up an airtable form instead and got someone to test it, and this was the one they sent. It works, so in the future, I'll toss out a new post with the form link for more requests, and maybe I'll get through them in a timely manner lol.

If you're not in the UraIchi server, then you might've noticed that I've sort of been MIA on the writing front for a while now, the last time I wrote and posted something was like back in May last year, and honestly I've been kind of tired and burnt out ever since, and real life is kicking my ass a bit, so when I do have spare time, all I feel like doing is reading fics or webnovels and sleeping. But the winter hols were a nice break for me, and I've started on a couple new fic ideas and added to some wips on and off over the past few months, so I'm slowly getting back into it, and this 5+ Headcanons prompt was one of the things I've been working on. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back into posting fics soon.

ANYWAY, on to the stuff you actually care about: Slytherin!Hadrian, so basically amp up the hardened war vet and dial down the friendship magic XD Way back when I first started CLV, I did consider Slytherin for his House but it felt like everybody did that, plus the politics I would have to get into gave me a headache and I felt like I couldn't do it justice anyway, so I went with Hufflepuff. Slytherin does give me more options to play with a powerful Hadrian who has less morals about flinging that around to get what he wants though since he would be viewed as a halfblood at best and he'd need that currency to make sure nobody messes with him, especially if this universe is more canon than CLV (lbr, almost everybody is at least 50% nicer in CLV lol). So okay, let's give this a spin.

(AO3 Link Here -- I’ll add this to the collection fic on my AO3 to make it a round 15 but this one will be the last for that. If I do more, I’ll start a new fic.)

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1.

Hadrian ends up being a Hatstall. He sits on the stool for a full seven minutes as the Sorting Hat sifts through his bloodstained memories with a silence so grim Hadrian is tempted to comfort it. Then it proceeds to send back memories of its own, the major points of recent Hogwarts history that would best help Hadrian fit in - Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; an image of Hadrian's counterpart and an entire family still alive; Quirrell vanquished in first year, a basilisk slain and a diary that bled itself to death in the second, Remus teaching in the third but no Pettigrew in sight; Neville at odds with Potter, Gryffindors at odds with Slytherins, and Death Eater children who hadn't managed to come out of the last war as financially and politically secure as families like the Malfoys, subtly shunned for their parents' sins, while children from the Light side, the winning side, with parents who'd openly defied Voldemort, can do almost no wrong. On the surface, everything looks bright and happy. Beneath it, malcontent and despair bubbles and brews with hardly anyone the wiser, and those who are, are glad to look away.

The Sorting Hat offers no opinions of its own after it is done, only continuing on to extol the virtues of all four Houses while making an argument for why Hadrian would be perfectly suited for each of them in equal measure, before finally leaving the decision in Hadrian's hands.

"Even I cannot be certain where you would do the most good," the Sorting Hat tells him. "Nor do I know which House would do you the most good. There are many children in this school who could use a helping hand such as yours, and likewise, you too would benefit from the same. Who am I to decide which is more important? Perhaps it is most accurate to say that no matter where you end up, who you will help, and who you will allow to help you, a new future will unfold, one made possible only by your existence. Yours is a fate that demands change, Mr. Evans, for better or for worse. But when peril looms on the distant horizon, when our society insists on blind stagnancy, and its people have long stood divided, change is exactly what this world needs. Thus, I leave the choice to you. Where do you wish to go?"

Hadrian says nothing - thinks nothing - for a long deafening minute. The mounting whispers in the Great Hall are easy enough to tune out, and within the confines of his mind, the Hat too remains patiently silent.

The truth of it is - Hadrian is tired. Even now, in this moment, in this place, one year and an entire dimension and seven years away, he still feels like he does on most days— as if he's just walked off a battlefield at the end of one of those kinds of days that can break a man even when you think there's nothing left to break, yet still hyper-alert for the next enemy, the next fight, the next death, because he doesn't know how to do anything else, how to be anything else. On all the rest, of course, it feels as if he never left the battlefield at all.

He is tired, and he honestly doesn't feel like he's capable of helping anyone, not children, not the reflections of his loved ones, and certainly not an entire world that's rapidly revealing itself to be as stuck on a one-way train to hell as his original world had been.

He doesn't want to be a hero, doesn't know how to be one even after all these years, even when other people had always so desperately wanted him to be. A hero, until he'd proven unable to meet their expectations, and then he'd been their villain, right up until they'd needed a hero to stand in front of them again, and round and round and round they'd gone.

The only thing he could never be was just Harry, just himself, and now even Harry Potter is no longer his to claim.

But maybe that's not so bad, not when Harry Potter has always been more story than reality, a patchwork fairytale portrait of a boy, a man, a weapon, a sacrifice, stitched together by every hand except his own.

Maybe Hadrian Evans could be something different.

Gryffindor feels too much like repeating history, and Hadrian would rather not be forced to stare at the majority of those long dead to him day in and day out. Hufflepuff is too prone to crowding together for his liking, persistently eager to be friends with their own members even if they're quick to turn on those who aren't, and Hadrian doesn't think he can bear the overenthusiastic socializing that would require.

 Ravenclaw might be best, a House where even the most introverted can find a home if they have a thirst for knowledge, but at the same time, for a lot of them, once they latch on to a question unanswered or an opinion that doesn't fit their worldview, they won't let go until the question is exhausted or the opinion has conformed to what they consider acceptable, and Hadrian has too many secrets and no more patience to be what others what him to be to fit in with those sorts of people anymore. Besides, he's never quite forgiven that House as a whole. Marietta Edgecombe had been Ravenclaw. Quirrell and Lockhart and Trelawney had been Ravenclaws. Every single one of Luna's bullies had been Ravenclaws. He'd worked with members of that House over the years, taught them back when the DA had been up and running, and even been friendly with some of them beyond just Luna, but generally speaking, he has no positive emotions regarding Ravenclaw. He knows that he isn't being entirely fair, because Voldemort had been from Slytherin, and Pettigrew had been from Gryffindor, and the worst of the lot who'd spearheaded the damaging gossip and baseless accusations incriminating him - first for the Heir of Slytherin debacle in second year, and then the Cup nonsense in fourth year - had all been from Hufflepuff, but still, Ravenclaw simply stands out as that one House that holds no appeal for him.

That really only leaves one place he can go though, and Hadrian finds that he minds that a lot less than he once would've. Slytherin will have its own problems, him being a halfblood at best with a very obvious muggle surname, but Slytherins also respect power, and most of them have the sense to back off if they realize they're picking a fight with an opponent they can't beat. And once that's dealt with, Hadrian will most likely be avoided and left to his own devices, with only the occasional curse to his back to worry about. From a bunch of schoolchildren, that's a negligible issue.

In his head, the Sorting Hat chuckles. "Very well then. If you're sure, better be-"

"SLYTHERIN!"

But Mr. Evans," the Sorting Hat says in the seconds before it's removed from Hadrian's head. It sounds thoroughly amused. "Do not be so quick to underestimate your own heart."

And with that last ominous statement imparted to haunt him, Hadrian stands to lacklustre applause and makes his way to his new House as his tie settles into green and silver stripes.

The briefest of glances over the stretch of the Slytherin table tells him that none of the students seated where most of the fourth-years are gathered have moved to make room for him. That's fine. Hadrian would rather not be boxed in anyway. He takes a seat at the end of the table, smiles at the suspicious first-years around him, and then waits for Dumbledore's opening speech to finish so they can start the feast.

Fifteen minutes later, one treacle tart and a glass of pumpkin juice is all he can manage. He sips at some water for the rest of dinner even as he wishes it was something a lot more alcoholic. He speaks to no one, and no one tries to speak to him, although plenty of prying eyes and sneers of disdain find their way to him throughout the meal.

It makes him feel, Hadrian thinks with some humour, almost nostalgic.

Near the end of the evening, he thinks about going over to the Gryffindor table to find Neville, Ron, and Hermione. But he's in Slytherin now, so he doesn't know how they'll react, and after another moment of contemplation, he decides against it. Not much can embarrass him anymore, but he'd still rather not be put on the spot if the Golden Trio rejects his overture of friendship. It won't help his reputation in Slytherin either if he ends up making a spectacle of himself like that. There's plenty of time tomorrow to see how they'll feel about maintaining ties with a Slytherin without too big of an audience watching, and if they're against it, then, well, it's not as if Hadrian hasn't been living as a recluse over the better part of the past year anyway. He sees no problem carrying on exactly as he has.

Fate sent him here against his explicit permission but she sure as shit can't make him dance.

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2.

Hadrian ends up shuffled into a dorm room with five very familiar Slytherins - Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. He gets the remaining bed that's presumably been empty since the others' first year, and a very pointed silence coalesces at his back as he starts unpacking his clothes into his wardrobe.

He ignores it. Instead, he absently begins a count of how long it will take for someone - he's betting Draco - to put their foot in their mouth first. He casts a glance at the floor-to-ceiling window next to his nightstand; like the Gryffindor dorms, the room is circular so everyone has a view to the outside, but here, instead of winds and open skies, it's lake water that shimmers against the glass, with the shadows of passing aquatic life flickering by. It's not bad, just different; the ambience of it is almost soothing.

Someone clears their throat behind him. Hadrian hangs up his winter cloak before moving on to his books. They each get a desk too, complete with a mini bookcase, which the Gryffindor dorms don't have. They have to do their homework on their beds or in the common room. How unfair. But at least Hadrian gets to benefit from it now.

Someone clears their throat again, louder this time. Hadrian smothers a twist of a smirk and bends over his trunk again to fish out his towels and toiletries. His more personal belongings can remain inside, although he'll have to ward everything to the nines anyway.

A displeased noise that comes out gilded with that distinctly familiar Dudley-esque whine of a child who's been spoiled since birth and has never known hardship reaches his ears, and then finally-

"Are you deaf, Evans?!" Draco demands, and oh, look at that, Hadrian wins the bet.

He straightens and turns, idly fiddling with a packet of quills as his gaze falls on the blond standing puffed up and bristling by the bed opposite Hadrian's on the other side of the dorm. He looks him over, looks at Crabbe and Goyle bracketing him with twin expressions of oafish scorn, looks at Zabini standing a ways away, watching the whole room with a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes, looks at Nott who doesn't look at anyone at all.

His attention returns to Draco, considering him for a moment longer before asking mildly, "Did you say something?"

Draco's cheeks flush pink even as he draws himself up and snaps, "You should at least have enough manners to introduce yourself!" His face narrows into a sneer, and Hadrian can almost predict his next words. "But I suppose even that might be too difficult for a mudblood to learn."

For a second, Hadrian wonders if he should tell him he's a halfblood. Then again, it doesn't really matter, and also some people consider halfbloods to be mudbloods too. And now that he thinks about it, the person he is in this world might actually be a muggleborn. But he was homeschooled so at least one of his fictional parents had to have known magic, right? Then again, they could've just been related to a witch or wizard but were muggles themselves. Who knows. Certainly not him since Fate couldn't be bothered to inform him.

"Evans, are you listening to me?!"

Hadrian blinks out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm listening, what is it?"

Draco glares. His features are so… pointy at this age that the expression doesn't really carry the impact he's probably going for, but Hadrian figures it would be unnecessarily mean to mention it, so he doesn't. Instead, he quickly reviews everything Draco has said, and there wasn't actually a question anywhere in there, as far as Hadrian can tell, but maybe Draco really does want an introduction. Seems like a waste of breath though.

"Is there a point to introducing myself?" He asks. "Everybody heard my name at the Sorting. You even just used it so it's not like you don't know."

Draco splutters as if that wasn't what he expected Hadrian to say. He recovers after a moment and opts to glower harder instead, as if that would hide the way the pink in his cheeks is slowly turning red. Poor bastard. That's what you get when you have a pale complexion and fluster easily.

"Are you actually a mudblood then?" He demands contemptuously.

Hadrian honestly doesn't know, but he can't say that, so he volleys back, "Does Slytherin accept muggleborns?"

He knows they take halfbloods, but he can't remember any muggleborns in Slytherin, although if there are any, he doubts they would be willing to broadcast it, even if it means inventing a magical parent in their family tree.

"Of course not!" Draco refutes, sounding scandalized.

Hadrian can't tell if that's actually true, or if that's just Draco's own belief, but it does make things easier. "Then…" He shrugs. "If you already know, why are you asking?"

A beat of silence passes, then two. The red deepens in Draco's face as he hisses dramatically, "Are you mocking me?"

Hadrian suppresses a sigh. He probably is being too flippant for someone as high-strung as Draco, but it's still a far sight from mockery. He can definitely do better if he wants to taunt someone. Had his world's Draco been this easily riled up? They hadn't even really gotten into any exchange of insults yet. "I wouldn't say I'm-"

He stops.

Across the room, Draco has pulled out his wand, and when he realizes that Hadrian's broken off mid-sentence, the flush recedes from his face, and a triumphant smirk instantly takes its place instead.

"Since you've been sorted into Slytherin," Draco announces, raising his wand with a ridiculously showy flourish that makes Hadrian twitch with the desire to correct his posture. "You should know your place. Mouthing off to your betters is a good way to get cursed around here, especially when you're in the presence of someone like me." He sneers down his nose even as his chin tips up, all peacock proud. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Even the likes of your kind should've heard of my family." He looks smug, as if a mere surname can protect him from anything when it comes down to it. "You'll be staying here for the next four years, Evans, and I guarantee you'll have a miserable time of it if you get on my bad side. But today's your first day at Hogwarts, so I can be generous. If you apologize, I'll let you go just this once."

An expectant hush falls as Draco finishes his little speech. Hadrian doesn't say anything right away, still turning over the packet of quills in his hands, still waiting. When nothing happens after a good five seconds tick by, and the silence gradually becomes strained, Hadrian finally nods at Draco's wand, "So are you going to use that or not?"

The stunned look of outrage on Draco's face is gold.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Evans!" Draco snarls, jabbing out with his wand. "Oscausi!"

Hadrian has time to arch an eyebrow at the choice of a pseudo-silencing charm before he's flipping a quill into the fingers of his left hand. A swipe of his thumb leaves a chain of runes glittering along its shaft, and then he brings it up, catches the oncoming spell with the tip, and swats it aside with a flick of his wrist, all in one fluid motion. His right hand doesn't stay still either as his wand slides neatly into his palm, and a single wordless modified Expelliarmus darts out and attaches itself to Draco's wand.

The white light of the Mouth-Sealing Charm is sent soaring across the room, shattering against the door in a shower of harmless sparks, and in the heavy silence that follows, Hadrian smiles.

He thinks it's a very bland smile, if he does say so himself. At the very least, he's careful to not look too intimidating or too unhinged, the way he can sometimes get, if some of his dead friends were to be believed, back during the war. Nevertheless, it still makes Draco blanch white, makes Crabbe and Goyle shrink back, makes Zabini lean further back into a convenient shadow and Nott go utterly still from where he's sitting on his bed.

Hadrian glances down at the remains of his writing utensil, most of the barbs now burnt black. It was a regular quill after all, not exactly made to withstand so much magic. He looks back up, at Draco who has a white-knuckled grip on his wand, and with his own wand, he gives the other's a tug, just enough to make Draco's eyes go wide with something like panic, but not enough to actually disarm him and - considering the sheer amount of honed intent in the charm that even Draco can undoubtedly sense - most likely bend the wand's allegiance.

Hadrian holds it for a moment longer, and then lets go. Draco staggers back a step, jerking his wand down and reflexively pressing it into his chest as if he's trying to protect it, or maybe assure himself that it still belongs to him.

Hadrian tucks his wand back up his sleeve before stooping down to pick up the rest of the quills he'd dropped. The burnt one goes in the bin by his desk.

Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves. So Hadrian does.

"That took you almost five seconds," He begins almost conversationally as he opens a drawer to stash his remaining quills away. "From when you decided to fire that spell to actually firing it. And that's not even counting all the time you wasted saying the stuff before that, after you already took out your wand. It's stupid. When you draw with the intent to harm, you shouldn't give any warning at all. And the spell itself was slow. You should work on that."

He pauses, and there's still no response, which he supposes makes sense. He doubts anybody here wants to listen to him preach. He should just wrap things up since the plan is moving along so neatly.

"Anyway, this is pretty unfortunate," He switches gears and smiles again, as fit-for-public-polite as he knows how to be. It doesn't seem to make anyone feel better, but he also doesn't feel like he was that heavy-handed earlier, was he? Ah well, can't change anything now, and it's still in line with what he wants so it doesn't matter.

"I wasn't really expecting to make any friends since I know the average Slytherin's views on blood isn't exactly in my favour," He continues in light tones. "But I was hoping that we could at least remain on civil terms and get along as schoolmates, if only because we'll be living together for the rest of our time at Hogwarts. Since that doesn't seem to be possible anymore though, how about we just go with the simplest solution?"

Hadrian surveys the room and smiles some more. "You ignore me and I’ll ignore you. You attack me and I'll retaliate. An eye for an eye, so to speak. Everybody just needs to mind their own business, and there won't be any problems. That's fair enough, don't you think?"

His gaze settles once more on Draco. "Since you're the only one who's said anything so far, I'll assume you speak for everyone in this dorm. Draco Malfoy, right? So then, do we understand each other now?"

Across from him, Draco shivers imperceptibly like a rabbit caught at the wrong end of a predator's line of sight, but he also swallows and nods and gingerly puts his wand away. It looks like it costs him, but - at least for now - he seems both too shocked and too afraid to try anything else.

"Great!" Hadrian says cheerfully before cocking his head as a thought occurs to him. "Oh, right, one more thing."

He lets his smile fall away. Lets his expression smooth over into marble. And then he lets his magic flare, lets the pressure of it roll across the room like the black merciless depths of a storm-tossed ocean, lets it eclipse them all like death come to call, and then he brings it crashing down, not most of it, not even half, because he hasn't forgotten that these are children, that they're still young, and they can learn, they can be better, and Hadrian doesn't actually want to traumatize them permanently.

But he also remembers Draco - his world's Draco - telling him once, in a fit of aggravated exasperation during one of those times when they'd devolved into insulting each other's House traits yet again because they still hadn't understood what made the other tick, but they had also reached a point in their friendship where they'd started trying to, and kept trying.

"Slytherins respect power," Draco had said, not for the first time, but then he'd also added, for the first time, and haltingly as if he hadn't known why he'd had to explain it at all, "How else are you going to know they're worth your time? Or I guess worth befriending, in your Gryffindor terms."

"You don't decide whether or not to make friends based on how powerful someone is."

"Slytherins don't have friends. I only said friend because you're a Gryffindor and you don't understand anything else."

"Fine, you don't decide whether or not to associate with every single person you come across in your life based on how powerful they are either."

"Why not?"

"Why would you??"

"How else would you know they're strong enough to stand with you? Or competent enough to protect themselves? Power is a good starting line. If they're powerful enough, then they won't be afraid to face your enemies with you, and you can trust them to be capable of keeping themselves safe without having to keep an eye on them every minute of the day. Only brainless Gryffindors prefer doing things like throwing themselves in the line of fire and dying dramatically for each other and calling that a win. Let me tell you something, Potter - it's not a victory when you're forced to suffer a loss. You haven't won anything if you're not around to enjoy the aftermath. So the best allies must be ones who are powerful enough to not only achieve their goals but also survive them."

"…"

"Well, I will grudgingly admit that I didn't put quite that much thought into it when I was younger, but who did? …It's what I believe now though. Did I finally get it through your thick skull this time, Potter?"

After that particular conversation, Hadrian had understood a little better, even if he hadn't entirely agreed with it all. But he hadn't forgotten a single word, and Draco was right— as they are, these kids definitely aren't thinking that deeply, but Hadrian thinks that the core of it at least is the same. Slytherins respect power. And he has power in spades, so at the very least, he can make them respect him.

Of course, if that also happens to make them afraid of him, then, well, he was never aiming to be their friend or even ally anyway. So long as they leave him alone, it's fine.

He brings his magic to bear, allows the weight of it to fall and fall and fall, and he watches dispassionately as Draco goes grey, as Crabbe and Goyle's knees buckle, as Zabini flinches back like he wants to melt into the walls, as Nott curls into himself and may or may not have stopped breathing.

Hadrian catches Draco's eye, and doesn't let him look away. "I have no betters. Do I make myself clear?"

He'd spent half his life being beaten down by the Dursleys, told over and over that he was worth nothing, that he didn’t deserve food or clothes or kindness, that he was a waste of space and better off dead. He'd spent a good chunk of his Hogwarts career obliviously dancing to Dumbledore's tune, and then some more of it knowingly dancing to it because what else could he do with a target on his back. He'd spent over twenty years shackled to Voldemort, to his parents' legacy, to a war that had loved him a whole lot more than he'd ever loved it. And he'd been Fate's everything since before he'd ever even been born.

Some days, he wonders if he even knows what freedom is anymore. Or if he's ever known at all.

But one thing he is sure of is that he will never passively tolerate anyone controlling what he can or cannot do ever again.

Draco whimpers something like agreement, like deference, like surrender, and- that's enough. Hadrian reels it all back, all his magic hidden away again, and in the dizzying wake of its abrupt disappearance, Draco collapses, barely catching himself and his dignity with the edge of his bed. Crabbe and Goyle do crash to the ground, while Zabini has to steady himself against his nightstand, and Nott sways like he might faint.

Too much, Hadrian thinks distantly, and tries to feel bad about it because he really hadn't meant to go that far, but his lines in the sand have also long since blurred away beneath a tide of blood and corpses.

Mostly, he just feels tired, and it has nothing to do with his displays of magic tonight.

He breathes. Turns. Grabs a towel and his underwear and pyjamas and pretends everything's fine. It is fine, now. He's gotten what he wanted. "It's getting late. I'll shower first. Won't be long."

And then he's exiting stage right, straight into the bathroom, and it's a relief to close the door behind him.

Of course, that sentiment is one that's shared by probably every single person in the room.

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3.

Theo is awake before anyone else the next morning. Or at least he thinks he is because he usually is. But everybody's curtains are drawn, and after last night, he doubts anyone was able to sleep right away, if at all, with the exception of their new roommate.

Hadrian Evans. Great Merlin, where had this person even come from? Even just the memory of his magic - vast and endless and utterly uncompromising - pressing down on them like the sky had fallen on their heads, makes his hands want to shake all over again. For a long, suspended, suffocating moment that could've lasted an eternity, Theo could've sworn he was going to die last night. And the most terrifying thing is that he is absolutely certain that Evans hadn't even been trying that hard.

Evans had radiated enough raw power to force all of them to their knees if he'd really wanted to. But he'd held back. He'd only given them a glimpse, just enough to warn them off. The rest of his magic had been out of reach, but present. It was there, reined in and waiting, but the shape of it and the depth of it had felt… unfathomable, as if it had no limits.

And that doesn't even account for the spellwork he had done. Theo had recognized the Disarming Charm, but last he checked, the average Expelliarmus only deprived a wizard of their wand. A more powerful one might send the target flying and even knock them out, but he's never heard of one that can… threaten to disarm your opponent at your leisure and - if Theo wasn't mistaken - force the wand to forsake its owner. Everybody knows that that's always a possibility in a real duel; if you win and take your opponent's wand, then that wand might not work for its owner anymore. But most of the time, you have to mean it, you have to set out with the intent to do it, the buildup of magic in the duel itself gives that intent a foundation, and there has to be an actual possibly life-threatening conflict of interest between the parties too, a real enmity that even last night - however excessive the exchange - shouldn't have qualified. Squabbles between students just don't count. If it did, with the Disarming Charm being taught in school, there would be a lot more students in need of new wands. The only way Theo can rationalize it happening anyway is that Evans must've been strong enough to compel the wand itself to leave its owner.

Pity he hadn't gone through with it in the end. Evans is powerful, but he's also… Theo is hesitant to call him soft, but if it had been Malfoy, if it had been Blaise or even himself or pretty much any other Slytherin, they would've done it. He's unsure of why Evans hadn't.

And then there had been the thing with the quill. Theo can't even explain that, and he'd mulled it over for half the night. He has the… incidental fortune of occupying the bed closest to Evans', so as soon as Evans had ducked into the bathroom last night, and the others had been distracted with pulling themselves together and possibly trying not to wet themselves, Theo had chanced a swift peek into Evans' wastebasket.

It really had looked just like any other regular quill, one that'd been burnt completely black and missing most of its barbs, but it had been a quill. He'd been tempted to open Evans' desk drawer to check the other quills, but - with Evans' ultimatum still ringing in his ears - he hadn't been that suicidal, so he'd refrained. But from what he could recall, the pack it had come from had looked just like the mass-produced writing utensils one could find in any stationery shop in Diagon Alley.

Whatever he'd done though, he had made it look like child's play. A quill and a Disarming Charm, so fast that Theo could've blinked and missed it. Could someone like that really have remained in obscurity all this time? Evans had apparently been homeschooled up until now, and they haven't even attended their first class yet, but by anyone's definition, after last night, he can't claim to be anything less than a prodigy.

It's… unbelievable. And not even because of any of the blood purity ideals that Malfoy likes to preach about. Theo doesn't think much of muggleborns or halfbloods, but he also doesn't think much of most purebloods, so he's fairly certain it's not high society prejudices that's driving his disbelief. It's just… He's never met anyone - not even his father, and Merlin knows Theo's been afraid of him for as long as he can remember - as effortlessly powerful as Evans had shown himself to be, and he doesn't understand how nobody has heard even a whisper of a rumour of this boy before he'd arrived at Hogwarts.

Someone like him shouldn't exist. Or perhaps there has been one, and that had been how the Dark Lord had made so many people bow at his feet or cower in their homes, but Theo had never met him in person, and so all he has is Evans' example to draw from. And not a single witch or wizard whom Theo's ever met could compare.

Has Evans just been hiding himself? Maybe his family hid him before they deemed him ready to face the rest of the world, and he's certainly proven that he can hide it when he wants to. But what kind of family can bring up this kind of wizard? Evans is only fourteen. None of them had thought him anything special before he'd revealed exactly how wrong they were. And he probably wouldn't have done even that much if Malfoy hadn't immediately taken a go at him, always so obsessed with making sure everyone knows he sits at the top of the food chain.

Well, he certainly doesn't anymore, and if Theo hadn't been caught up in the confrontation last night just like everyone else, he would've been tempted to applaud the spectacle of Malfoy being taken down a peg or ten. Before Evans' arrival, Theo was the one Malfoy liked to take jabs at every few days, and it was only partly because he'd had a halfblood mother. The Notts could've been said to be respectably rich once upon a time, but after the war had ended, with his father's political clout being almost nonexistent and most of their extended relatives either dead or in Azkaban, they'd been easy pickings for the Aurors. His father had escaped prison time with the Imperius excuse and some bribes, but that hadn't prevented multiple raids on their home and a hefty list of fines that had left their vaults near-depleted. And what little fortune they have left is reserved almost entirely for Theo's father's alchemy obsession that's more often focused on illegal research topics than not, as well as his black market dealings, although neither of those at least is widely known, or who knows if they would even have their ancestral manor left after the Aurors were done with them?

Malfoy loved reminding him of almost every one of those things as often as he could, and the most absurd thing is that - more than being born from a halfblood mother or poverty or loss of prestige - Theo's pretty sure Malfoy's biggest reason for disliking Theo is because Theo had refused to follow him around like Crabbe and Goyle back in first year.

So here they are now, and after three years, Theo had more or less become inured, not to mention it wasn't as if Malfoy only bullied him, or even bullied him the most - nobody could top that list while Potter and Weasley were around to fight for first place on it - but it had still been annoying and stressful because Theo was the only one who had to share a dorm with him. Considering the Malfoys' standing in society however, all he could ever do was stay silent and bear with it.

Admittedly, he'd been a little happy when Evans had been sorted into Slytherin, because between Theo and an unknown halfblood-at-best with no allies and no significant family background to speak of, the perfect prey in every way, Malfoy would definitely enjoy targeting the latter more, and even if the blond ponce still came after Theo, it would at least take some of the pressure off of him.

Now… well. That will still probably pick back up sooner or later, but Theo resents it less when he thinks about how it will take at least a few weeks before Malfoy will be able to strut around again after last night's humiliation. And also…

He thinks again of last night, of how Evans had basically smacked Malfoy down like he was nothing more than an unruly upstart getting above himself, and of that quiet oath too - I have no betters - and it hadn't even been pride or arrogance or superiority, only stone-cold certain fact.

He thinks of the fear he'd felt, but behind that, beneath that, more than that, there had also been nothing less than a breathless, heady, wondrous sense of reverence that had settled itself behind his ribcage, in his lungs, in the sudden hungry swell of curiosity that he'd just barely managed to lock behind his teeth, and it had only grown stronger after a night of fitful sleep.

He wants to see that magic again. He wants to know what else Evans can do.

And most importantly, he wants to know if he can do it too.

-0-

Ten minutes later, Theo hears Evans pull his bed curtains back. Very cautiously, he twitches his own curtains open half an inch to watch Evans get up, stretching languidly and scrubbing a hand through his messy black hair before gathering up his toiletries and a change of clothes. Like this, he looks completely normal, nothing at all like someone who could flatten all five of his roommates with a thoughtless flex of his magic. Even his eyes are just green now, no longer glowing like the light of a Killing Curse.

Of course, then Evans waves a hand at his window curtains, which obediently sweep open in response, and… yes, why not? Wandless magic seems par for the course for Evans, even if Theo has only ever heard of a handful of seventh-years capable of some very basic wandless spells if they concentrate hard enough.

Evans leaves for the bathroom as if casual uses of wandless magic is an everyday occurrence for him, and only after the door has closed does Theo let himself relax.

Evans had never even glanced over, but somehow, Theo thinks the other boy had known he was being watched anyway. But he'd said nothing, hadn't even given any indication that he'd noticed, let alone minded. Theo still isn't sure why he'd let Malfoy off so easily yesterday - because on hindsight, when it came down to it, all Evans had really done was scare them and scare Malfoy most of all; despite the verbal abuse and even the Dark charm Malfoy had shot at him, Evans hadn't actually hurt any of them in return - and Theo doesn't get it but maybe part of it is just because Evans doesn't take offence easily.

It seems unwise to Theo to not at least dole out some injuries as a reminder when that offence had been as insolent as Malfoy's, but perhaps Evans has his own measure of such things. Besides, Malfoy's known to say worse. Theo's looking forward to what happens if Malfoy forgets himself and says something even more loathsome. It's not impossible. Malfoy has been unchallenged since he came to Hogwarts. He's used to saying and doing whatever he wants, even to the upper years and those outside his own House. Most people ignore him when they can and indulge him when they can't, or otherwise manage or placate him with their own methods, but the one thing no one has ever done is tell him no, tell him to stop and make it stick. Potter and Weasley tend to give as good as they get, what with how short their tempers are, but they're louder and more obvious about it, so they get caught more often, which just makes them even angrier, so it never actually feels like they win, even when Malfoy doesn't either. Certainly, no amount of lectures or point loss has managed to deflate his ego.

But now there's Hadrian Evans. Theo doesn't need a second demonstration to know that Malfoy is outclassed in every way, but funnily enough, Malfoy himself might need it.

Theo eyes the bathroom door for a moment longer before finally getting up himself. He's barely set his feet on the rug before Blaise - in the bed on Theo's other side - also whips open his curtains, looking far more alert than he ever has this early in the morning.

For several seconds, they stare at each other in silence. And then - because he isn't sure if the other three boys in the room are awake yet - Theo pitches his voice even lower than usual and says, "He said Malfoy spoke for us."

Blaise blinks twice, and then something like distaste curves up at one corner of his mouth. "I heard."

Theo nods. They're on the same page then. Neither of them is particularly keen on this opinion that Evans has regrettably formed, Theo because of obvious reasons, and Blaise because he's Blaise.

Blaise has always been strange. He's the type who gets along with everyone and gets along with no one. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone - biased Gryffindors aside - who would say a bad word about him, but they'd probably have to think a while if you asked them to describe something of personal significance about him too. It's not that he's average - he's never failed a class, and he's especially good at Potions - but for all that he can carry a conversation in a way that makes everyone feel comfortable and included, and he could probably talk rings around a politician without making them feel stupid, he also never lets anyone close enough to actually get to know him. He's approachable, but only when he wants you to approach him. He's generous with his smiles, but sometimes, it feels a little like he's laughing at you. He might say something condescending or spiteful to you one day, but he has the kind of charisma that makes you forget that the very next. People might call him friend and invite him over for a chat or a game of chess, but most don't make any attempts to go beyond that. And if you know what to look for, as Theo has learned to do, you would realize - Blaise views the world like it's one big boring joke, and his estimation of most of the people in it is probably somewhere around the level of dancing clowns.

Theo doesn't mind. The two of them aren't friends either. They're also not enemies though, and occasionally, they can be allies, but only when Blaise feels like it. Sometimes, the other boy will distract Malfoy from messing up Theo's potion in class or launching yet another diatribe on all of Theo's deficiencies, but Theo will never ask him to because he has nothing to repay Blaise with.

It works for them. Blaise does what Blaise wants, and even Malfoy can't control him. Theo is secretly envious of that— with the Zabinis' seat of power in Italy, it means they don't have that much clout in Britain, and yet nobody messes with Blaise, not even the few who don't buy into Blaise's charm or simply hate him because he's a Slytherin. Not even Malfoy messes with him, and even Theo can't tell if it's Malfoy's self-preservation instincts kicking in to ensure that he isn't about to go insulting someone with a black widow mother like Blaise's, or if Malfoy genuinely hasn't noticed that Blaise doesn't respect him at all no matter how pleasant his words can be. Honestly, when it comes to Malfoy, there's a decent chance of either option being true.

With all that in mind though, it's not a surprise that Blaise isn't pleased with being slotted in as one of Malfoy's lackeys, especially by someone as impressive - or, as Blaise might put it, entertaining - as Hadrian Evans has swiftly proved himself to be.

"It's fine," Blaise says next, rolling out of bed to get ready for the day. He's already regained his typical lazy slouch, as if he hadn't been just as terrified as the rest of them last night. His eyes slide to the bathroom, then away, unreadable but more focused than Theo's ever seen them. "We live in the same dorm, and we'll attend at least most of the same classes. He'll see soon enough that we don't share the same opinions as Malfoy."

Theo watches him dig into his wardrobe. "And then?"

"Then?" Blaise tips a more familiar look of knowing amusement at him. "Then you do what you want, and I'll do what I want, and at the very least, we'll have the good sense to not throw ourselves straight onto a hippogriff's talons like dear Draco."

Theo smothers a snort and rises to his feet. Neither he nor Blaise take Care of Magical Creatures, but everybody had heard of Malfoy's idiocy last year. The phrase "my father will hear about this!" had reached a record high by winter's end. Not much had come of it, not when Hagrid had had the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore championing him. Even Lucius Malfoy would - and had, more than once over the years - find it difficult to contend with the British wizarding world's vaunted war heroes when they join forces. In the end, Hagrid could continue teaching so long as he did it alongside a second professor hired by the school, and even the hippogriff got to live. Malfoy had not been happy, and he'd made sure everybody knew it too, but at least he'd also whined less about it once Slytherin House had learned to snigger about it where he wouldn't hear.

But 'throwing oneself onto a hippogriff's talons' had become rather popular vernacular ever since, subtle enough that even Malfoy couldn't call anyone out on using it without embarrassing himself, but funny to everyone who understood, and nobody could even say who'd started the phrase. Theo's money would be on Blaise though.

The bathroom is spelled so that nobody outside can hear anything when the door is shut, but they can hear the lock click open just fine, and almost in tandem, he and Blaise both immerse themselves in picking out their outfits for the day as if it's a task that requires every last bit of their attention.

Evans walks out. True to his word, he ignores them completely, neither greeting them nor sparing them a glance as he moves back to his section of the dorm. Theo watches him out of the corner of his eye as the boy folds his pyjamas away before proceeding to pack his bag. He catches a glimpse of an Ancient Runes textbook, and his mind abruptly flashes back to the quill. But… that can't be right.

Evans shuts his bag, pulls on his robes, and toes on his shoes. Like this, there's something vaguely familiar about him that Theo can't place right away, and the thought is gone again as Evans slings his bag over his shoulder and strides for the door.

He still doesn't look at any of them, and he's gone from the room a moment later. They might as well have been empty air.

Theo's fingers tighten around the shirt he's holding. Somehow, he-

-doesn't like it.

-0-

Malfoy gets up two minutes after Evans is gone, moving around with an exaggeratedly unaffected sort of poise that makes Theo want to roll his eyes. At least the blond doesn't try to make conversation until Crabbe and Goyle wake up as well.

Evans aside, Theo is the first out of the room, as per usual, although this time, Blaise accompanies him up to the common room and out of the Dungeon. It takes no time at all to arrive at the Great Hall, and this early, most of the four House tables are still empty of students, although more and more are gradually drifting in in groups of threes and fours.

Unlike the other Houses who like cramming into whatever space they see, Slytherins are more political about it. The end seats are left to the outcasts or first-years who don't know better yet, while the midway point of the table is typically reserved for the most influential students, such as those with the best grades or the largest range of social connections or the strongest family background, or some combination of the three. And everybody else arranges themselves between the two extremes accordingly. The only time that changes - from what Theo has heard - is when someone is so magically powerful that they can overwhelm everyone else. Then it doesn't matter what grades or connections or background they have because magic is respected most of all, although they would usually have some qualifications in those other areas. But either way, they would be given reigning place of pride in the middle with their chosen followers around them, and everybody else would sit where they're told to sit, regardless of their accomplishments.

Someone like that hasn't come along in fifty years though, not since the Dark Lord was still at Hogwarts.

So it's jarring to see Evans seated at the very end, furthest away from the High Table, with a book open in front of him and a steaming mug in one hand, but Theo supposes it shouldn't be. He's newly transferred in, and a halfblood besides, so he probably doesn't know about the traditional seating arrangement, and since it's still just the second day of school, it's not as if anybody else outside their dorm knows that Evans is anything but the unfortunate fourth-year with a muggle surname sorted into Slytherin, so he really can be considered an outcast.

Theo exchanges a look with Blaise before tentatively taking a seat at their usual spot a few feet away from the halfway point of the table. It doesn't feel right to… go over Evans' head like this, but it's not like they can really do anything about it at the moment. Theo in particular is technically sitting above his station, but his family is still one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, no matter how far it's fallen, and he gets decent grades in almost every class. He's also on friendly terms with Blaise, and the fact that he shares a dorm with Malfoy is a double-edged sword. Malfoy has the status to sit near the middle ever since he was a first-year, and it wouldn't look very good for him if he's seen completely spurning a Nott in his generation. So Theo is largely left alone so long as he looks like he's nominally part of Malfoy's group during mealtimes.

Theo spends the next five minutes sneaking sidelong glances down the table. Blaise does the same, and neither of them is obvious about it so nobody comes up to ask them any questions. Other Slytherins begin filing in, and more than one wrinkles their nose or sneers when they pass Evans, as if they've smelled something repulsive.

Theo has to make an effort not to wince every time it happens. Blaise watches with a shallow smirk hitched across his face and something cold and callous and thoroughly amused in his eyes.

By the time Malfoy - with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him - sits down across from them, about half the table is full, plates of breakfast have started appearing, and Evans still hasn't looked up from his reading.

Malfoy - much less subtle - shoots something sulky and resentful with just a dash of fear down the table and mutters, "Doesn't even know how to sit properly."

Theo really does roll his eyes this time, although he makes sure to do it down at his scone. Before anyone can say anything else though, Evans unexpectedly straightens, his attention finally lifting from his book. Malfoy immediately stiffens as well like he thinks Evans had heard him from all the way down the table, which Theo wouldn't put past Evans's ability but also doesn't think that Evans thinks that Malfoy is worth that effort to eavesdrop on.

Evans looks around, but not at any of the Slytherins. He cranes his head over one shoulder, seems to catch sight of whatever he's looking for, and gets up, shutting his book and tossing it back in his bag. Then he's making his way across the Hall, past the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, straight over to the Gryffindor table that's only partially filled at the moment but is also hosting the Golden Trio, who had just come down for breakfast.

 Evans stops a few feet away, and Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger turn to face him. What Theo can see of their expressions indicate that they're surprised and a little wary, but they also seem like they know each other. They converse about something, Weasley makes some exaggerated hand gestures, Granger smacks him, and then Evans says something else that makes the Gryffindors burst into laughter, startled but bright.

And then Evans moves forward and-

-sits down.

At the Gryffindor table.

Longbottom and Granger are smiling, and even Weasley - with his hatred for everything Slytherin - seems fine with it, going back to plating more food for himself while passing some sausages over to Evans.

In Theo's peripheral, Malfoy's face has lost so much colour that he could pass for a ghost. Theo can't tell if he's just that offended or if he's actually managed to comprehend the fact that he's already alienated possibly the most magically powerful student at Hogwarts from Slytherin House, to the point where that student doesn't even want to eat at the same table as them, and classes haven't even started yet.

Theo can't tell, nor does he care, but if he'd ever needed any more reasons to despise Draco Malfoy, this would be it.

He averts his gaze from Evans, even if the mere thought of him preferring a bunch of Gryffindors - and those Gryffindors at that; the only ones worse would be Potter's lot - over his own House is… grating. But staring isn't going to win Theo any favours and might just tick Evans off. Besides, there are plenty of others who have noticed a Slytherin sitting with Gryffindors, and they're staring enough for ten of him.

He starts on his breakfast. School has just begun. There's plenty more time in the future to observe Hadrian Evans.

-0-0-0-

4.

Within the space of a week, Theo is cautiously pleased to find that he shares all nine classes with Evans. The core subjects are mandatory of course, but in addition to Ancient Runes, Evans also takes Arithmancy, both of which Theo is also studying, and after three weeks, he gets a slightly more detailed picture of what Evans is capable of.

In class, Evans doesn't stand out, or at least not in a way most people would notice. He doesn't take the initiative to answer questions posed by the teachers, and his spells and potions aren't particularly dazzling when they're assigned practical classwork.

But every time a professor calls on him, Evans always answers correctly. Every time they have to practice a new spell, Evans doesn't clamour to be the first to show off, and he isn't the one who produces it with the most eye-catching burst of magic, but when he's asked to show his progress, he always does it exactly the way the teacher demonstrated it at the beginning of class. Even in Potions, all he does is work discreetly in the back corner on the Slytherin side of the room. He never finishes early, but he also never finishes late, never failing to turn in a textbook-perfect potion ten minutes before class ends, and a couple times, Theo catches Snape watching Evans with an inscrutable expression after the boy quietly hands in yet another flawless potion.

After three weeks, Theo can conclude that while Evans doesn't deliberately dumb himself down, and in fact is performing spectacularly across the board, he does it in such a reserved, inconspicuous manner that even most of the professors probably aren't going to notice until they've graded a good few months' worth of homework and tests.

He does it for every subject. Every single one, except Ancient Runes, and Theo is convinced that that's less because Evans didn't try, and more that… well, some brilliance just can't be hidden.

In the third week, when Babbling hands back their first assignment - Acceptables and Poors all around of course; some days, Theo isn't sure if he wants to strangle Babbling or himself, just to put himself out of the misery that is attempting to understand anything their Runes professor says - she holds Evans back at the end of class, and half the students snicker like they think he's in trouble or did so badly that even Babbling can't stand it, and it's the best joke they've ever seen. But two days later, some papers that Evans has left out on his desk while he's off doing something else, probably with his Gryffindor buddies, catch Theo's eye while he's on his way to his own desk. More specifically, the symbol of the Department of Magical Education stamped on them catches Theo's eye, and after some very hasty and very undignified neck-straining and squinting from a prudent five feet away, he more or less understands.

Babbling hadn't held Evans back because he was doing badly. Babbling had held him back because he was doing so good he would be sitting his Ancient Runes O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams on the twenty-third of October.

Three minutes after that revelation, Theo's still sitting somewhat dazed in his chair when Malfoy returns, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. The blond also spots the papers on Evans' desk and - after suffering day after day of, in Malfoy's increasingly belligerent opinion, being disgraced by Evans due to all the time he was spending with Gryffindors, and even three of the ones Malfoy hates most - practically lights up with a malicious sort of glee at the opportunity to get a little revenge.

He seems to have already forgotten that first night's lesson, and it hasn't even been a month yet. Sometimes, Theo is honestly baffled by Malfoy's Sorting into Slytherin. What ambition is there in a boy whose solution to everything in life is to fall back on his father and surname and family money? What cunning is there to speak of when he so often acts without even considering the option of leaving himself a way out, just in case his taunts and schemes backfire on him one day?

Or perhaps the real mystery is how he's managed to go this long without anyone telling him that the world won't always bend to his demands.

"O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams?" Malfoy says loudly as he wanders over to read the papers. He scoffs. "No matter how much magic he has, there's no way that's possible. He's just a fourth-year. And a halfblood! I bet he paid Babbling to sign him up for them. Everybody knows she's not all there so Evans wouldn't even have to pay her a lot to persuade her."

Theo flicks a glance at Blaise, who'd brought up the rear, a few seconds behind Malfoy, and had entered on near-inaudible footsteps in time to witness this latest snowballing disaster. The taller boy's lip curls, and his next words come out in such a nonchalant drawl that it takes a moment for Malfoy to register the bite of them, "Why would he do that though? He's not you."

Malfoy flushes an unflattering shade of red. "Zabini! That's not funny!"

Blaise's insults are always taken as jokes. Theo thinks that's the only way Malfoy can weather them, because he doesn't truly dare to cross Blaise, so even if he does know better, he still has to feign ignorance.

"It can't be possible," Malfoy repeats, turning back to the papers. "Otherwise, why hasn't he said anything about it? If it were me, I'd let everyone know! Obviously, he knows he'll fail, so he doesn't dare to spread it around."

Theo tries to wrap his mind around that logic, fails, and gives it up as a bad job.

"Then, why is he taking them?" Crabbe suddenly pipes up, blinking with a befuddled air in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Obviously, Crabbe, it's to impress the Boy Who Lived. You've seen how Evans is constantly fawning over Longbottom." And there's the jealousy leaking into his voice even as it strengthens as if he's gaining confidence in his conjecture the longer he speaks. "He's still just a vulgar halfblood with subpar upbringing after all. He needs political connections if he wants to make anything of himself in our world. And Longbottom's a soft touch, and an idiot besides at everything that isn't digging in the dirt. Just trying to take the exams is probably enough to make him think Evans is a genius."

He takes another step forward, almost hovering over the desk now, childish spite tarnishing his features. "Let's see what the rest of Slytherin thinks of this. We are in the same House so Evans should look for support from real purebloods. I'll help him out."

Malfoy reaches out, and Theo goes still, staring, avid and unblinking.

(Greedy.)

Hadrian Evans does not disappoint him.

Malfoy's hand lands on the papers, and it's as if a miniature explosion takes place. There's no warning as the desk ignites with enough interlocked, interwoven, bloody intricate runes to send anyone reeling. It blankets the entire desk in layers of circles and lines and eye-watering spirals, before even those disappear in a blaze of brilliant silver light that pulses once before bursting outward and knocking Malfoy clean off his feet.

Malfoy screams as he's sent flying across the room in a tangle of flailing limbs and flapping robes. Coincidentally - or not? - he lands on his bed in a graceless upside-down heap, the bag he's still wearing smacks him in the face, and the momentum tumbles him straight over the far side of his bed and onto the floor with a final muffled thump that cuts Malfoy's shriek to a yelp.

The light disappears, along with the runes. The room goes eerily quiet, and for a long moment, nobody moves.

It's Blaise who reacts first.

He laughs.

It's enough to snap Malfoy out of his stupor. The blond scrambles to right himself, pushing to his feet, fury and humiliation writ large across his face as he opens his mouth to shout, "Shut up, Zabini! Wait until my father hears about this! Evans will regret-"

There's a clatter. The door opens.

Malfoy shuts up so fast Theo wouldn't be surprised if he bit his tongue.

Evans steps inside, and then stops. He looks around, looks at his desk, looks at a still dishevelled and increasingly pallid Malfoy, and then he shuts the door behind him and heaves a very deep sigh.

"Seriously?" He asks in rhetorical tones. "I just went to borrow a library book. I couldn't have been gone for more than thirty minutes."

Nobody says anything. Evans sighs again before striding over to his desk. He raises a hand and combs his fingers through the air— or perhaps something only he could see, and that's proven correct as a runic array shimmers into existence, swirling together before reshaping itself into-

-a memory.

Specifically, it's a replay of everything Malfoy had said and done as soon as he'd gotten within three feet of Evans' belongings, complete with sound and colour. It's basically a pensieve without the pensieve or the removal of memories to supply it.

Theo wants so badly that his teeth ache with the leashed desire to ask a million questions immediately.

Patience, he reminds himself.

"Hm," Evans says once the memory's run its course, and the runes wisp away once more. Theo is both surprised and not when the other boy proceeds to pull out his chair, sit down, and dig out his library book, clearly intent to continue his work.

Behind him, Malfoy seethes, and before he can think better of it, or he simply doesn't think, he barks out, "Do you think you can treat me this way, Evans? Do you know who my father is? When I tell him about this-"

"Tell him then," Evans interjects, leaning back to slant a cool look at Malfoy. "Tell him you tried to steal my things, and my wards tossed you onto your bed, and the only thing it really bruised was your ego. Or you can lie and make up something that would make you more of a victim, and big bad mudblood Hadrian Evans bullied you terribly. What's the worst that could happen? Expulsion?" He huffs a laugh, and as far as Theo can tell, the thread of mirth that laces the sound is astonishingly sincere. "Malfoy, I don't actually care. I don't need Hogwarts."

He really doesn't. Worse comes to worst, which other school would be daft enough to not scoop him up if they see what he can do with runes? And that's not even getting into everything else he can do. Any school would accept him in a heartbeat and then laugh themselves to tears if Lucius Malfoy actually managed to get him ejected from Britain's sphere of influence on some trumped up charges just because his son went crying to him. Besides, since Evans had been previously homeschooled, he could always just return to that as well.

Malfoy opens his mouth, then closes it, and he does that a couple times, eyes wide in his face like he's never met anyone who has stonewalled him this way, who has challenged his authority so directly, more than once, and yet remains utterly unintimidated and untouchable.

Evidently, he never has.

Evans regards him for a few seconds more before sighing once more. "I thought I was clear enough that first night, but apparently not. When I say 'attack', I don't just mean with a wand. All my things are off-limits unless I say otherwise, so if I were you, I would keep my hands to myself. You don't want to know what my wards will do to you if they sense intentions worse than just petty theft. I hope you won't forget again."

He holds Malfoy's faltering gaze for a moment longer before turning back to his books and papers. Malfoy stumbles back a step as if he's been physically released, and he looks like he wants to pitch a temper tantrum but also doesn't dare. In the end, he storms out of the room without even straightening his robes or smoothing back his hair, and nobody tries to stop him or go after him, not even Crabbe or Goyle, who've both retreated to their beds, shoulders hunched, almost bowed, angled almost in Evans' direction.

Evans is already poring over his library book though, quill in one hand, inkwell set out, fresh parchment beside it. It's clear he's done interacting with the lot of them.

Theo almost lets it go, as he has every other time he wants to speak to Evans, to ask him questions, to know. He's already biting his tongue and swallowing down the words and opening his bag to fish out his homework.

Except-

It's been three weeks. Theo can be patient when he has to be, but more and more, it's… starting to feel like he doesn't have to be. He's had an entire childhood's worth of practice at dissecting emotions, at looking at a person's face and words and actions and taking all of them into account to figure out how they really feel, if they're angry at him or upset with him, if they're about to lash out even when they're smiling, or if there's still time to appease them even if they look like they're about to go for their wand.

Evans is harder to read than most, but at the very least, Theo can tell that he doesn't get angry often. In fact, there's only ever been that one time, that first night, and even for most of that incident, Evans had only acted to secure his own safety in their dorm once it became clear that Malfoy wasn't going to leave him alone otherwise. None of it had been driven by rage, not even when he'd nearly drowned them in the undertow of his magic over that particular handful of words Malfoy had jeered at him. And ever since then, Evans hasn't done anything except go about his business while ignoring theirs. That went for the rest of Slytherin too, and even some students in other Houses who don't like the fact that he's a Slytherin. Sometimes, they make snide remarks, usually behind his back, sometimes within his hearing range, and to a man, every student in their House has openly shunned him since he went to sit with the Golden Trio that first breakfast, but Evans has never given them a second glance, or really even a first glance, not out of anger or embarrassment or distress, and certainly not out of any desire for them to accept him, which just seems to offend them even more. But Evans is simply… indifferent to it all.

 Most importantly, as much as Theo has been able to conclude, Evans isn't prone to violence. He always seems calm and easygoing when he's with the Golden Trio, and quiet the rest of the time. And from the very beginning, he's never done anything to harm any fellow Slytherins, not even Malfoy. Even his wards seem to have some kind of function worked into them that would rate the level of threat first and only respond with the same degree of damage.

Actually, not the same— if Malfoy had been caught taking another Slytherin's documents without permission, important or not, it wouldn't be too much even if they cursed his hands in return. They probably wouldn't, because it's Malfoy, and people are used to being more lenient with him, but normally, even Malfoy wouldn't do something that gauche anyway. No matter how much they've spoiled him, his parents have at least taught him pureblood etiquette. He's never even tried to rifle through Theo's belongings.

 Admittedly, Theo had committed a slight faux pas as well when his curiosity had prompted him to read those Ministry forms, even if they were laid out on Evans' desk - unintentionally seeing them in passing was fine but the polite thing to do would've been to keep walking - but at least he hadn't been stupid enough to get too close, let alone put a single finger on them. Malfoy really only has his own poor impulse control to blame for going too far yet again, and Theo has every right to judge him for it.

 Although since it was Evans, Malfoy had probably categorized him as someone who doesn't deserve a pureblood's courtesy.

Even then though, Evans hadn't retaliated with anything more than the ward equivalent of a watered down Knockback Jinx, which is basically a common prank amongst rowdier students. Malfoy's pride had - once again - been hurt, but nothing else, even when it would've been Evans' right. And he hadn't gotten angry this time either.

Of course, Theo isn't foolish enough to think Evans isn't capable of violence when he wants to be. If he's pushed far enough, Theo is certain that the other boy could and would inflict some significant damage that would at least end with a visit to the Hospital Wing. Perhaps it was his magic, the relentless weight of it that said it wouldn't hesitate to crush them if they proved themselves a real threat. Or perhaps it was Evans himself, who looks at Malfoy after each stunt like he's putting up with a recalcitrant child that he has to go easy on because said child is too young to know better, except the detachment in his gaze also says that he's weighing Malfoy's age on a scale and waiting for the day his youth will no longer be able to compensate for his actions.

Frankly, Theo hopes that day will come soon. But that's his pettiness talking, and Malfoy in general is none of his concern. What Theo really wants is to learn all those things for himself. Well, not all, he's more than self-aware enough to know he's nowhere near as powerful as Evans, but some of those things - the spellwork, the runes - surely those things can be taught to others even if they don't have incredible amounts of magic? Even if it's slow-going and difficult, Theo isn't afraid to work for it.

So long as he learns even just a little of what Evans knows - and he clearly knows so much, knows the things that can actually be useful in real life - then perhaps, one day, maybe even before he graduates Hogwarts… escaping his father won't be a fool's hope anymore. And if there's a chance that he can do that, then no matter how exorbitant the price Evans names, Theo would be willing to pay it, even if it takes him the rest of his life to honour the debt.

But nothing's going to happen if they're not even on speaking terms. It's been three weeks. Already three weeks. Only three weeks. Maybe it really is still too soon, but at the very least, Theo doesn't think Evans will do anything worse than say no.

 At his back, he can feel Blaise's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn around.

 "Is that-" His voice doesn't crack, thankfully, but it comes out croakier than normal, giving away his nervousness. He bites back the urge to hex himself and tries again. "Is that taught by the time we graduate?"

 Evans… doesn't react, doesn't even look up. For several tense and increasingly awkward seconds, Theo thinks maybe the other boy will just continue ignoring him, or maybe he even thinks Theo is speaking to one of the others, not him.

 But then he writes something down and flips a page of his book, and then he raises his head and shifts away from his desk to face Theo.

 It's a little daunting, to suddenly have that piercing bright green regard aimed straight at him, but there's also no hostility that Theo can see, and that settles some of his nerves.

 Evans looks at him, then frowns, then asks in return, blunt, but amazingly, willingly enough, "You mean the wards?"

 Theo nods carefully, making sure he doesn't look too eager or too demanding. Masters of their trades are always rightfully reticent about their knowledge and skills to anyone who isn't their own mentor or apprentice, unless they're a teacher. Evans may not be a master signed and sealed and authorized to practice, but nobody who can write the exams at fourteen can be considered an amateur.

 Evans shrugs. "I haven't exactly flipped through the Ancient Runes syllabus of every year so I can't really say. If it continues at the same pace as third-year and fourth-year though, then probably not. You'd maybe get to the point of basic wards, but not much more than that. Compound wards like these-" He raps his knuckles against his own desk. "-put crudely, requires the use of runic coils to weave together multiple basic arrays, on multiple levels, in varying sequential order depending on how multifaceted you want the wards to be. It's not that difficult once you start getting some practice in, but from what I hear, you guys don't even begin practical work until after your O.W.L., which… I don't really get, but maybe Hogwarts is big on theoretical learning. But yeah, at that rate, I don't see how you could be constructing something like this by graduation."

 Theo's head is spinning. He didn't understand… anything in that summary except perhaps a general idea of "basic arrays". It's rare for him to feel so stupid.

 Evans is still watching him, and he doesn't seem impatient for their exchange to be over, or irritated that it's taking place at all. He looks like he's waiting for Theo to reply, so Theo hurries on to keep the conversation afloat.

 "So you didn't learn Runes following the Hogwarts curriculum when you were homeschooled," He surmises. "Does that mean the standards here fall short of the international schools?"

 It wouldn't be the first time. Britain's educational requirements have been growing more and more lenient for years. Correspondingly, their elective options have also been reduced to four due to budget cuts and lack of interest in anything harder than petting animals and making up death predictions. Every year, more second-years choose to sign up for Care and Divination than they do Arithmancy or Runes. It's one reason why the number of incoming students has been gradually declining and consists of more muggleborns than purebloods. Foreign schools are strict about accepting any children outside of their designated countries, but those in Great Britain and Ireland who want better for their kids and can afford the higher prices tend to prefer sending them to one international school or another instead of Hogwarts.

 But Evans shakes his head. "I wouldn't know that either. I didn't really follow any official curriculum when I was learning." He pauses a beat, like he's thinking about how much to reveal, or even why he's revealing anything, but then he seems to decide it doesn't much matter. "The person who taught me was a bit… unconventional about it. He was a very good teacher, but he wasn't actually a teacher with the degree and whatever else you need to be a Ministry-approved professor, so he didn't really care about following some checklist of what a student attending a magical school was supposed to learn. Plus he was kind of a genius at runes. Ward-cracking and disassembly in particular since that's what he majored in - he was a Curse-Breaker - but he was pretty good at almost everything else too, which meant he found the basic stuff pretty boring. So when he taught me, and he realized I didn't have any trouble getting the foundations down, and I could mostly keep up even when he skipped ahead to more advanced stuff, he basically ended up just jumping between the subjects he liked most, filled in any gaps along the way, and gave me free rein to research whatever I found interesting. And whatever topic I picked was the one he lectured on, or helped me look up if it was one of the few areas he didn't know much about."

 His expression turns wry, if only for a moment. "Apparently though, according to Babbling, that means there's nothing left for Hogwarts to teach me. But I don't know how I would compare to students in other schools."

 He finishes and falls silent. It's the most he's said since that first night, and it's clear as day that whoever this Curse-Breaker tutor was, Evans respects him a great deal, great enough to ramble on about him to a roomful of near-strangers, and considering what he'd had a hand in molding Evans into, he deserves every bit of that respect too.

 Theo envies it. He is oft a creature of envy, and it hollows him out a little more every time it rears its head, but he's resigned to it. He wonders why Hogwarts can't have a teacher like Evans' instead of the whimsical mess that is Babbling, who can never get through a single class without her train of thought wandering away like an untrained dog off its leash.

 "Then," Theo continues, carefully neutral, carefully watching for any signs of displeasure on Evans' face. "Once you pass your exams, will you simply have an extra study period slot? Or will you be required to attend another elective?"

 Evans blinks at him. "The first, I think. I might see if it's possible to take an owl-distance university course or something, but spare time in my day isn't bad either."

 "Then," Theo forges on, watching as Evans's mouth twists a little, like he knows that this is what Theo has been aiming for from the beginning. Theo can't tell if he disapproves though - he doesn't think so - and it's too late to divert his course anyway. "What do you think about tutoring?"

 Evans cocks an eyebrow. He doesn't say anything for several anxiety-inducing seconds, just scrutinizing Theo with a face blank enough to rival Snape's when he bothers to stop sneering. The quill in Evans' hand taps-taps-taps against his desk before the boy swings around in his chair completely to face Theo.

 "Tutoring," He repeats. "You want me to tutor you in Ancient Runes?"

 And at least he doesn't sound derisive, nor does he put any particular emphasis on any part of that question. It does make it harder for Theo to gauge how he should respond though.

 "Yes," He confirms, because straightforward seems to be what Evans prefers. He thinks, briefly, of including Blaise, but he doesn't actually know if Blaise would like tutoring as well, and even if he does, Blaise can ask for himself. Theo isn't that charitable, and Blaise might even take offense if he tries to be.

 "I can compensate you for your time," He adds, because he's poor by pureblood standards, but not so poor that he can't afford decent education, especially with the nest egg he's been secretly building on the side since he turned eight and realized his inheritance was only going to get smaller at the rate his father was drawing from it for his… extracurriculars. His seven years at Hogwarts at least have already been paid for, robes and supplies and even some pocket money included, because even Silas Nott isn't going to let his son go into public at even more of a disadvantage than he already is. So as long as Evans doesn't ask for a huge sum of money, or even if he does, and he's willing to take part of that payment in favours, then Theo should have enough from his own funds to cover the cost.

 Evans leans back in his seat and doesn't say anything about payment. Instead, he looks almost puzzled as he asks, "Why do you need tutoring though? Even if you want to learn stuff like this," He motions at his desk. "I wouldn't be able to even start teaching you how until you got at least the basics down, and that's what Hogwarts teaches, so is there any point in getting more of the same lessons from me?"

 For a moment, even Theo can't come up with a way to say 'yes, because Babbling can't teach worth a damn, and I don't actually know how I passed last year but I definitely won't this year with the way her lectures keep getting lost somewhere between class and Atlantis every bloody week' but in more polite terms, if only because Evans might not appreciate anyone badmouthing her since she's obviously the one vouching for Evans' qualifications in order to let him take his exams so early.

 Fortunately, Blaise has no such compunctions.

 "Have you seen the way Babbling teaches?" The other boy enquires in his usual lackadaisical tone, just aggrieved enough to sound invested, but mild enough to leech the provocation out of it. It also gives Blaise a foot in through the door, drawing Evans' attention to him without making it seem as if he's interrupting.

 Theo glances behind him at where Blaise is now lounging in his own desk chair, emptying his bag of textbooks and papers even as he glances over to meet Evans' gaze, and his expression has eased into an invitation to commiserate over Babbling's questionable teaching methods. All of it is designed to look casual and cordial, to keep this fragile first exchange lighthearted, if also full of a resigned sort of exasperation, funnelled together in order to lower Evans' guard.

 And it seems to work too, like it does with everyone Blaise turns his charms on. At the very least, the way Evans' mouth quirks in response looks reflexive enough to be genuine.

 "That's fair," Evans concedes, a wry sort of humour suffusing his voice. "She's not the best at… staying on topic."

 Theo has to suppress a snort, but something of it must show on his face anyway because Evans' eyes snap back to him, and a moment later, a quicksilver grin flits across the other's face, bright in a way that lights up his whole face, and perhaps Blaise will have to try harder after all because Theo realizes that this is what genuine looks like on Evans.

 "Okay, I get why you might want a tutor," Evans acknowledges. "But isn't there anyone better for that?"

 Theo blinks at him. "Better than someone who's ready to take his exams in a month?"

 Evans' eyebrows go up briefly, and something in his eyes sharpens. "No. Better than someone who's a halfblood orphan in Slytherin, stuck in a one-sided grudge-match with a pureblood brat who has all the maturity of a toddler and isn't going to be very happy if his friend starts hanging around the guy he wants to curse into the Hospital Wing."

 Orphan? is Theo's first thought, followed by, I wish Malfoy was around to hear that. But all of it is superseded by a defiance that bursts out of him before he can curb it, "We're not friends."

 Evans waves a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Slytherins don't have friends. What I mean is-"

 "No," Theo says, wincing internally at how he'd cut Evans off mid-sentence. "I mean, we aren't friends. Normally, we aren't even civil acquaintances most days."

 Evans eyes him for a long moment like he can hear all the things Theo isn't saying. Theo's pretty sure Evans doesn't know about his family's circumstances - How would he? Why would he even care to look it up? - but he seems to be able to glean at least the gist of it in a single glance because he seems to accept it easily enough, and the next thing he says is, "Alright, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still not going to be happy about it."

 "Good," Theo says, once again before he can stop himself, and with more relish than he should convey. Even if he's often thought that anything that made Malfoy unhappy was a good thing, he's certainly never expressed it out loud. He doesn't know what's come over him, only that there's something about the way Evans is watching him, patient and without judgement, that makes him… bolder than he normally would be.

 And since he's already opened his mouth, he might as well keep going.

 "So long as you're willing, I don't mind what other people might say," Theo says as firmly as he knows how to be. "I need to raise my grades for Ancient Runes before I take my OWLs next year or I'm never going to pass. I would appreciate any tutoring you can spare the time for." He hesitates, but only for a beat. "If you want, in addition to monetary compensation, I can also snub Malfoy at dinner somehow. And you would know it wouldn't just be some show we put on either. Malfoy doesn't have it in him to be humiliated in public, even as a stunt."

 It's far more outspoken and far more audacious than Theo is accustomed to being, and he can feel Blaise's eyes on him again. But he gets the impression that if he doesn't put his cards on the table - that he really does want to learn from Evans, that it's his main motivation, even if it isn't the only one - then Evans might think Theo is playing some kind of trick on him, possibly on Malfoy's orders, and that's the last thing Theo wants him to believe.

 Besides, this is also an opportunity. Theo had been resigned to living under Malfoy's temperamental rule for the duration of his Hogwarts career. It wasn't as if he wouldn't be doing more of the same as an adult, after all. Considering the difference in their social status, Theo would still have to bow his head, and jump when told to jump, and remain courteously - or at least forbearingly - deferential in front of Malfoy whenever they see each other. At least this more childish version at school is giving him plenty of practice for the future.

 But now, there is Hadrian Evans, whose existence no one had expected and no one thus far can control, who isn't afraid of Malfoy, whom Malfoy is afraid of instead, and Theo honestly can't see that changing. Of course, the real world is very different from some squabbles between teenagers, and Theo has only known Evans for less than a month. But… call it instinct. Even if one day the Malfoy family can really make it so that Evans can no longer live well in Britain, Theo gets the sense that the other boy would rather up and move to a different country than ever submit to anyone.

 People with inborn power like Evans won't bow. They don't know how to.

 And if Theo can get even a fraction of that protection that openly siding with Evans might earn him, then the choice is obvious. He's long known that he isn't powerful enough or ambitious enough or even brave enough to stand on his own. That in order to thrive, or even to simply live a satisfactory life, it would be best to choose someone's shadow to settle in. Preferably, that someone would be willing enough to leave Theo alone most of the time and wouldn't ask too much of him, but he already knows he wouldn't be able to get that from his father or Malfoy.

 Then, there's no point clinging to either of them. Before, there had been no other choices, and between his father and Malfoy, Malfoy was the better bet, though it wasn't as if the blond ponce could've gotten him out from under Silas Nott's thumb either. But at least being - loosely - affiliated with Malfoy would, in the future, offer Theo some protection from his father's obsessive tendencies. It wouldn't do for one of Malfoy's circle of acquaintances to disappear under mysterious circumstances after all.

 Now there's a new player on the field. Of course, Evans probably doesn't see himself as one, and wouldn't care even if he knew. But that doesn't change the fact that his shadow casts a long and looming line, and somehow, it feels more like a refuge than anyone else's Theo has ever come across. Evans might not be willing to protect him, if only because he would have to make himself known to do so, and if there's one thing Evans has shown over the past few weeks, it's that he much prefers staying in the background. But even if he isn't willing to protect Theo, at the very least, he can teach Theo how to protect himself. So, Theo might as well take his chances with Evans, and the first step in doing that is to make it very clear to all and sundry that he's throwing his lot in with the halfblood Slytherin transfer.

 He hadn't quite been prepared to go this far when he'd first decided to speak to Evans today, but doing things by half measures doesn't bode well for him either. Prevaricating or at least being vaguer about his intentions might leave him an extra hand to play, a way to retreat in case associating with Evans becomes too dangerous one day, but no one likes a fence-sitter.

 In Slytherin, every decision is a power play, whether it seems like it or not. An insignificant word or action might result in large consequences that aren't always obvious until the waves and ripples have settled. And Theo's never been much of a gambler, preferring safety over potential riches. But the things he can learn from Evans are too tempting to pass over. Put in plain terms, he's technically using Evans as a means to an end, which no one in Slytherin wouldn't approve of, but for a good chunk of this House, Evans' blood would definitely outweigh any usefulness he might have, especially since he hasn't publicly proven himself in any way at all. And the way he spends all his free time with Gryffindors hardly helps.

 Still, it's a risk Theo's willing to take. And now the Quaffle is in Evans' hands, and all that's left is to wait for his answer.

 Of course, if Evans says no, then Theo can only hope Blaise is feeling magnanimous today and won't go spreading this little story around. Then again, there's Crabbe and Goyle too, and they'll definitely tell Malfoy, so it will get out either way.

 Such is Slytherin, where the only shared secret you can trust to remain a secret is when all other parties are dead.

 In front of him, Evans only raises his eyebrows for a moment before amusement quirks one corner of his mouth. "Well you don't have to go that far."

 Theo can't tell if the other boy understands the implications of publicly cutting ties with Malfoy, but he's relieved to hear it anyway. He'd do it if it's a condition Evans sets, if only to alleviate any concerns Evans might have of being played, but it's not as if he wants to do it. He would happily see Malfoy humiliated any day of the week, but Theo is at heart an introverted person. Open confrontation of any kind will always make him uncomfortable.

 Evans studies him for a while longer as if weighing his sincerity. Eventually, he says, "I'm not opposed to tutoring. Actually, I'm already doing that for Hermione every Wednesday and Saturday. Adding one more doesn't make much of a difference. It's just that I don't love tutoring so much that I want to do it more than twice a week. So," He smiles, and this time, his expression is one of a sharp sort of curiosity. "If you want me to tutor you, then you'll have to be okay with Hermione. And I don't just mean tolerating her presence enough to sit at the same table as her. I mean if you say one bad word about her blood, I'll take that as an attack on me and react accordingly. Understand?"

 Theo blinks once, twice, digesting that ultimatum with something like disbelief because- "Is that all?" And then, because it couldn't possibly be that easy, he hastily tacks on, "How much would you like to be paid?"

 Evans blinks back at him, looking like he's re-evaluating Theo on the spot. Then he makes a dismissive gesture and says, "I'm not short on money. Also I don't make Hermione pay so it wouldn't be fair if I made you pay." He sits back with a finality that starts bringing an end to their conversation. "Wednesdays and Saturdays, 4-6pm in the library. I know we share all the same classes so that shouldn't be a problem for you. Showing up isn't mandatory, you can just come whenever you want, and I'll tutor you in whatever you need help with. My only condition is that you treat Hermione with basic respect. Of course," His mouth twists into a strange smile. "That goes for her too. And her friends if they happen to stop by."

 Theo has to suppress a grimace at that, but it's mostly out of reflexive distaste. Even if Weasley starts flinging insults, he's sure he's heard worse than anything a Gryffindor could come up with, and his tolerance is high, so it doesn't much matter whether Evans can prevent it or not. Actually, it's already pretty novel that he would try at all. This is by far the easiest and weirdest deal Theo has ever been offered, which only makes him that much more suspicious, but Evans also adds no other terms, so Theo is forced to conclude that this really is all Evans wants from him.

 The sheer unfairness of what each party is bringing to the table is jarring. Does Evans not understand what's happening here or is he seriously willing to offer up his time and knowledge on a silver platter at basically no cost?

 Part of Theo wants to ask again, to make sure Evans really doesn't want anything else, but since they've come to this point, even if Evans were to ask for something in the future, Theo would have no obligation to give it. It's admittedly somewhat uncomfortable, to receive so much in exchange for giving back so little when he wasn't even the one manipulating Evans towards this outcome, but at the same time, wouldn't he just be stupid if he keeps pushing the issue? Complaining about not having to spend any money or owe any favours seems rather counterproductive, and even though Theo is willing to pay for a chance like this, that doesn't mean he wants to if he doesn't have to. Of course, he supposes it isn't very honourable of him to not at least insist on some form of compensation, but that's why Theo isn't a Gryffindor.

 So then.

 "Very well, I agree to your terms," Theo says, letting himself relax a bit more when Evans' expression doesn't change. And because even a Slytherin should acknowledge genuine goodwill, he shoves past his own discomfort and manages, if a bit stiffly, "Thank you, Evans."

 Evans makes a face that's something left of embarrassed. "It's just tutoring, you don't have to be so formal. Besides, you're still the one who's going to have to put up with Malfoy pitching a fit once he finds out."

 Theo almost shrugs. That's not anything new. He might have to field some curses hurled his way once other Slytherins realize he's no longer under Malfoy's "protection" and is seen spending time with a halfblood, but it's not as if he has no way of protecting himself from most spells that a student can get away with using in public at Hogwarts. He already has a few family wards set up around his bed too, so Malfoy can't get to him while he's asleep, and the only time he spends in the Common Room is when he's crossing it to leave the Dungeon or return to his dorm, so his Housemates aren't likely to be able to corner him there either. So long as he's careful, he'll be fine.

 Blaise's voice cuts into his thoughts, speaking this time with the lightest touch of concern seeping out from behind a thin veil of indifference that would've fooled even Theo if Theo didn't know the way Blaise can change his approach like he's changing clothes depending on his assessment of the person he's talking to. "You sure you don't need to ask Granger first before letting a Slytherin join your tutoring sessions? She might not be too happy to have Theo there. And her friends definitely won't."

 Evans' attention shifts again, and as with Theo, his gaze is neither friendly nor hostile, but it's different all the same in a way Theo can't quite name. "Is that my problem?"

 The room is quiet for a beat.

 Evans smiles, careless, casual. "I'm the one doing the teaching. Who I teach should be up to me, shouldn't it?"

 Blaise stares, unblinking, hands finally gone still. "Aren't those Gryffindors your friends though?"

 "Sure," Evans agrees. "Still doesn't mean they get to tell me what to do just because they're biased against Slytherins." He shakes his head. "I doubt it'll be much of a problem though. Like you said, they're my friends, and aren't I a Slytherin too?"

 Nobody says what Theo is certain they're all thinking— that in many ways, Evans isn't anything like your average Slytherin.

 (And in others, Evans is the very epitome of one, but the Golden Trio probably doesn't know that, do they?)

 "Are you saying other Slytherins are welcome in your tutoring sessions then?" Blaise says next, and it's the most straightforward Theo has ever seen him, skipping at least three prevarications and five backhanded compliments that Theo could've sworn Blaise would normally include just because he doesn't know any other way to speak. Apparently not.

 Except Evans' response is to huff a breath that sounds like laughter, except not in any way they've heard before, not as amicable, and Theo sees Blaise's smile grow a little fixed.

 If they were in the business of distributing vices, then excessive hubris would undoubtedly go to Malfoy, but only because Blaise doesn't have the same reckless self-defeating habit of flaunting what he has everywhere and retaliating like a rabid lapdog the moment he feels slighted, the latter of which is helped along by the fact that he doesn't hold many people in high enough esteem for them to offend him. After all, you wouldn't get mad if a ghost or a goblin or even a house-elf - as unlikely as that is - is rude to you, would you? At most, you'd punish the latter and move along with your day. And for those who do register enough as people in Blaise's eyes, well, Blaise far prefers retaliating when the other party least expects it.

 It's the same now, in the way Blaise blinks twice rapidly but doesn't otherwise react. Of course, since this is Evans, he won't be able to retaliate later either, not with any kind of success, so it's doubly impressive that the other boy manages to keep his pride nailed down and tucked away.

 "You know," Evans says lazily, mirth or perhaps mockery gleaming in his eyes. "You could just ask. Take a leaf out of Theo's book; it wastes less time."

 Because even Blaise's straightforwardness needs to take a stroll or two around the block first, and apparently, Evans had caught onto that possibly since the first time Blaise had opened his mouth since this conversation began.

 Blaise's lips thin, but after a moment of no doubt weighing the pros and cons, he shrugs gracefully like it doesn't sting and asks, "Then, may I join your tutoring sessions, Evans? I would also appreciate some assistance with my Ancient Runes studies. Of course, I will abide by the terms you've set as well."

 Theo listens and wonders just how much self-control those three sentences took. Before today, he hadn't even known Blaise was capable of it, and the fact that he is, for this, actually says a lot more about his regard for Evans than Theo had realized even just a minute ago.

 At least Evans doesn't make it harder for Blaise than that.

 "Sure," The other boy acquiesces with the air of a predator sitting back on its haunches. "On your own head though."

 At this, a trace of a smirk - his real one, beatific in its cruelty, instead of his regular fit-for-public one - cuts across Blaise's face for the span of a heartbeat. "No problem."

 Evans levels another long look at him before shaking his head with another twist of a smile. "Okay then. We're all good now?" He looks from Blaise to Theo and even spares half a glance in Crabbe and Goyle's direction before nodding, satisfied. "Fantastic. Back to work for me."

 He spins back around to face his desk, reaching for his quill, and the rest of the day passes as usual, without another word traded between them, even when they all get up for dinner. Malfoy comes back shortly before that, stalking over to his section of the dorm with the mulish single-minded intensity of someone unwilling to even acknowledge Evans' existence, although that probably won't last once he finds out what Theo and Blaise have agreed to.

 Later, in private, Theo remarks to Blaise, "I didn't expect you to care so much about your Ancient Runes grades."

 Blaise slants an indecipherable look at him even as a shallow smile stretches the width of his mouth. "Who wouldn't care about their grades when someone's offering to help raise them for free?"

 It's a rhetorical question and answers approximately nothing, but Theo wasn't expecting anything of substance anyway.

 Besides, when it comes down to it, he supposes it's not so surprising that Blaise can also see which way the wind is blowing, hard enough to tell anyone with decent enough instincts that a major shift in power is imminent.

 And no one likes a fence-sitter.

 -0-0-0-

 5.

 Hadrian would like it to be known that he isn't quite sure how he's gotten to this point in his life.

 Well, that's a lie, he sort of knows, or at least he can pinpoint all the decisions that got him from Point A to Point B, but he supposes he just wasn't expecting a couple Slytherins whom he'd always assumed - even back in his original world - were just Malfoy's lackeys in school, to commit, and commit hard. They hadn't even participated in the war on either side, as far as he was aware— Nott had died relatively early on under mysterious circumstances, and Zabini had by all accounts returned to his home country. To Hadrian, they'd been little more than faces in the background that he'd never even exchanged five words with in total before coming to this world.

 But within the first week after they've asked to join his tutoring sessions, Nott and Zabini - Slytherin/Pureblood Rule Number Who-Knows-What: you can't use someone else's first name until you're invited to - make it really fucking obvious who they're… supporting? Have sided with? Because Slytherin is a nest of brewing factions and shifting alliances and political doublespeak and even a couple blood feuds, and this is precisely why Hadrian doesn't want anything to do with this House.

 Except apparently, agreeing to tutor Nott and Zabini means he's… joined the power struggle? Formed his own faction? Decided to vie for in-House supremacy and possible world domination? Who knows because Hadrian sure doesn't, and he's determined not to know, because surely if he just continues doing his own thing, it'll become clear sooner or later to all and sundry that he has no interest in fighting a bunch of schoolchildren over whatever they think he wants to fight for.

 It's just that he can't quite do that either, because not even three weeks after Nott and Zabini start joining him in the library every Wednesday and Saturday with a wary but accepting Hermione, something that translates to them moving their seats to sit with him in class and - when they can make it look natural, if still deliberate - walking with him in the hallways, the displeasure and animosity in Slytherin House reaches breaking point.

 It's not as if Hadrian hasn't already been the target of multiple hexes and curses from his own Housemates. He's a halfblood who hangs out with Gryffindors— it's to be expected. But so far, the spells have always been in the realm of reasonable, ones that might make him trip down the stairs or rip his bag or screw up his potion, and he's been able to block or avoid them all, so he'd figured it wasn't that big a deal. He'd put the fear of a Horntail in Malfoy early on because he has to live with the berk, and he doesn't much feel like returning after a long day of classes just to have to butt heads with him every single time. But he basically has no intersections with the rest of the House, so he just hasn't bothered paying attention to any of them.

 Then, perhaps rather suddenly, Nott and Zabini are there, not so much orbiting him as they do hover from afar. But they join his tutoring sessions, and they're serious about learning from him, listening earnestly and asking questions and even checking out the books he recommends they read if they have time. There are holes in even the most simple of their fundamental knowledge of Runes - Babbling, read a how-to book on teaching for Merlin's sake - so Hadrian has to more or less start from the ground up, as he had with Hermione, but both of them quickly prove themselves more than intelligent enough to keep up, and they're startling enthusiastic - by Slytherin standards - about everything he teaches them. Nott is more obvious - more ravenous - about it, but even Zabini - who likes to pretend he's only there for the novelty of it or something and therefore tends to play up a laidback sort of indifference - never fails to complete the optional exercises Hadrian writes up for them once a week.

 And outside of the tutoring sessions, it's like they've decided that being tutored by him means that he's now their new Malfoy or something. Not that Malfoy was their Malfoy before, if Hadrian had understood Nott correctly, but they'd at least acted like they were part of Malfoy's groupies. Now they've done a one-eighty, and it's not as if they follow him around all the time the way Crabbe and Goyle do with Malfoy, honestly if you don't count classroom and dorm room, they're not even around him half the time, especially Zabini, but when they are around, when they move their cauldrons next to his in Potions class despite working separately, when they go down to breakfast with him despite splitting off at the entrance, when they trail behind him back to the Slytherin Dungeon after a tutoring session, they're so damn conspicuous about it that they might as well be waving neon-bright signs above their heads.

 In contrast, they don't even sit next Malfoy during mealtimes anymore, much to the blond's increasing red-faced ire that vaguely resembles a Silenced teakettle on the brink of boiling over. But now they sit at the end of the Slytherin table, which Hadrian has gradually gathered that that's not a good thing, but he doesn't know how to fix it either, and neither Nott nor Zabini seems to mind.

 They also talk to him now, not often, not just in private, and not just about Runes, although that does still take up the majority of their conversation topics, if only because they don't know each other that well yet. But in their dorm or in class or in the library or in the halls, sometimes, Nott would say something completely normal, like whether or not he owns an owl or if he's noticed Snape's increasingly intent attention on him or if he's found the secret passageway connecting the Dungeons to the sixth floor yet because climbing six flights of moving stairs isn't what anyone would call a good time. Zabini on the other hand prefers sharing obscure gossip that even most of Slytherin isn't aware of, sordid little secrets like whose parent has a mistress (or three) on the side that will very likely cause an inheritance problem down the road, who killed a cousin over the summer due to jealousy but has done a decent enough job of covering it up as an accident because said cousin had been the heir apparent, and even who had to go to Pomfrey for an Abortion Charm just last week but will likely have to break her betrothal contract - and consequently have her magic bound, as per the terms of said contract - in the future anyway because there's no hiding the loss of her virginity from the olde family magicks no matter how frantically she searches for a way.

 To the former, Hadrian responds the way he would if Neville or Ron or Hermione were to ask him similar questions. To the latter, he says, "You have serious issues, Zabini."

 Nott never smiles, but his body language is a little less closed off and his eyes look a little less hunted with every random conversation they have. Zabini is almost always smiling, and in response to Hadrian's incredulity, he only laughs like it's the grandest joke he's ever heard.

 They grow on him, is the thing. One's probably abused at home, and the other is honestly half a psychopath already, and Hadrian shouldn't care but he's always had a bit of a soft spot for broken people, people who don't quite fit in no matter how well they fake it, people who remind him of himself. And the war he'd survived had only served to destroy what little compunctions he'd ever had about getting too close to dangerous things.

 So they grow on him, day by day, and half a month in, the other Slytherins apparently can't handle it anymore.

 Hadrian's just coming back from dinner. Nott and Zabini are with him, having joined him once he'd bid Neville, Ron, and Hermione goodnight. They're halfway across the common room when Hadrian catches movement in his peripheral, and he has half a second to decide what to do, to abort the reflex to go for his wand, to cancel the shield ward sparking at his fingertips, to pivot around on the spot and abruptly swing himself right into Nott's personal space, which means Nott immediately puts on the brakes, and - behind him - Zabini has to do the same.

 Hadrian senses more than feels the curse that grazes the back of his robes and splashes against the far wall between a pair of suspiciously empty armchairs in an area that's normally a popular hangout spot. There's no sound, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees the way it oozes a sickly viscous purple that puddles to the ground and eats straight through the carpet before finally evaporating into nothing.

 He doesn't turn his head, doesn't challenge anyone into a duel the way his hands are itching to do. Instead, even before the spell disappears, he's already asking, "Did you copy down the Potions assignment from today? I just remembered I forgot."

 In front of him, Nott's turned three shades whiter, and he's already pale-skinned to begin with, so he obviously recognizes the spell. Zabini clearly does as well if the way he's gone gargoyle-still is anything to go by.

 If they'd continued walking, that curse would've hit Nott right in the ribcage. His left ribcage.

 A beat of silence passes. Then Nott takes a breath and answers in a voice that doesn't waver but is even more inflectionless than usual. "Yes, I wrote it down. I can show you."

 "Cool, thanks, let's go."

 Nobody else speaks, nobody even moves, as Hadrian leads the way back to their dorm.

 Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle aren't back yet so they have the room to themselves. As soon as the door is shut, Nott almost slumps onto his bed, hands shaking. Zabini pulls out his chair to sit, a smile hooked at one corner of his mouth, but absolutely nothing about the rest of him says amusement.

 (Slytherins don't have friends, and Zabini doesn't seem to know how to have friends, but Nott's probably the closest to one that his disposition will ever allow.)

 Hadrian looks from Nott to Zabini and back, and then he asks, "Who was that boy? The one surrounded by that group by the fireplace."

 The one who'd fired the spell. Don't think just because a bunch of students were arranged in front of him that Hadrian had missed the way his arm had moved, the jab of a wand, the blossom of light at its tip before the curse had flown across the room. Did they think he was blind?

 Nott blinks up at him, features still pinched. It's Zabini who answers, soft as silk, "Malcolm Avery, seventh-year."

 Hadrian takes a moment to digest that, to press that face into his memory before filing it away for later. He focuses on his roommates again instead and presses on, "Has this sort of thing happened before?"

 Because even if they're spending time with him, Nott's an old pureblood name, isn't it? And Zabini is Zabini, and everybody's heard of his mother. Even if they're shunned a bit, jeered at a bit, even hexed a bit, any serious assaults should only be aimed at Hadrian, right?

 Well, apparently not. That curse earlier had been a much Darker cousin of the Bone-Vanishing Spell, a variation on the more public-friendly Bone-Breaking Curse. If Hadrian hadn't seen it coming, if he hadn't stopped Nott in time, that thing would've not only shattered the left half of Nott's ribcage but also stabbed the resulting fragments directly into the nearest organs before dissolving into the bloodstream as a lethal poison— in this case, it would've been the heart and a lung. Nott would've been dead in under a minute, drowning in his own blood in extreme pain, and it's a tossup if even Hadrian would've been able to save him.

 Zabini - unsurprisingly - shakes his head. For all that he doesn't have an old bloodline to rooted in Britain, he still has enough family clout to grant him a strong backing. And that's not counting his own means of protecting himself. Hadrian had actually gotten the feeling very early on, from the moment they'd had their first conversation, and he'd only been proven right as they'd gotten to know each other a little better— Zabini has all the best traits of a quintessential Slytherin. And thereby also all of the worst. Magic-wise, Hadrian can overpower him in a second, but that's why Zabini knows not to make an enemy of him, knows how to bend and stretch and profit while he's at it. He doesn't need anyone to protect him.

 Nott on the other hand doesn't reply right away, and when he does, it's an evasive, "Spells like that would be an instant expulsion from Hogwarts, especially coming from a Slytherin, and from a seventh-year, they'd go straight to Azkaban. There are portraits all over the school. I'm not stupid enough to wander into places where there aren't any."

 Hadrian aims a flat look at him. "That's not what I asked."

 Nott purses his lips and stares at his lap. Hadrian waits him out.

 "…They've tried cornering me," Nott finally admits, grudgingly, almost resentfully. "There's no avoiding a couple areas with no portraits. But they never used a curse this Dark before, and I've always been able to slip away."

 Hadrian swallows the first three things he wants to say, to shout, because at his core, he likes to think he has a long fuse, but when someone crosses his line in the sand, his temper has always been explosive and violent, which won't help here.

 Besides, hadn't he more or less told these two to handle the consequences of letting him tutor them on their own? Even if they weren't Slytherins and actually had the mind to reach out for help, they probably wouldn't have come to him after what he'd said, so he has no one to blame but himself and the fact that he'd underestimated just how deep some Slytherins' senseless hatred runs.

 So he breathes through his first instinct, his second, his third, and then he pushes off the desk he'd been leaning on in favour of pulling out parchment and ink and the appropriate books.

 "Alright, come here," He beckons, spreading everything out on his desk. "I'm gonna teach you a Fourfold Rebounder Ward so you can wear it on you from now on. The variation I'm thinking of has a chameleon element, so it'll be both strong enough to deflect a curse on the level of the one from earlier and also camouflage it when it's bounced back at whoever attacked you. It's based off of intent too, so it won't act up in a scuffle or a practice duel or something, the other person has to really want to harm you with deadly intent, so keep your guard up for other stuff, and honestly, this should just be for emergencies, you should still try to dodge it because it's not good to grow overly dependent on stuff like this. I'm confident the runes won't fail when I'm the one making it but your reflexes will get rusty if you get lazy. It's a bit- okay, a lot more difficult than anything you're learning right now, but I'll do most of the work, you just watch and provide the magic at the end, and once your foundation is a bit more stable and we can move ahead to more interesting things, I'll come back to this first so you'll be able to learn how to do this yourselves one day."

 A long silence follows. Hadrian looks up. Neither of his roommates has moved. "What's wrong?"

 Another few seconds tick by. It's Zabini who gets up first, an odd smile on his face, one that Hadrian's never seen before. But all he says is, "Nothing's wrong. I was just hoping if we waited a bit, Malfoy will get back in time to see what we're doing and finally keel over from high blood pressure."

 Hadrian snorts with laughter. "Get over here. If that really happened, we'd be the ones who'd have to waste time carrying him up to the Hospital Wing."

 Zabini's expression says that that wouldn't be his problem but he only smirks and saunters over to Hadrian's desk with his chair. When they both turn to look, Nott is already on his feet as well. He doesn't say anything, but he looks steadier, and he's watching Hadrian with a strange gleam in his eyes that makes them look almost feverish.

 They settle down around him, eager - by Slytherin standards - to learn in a way that reminds Hadrian exactly why he likes to teach.

 He gets to work, explaining each step even though he knows most of it is going over their heads. That's fine though; for now, these wards just need to protect them properly, and in the future, he'll teach them how to protect themselves.

 -0-

 Of course, things aren't over just like that, because Hadrian's temper is an explosive and violent beast, and the only things that's changed from when he was still a teenager is the fact that he's gotten a lot sneakier about it as an adult.

 They aren't friends. But Nott and Zabini are his roommates and his students and kids that he's starting to genuinely care about, and nobody gets to walk away scot-free after fucking with the people under Hadrian's care so long as he's still alive to do something about it.

 Malcolm Avery is seventeen anyway. That's an adult by any magical community's measure, which means Hadrian doesn't have to hold back.

 It takes a week. A week of slipping out after curfew and eavesdropping on conversations, of finding out what the seventh-year's next practical Potions class will be working on and scanning all of Avery's belongings to see what Dark spells he's been mucking about with, and finally of filching Avery's cauldron for an afternoon while he's in class and replacing it before he returns to his dorm.

 When it happens, Hadrian isn't even in school. Even if he were, it wouldn't matter because he'd made sure to time everything just right, and all the fourth-years - and most of the rest of the student body too - are already in the Great Hall waiting for lunch to be served. Seventh-year Potions is in the morning block, and Avery always goes overtime when there's a practical.

 Hadrian isn't even in school, sitting his Ancient Runes exams at the Ministry all day instead, but he certainly hears all about it when he gets back that evening.

 A few minutes before noon, a silver doe Patronus comes bounding up from the dungeons with an urgent summons for Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Nobody hears what is said, but the three staff members rush off even as the food begins to appear, and nobody hears from them again until half an hour later when whispers start going around about Healers from St. Mungo's being called and one Malcolm Avery being carried out the front doors on a stretcher because his condition is too unstable to be transported through the Floo. The professors don't really tell them anything except that there was a Potions accident, but - as these things do because the rumour mill at Hogwarts is healthier than ever, and there'd still been a few other seventh-years in class with Avery at the time - everyone more or less knows what happened anyway by the time afternoon classes start. Potions is cancelled for the rest of the day, because no one else was injured but Snape was too busy furiously documenting what had happened after running multiple diagnostic spells over the remains of Avery's cauldron to teach. Also, he has to submit said documentation and a Pensieve memory to the Aurors investigating the accident, which doesn't exactly say great things about his mood, so nobody's unhappy about being able to give Potions a miss.

 Apparently, Avery had been using his cauldron to make other potions - banned potions - in his dorm room. His roommates had been willing enough to keep mum and even give him a hand, and the book he'd been learning from had been found in his trunk. Thankfully, he hadn't managed to make anything too terrible yet, and his failed attempts hadn't managed to kill anyone, but he also hadn't cleaned his cauldron properly, and so there'd been a mess of residue potion and Dark magic clinging to the metal. Coincidentally, it had ended up reacting quite badly to the potion that the seventh-years were to work on that day, and the end result was a magnificent explosion that Snape had barely managed to protect himself and the other students from in the nick of time. There'd been no helping Avery who'd been standing right next to the unholy concoction.

 In the aftermath, the explosion had caused bad enough burns to disfigure Avery, but time and Healers would fix most if not all of that. Far more serious had been the potion damage to his body— the liquid had seeped right through his skin and disintegrated the majority of his left ribcage, and then it had gone on to chew even further, straight into his heart and left lung, an insidious venom that had dissolved into his bloodstream and sent him into convulsions that had wrung scream after agonized scream out of him until Pomfrey had deemed it safe enough to knock him out, although even then, his body wouldn't stop seizing from the pain.

 He'd still been alive when he'd been rushed out of the castle. Word has it that he's still alive now in St. Mungo's, except the Healers have no idea how to even begin treating him. Mixing multiple failed attempts at Dark potions, most of which even Avery's own roommates couldn't list all the names of or in which order he'd made them, together with one N.E.W.T.-level potion but in an explosion that had caused the maximum amount of entropy in the magic imbued into it— Merlin himself wouldn't be able to fix it with just a wave of his wand.

 By dinnertime, everybody is talking about it, and the professors have given up trying to stop them.

 (In truth, the outcome probably wouldn't have been quite so serious if Hadrian hadn't added a spell to amplify the toxicity and volatility of the residue in the cauldron, as well as several looping single-use runes to hide the volcanic buildup and also bind the whole thing to Avery alone so that it wouldn't have hurt anyone else even if Snape hadn't reacted in time. Without Hadrian's interference, it would've still exploded sooner or later, but Snape might've seen the danger signs in time to evacuate everyone from the classroom, and even if he didn't, the effects of the potion on Avery probably wouldn't have been so terrible.

 But then, that wouldn't have been enough. After all, lessons like these should stick.

 Avery will live, but he sure won't enjoy it.)

 It's almost ten by the time Hadrian gets back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Snape drops him off at the entrance before sweeping off to his own office in a dramatic billow of irritably flapping robes. He'd been at the Ministry for half the day just to piece together what had happened for them, but as Hadrian had ensured, the Potions master had been cleared of any negligence in the matter. The potion had very obviously shown no signs of exploding - three other experts had verified - and students are expected to take care of their own cauldrons from third-year onwards without the professor having to do weekly checks. Snape had been released by dinnertime, but he'd apparently decided to simply eat in the Ministry cafeteria and return with his student and Babbling, so here they are.

 Except-

 Just before Snape makes to leave, he turns and pins Hadrian with a long appraising look, clinical and penetrating. Hadrian stares back serenely, and maybe the fact that his mind is a steel trap wrapped around a battlefield would be highly suspect to anyone looking in, but he also doesn't feel so much as a brush of Legilimency from Snape whatsoever. The professor really is just looking at him.

 It's a strange new world.

 In the end, Snape doesn't say anything before walking off, and Hadrian is left to blink after him before letting himself into the common room.

 Everything goes eerily silent the moment everyone realizes he's back. Even if he hadn't said anything, someone - let's be real, it's Malfoy - had spread the news of Hadrian taking his Ancient Runes exams early, so pretty much everyone had known where he'd gone today. It was never a secret though so Hadrian hadn't cared, except when he steps into the room, it's very obvious that everybody is focused on him, and just as obvious that nobody is willing to make eye-contact with him.

 The younger students should've already retired for the night. At least everybody still in the common room, studying or playing chess or chatting with each other like any standard evening, are fifth-years and up, so most of these students had probably known - or had been told after the fact - exactly what that curse would've done to Theo Nott that day, and exactly who had been the one to attack him.

 And everybody knows what had happened to Avery today. More specifically, they know that what had happened to him today had been an almost perfect mirror of what he'd wanted to do to Nott one week ago. Nobody here believes in coincidences, and there's only so many people who would've had the motivation to orchestrate the entire accident down to the smallest detail.

 Most of them have known Nott and Zabini for at least a few years. Perhaps they're not on speaking terms, but they'd still been Housemates for a while. Something like this isn't really Nott's style, and while it is Zabini's, neither of them has the ability.

 The only real unknown is Hadrian Evans, and if they still can't put the pieces together at this point, they might as well sell their brains.

 The area by the fireplace, normally always occupied by Avery's group at this time, is empty today. Avery's at St. Mungo's, his roommates are in overnight lockup at the Ministry, and any who aren't but were part of Avery's faction are probably hiding up in their rooms. Nobody else has taken their seats, not even the students who usually do when Avery hasn't claimed it for the day.

 Hadrian walks towards the doorway leading to the boys' dormitory, and no one stops him. It feels like the entire room is holding their breaths. Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves until Hadrian is out of earshot.

 The dorm is likewise very quiet when Hadrian enters. Malfoy's bed curtains are already drawn, as are Crabbe's and Goyle's, but Zabini's are open, and he's lazing against the headboard with a book in his hands while Nott is still at his desk doing homework.

 They both look up as soon as the door swings open. Zabini stays on his bed but Nott even stands up as Hadrian shuts the door behind him. His whole frame is tense with a restless sort of energy, and he's staring at Hadrian with shining eyes. They both are, although in different ways. Zabini looks equal parts ecstatic and hungry, while Nott just looks the kind of deeply confused and deeply grateful that makes Hadrian want to set fire to someone, preferably whoever stitched this very expression into Nott's range of emotions out of the pieces they'd torn from him.

 Nobody says anything right away. Hadrian squints at them as he makes his way to his own bed, feeling vaguely perturbed, because he hadn't truly expected them to not connect what happened to Avery back to him, but he hadn't thought they would be so fixated on it either. Maybe a roundabout tactful thank-you from Nott, an offer of a favour at most. But not… this, whatever this is.

 He laments the fact that these two aren't more stupid when it comes to this sort of thing. Ron would be oblivious. Hermione would be determinedly oblivious. Neville… would actually react a bit like Nott, Ginny would react a lot like Zabini, Luna wouldn't react at all but she'd be extra cuddly for a few days, and gods, Hadrian needs saner friends.

 Not that these two are friends of course.

 He manages to get through a shower, brush his teeth, and climb into a bed before Nott is suddenly at his side, eyes still shining with something Hadrian really doesn't want to put a name to. Thankfully, he doesn't burst into any heartfelt speeches that would probably embarrass everyone within hearing range. Not so thankfully, he honest-to-fucking-Merlin bows, all archaic and meaningful in every way Hadrian has never learned and so doesn't understand, but even he can sense the weight and deference behind every word as Nott murmurs, "All of mine is yours, until the end of days. I would be honoured if you would call me Theo."

 "Jesus fucking Christ," Hadrian mutters, because sometimes wizarding swears just don't have enough oomph to encompass the never-ending circus trainwreck that is his life. He scrubs a hand over his face, peeks at Nott - at Theo - who's still halfway bent over, and of course, it's just his luck that he has no idea how to respond in the proper pureblood way.

 He would've preferred the heartfelt speech.

 "I'm a halfblood, I don't know how to respond appropriately," He says bluntly because he doesn't know what else to do. But he also flicks a Silencing Ward at Malfoy's bed, then at Crabbe's and Goyle's as well because you can never be too careful, and then he leans over and hauls Theo upright and catches his gaze and holds it, "I'll call you Theo if you call me Hadrian. One day, you'll be strong enough to take care of your enemies on your own, and you won't need anyone else to do it for you if you don't want them to, but until then, if all of you is mine, then your enemies are too, so I'll deal with them if it turns out that they still haven't learned after today. That makes us allies from now on though, which means we're equals, and that means you never, ever bow to anyone again. Not me, and not anybody else either. Understand?"

 Theo stares again, wide-eyed and lost and so terribly young, and sometimes, Hadrian wonders what it says about just how messed up the world is when broken kids can be bought so easily.

 Finally, almost dazedly, Theo gives some semblance of a nod.

 "Hadrian," He says, and something about him straightens, grows steel, settles.

 "Hadrian," He repeats and dips his head, not a bow, but respectful all the same, and his eyes are still bright with that unnamed creature, but at least he looks at Hadrian head-on. "Thank you. Goodnight."

 Hadrian sighs and figures that this is about the best he's going to get tonight. Maybe it'll dial back to normal in a few days. "Goodnight, Theo."

 Theo smiles, tiny, crooked, a little awkward. It's the first one Hadrian has ever seen from him, and that at least he can't be upset about.

 They can finally go to sleep though. Theo returns to his own bed, Zabini is still watching them both from his bed like they're his new favourite show, and Hadrian resolutely pretends he doesn't see anything else as he takes down the Silencing Wards before drawing his curtains, rolling over, and promptly making a sincere attempt at smothering himself with a pillow.

 His life.

-0-0-0-

End Notes: Ok wow so this got hella long and I didn't really get to all the stuff anon wanted whoops. Theo just… wouldn't stop thinking lmao, and also this AU has the potential to get so big so I ended up cramming in worldbuilding wherever I could. So unfortunately all you get is sort of a starting snapshot of where this is going and how Hadrian is going to turn out and a shitload of Theo's character. I kind of wanted to do him and Blaise's POV but I could only fit Theo, and I feel like getting Blaise through Theo's POV actually added to his character just as much as a personal POV would've. Anyway, those two are basically blank slates in canon so ofc I would pick them to write lolol.