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devotedfem · 8 days ago

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«Corpse bride groom»

Synopsis: You were forced to marry for convenience, so you practiced your vows in the forest, but you didn't expect the branch coming alive after you marry it. You thought you saw a ghost, but he was worse, a corpse groom.

K. Taehyung x f. Reader

4.7K words.

Genre: Corpse bride au | yander-ish.

Tags: inspired by Corpse bride by Tim burton, arranged marriage, Infatuation, obsessive behavior, Original male character (Victoria's male version from the movie), Tae is so deeply in love with reader, he's whipped, dead Taehyung (he'll come back to life for smut purposes lol), captivity, innocent and naive reader, gothic vibes, Taehyung's a wolf in sheep clothes, possessive behavior, bad ending for reader but not for Tae, smut and dub-con s3x.

From the series masterlist; Hush.

Navigation Masterlist.

You tapped your fingers against your dress impatiently, you didn’t want to be there, you didn’t want to be wed to a stranger. The huge living room greeted you and your parents, the place looked cold and lifeless, your soon to be parents in law were standing before you, with grimaces on their faces. You felt them staring at you -judging you- so you crossed your arms over your chest, almost as if you were shielding yourself from their stares.

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Everglot!” Greeted your mother with a big smile, you noticed contempt flashing Mrs. Everglot face, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

“Why, you must be Victor…” said your father with a gentle smile.

The boy before you was pale and scrawny, like a fragile Victorian kid. You couldn't believe you’ll be wed to this dull looking boy.

“Smile Dear,” whispered Mrs. Everglot to his husband, and the man did try his best to smile but he made a weird grimace instead, and of course your parents chose to ignore the pathetic attempt.

“We’ll be taking tea in the east room.” Commanded Mrs. Everglot with a blank bored face, turning around to walk towards the east side.

You noticed them walking away and leaving you behind almost as if they forgot about your existence. You sighed with slumped shoulders, blinking with excitement when you spot a piano in the corner of the living room. You glanced around before sitting to play it. You let your fingers play the keyboards, turning them into a sweet melody.

“You play very beautifully.” That voice startled you, making you jump away from the piano.

You felt your cheeks heating with embarrassment at being caught by the fragile Victorian boy.

“Do forgive me, I didn’t mean to be rude…” You muttered biting your inner cheek.

The boy chuckled shaking his head.

“Oh please don’t apologize, I’m not like my parents.” He said smiling, easing your tense shoulders.

But the moment was interrupted by a dramatic gasp.

“Y/n! Victor! How improper of you two being alone before the wedding!” Yelled Mrs. Everglot, making the fragile boy roll his eyes. You bit your bottom lip trying not to laugh.

That woman was such a prude.

After the unnecessary scold, Victor and you were practicing your vows for the wedding. The problem was that your brain wasn’t braining, if that makes sense. You were making mistakes every time.

“With this hand I… I will uhm, lift your, your-“

“Sorrows,” finished softly the fragile boy, you smiled at him in gratitude.

“Sorrows,” you repeated.

“Your cup will never- never empty… and uhm, for I will be your… your wine!”

You heard a deep and disappointed sigh behind you.

“With this candle, I will light-“ you interrupted yourself when the candle flame goes out, lighting it up again.

“I’d light your way in the darkness.”

“I will,” scolded the priest, but you ignored him.

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine.”

The ring fell to the floor, rolling under Mrs. Everglot's dress. You didn't think twice before pulling it out from under her dress, regretting your action almost immediately when you accidentally set his fabric on fire.

Long story short, it was a disaster. Your parents were ashamed, and a strange woman save the day by putting out the fire. You felt your lips wobbling and your gaze blurring, you didn’t mean to be so clumsy, you were just trying your best. You ran away from the house, after all everyone was ignoring your presence, so you weren’t worry about them wondering where were you going.

Your eyes were teary and your chest stung with shame and helplessness. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realize that you were walking into the forest. It was already night; the forest floor was covered in blankets of snow with the moonlight as the only source of light. You paced around with knitted brows and clenched fists.

“That pale boy must think I’m a fool,” You spoke out loud to yourself, with a long sigh. “It shouldn’t be that difficult to say a few simple vows…” You muttered, clearing your throat to practice your vows again.

“With this hand I will- i… uhm, cup your wine? Fuck no, with this uhm… candle! I… i… set your annoying mother on fire,” you mumble kicking a branch.

You look up to watch the beautiful moon, spinning around and imagining you were at your wedding, everything was perfect and Victor’s parents didn’t hate you.

“Oh hello Mrs. Everglot, you look lovely this evening,” you smiled to a trunk, spinning around with your fluffy dress.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows,” you said raising your hand. “Your cup will never empty… For I will be your wine,” you carry on with an imaginary cup. “With this candle I will light your way in the darkness.”

And then you stopped, watching the shiny ring on your palm.

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine,” you whispered softly, placing the ring on a branch as if it was a finger.

And suddenly, the earth shook beneath you, making you gasp with horror at the sight of the branch coming back to life. Or more like a man rising from the earth, or from the death.

In front of you stood a handsome man, dress for a wedding. His boxy smile and left white eye were charming, unlike his ragged suit and cadaveric purple-like skin. You spotted some of his rib bones through a hole in his wedding suit.

You blink hard and quick, thinking you went mad. You screamed with fear when the man walked towards you, showing you his finger wearing the ring. His grin never eased.

“I do.” He replied with a deep voice, bringing his face an inch closer to yours. “Now kiss the groom.” He whispered lowly, brushing your lips.

And when his mouth touched yours, everything turned black.

“She’s still so soft and warm,” said a distant voice, making you frown and blink slowly your eyes open.

Your eyes widened with horror and your mouth opened with a scream at the sight above you, there was two men looking down at you, the both of them were definitely dead. The one in your right didn’t even have arms. It was horrific, straight out of a horror movie.

Where the fuck were you?

The place seemed like a bar cave, with skeletons speaking and living corpses looking at you with confusion and pity.

“Oh don’t frighten her Yoongi, maybe she’s one of those that doesn’t know they’re dead yet,” the man on your left says with pity in his gaze, making you gasp with disbelief.

“Dead? The fuck are you talking about! I’m alive, is… is this a dream?” You whispered the last words to yourself, maybe you just were in a bad dream. Nothing to worry about, right?

“You two leave her alone, don’t overwhelm my wife,” the mysterious man from the woods ordered with a stern voice, however his gaze was gentle and fixated on you.

You blinked with knitted brows, did you hear him right?

“Wife?” You muttered with confusion, but everyone ignored you.

“Of course tae, we are very aware of your temper,” said the man named Yoongi.

“To the newlyweds!” Yelled the other man, raising a beer and making everyone repeat the words with joy.

“Newlyweds!?” This time you shouted out the words, watching them with horror written on your face. As far as you know you were still single, yet to be wed but single.

“You said your vows so beautifully in the woods my dear,” the deep and dark voice from the mysterious mantook your attention again. His gaze was still lingering on you, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. You didn’t know how to react at his intense gaze, so you averted yours instead.

“I… did?” You muttered to yourself, remembering your rehearsal in the woods. You didn’t mean to wed a corpse.

“You did, my love.” His words were sugary sweat, as if they were trying to melt into your ears.

You gulped, feeling a deep and primal fear squeezing your chest, you were about to have a panic attack. You wanted to run away now.

“Well, let me introduce myself, I’m Namjoon, the waiter. I died a year ago and-“ You interrupted him by grabbing a dagger from a corpse to aim it at them as a threat.

Your mind was foggy and your thoughts erratic, you weren’t thinking straight.

“Get away from me! I-I have a knife and I’m not scared to use it! Give me questions now!” You yelled with panic.

“I think you mean answers sweetheart,” your supposed husband mention with amusement.

You blinked feeling like a moron. Realizing you were threatening literally corpses.

“Ehm, yes, answers. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said calmly, walking towards you with every step screaming confidence and elegance. He stopped inches from your body, leaning his beautiful face to yours. You flinched when you felt him curling a lock of your hair with his finger.

“As you can see, I’m a dead groom, with a very… tragic past. I was betrayed in life the day of my wedding, I thought I’d doomed for eternity until you said your vows to me, as a gift from life… or dead.” He caged you against the bar counter with his arms at each side of you and his body leaning even more closer, making you lean your back on the counter as an attempt to get away from him.

“Our poor Tae, he was so handsome and naïve in life. Always wearing his heart on his sleeve, that snake of a woman manipulated him to keep his money.” Said Yoongi with anger on his voice, while he was speaking, tae didn’t look away from you for a second. His intense gaze was piercing you.

“And our Taehyung has always been a romantic with a kind heart, for that woman to murder him in cold blood on his wedding day. But he made a vow, to wait for his true love.” Continued Namjoon.

You felt a pang of guilt cross your heart, that was truly a tragic and sad story. No one deserves to die in such way.

“Taehyung,” you whispered his name, making him inhale sharp.

“Yes, my moon.” He said back, smiling at you gently.

“I’m… really sorry for what happened to you, but I think there is a misunderstanding,” you tried to say, getting away from Taehyung with him following your steps.

“There is none my love. We are married.” Irritation flashes his handsome face.

“We’re not!” You yelled, and then you ran away.

You ran as fast as you can, almost tripping a couple of times. You watched with horror and fear the corpses surrounding you, passing in your way between a person cut in half. You watched all of their organs.

But then exhaustion drugged your movements, making you stop to take a deep breath and calm your racing heart. Your eyes burned with tears at the realization that you were lost, with nowhere to go. You sit on a bench and sob your heart out like a child.

“Oh my dear, what are you doing here alone sweet thing.” Taehyung’s voice cooing at you made you look up at him, feeling relieved to see at least one familiar face. You hiccupped with fat tears streaming from your eyes, making Taehyung knit his brows with deep concern. He opened his arms and you rushed to them, hugging him tight.

“I want to go home,” you sobbed into his chest, wetting the fabric of his shirt.

He shushed you, stroking gently your hair and tightening his grip on your body.

“You are home.” His words only made you cry harder.

But then a thought crossed your mind, maybe if you manipulate him to take you up to the world of the living then you could escape from this marriage.

“Tae, i- I want to introduce you to my parents,” you said not looking into his eyes.

“Sure Mon Amour. Where are they buried?” He asked cheerfully.

Your stomach twisted at his words.

“They are… alive.”

His brows knitted for a moment, but he smiled again.

“Then we must find a way to go up.” He said taking your hand to pull you with him.

And that’s how you two ended up in front of an old skeleton magician, who was trying to find a spell in his huge and dusty book.

“Aha! There it is, a spell that’ll allow Taehyung to go to the world of the living,” said the skeleton before coughing loudly.

Taehyung’s grin was wide, he was so charming and beautiful like this, it was such a pity and waste that he was dead.

The skeleton that resembles an old man, gave Taehyung an egg, telling him to eat it to be able to go up. After he does, a cloak of smoke wrapped you both, you felt dizzy for a second, with Taehyung holding your hands. And then you blinked slowly, noticing with joy that you were in the woods again.

“Yes!” You shouted without being able to contain your relief.

Taehyung smiled gently at you, although he has a white dead eye, his gaze was full of life and love. Your smile fell at the guilty pang piercing your heart, it was a little bit cruel to leave him like this, but you have no other choice. You don’t belong to the world of the dead, at least not now.

“I- uhm, I’ll look for my parents to bring them here. I’ll go ahead, wait here for me and don’t move,” you said clearing your throat, trying to look convincing enough.

“Sure thing, I’ll wait right here,” he said cheerfully, sitting on a piece of log. Looking at you with a hint of innocence and trust. You averted your gaze, unable to bear looking into his eyes.

“I’ll… I’ll be right back,” you muttered, walking away from him.

At first your steps were calm and confident, until you turn your head back realizing you were far enough to run like a mad woman, and you did, gasping by how fast you were running. You burst with happiness when you got to the town safe and sound, back home.

But Victor’s house was on the way, and you needed to give him some explanations as to why you disappeared the night before the wedding. You climbed to the balcony of his room, too scared to face his parents at this hour.

Your grin widened when you watch him reading on his bed, so you tapped his window eagerly. He jumped with surprise at the sight of you.

“What on earth are you doing here!?” he whispered shouted to you when he opened the balcony doors, and you walked past him into his room.

“I’m so sorry for disappearing, i-I am so scared Victor. Something really bad and weird happened to me! I got wed to a corpse groom against my will!” You knew you sounded like a maniac, probably making no sense to Victor. But there was no other way to explain what happened to you in the woods.

“What? I’m confused…” Victor said carefully, with his brows knitted and looking at you as if you grew another head. You sighed deep at his words.

“I know I sound crazy, but I’m telling you the truth. I’m running from-“

You were interrupted by the balcony doors bursting open and slamming against the walls, making Victor and you startle. There, on the balcony, stood Taehyung, with an intimidating aura. He looked frightening without his typical smile, looking at you two with a cold face.

His steps were large and heavy, pulling you away from Victor with force, tightening his grip around your arm.

“Y/n? who’s that?” Taehyung asked between teeth, not breaking his heavy gaze from Victor.

“He’s my… my-my…” Your brain literally bugged at that moment, blank and without any rational thought.

“I’m his soon to be husband.” Replied Victor, making you open and close your mouth like a fish, you wanted to deny it but you just couldn’t because it was the truth. You didn’t know how well Taehyung will cope with that information.

“You wish,” said darkly Taehyung, pulling you away with him. You two disappeared into the cloaked smoke that brought you here. And you witnessed the horrified face of Victor before vanishing away into the air.

You were again in the place of the old magician skeleton, with Taehyung crying in front of you. Your heart was clenching with pity and anger, he didn’t have any right to take you away from Victor!

“You’re a liar!” Sobbed Taehyung, with tears streaming from his betrayed eyes.

You gasped in disbelief.

“Excuse me? I’ve never lied to you!”

“Yeah sure, go back to that other man,” said lowly Taehyung, with venom and hurt in his voice.

“You are the other man!” You shouted, feed up with his victim complex.

“No I’m not! You’re married to me! He’s the other man!” He screamed with his voice breaking at the last words.

“He’s got a point though,” the skeleton commented softly.

There was a moment of silence, you didn’t know what to say at this point. Taehyung looked defeated with his shoulders slumped.

“And I thought this was going well,” he muttered, making you feel even worse.

“Look, I’m so sorry you have to find it out like this, but I don’t want this marry.”

Hurt flashes Taehyung’s face, his eyes swan in tears again.

“But why? It’s because my eye, isn’t it?” He whispered sadly, looking vulnerable and hurt.

“No! Of course not, your eye it’s very… lovely, you are very lovely, and handsome. But that’s not the point.” You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. “The point is, that we’re not meant to be! You’re… dead, and I’m alive, this just can’t work.”

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before saying your vows,” he replied with an angry scowl and crossed arms.

“Why can’t you understand that this is a mistake! I would never, ever, marry you!”

You regretted your words immediately after watching Taehyung’s crestfallen face. He just stood there, saying nothing back and turning around, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

“Well, a marriage isn’t a marriage without arguments, isn’t it?” You ignored the skeleton, feeling really bad with yourself.

You went out, ignoring the corpses watching you with curiosity, you were the only one with a beating heart and they know it, everyone knows it except Taehyung.

With a sigh, you sit heavily on the bench, biting your bottom lip with no clue of what to do down here without the company of Taehyung. Are you doomed to be in the land of the death? Maybe that was your destiny, in some way, the universe fulfilled your wish; you won’t marry Victor, but at what cost?

You searched for Taehyung after a couple of hours, asking every corpse If they have seemed him, but they never answered your questions.

And then you listened a sweet piano melody from afar, your body followed the sound as a sailor going after the call of a siren. Your feet brought you to a small terrace where Taehyung was playing piano, he looked absorbed in his own little word, until you sat beside him on the piano’s bench, making him startle and widen his pretty eyes.

But he blinked his surprise away, snorting with a roll of his eyes, ignoring you to keep playing. You played the keyboards too, following his melody. He side-eyed you with annoyance, playing quicker the piano, making you smirk playing even more quicker than him. Your hands touched at some point, and you noticed how Taehyung’s defenses broke down little by little, enjoying the melody you two made, smiling softly at you.

“That was so beautiful,” you say breaking the comfortable silence. Taehyung only nodded at your words.

Your lips curled down, feeling that pang of guilt in your chest again.

“Look, I’m so sorry for what I said earlier. You’re the most interesting and handsome man I’ve ever met, and if death weren’t separating us, I’d fall head over heels for you.” You said softly, trying to make him understand why you two weren’t compatible at all.

He just hummed, not looking at you.

“So the only thing you want from me… it’s a beating heart?” He asked trying to look nonchalant, but you noticed the tension of his lips.

“I… I mean, I can be dead to be with you… at this point, there’s nothing left for me up there,” you muttered, you didn’t miss Victor’s parents flattering the woman that turn off the fire of Mrs. Everglot dress, she seemed interested in marrying Victor.

“No.” Growled Taehyung with anger, a fire burning his dead eyes. “I would never take that away from you, life is a gift, and you’re full of it. That’s whyI’m head over heels for you, my moon.” He whispered the last words, full of love and passion, melting your heart and filling your eyes with tears.

You’ve never felt more loved and seemed in your life, but it felt wrong, because the feeling wasn’t mutual. You appreciate him, yes, you think he’s beautiful and sweet, also yes. But you didn’t love him.

“I have to be honest with you Tae, I just… don’t feel the same, and I can’t guarantee you that my feelings will change in the future.”

Taehyung smiled with sadness and determination, holding tightly both of your hands and stroking lovingly the back.

“I have enough love for the both of us, even If you never love me, even if you hate me. I’ll never leave you.” He said like an oath, one he’s not willing to break.

You blinked at his words, taken aback. It felt more like a threat rather than a confession of love, but you didn’t mind. It felt nice to be cared for.

“Okay.” You whispered, looking into his pretty eyes.

“I have something to show you,” his voice dropped an octave, and his gaze darkened for a moment, but he returned to his bright persona immediately. You nodded slowly, not sure why you felt uneasy all of a sudden.

He took you to a hidden cottage deep in the land of the death, it was hauntingly beautiful, its garden has dead roses and dark sunflowers. Charming and deathly, just like Taehyung.

He showed you a death rose covered in honey, smirking at you like the Cheshire cat, with a mischievous and a naughty glint in his eyes. You narrowed your eyes, raising a brow when he remained silent.

“So? You wanted to show me a withered rose?” You asked with a frown, not sure what the hell you two were doing in that cottage. “Do you live here?” You changed the subject, watching your surroundings with curiosity.

“Yes, we live here. And… this rose it’s enchanted, it will bring me back to life, it’ll make my rotten heart beat again.”

You freeze at his words, whipping your head towards him in shock, watching Taehyung’s eyes darkening. His gaze was intense and unreadable, staring piercingly at you like a hawk, a predator ready to pounce and chase its preys if it dares to run away.

You gulped hard, blinking and processing his words.

“Are you sure…it-it’ll work? I mean, I’m sure it will, we got up a couple of hours ago.” You rambled, trying to think how to say your next words. “If… if, this works, that means… we can go back to the land of the living?” You asked softly and cautiously, watching his every expression as if you were dealing with a wild animal.

Taehyung only smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. That smile looked forced, so unlike him.

“Of course, my moon, we will go to your home. I want to meet your parents after all,” his voice sounded constricted, as if he was restraining himself.

“If you don’t want to do this, then don’t. Do it because you want it, not to please me.”

This time his smile was genuine, sparkling his eyes.

But then his gaze darkened again, like a dusty cloak covering his eyes, his intentions.

“Don’t worry about me, although I have to tell you something. To make this spell permanent, there’s one condition.” He said, not breaking his heavy gaze from you.

A chill run down your spine at his odd vibe.

“What condition?” You asked with your brows knitted.

“We have to consummate the marriage,” he said lowly, approaching you with slow steps.

You widened your eyes at his proposal, no fucking way. You won’t fuck a corpse.

“Taehyung you’re dead. I’m not fucking a corpse, I’m sorry.”

To your surprise, his smirk didn’t falter.

“Did I say I’ll fuck while dead? No. This spell will revive me, but only for 4 hours, that’s why we need to… be intimate to make it permanent.” He said calmly, getting even more closer to your body.

You didn’t know what to say to that, it wouldn’t be a problem if he was alive, right? But… he was still a stranger, and you didn’t feel comfortable being intimate with him.

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t you want to go back home? To be with your parents? Wouldn’t be easier if you tell them you’re already married? I promise to give you space up there, I can love you from afar.” His tone was deep, and his stare burned with determination.

“I… guess you’re right.” You whispered, not knowing what else to say.

It can’t be that bad. Right?

Taehyung smirked mischievously, his eyes glinting with eagerness. He took the withered rose, eating its petals covered in honey. Staring at you while swallowing each one of them.

And then… he changed.

His purpled skin tone turned tan with a healthy glow, his lips changed into a cherry tone. His hair was more ebony and shinning, and that hole that showed his rib bones, was covered with new skin.

He looked alive.

Your lips parted and your eyes widened with fascination. You took one large step to be an inch closer to him, putting slowly your hand on his chest. Laughing with joy at the feeling of his heart beating against your palm. You just witnessed a miracle.

“I’m impressed,” you said feeling his heart, he felt so alive.

Taehyung pulled your hand towards his lips, kissing it softly and staring at you heavily. His lips lingered on your hand, brushing the inner of your wrist.

And then he carried you in bridal style, making you gasp in surprise by the sudden movement. You wrapped your arms around his neck, watching how he took you deeper into the cottage, laying you on the mattress of his bed.

He lingered above you, caging your head and body with his hands and legs, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. His left white eye didn’t change of color, making you smile. It was his charm.

And then he kissed your smile away, sucking and biting your lips like a starve man, swallowing all of your sounds as if he wanted to devour you.

Your head spined because of how rough he was kissing you, not breaking the kiss to give you a chance to breath. You felt him tearing off your clothes like a savage, making you frown and whimper. It was a lot, you tried to turn your head away but he growled, gripping your chin to attach his lips again.

“Tae. I, I don’t know if this is-“

“You said yes, I won’t let you set a foot outside until I’m buried balls deep inside you.” He snarled, with anger and lust clouding his intense eyes.

He widened your legs until your knees brushed your shoulders, baring you open to him. You felt your cheeks heating with embarrassment, you’ve never felt more exposed in your life.

And Taehyung’s eyes glinted with so much hunger that it scared you, the grip he has on your legs was tight, not letting you go.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

And you teared up, feeling like a lamb that fell into its predator’s trap.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg @acherry04 @lizziekitty @catlove83

#bangtan fanfic #bts x reader #bangtan fic #bts imagines #bts x you #yandere bts #bts #bts fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #yandere taehyung #taehyung smut #yandere x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff

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vampwritesstuff · 3 months ago

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩’𝐬 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬 (1)

a random collection of Ateez fics I have stumbled across and fell in love with. (I am clearly biased towards smau fics)

* marks mature/violent content, please heed warnings posted by the author. MDNI with the fics on this list that are marked like this. You are responsible for the media you consume!

Personal favorites are marked with 💜

Authors will not be tagged multiple times if they have already been tagged once before on this list, this is to ensure that I don’t flood notifications and so I can tag as many different authors as I can!

If any authors would like their works removed from this list or to be untagged, please feel free to tell me!! As well as let me know if any links are not working properly! (I do tend to check them frequently though as this list also helps me keep track of the ongoing fics I am reading)

While you’re here, also feel free to check out my own Ateez smau Forgotten Melodies! (Shameless self promo but oh well, it’s my rec list I can recommend my own fic if I want to)

OT8/Multiple Members

wonderwall * @atzfilm 💜 (ongoing series)

circus * @lani-heart 💜 (ongoing)

inception * @remedyx (ongoing)

hypothesis (woosan) @woneuntonzz (ongoing smau)

ateez mafia au @softsan (ongoing)

this night together * (yungi) @honeyhotteoks 💜 (ongoing)

the essence of youth is summers with you @eightmakesonebraincell 💜 (oneshot)

divine ruination * @seonghwaddict (ongoing)

blinding lights * (seongjoong) @kpoppers-anonymous (ongoing)

when eight becomes nine @bunnliix (ongoing)

for love of the game * (yunwoo) @kitten4sannie (oneshot)

makes him want to give up his sea legs @yeontantrash 💜 (drabble)

that’s what roommates are for * (yunsanmin) @bro-atz (oneshot)

house of cards @moontyun (ongoing)

incomplete @ldysmfrst (ongoing)

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom @ eightmakesonebraincell 💜 (oneshot)

Kim Hongjoong

a wild ride * @bombuni (oneshot)

while you were sleeping @ seonghwaddict (oneshot)

when flowers bloom in the dark @makeitmingi (ongoing)

kindergarten love story @xomakara (oneshot)

your gentle hands @yourlocaljonghoe 💜 (oneshot)

Park Seonghwa

the lamb and the wolf * @ seonghwaddict (oneshot)

the way to his heart * @edenesth (completed series)

the stranger in 43b @jae-bummer (oneshot)

i will wait @hwaightme (oneshot)

let me in @ makeitmingi (oneshot)

Jeong Yunho

espresso for two? @xuchiya (oneshot)

music of the heart @noonaishere 💜 (ongoing smau)

empires @peacheeeliz 💜 (completed smau)

hunted: haunting adeline au * @whatudowhennooneseesyou 💜 (oneshot)

let’s start a podcast @mars101 (ongoing smau)

Kang Yeosang

morning glory * @anyamaris (oneshot)

operation: passenger princess @sungbeam 💜 (oneshot)

yeosang & a situationship @yunhoszn (oneshot smau)

oddeleny @songmingisthighs 💜 (completed smau)

Choi San

online/offline @ noonaishere 💜 (ongoing smau)

leave the window open @ sungbeam (oneshot)

hold me @cheeseceli (oneshot)

no hesitation * @daemour (oneshot)

love beyond barriers @catsannie (ongoing smau)

Song Mingi

preying on you tonight * @bvidzsoo (oneshot)

and july @sara-wishes (oneshot)

wave @sorryimananti-romantic (oneshot)

[ 11:45 p.m. ] @mingtinys (timestamp)

hidden flames @imagine-a-life-like-this & @mxnsxngie (ongoing)

save a horse, ride your best friend @ seonghwaddict (oneshot)

Jung Wooyoung

written in the stars @ennysbookstore (ongoing)

247 @yothangie 💜 (ongoing smau)

unexpectedly @dancinglikebutterflywings 💜 (ongoing smau + currently on hiatus/being rewritten)

lover, please stay * @roomsofangel (ongoing)

that and then @halaboyz (oneshot)

plans changed @ dancinglikebutterflywings (oneshot)

bullseye! @lividstar 💜 (oneshot)

let the heart love again @ makeitmingi 💜 (oneshot)

vivrant thing @hwaslayer (ongoing)

i don’t want your sorrys, i want you safe @dvrktvnnel (oneshot + planned part two)

die for me * @jisungchan (oneshot)

Choi Jongho

oh shit, are we in love? * @mingigoo 💜 (oneshot)

thinking about how… @ cheeseceli (drabble)

the pool * @beenbaanbuun (oneshot)

663 notes · View notes

cxce15 · 7 months ago

Text

Creagan Stark fic recs

By @just-some-random-blogger

Yeti - Part 1

Heat - Part 2

Poison Berries

By @writingsofwesteros

Oneshot

A Dragon In Winter

Oneshot

By @hvnterofartemis

Blood Of The Dragon - Part 1

Hour Of The Wolf - Part 2

Winter Wedding - Part 3

By @jacaerysgf

Oneshot

Worth It - Modern AU

By @sassypossumm

What I Want

By @sylasthegrim

Fire On Fire

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Sons Of The Wolf

The Wolf's Embrace - Part 1

The Wolf's Den - Part 2

The Silver Princess - Masterlist

Salt The Night With Silence

Spoils Of Surrender

By @loveslibrarywp

Marriage For Duty

By @myladysapphire

The Dragon & The Wolf - Masterlist

By @gtgbabie0

Oneshot

Dreamer!Reader - Part 1

Dreamer!Reader - Part 2

By @ellebakers

Beastly

By @dragons-and-handcuffs

Oneshot

By @jamespotterismydaddy

Lord Husband - Masterlist

By @thebadboyfanclub

My Beloved Wife

By @vincentsambershades

How Not To Tame A Dragon

By @rhaenyra-storms

Oneshot

By @sourcherryandsprinkles

Oneshot

By @hxtd

When Flame Meets Snow

All Must Choose

By @fabled-fiction

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, And Beating Hearts

By @midnightcrw

I Almost Lost You

By @fairysluna

Wolf Cage

By @julessworldd

Oneshot - Modern AU

By @andreawritesit

Oneshot

By @importantstudentbusinessspy-blog

Cold-Hearted Wolf - Chapter 1

Cold-Hearted Wolf - Chapter 2

Cold-Hearted Wolf - Chapter 3

Cold-Hearted Wolf - Chapter 4

By @gotranting

The Winter Feast - Part 2 ( I read it as a stand alone but there is a part 1 )

By @callooopie

Modern! Cregan Stark Headcannons - Part 1

By @entitled-fangirl

You're A Stark Now

As Long As She's Comfortable

May I?

A Wolf

Indeed, My Girl

Howl At The Moon

Lost

Stop

I'll Find You

Cold

A Northern Lannister

War

I Promise Everything

In The Midst Of Death And Destruction - Part 1

In The Midst Of Death And Destruction - Part 2

A Gentle Wolf

Run

A Perfect Match Indeed

Dagger

A Brilliant Melody

Moonblood In The Middle Of The Night

Stubborn Man

By @wyvernest

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 1

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 2

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 3

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 4

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 5

By @captainamericasmotercycle

Oneshot

By @multific

The Rabbit And The Wolf

By @baelarys

The Wolf

By @painted-flag

Little Red Riding Hood - Part 1

Little Red Riding Hood - Part 2

By @shadowandlightt

Snow And Flame - Part 2 ( I read it as a stand alone )

By @draczrys

Winter Rose

By @swordgrace

Blood In The Snow

By @bluebellhairpin

Striker

By @creganslover

More Than A Woman

Beast Of Winterfell

By @aemondfairy

Out Of The Woods

By @dr3amfyr-e

Moon, River

By @streamofcolors

Our Platinum Haired Daughter

By @benjinotes

It's You

By @cherryheairt

Dragon Dreamer - Part 1

Dragon Dreamer - Part 2

Dragon Dreamer - Part 3

By @dragons-and-handcuffs

Oneshot

#house of the dragon #cregan stark #tom taylor #a song of ice and fire #cxce15 #fanfiction #cregan stark x reader

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itstheghostofmypast · 3 months ago

Text

S♡CKER P♡NCH

Boxer AU Choi San x Reader

Summary: No labels, no commitment, no real relationship. A lone wolf who could throw anyone across the ring until his love for boxing shifted to the love for his little daisy.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Making out, language.

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est.Read Time: 10 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I'd like to blame @edenesth for sending me that one real- man. I'm weak for this man.

After a deep groan the boxer sighed, staring up at the bright light of the ring, the world around him blurring into twos and threes, hazy and foggy, the world around him turning into distant memory but the persistent, ear piercing ringing in his head had his conscious hold onto some form of reality.

A familiar voice caught his attention, his eyes slowly trailing to the fuzzy shadow, the sweet voice cutting through the loud ringing. A muffled whisper was all he caught before blacking out,

“Sannie!? Wake up!”

The thumping at the back of his skull pulled him out of his blackout, slowly opening his eyes, staring up at the dark shaky ceiling - oh, he was in the van. Did Wooyoung pick him up? Did he carry him? Closing his eyes, he sighed, the memories match he had won, not one of his finest ventures. In fact, he had been so distracted that he really did think he was going to lose, mid way on the bench he had asked Wooyoung if he could tap out, only for his manager/best friend to whisper back, “Ya dumb? Ya gotta win this to prove to her you're a strong one! Get her that ring you want with tonight's money!”

The ring, that's what, led his large best friend back into the ring with a new sense of determination. Sure, images of her flashing across his mind, trying to focus on nothing but her, especially the last memory of her, when she was the more upset with him than he had ever seen. He knew he had to make it up to her. He had to prove to her that he wasn't weak. He was part of the big leagues now, and he knew what he was doing. And he did, with one final kick the man had won, stumbling back when Wooyoung braced him steady-temperedily with a hand on the back of the boxer, declaring his victory. It was after that when he completely blacked out, somehow hearing the melody of his daisy.

“Instead of yapping at me, tend to him would ya?” The driver mumbled, earing a scoff from the woman behind the curtain, ripping it open so she could glare at him, “This is all your fault!”

“No, this is your fault.” Backrest the brakes at the stop sign he turned his head to glare at her, “If you didn't challenge his capabilities-”

“I'm his doctor! He was already exhausted! I wasn't challenging him! I was giving him MEDICAL ADVICE!”

“I'm his manager! I know what he can and can not do and-”

“HE HAD A DEATH WISH!”

“SO WHAT!?”

“I LOVE HIM, YOU BASTARD!”

The loud horn blaring behind them had Wooyoung sprint into action, stepping on the gas as the whole van shook, causing ; her to lose her balance and topple over and to land in a firm pair of arms, that tightened around her when Wooyoung's rash driving had him hopping lane to lane to find a quick pit stop.

“Slow down, Woo.” He mumbled, voice hoarse and heavy, possibly due to the fatigue, though his words were firm, “There's no need to rush, I feel fine.” Of course, his best friend was rushing to find some form of place to stay, he was worried about him, sure they had her, a certified nurse, but she couldn't do much due to her limited resources.

“Are you sure?” The driver glanced at his rear view mirror, only to shake his head and sigh at the sight of the two love-struck fools staring at each other like that. It made him sick. To think he had seen this man throw men bigger than him around the ring, and now he was all putty in a frail, lousy tempered woman's arms. Rolling his eyes at the lack of response, he reached back to pull the curtain, deciding to give them time to ‘make up’ .

“You came?” San whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against her, trying to ignore the sting of the cut on his lower lip.

“Of course I did, you big dummy.” She mumbled, slowly pulling back and helping him recline against the DIY back rest they had made with an old cushion, “I was mad at your stupidity, didn't mean I wanted to leave you unattended when you'd get hurt.”

“Well, isn't my daisy a work of art.” Mumbled he reached over to gently grasp her hand, drawing gentle circles with his thumb on the back of her soft, smaller hand, “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. You guys pay me for that.”

He pouted at her statement, sure it was true but that's because Wooyoung had originally hired her, they weren't a couple back then.

And even after the small mountain had constantly been expressing and hinting at his admiration for her, Wooyoung had insisted that the contract remain intact, which meant they needed to keep it professional.

Now, she was just saying this because of their lack of official titles- it was true, the boxer was head over heels for her, but was too afraid to take a step, what if he hurt her with his big calloused hands, or what if he crushed her with his brute being. It didn't matter what any fortune teller or shaman would claim, his Yin was much more suppressed because his choice of occupation- an occupation he was good at, an occupation he enjoyed, an occupation that helped him earn a living. One that he had used to get her a ring. Callbhim old fashioned, but he believed courting her for more than a year was enough. She deserved the proper treatment, one he'd gladly give her - now that he had convinced Wooyoung too.

“Yes but…you didn't need to come all the way there and-”

“Drop it.” She sighed, somewhat irritated by his romantic gestures, he'd do this often, be this tender with her, and then pull back as soon as she'd ask for something more, something that would make her bruised heart flutter.

Slowly, she got up, placing a hand on the roof to steady herself before making her way to the back of the van, grateful that he had not heard her confess her feelings for him to Wooyoung. Reaching for the cooler, she tipped over the lid, kneeling as she plucked out an icepack, a bottle of water, and an ice lolly.

He raised a brow at the choice of items she has returned with, “What's with the- ack!” He gagged at the intensity of the frozen treat hitting the back of his throat, hand instinctively reaching to grab the small end of the stick as he looked at her with an unpleasant expression Though it soon turned into a lopsided smirk when she sat between his spread out legs, frowning up at him and pressing the cold ice beside his eyebrow, mumbling an, “Idiot.”

His other arm looped around her waist, tugging her closer as he pulled out the lolly, “How'd you know I like pineapple?” He giggled pressing it to her lips, watching her slowly part her lips, taking in the treat as she maintained eye contact, watching his ears turn pink at the sight, his eyes widening in disbelief. Sure, they had flirted before but never like this.

The loud crunch caught his ears as she pulled back, with half the pop gone, as she licked her lips and frowned, “I was planning on having it later tonight.”

Whining at her, he pulled the mostly eaten treat, staring at what was left at the bottom before pulling it closer to inspect the bite marks, raising a brow at the sight, swallowing at the loss of romance. Okay, so she was still upset.

Just like that, the boxer had a wonderful idea, completely forgetting the third party present, currently eavesdropping on their conversation, or lack thereof. With one swift move, he bit into the remaining ice lolly, savouring the sweet taste before cupping her face and crashing his lips against hers.

A small squeak broke past her lips that were now occupied with his, her arms trailing up his chest to wrap around his neck, fingers caressing the base of his neck. He pulled her closer, palm flat on the small of her back as he used his other hand to hold her still, giving her a neck a little squeeze, tilting her head to have her part her lips, sharing the melted, sticky pineapple juice.

She pushed him away as she gasped for air, licking the remaining traces of the sugar off her swollen lips, staring at him with a hazed expression, matching his, much like his flushed face and heaving chest- the only difference was that he had that cocky smug look plastered on his handsome, bruised features, looking like a boy who had just won a race.

“I had to win tonight.” he whispered, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, hand leaving her neck, shoving it in his pocket to look for something, before pulling it out, “Had to get ya this, paid the deposit, have to give the rest tomorrow.”

She gasped at the small velvet box in his hand, glancing up at him then down at the box, her heart racing against time as she took it with shaky hands, flipping open the lid, blinking at the diamond .

“Oh Sannie…why would you-”

“I can't hold back anymore, daisy. You punched me in the heart the moment I fell into your lap that night.”

Her face flushed at the memory of the fateful night they had met, with her sitting at a bus stop post midnight. Waiting for the bus, when a bruised man stumbled onto the platform, the blood on his knuckles dripped onto the concrete. At first she had tried to ignore the giant man, but they way he was swaying left and right for some tugged the strings of her heart, having her let out an, “Are you alright, Sir?”

That night, he had fallen unconscious in his daisy's lap, forever in debt to her, forever in love with her. Next morning he woke up on a warm bed, all patched up and cozy, with her tending to him after bringing him breakfast- a moment of peace, before he had called Wooyoung who then hired her on the spot.

“You're so stupid San…you didn't have to get me a ring- you could've gotten hurt- I just- you fainted and-”

“I love you too…by the way.” He watched her fumble with her words, cutting her off as be referred to the confession of hers a while ago, giving her a closed eye smile when he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box somewhere across the van. Both unaware that the van had come to a stop, as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her palm.

“Kiss me.”

“Wha-” his words cut short as she grabbed his face, much like he had early, only with more force, squishing his plump cheeks, forcing him to pout. This only riled him up further as he gently pushed her onto her back, hovering over her, deepening the kiss, making sure she could feel all the love he had pent up inside for so long. Her lips curled into a smile at his response, hands trailing up his broad back, feeling every ripple of each muscle, her body turning warmer at the way he'd sigh against her mouth. His own hands gripped her by the waist, dragging her closer, chuckling at the little noises she was making. Both lost in bliss, both lost in one another.

“EXCUSE ME, MY VAN IS NO PLACE FOR YOUR NASTY BUSINESS!”

The screech had her push him off her, instantly shivering as the crisp air of the night layering her skin with goosebumps. Their breaths came out in puffs, panting like a pair of teenagers caught in the janitors closet.

“We weren't…doing a-anything.” She huffed, sitting up and glaring at the manager who just scoffed in response, “Mhmmm…I definitely didn't see his tongue shoved down your throat.”

Whining at his snarky response, she pouted at her newly declared lover who gave her a cute smile, one that had her resisting the urge to attack his glistening lips once more. San shook his head at Wooyoung and crawled out of the van, turning to his lady, reaching out for her to help her out of the van, much like he always did, only this time, he boldly wrapped a jacket around her shoulders, before pulling her closer into his side, walking towards the motel Wooyoung had brought them too.

“YAH! This better not become a common practice!” The shorter man yelled at the boxer who's laugh bounced in the dark of the empty night, pulling his source of love and warmth closer, smiling down at her, only to receive a shy smile in return.

Wooyoung watched his best friend walk into the other room behind his lover, waving bye before closing the door, this bastard should be grateful he got them a separate room, more importantly he should be grateful that he had texted her to come quick when San was having his ass handed to him, knowing if there was one sole motivator for the boxer, it was his little daisy.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

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vnti-vnxiety-recs · 3 months ago

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Serenade of the Damned (M)

★ PAIRING: Pied Piper! Haechan x Little Red! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 10k

★ GENRE(S): Dark fantasy AU, Dark Fairy Tale AU. Magic. Smut, enemies to ??

☆ SUMMARY: The Pied Pier was one of the most feared folk legends of your time. Little did you know he was real and was coming to take your life. You, who was known as the wolfhunter, realized that the hunter had become the hunted.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: mature themes. Minor character death, knifes, blood, violence, alcohol, unprotected sex, gangs, threats, killing, 18+, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: Hallo! This is something that is totally different from my usual writing style, so im a little nervous to debut this, but im so excited because this concept was so freaking cool. I've been sitting on this for a while, but I thought it would be best to post in oct to fit the Halloween spirit. See the request that inspired it here.

Glossary Changelings- a shapeshifting race of beings that are related to the fey Tiefling- a humanoid race with devilish ancestry. They are known for their large horns, extravagant appearance, and carefree attitude Halfling- A halfling isn't a half-breed in that sense. They are their own separate race. They're called halfling because they're about half the size of a human. Half-Elf- A race that has a mix of human and elf traits Half-Orc- A race that has a mix of human and orc traits Harengon- race of rabbit-like humanoids Half-Harengon- A race that has a mix of human and harengon traits

In a quaint, shadowy town, where cobblestones whispered secrets and fog clung to alleyways, the figure of the Pied Piper emerged like a ghost from the depths of folklore. Clad in a tattered cloak, his features were obscured by the dim light of the moon, but the shimmer in his brown eyes betrayed a glimmer of mischief. To the townsfolk, he was more legend than man; a cunning sorcerer with the rare gift of crafting melodies so mesmerizing that they can lure even the most elusive creatures from the depths of their dens.

But behind his charisma lay a tale steeped in darkness—a story of pain that turned sweet melodies into lethal harmonies. The legend goes that the Piper had once been a simple musician, beloved for his ability to summon the gentle creatures of the forest with a mere note. But after tragedy left him scarred, his music dulled into a haunting echo of vengeance. Now, he used it to lure unsuspecting victims to their brutal demise.

He made his way toward the shadows of the town, the air thick with the anticipation of a storm. His target tonight was none other than the famed wolf hunter, Little Red. Much like him, numerous tales whispered through the streets about this legendary wolf slayer. He didn’t care; all he knew was that someone wanted you dead and was willing to pay a pretty penny for it. With each step, he breathed in the electric air, a smirk playing on his lips, ready for the deadly dance that awaited.

Once upon a time…

There was a girl raised with cruelty. Some say she was raised by wolves. She knew nothing but brutality and lies as she grew up. Her family was ruthless and cold.

At a young age, she didn’t grasp the true nature of their business, but she sensed it was far from safe. Whispers of peddling girls and dirty money surrounded her family’s name, wrapping around it like a dark shroud, leaving a bitter taste in the mouths of those who spoke of them.

That girl was you.

You would come to learn that your parents were merely puppets, with someone behind them pulling the strings of their misdeeds. Like a fool, you were a puppet's puppet. You ran their errands, cleaned up their messes, and shouldered their burdens, enduring their brutal beatings when something went wrong.

One day, everything changed.

You came home to an empty house, silence swallowing you whole. They had abandoned you, cutting their strings and fleeing with their puppeteers' money, leaving you behind in a world that was already merciless enough.

It wasn’t long before your grandmother found you, just before the bruisers came looking for you and your parents. Your grandmother was harsh, but you always thought she loved you in her own way. The forest was your new playground, a wild expanse where you learned to fight, to survive, and to become something more than a victim. Her love was implicit in the hours she forced you to spend deep in the woods, stalking prey, learning to hunt, and discovering how to protect yourself. You braved the harshest weather and the most unforgiving conditions, and though she never spoke loving words, you told yourself that this was better than the life you had before.

You grew stronger, sharper, and more cunning. Each scrape and bruise taught you resilience, and every moment of solitude in the forest became a lesson in self-reliance. In time, you transformed from a puppet to a predator in your own right.

But soon, new whispers would begin to follow you.

You grew older, you could stand on your own two feet and you didn't need anyone but yourself.

Working at the nearby tavern, you earned a meager living delivering food to families in the area. You tucked delicious meals into your picnic basket and pulled your red hood high over your head.

Your grandmother had insisted you wore a hood in the city—she always said, "Wolves never forget." It had been years since your parents had run off with their tainted money. The Wolf Gang, a notorious bandit group that terrorized the townsfolk and threatened the crown with their ruthless dealings. They had once pulled the strings of your parents, and now they were still searching for you and your family.

As the end of your shift neared, you gathered your cloak tightly around you, seeking warmth against the biting chill of the approaching evening. After finishing your last delivery, all you wanted was to sink into the comfort of your humble home.

You entered the crowded tavern, your red cloak immediately drawing attention. The tavern master, a burly man with a thick beard, called out from behind the bar, his jovial tone slicing through the lively atmosphere of clinking mugs and laughter. “Heading out, little Red?” he teased, a grin spreading across his face as patrons turned to see who had just come in.

“Don’t call me that,” you replied, making your way to the bar.

“Oh, come on, Red. You won’t even tell us your name. What else are we to call you?” a half-elf named Renjun chimed in, leaning against the bar with a playful smirk.

“Faye,” you offered back, your voice laced with indifference. “Or Edith. What about Celeste? Do any of those names suit me?”

The tavern master chuckled, shaking his head.

Another voice chimed in. “Oh come on, Renjun, we all know she can’t give us her name 'cause the wolves are after her,” a drunken half-orc named Hendery piped up, slurring his words as laughter bubbled up around him.

“Our little Red? Yeah, maybe when the Great Oak grows wings,” your boss added, his laughter infectious. "I do hear whispers of The Wolf Gang creeping closer to town. Just be careful out there." His expression turned serious for a moment, eyes scanning the room to ensure no unwanted ears were listening.

“I can handle myself,” a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. You understood the truth that lurked too close to the surface, the gnarled roots of your past intertwining with your present. The jokes and jests may been harmless to them, but the threat was all too real for you—a shadow that loomed ever closer.

With a wave, you turned to leave, the laughter of the tavern fading behind you, each step taking you deeper into the night. The forest beckoned; it was a sanctuary you understood better than the city. This is where you resided with your grandmother; she had less influence over you now but she was still as cold as ice.

As you approach your cottage your human eyes struggled to perceive much in the darkness, the moonlight offering only a faint glimmer of clarity about the situation before you. The window to your cottage lay shattered, and the door hung limply off its hinges. At first, an icy fear gripped you—had a pack of wild animals broken in? But as you stepped through the threshold and took in the scene, you realized you were only half right.

A wolf towers over your grandmother's body, her ragged breaths shuddering in her chest. Its long, gangly limbs covered in fur and its ferocious muzzle are coupled with an unsettlingly humanoid shape. It looks like a nightmarish wolf, standing unnaturally on bent back legs. It's a perverse mockery of both wolf and man. These wolves were changelings, creatures that often adopt grotesque forms. Changelings can transform into whatever they desire. In a bid to evoke fear throughout the town, their gang had chosen a form that is both terrifying and unnatural.

"Get away from her!" you cry out, drawing a long hunting knife from your cloak. It may not be the ideal throwing knife, but it’s all you have in this moment of desperation. With precision, you hurl it at the creature. The creature howled in pain, a guttural sound that echoed through the silence of the night. It staggered back, the blade lodged deep in its shoulder, before bolting through the back doorway and disappearing into the darkness beyond. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins.

You rush to your grandmother, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. A part of you still harbored resentment, but she was all you had left. Kneeling beside her still body, you fought to steady your breath.

“Don’t fret, child. All will be well soon,” she rasps.

“Save your breath; I’ll find help,” you insist, tearing off a strip from your ragged dress to staunch the flow of her blood.

“There’s no time. Just promise me this: you will seek revenge. He wont just forget he saw you here. You must slay him before he tells the pack.”

In her final moments, she doesn’t utter words of love or comfort, but instead urges you to finish the job. It feels as if the last remnants of your heart shrivel and die alongside her, leaving a hollow void.

You stand up, your resolve hardening as you retrieve your knives from the secret spot beneath the loose floorboard. With a determined breath, you slip out the back door, embracing the darkness of the night.

He was wounded. He didn't get far when you found him. You weren't a puppet anymore; you were a hunter, and that night you killed your first wolf.

Any hope for a normal life died that night. She had thrust this burden upon you, and you could almost hear her voice echoing through the darkness, pushing you into a path you never wanted to tread. You didn’t want to kill that wolf. You wanted to run, you knew they would chase you but you were tired of fighting.

When the weight of his lifeless body slipped from your grip and sank into the murky depths of the sea, a pang of regret twisted in your gut. Days later, the waves returned him to the shore, a grim reminder of your actions. You realized then that you couldn’t simply wash this away.

With each report of the recovery, the whispers in the village grew louder, the shadows seemed to close in on you, and you found yourself a target. You didn't want to have to go further into hiding and you definitely didn't want the bounty that was put on your head.

The red hood, once a cherished gift from your grandmother, had become a symbol of something far darker. It hung around your shoulders like a curse, a silent testament to the blood that stained your hands and followed your name like a whispered sin.

Then why do it? You had no choice. It was her dying words.

In this world, dying words carry some of the strongest magic imbued within them. They possess the power to curse, bless, or even command. When someone hears the dying words of another, they are bound by an unbreakable pact—compelled to fulfill the deceased’s last wish or face dire consequences. So, not only did your grandmother use her final breath to send you on a path of violence, but she also wove a curse around your fate, ensuring that if you failed to see her wishes fulfilled, you would bear the weight of her wrath.

Three cheers for family.

Your life was never comfortable, but you had grown accustomed to it. Working at the tavern provided easy coin, and you were frequently rewarded with free meals that warmed your belly and warded off the chill. The camaraderie of the patrons offered a fleeting sense of belonging, a brief escape from the harshness of your reality. But now, you stay hidden deep in the woods, very rarely do you go into town.

With winter just around the corner, the familiar game you hunted had grown scarce as the animals retreated into their dens. You were forced to broaden your field. You became a shadow among shadows, relying on your nimble fingers and quick wits to steal and swindle whatever you could in the city to put food on the table.

Tonight you were on a small heist, targeting a goblin who operated a brothel in the seedy pleasure district. He was known for his shady dealings and had amassed enough enemies that you weren’t particularly concerned about the theft tracing back to you.

You slipped through the winding, dimly lit alleys when you heard it—a sound unlike anything you had ever heard. It wrapped around you like a warm embrace, soothing your frostbitten ears and igniting a spark of warmth in your chilled body. Mesmerized, you followed the music, feeling an overwhelming urge to shed your clothes and dance, to lose yourself in the heat of the melody.

Your mind was clouded as you pursued the sound, unsure of where you were headed until you rounded a corner and spotted a figure. There, perched atop a barrel in a dark alleyway near the port where the wolf’s body had washed ashore, sat a man.

“Come to me, bring me the one who spilled blood,” he whispered, his voice carried softly on the wind. At first, you almost missed it, caught up in the resonant tune still echoing in your head, but as you stepped closer, the music faded. Rooted in place, you could only stare at the man—or perhaps the creature—before you.

He seemed human enough, but you knew better than to assume. Some beings intentionally concealed their otherworldly traits, opting to project an image of weakness—patiently waiting for the moment they had the upper hand to unveil their true selves.

“Who are you?” You asked, your back ramrod straight, unable to relax even a single muscle.

“Most call me the Pied Piper; some call me Haechan. But those who do rarely live long enough to share the name.”

The chill of his words seeped deep into your bones at the realization that the Pied Piper was after you. You had always thought of him as a mere childish legend—tales spun to keep children in line, cautionary fables whispered at bedtime. Yet here he was, very much real, standing before you and setting off every warning bell in your body.

He hops down from his seated position, setting his flute down on the barrel where he once sat. As he steps into the moonlight, he looks breathtakingly beautiful. He appears no older than you, soft brown hair tousling in the breeze, and delicate features that he likely uses to make his enemies underestimate him. But you’re no fool; you see right through him, right to the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He smiles at you, a disingenuous smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, as he closes the distance between you. Leaning down until your faces are inches apart, he distracts you, ensuring that all you can see is his face—the last sight you might have before your demise. You catch a glimpse of his deft hand reaching into his cloak, expecting something deadly. But instead, you’re taken aback when he places a gentle kiss against your lips.

Kiss of death.

Your grunt is muffled against his lips as a sharp pain lances through your side. He had stabbed you, just as you thought he would.

In one fluid motion, he withdraws his knife from your flesh just as he pulls his lips away from yours. The sudden pain breaks whatever trance he has on you. You jolt into action; he clearly didn’t expect you to be a skilled fighter. Maybe he thought you’d simply lie down and bleed out. But whatever he anticipated, it certainly wasn’t the swift kick to his chest that sends him reeling backwards.

Seizing the moment, you sprint away, adrenaline coursing through your veins, fueling your escape as you leave him momentarily off balance.

You clutch your wound and don’t look back, sprinting through the dimly lit streets until you find yourself standing before the only place you know that might offer some help. The tavern looms before you, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze, the faint flicker of lantern light spilling from the windows.

You slip through the back entrance. The tavern has closed for the night, but you knew that the staff often linger for a drink or two. The sounds of laughter and clinking mugs filter through the air, guiding you like a beacon. Stumbling toward the main room, you knock over a few pails and brooms in your haste, the noises echoing in the silence of the empty halls.

“Red?” your boss calls from the dimly lit main room.

The last thing you see before darkness overtakes you is the sight of everyone jumping to their feet, concern etched on their faces as they rush to your side.

When you regain consciousness, you find yourself sprawled across a large wooden table in the center of the tavern, the surface sticky from spilled mead. Your cloak has been pulled aside, revealing the bandages wrapped around your wounds. A soft glow of magic hovers just above the injuries as Mark, the town’s cleric, administers a healing touch.

“Leave it to you to abandon your work and come crawling back half-dead,” Ten, a tiefling who worked alongside you, grumbles with a sigh.

“You’re just mad you had to pick up her shifts,” Lia, the only other human in the tavern, replies with a playful smirk.

“Will you all quiet down?” your boss interjects, his voice firm. “These doors turn away no friend.” He meets your gaze with a comforting smile, and you wonder if this is what a father’s love feels like.

As Mark’s magic dims, he gently removes his hands from your body. “You’re healed, but you might still feel some minor discomfort in this area,” he says, clasping his hands together. He must have been summoned in the dead of night to tend to you. You want to express your gratitude, but all that escapes your lips is a low groan as you try to sit up.

“Easy, you’re still sore,” Doyoung, a half-harengon with rabbit ears standing alert in worry, cautions you. You’ve always appreciated Doyoung; his expressive ears always reveal his emotions, making him a refreshing constant in a town shrouded in secrecy. He’s likely the closest friend you have.

Lia brings you over a glass. "Drink this, I mixed in a potion that should have you feeling a little better"

Gratefully, you take the cup and down it in one go. The warmth of the potion flows through you, easing the aches as you exhale a sigh of relief.

“Sorry for the intrusion; I didn’t mean to bring any trouble. I should be going now,” you say, attempting to pull yourself to your feet.

“No trouble at all, my dear,” your boss replies, his tone warm. “I’m not sure what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into, but if you ever need sanctuary, these doors are always open.”

“A little heads-up would’ve been nice if you were just going to disappear,” Ten chimes in.

“He just misses you—ignore him,” Lia laughs, her voice lightening the mood.

You look at them, a genuine smile creeping onto your face. Maybe you weren’t so alone after all.

The Pied Piper was real, and you were on his hit list. Rumors and legends shrouded his name, leaving you unsure of what parts were true and what wasn't. The one thing you were certain of was that his music did possess the power to enchant. You needed to discover his weaknesses—was it the pipe that held the magic? Or perhaps it wasn’t the pipe at all; maybe the true magic lay in the breath he blew into the instrument.

You had to find him; you couldn’t just wait for him to show up again and gain the upper hand. Once he had his sights set on you, there was no stopping him from finishing the job. He didn’t chase you that night; he didn’t have to. With just a simple call from his flute, he could lure you out whenever he wanted. He was the cat and you were the mouse. You figured he liked to play with his food.

You had to find him and get some answers. Rumors spread as easily as the plague through the cobblestone streets of this city, and it wasn’t long before his name surfaced again. Tracking his movements was difficult; you had to sift through rumors to find the truth. It was like chasing a ghost but soon you had a lead.

His dark cloak enveloped him like a cloud of smog, and his steps were light as you followed his figure into the woods. You weren’t nervous. This was your hunting ground. You stalked him like a silent panther tracking its prey.

As you ventured further into the woods, you came upon a rundown cottage with a thick thatched roof. You hid behind a tree as he entered the dwelling. After a few moments, a soft, warm candlelight flickered to life inside, casting shadows as you observed his movements. Carefully, you circled around the house, determining that the best way in was through the back.

You waited until he moved to the front of the cottage before making your move. Slipping a knife through the crack in the back door, you lifted the rusty latch used to secure it. You entered quietly and shut the door behind you, holding your breath as you listened for his footsteps. The house was eerily quiet.

Slinking along the wall, you made your way through the dimly lit house. The back door had led you into a small, cluttered kitchen. The air thick with the smells of old spices and something sweet that had long since gone stale. Haphazardly stacked dishes piled in the sink, their surfaces dotted with remnants of food that had dried and congealed.

Peeking around the corner into the front room, you took in the scene: a large desk was strewn with crumpled papers and half-filled bottles of ink. In the corner sat an old chest, its surface marred with scratches and mysterious stains, hinting at secrets long kept. A simple chair and a cushioned bench offered a rare spot of comfort in the otherwise bare space.

The room felt almost empty, save for the creaking floorboards that echoed with your every step, but the atmosphere was charged with an unsettling tension. A single door across the room caught your eye, and you assumed it led to the bedroom.

Just as you were about to move toward that room, you felt a knife pressed against your throat.

“I should thank you for making my job a lot easier, you know,” he says.

You freeze in your tracks, the cool blade pressing against your skin. You try to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. Raising your hands, you attempt to project confidence despite your precarious situation. “I always thought you were just a legend, but here you are. Tell me, who do I have to thank for sending a mere mice charmer to try to kill me?” You smirk, hoping to buy yourself some time and distract him just long enough to disarm him.

“A mice charmer? What are you, then, to have fallen into my trap?” he retorts.

Seizing the moment, you grip the arm that holds the knife and pull it down toward your chest, away from your throat. With a swift twist, you slip out of his hold. Maintaining your grip on his wrist, you twist it harder. The knife clatters loudly to the ground as you kick it away. Grabbing his shoulder, you pull him forward and drive your knee into his stomach. He doubles over in pain, and you quickly pin him down with a knee to his back.

You slip out your own blade and press it to the soft skin of his cheek. “Don’t move. Lay flat on the ground, and if you move even a muscle, I will hurt you.” You sense he isn’t quite the fighter he appears to be; he likely lets his magic do the heavy lifting for him.

He flattens his body against the rotten wood of the cottage and nods reluctantly. You slowly rise, keeping your knife steady, and make your way to the cloth you noticed earlier lying on the ground. You rip off a substantial piece and return to him, using it as a makeshift rope to bind his hands.

With a swift motion, you pull him up and sit him in the chair in the corner of the room, making sure he can’t easily escape.

“A mice charmer is nothing without his flute and enchantments, huh?” you sneer, looking him over with a mix of curiosity and derision.

“What do you want? Clearly, if you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now,” he retorts, glaring at you with a fierce intensity

You look at him under the flickering candlelight of the room. His cloak is missing, leaving him in little more than a simple white tunic and black breeches. A chain is tucked into the neckline of his shirt—probably a keepsake or a charm, something that hints at his connection to whatever magic he wields. You stride forward, seize the chain, and yank it, pulling him abruptly forward.

“Watch your tone, or did you forget I’m the one with the knife?” you warn, leaning in closer, your voice low and threatening.

His burning gaze doesn’t falter for a second, revealing the calm resolve of a man who isn’t new to the concept of death. His hands are probably as bloody as yours, if not more so. He’s been captured, but he’s not broken, and that only makes you angrier.

“Who sent you to kill me?” you demand, your patience thinning.

He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through the tension of the room. “With how you treat people in their own homes, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had more enemies than you could keep track of,” he replies, a cruel smile curling his lips. “But we both know who wants you dead.”

You push him back into his chair with force, and he grunts as his back collides with the wooden seat. “You better kill me, because if I get free, you’re dead,” he warns, his brows furrowing in a glare that could cut glass.

His confidence is infuriating, and you feel your grip tighten around the hilt of your knife. “You really think you can scare me with threats?” you say, your voice low and steady. "You're in no position to make demands."

He leans forward slightly, the chains around his neck jingling softly. “You may hold the knife, but you’re still desperate for answers,” he counters, a glint of malice in his eyes.

You ignore his outburst, your thoughts racing as you assess your next move. You had suspected the wolves sent him, but confirming it wouldn’t hurt; you needed to know what you were truly up against. Weighing your options, you realize that killing him could lead to the same disastrous situation you found yourself in before. On the other hand, leaving him tied up while you made your escape was hardly a safe bet. How many times could you flirt with death before it inevitably caught up with you?

"You overestimate your importance," you say, stepping back from him. "I used to think you were some mythical creature that dragged children from their sleep with haunting melodies when they misbehaved. But you’re just a dim-witted knave with a flute." He bares his teeth and struggles against his restraints, but you remain unfazed. "You don’t frighten me, and slaying you would be a bore."

“If you leave me here, you will regret it,” he growls as you turn to leave.

“If I leave you here, you will owe me for sparing your life—don’t forget that,” you reply coolly before stepping out of the cottage.

Each night that has followed that encounter has been nothing but fitful bouts of sleep. You toss and turn, haunted by the shadows of uncertainty, constantly looking over your shoulder, and darting your gaze at every creak that disturbs the silence. Had he seen you? Would he come for you? You knew he would call your bluff if he could see you now, taunting you with the knowledge that you were not nearly as unfazed as you would have liked to pretend.

You just needed a few more days to gather some coin and collect your belongings before making your escape. This was long overdue. There was nothing left in this town for you, and you had no desire to fight for a place that felt more like a trap than a home. The memories that lingered here were a weight upon your heart, but the thought of remaining any longer made your skin crawl with discomfort.

If the wolves wanted this shithole, then they could have it, you had no intention of being among them when they claimed it.

It was your last night in this wretched town, and the anticipation of freedom coursed through your veins. You had already saddled the horse you had bartered for, packing all your belongings tightly—everything you could carry and nothing more. Now, all that remained was to wait for the first light of dawn to break over the horizon.

Traveling under the cover of night felt far too risky; the shadows held too many unknowns, and you were no skilled rider. You knew you needed the gentle light of day to navigate the forest safely on horseback. The thought of losing your way or stumbling into danger sent a shiver down your spine.

You were deep in sleep when a noise startled your horse outside. Exhausted from a long day of packing, you stirred slightly but let sleep pull you back under.

You barely registered the creaking floorboards as someone entered your room. Your body was too tense and sluggish from the day’s work to react quickly. As you fumbled for your knife, a figure lunged at you, pressing a hand against your mouth and silencing you.

A cold blade pressed against your throat, paralyzing you with fear. You lay stiff in bed, heart pounding, knowing no one would hear you scream in the darkness of the forest.

“I warned you, didn’t I? There’s a bounty on that pretty little head of yours that I have to collect,” he coos, his voice chillingly close as his body pins you to the mattress.

The knife presses deeper into your skin, a sharp reminder of your predicament. You mumble against his palm, and he lifts it slightly, allowing you to speak. “If it’s money you want, I can get it for you.”

“I don’t think you know just how much you’re worth,” he replies, chuckling as he grips your cheeks, squeezing them.

“The king of wolves is worth more,” you say, summoning as much confidence as you can.

His smile vanishes. “What a sweet talker you are. If you think I’m foolish enough to believe you could get the bounty from the king of wolves, you’re insane.”

“I can kill the king of wolves.”

“You’re a liar and a thief. Now give it back.”

The charm from his necklace—the very piece you had swiped the last time you were with him—was the key to his power. You had suspected that taking it would render him powerless, and now, faced with the reality of his desperation, you confirmed that he truly needed it to imbue magic into his flute. Without it, he was helpless. You only took it to buy yourself time; if he could lure you out with just a note again, you knew you would be doomed from the start.

“Only if you agree to let me up. You won’t find it if you don’t let me get it for you.”

“You insolent little—”

“Ah ah,” you warn him with a smile, feeling the power shift in your favor. He steps back to the center of the room but keeps his knife pointed in your direction.

“Find it, now,” he growls.

“I can slay the king of wolves; grant me but a moment. This bounty is surely tenfold that of mine. The queen herself placed it upon his head; she would give us whatever we desire for his life,” you counter, your words dripping with allure.

“Charm, then we can discuss further,” he reminds you, his eyes narrowing.

You huff and roll your eyes, rising from the bed. The silk nightgown clings to your body, its delicate fabric highlighting your curves while the hem flutters just above your knees. The thin straps slide off your shoulders, exuding both elegance and vulnerability.

You notice a blush rising in his cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and something else. His gaze lingers on you longer than it should before he looks away, but not before you catch the flicker of desire in his eyes.

You slyly retrieve your hidden knife while he isn’t looking. Your heart races and as you pull out the charm from your brassiere, holding it up like bait. He takes a step closer, intrigue evident on his face, but you raise your weapon, warning him to stop.

“Stay where you are,” you command, brandishing the knife. The blade glints in the light, and the tension between you grows thick, hanging in the air like a charged storm.

“You shall not claim my life, for I possess a greater offer in exchange for it,” you declare, your tone resolute and laced with the bravado of a champion, your heart racing.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “How do you figure you will kill the king of wolves?”

“I’ve evaded you three times now, and you’re the ever-so-feared Pied Piper. Give me some credit,” you reply lightly, hoping to shift the mood.

He responds with a sly smile. “Impressive, I’ll grant you that, but it’s still not enough.”

“You're going to help me enchant him, and then I’ll take him down. Simple as that,” you say. Under different circumstances, you’d have dressed it up with more flair, but fatigue still linger.

“And why would I help you?” he asks, skepticism etched on his face.

“Because I know more about you than you think. My bounty won’t even cover half of what you need, but a wolf’s bounty…” you whistle, letting the weight of the impressive figure hang in the air, “that will cover everything and more.”

His expression hardens, and a flicker of unease crosses your mind. You wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake by bringing up his debt.

“Careful where you tread,” he warns, his voice low and edged with threat.

“You help me take down the king, and we both get what we want. Think about it.”

He studies you for a long moment, weighing the risks against the potential reward, and you can almost see the gears turning in his mind. The tension thickens, but you know you’ve struck a chord.

“Two days. That’s all you get,” he says, his voice icy and firm. “I’ll be back tomorrow to go over the details. If you try to run, I’ll find you and kill you before you can even plead for your pathetic life.”

“Deal,” you reply, tossing him the charm. You assume he needs his flute to use it, and since you don’t see it on him, you figure it’s safe to hand it over.

With that, he vanishes like a wisp of smoke, a true phantom of the night.

The silence that follows fills the air like a heavy shroud, and you take a moment to steady your racing heart. The confrontation has left you on edge. You run your fingers through your hair, exhaling deeply. Two days. You have that long to devise a plan, gather what you need, and prepare for the next inevitable encounter.

As the darkness settles around you, the weight of your situation becomes clearer. To kill the king of wolves, you’ll need more than just a tongue-in-cheek plan. You’ll need finesse, strategy, and perhaps a little bit of luck.

And maybe, just maybe, a deeper understanding of the man you're working with.

This time, when he arrives, you're clad in your red hood and more prepared than before—but so is he. As he enters your cottage, you notice the flute strapped to his back and charm hanging around his neck.

“Neutral territory,” he states. “You’ll find I’m quite formidable with my magic,” he warns.

“Only a fool would think otherwise,” you reply with a smile.

You invite him to sit in your front room and make tea for both of you. He watches you take the first sip before drinking from his own cup.

“You know you're ruining my reputation, right?” he calls out, a teasing edge to his voice. “You're supposed to be dead and the wolves are impatient.”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan for that too,” you respond, your tone steady.

You pull off your red hood and hold it out to him. “With this, you'll claim my bounty, and that should be enough to keep your skin in the game.”

“You really want to kill the King of Wolves?” he asks, raising an arched brow over his cup of tea.

You let out a long sigh. “I could run, but wolves never forget. They will just track me down again. No more running.”

You lay out your plan in detail, and though he appears skeptical, he ultimately agrees to go along with it. A hush falls over the room as you both sit in the weight of your scheme, each of you reflecting on your respective roles in this dangerous game.

“Permission to ask a question?” you ask with a small smile.

He glares at you, annoyance clear in his eyes. “Somehow, whenever you start running your mouth, it pisses me off.”

“Is it true, the reason for your debt?” you ask anyway, intrigued.

He grips his teacup harder, his knuckles whitening. Not many people knew much about the Pied Piper; the legend loomed large, but even fewer knew the man behind the title—Haechan, with his soft features and heavy burdens.

“Yes, I went into debt to save my sick mother. As you can see It was all for nothing, given the fact that I'm here and she's not. I take on these jobs to earn money. Any other invasive questions, Red? How about I ask one—why are the wolves after you, and how do you get a silly name like Little Red Riding Hood?”

“My name isn’t Red; it’s Y/N,” you reply, bold in your assertion. You’ve never shared your real name with anyone before, but you figured it was time to even the playing field.

“And the wolves?” he presses further, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“My parents stole away with some of their money. They want revenge,” you say with a shrug. “They got it when they killed my grandma."

As the gravity of your shared burdens swirls in the air between you, you realize that beneath the legends and whispers, Haechan was just a man, and you were more than a mere tale woven into the fabric of the woods. The truth hung heavy, intertwining your fates tighter with each revelation.

“And then you killed one of theirs,” he finishes for you, piecing it all together. “So it looks like we both have had our fair share of tragedy. Now look at us.” He shakes his head, a mixture of disbelief and resignation in his tone.

You had never thought of it that way—how similar your paths had been. Maybe out of everyone, he would understand you the best. Looking at him was like gazing into a mirror that reflected not just your struggles but also the shadows of loss and revenge.

Haechan was handsome, his lips plump and cheeks soft, giving him an almost innocent appearance. Yet, his eyes—oh, those eyes were hard and cold; they spoke of the dark secrets he carried, secrets that were all too familiar to you.

“Tell me more about your mom,” you say, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the air.

Haechan's expression shifts; a warmth creeps into his features as he recounts memories of his mother. He speaks of her laughter, of the stories she told, of how she would comfort him during storms and the way her love enveloped him like a soft blanket. Each word is laced with nostalgia, and you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the warmth these memories hold. He was loved.

“She sounds like someone who could light up the darkest paths.”

He meets your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the facade of the Pied Piper slips away. In that instant, all that remains is Haechan, the boy behind the legend.

“Tell me about your grandma,” Haechan says, curiosity in his eyes.

You take a deep breath and recount your upbringing. Your words are cold and empty as you speak of her harshness, how she cursed you and left you no choice but to kill the wolf that started all of this.

“She never cared about me,” you finish, feeling the weight of your memories.

Haechan’s brow furrows. “Sounds like she was trying to protect you. If that wolf had escaped, you would have been in danger either way.”

You consider his words, the soft glow of candlelight flickering around you. Maybe he’s right, but it doesn’t change how cruel she was. “It’s too late to redeem her,” you say. “Her protection crushed any chance I had at love or hope.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not defined by her actions.”

“But am I not defined by her cruelty? To learn is to experience. How can I know love if I’ve never truly felt it? I might just perish tomorrow,” you say, a bitter laugh escaping.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he replies gently, his gaze steady. “I still owe you for sparing my life back at my cottage. I can show you what love looks like.”

You narrow your eyes, skepticism creeping in. “And how would you do that if we don’t feel love for each other?”

He leans closer, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “We can pretend, just for this one night. I can show you how I would love you.”

A rush of emotions swirls within you—fear, curiosity, and a flicker of hope. “What do you mean?”

Haechan's voice is soft yet earnest. “Let’s create a moment together, something to hold onto, just in case tomorrow doesn’t come.”

You hesitate, heart pounding, caught between the pain of your past and the promise of something new.

“Come,” he calls to you, as he stands. His hand outstretched, inviting yet unsettling. You’ve never felt this exposed with anyone before.

You know you’re being reckless, but what does it matter? Life could slip away from you at any moment—what have you to lose? You grasp his hand, and he leads you into your bedroom.

He closes the door behind you, sealing off the world, and presses you against it, his arms creating a cage around you.

“At any moment,” he says, his voice low and steady, “if you wish to stop, you have but to hit me.”

You manage a smile, trying to ease the tension coiling in your stomach. “That sounds quite tempting.”

His hands brush up against your cheek, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Once you feel my hands on you, you won’t want to let go.”

Your cheeks flush at his promise, and your heart races. His touch is gentle, as if you were a delicate doll, something precious that he couldn't bear to break.

He leans in and captures your lips in a soft kiss, a sensation even more tender than you had imagined. His fingers glide over your face before trailing down to your neck, drawing you closer and pressing your body against his. The warmth of him enveloping you is just like the music that filled the air the night you first met by the docks. A sound escapes you—a breathless gasp—one you had never made before.

You can feel Haechan's smile against your lips before he begins to shed the layers of your clothing. Naked and vulnerable, you stand before him, yet your mind races too fast to truly register your defenselessness. His lips find your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses and gentle nips, igniting a shiver of sensation. You moan softly, your body writhing under his tender yet possessive hold. You were completely at his mercy.

"Like music to my ears, my love," was a low murmur against your skin. His gaze clouded. His eyes swam with emotion you didn't recognize. A heady, intoxicating blend of longing and something else, something wilder. It was as if the taste of you, the sweetness of your mouth, had intoxicated him, leaving him drunk on desire alone. He trailed kisses down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of damp heat against your collarbone and shoulder blades. His hands roam over your body, mapping out every curve before they find their way to your breasts, soft mounds yielding under his touch. With a gentle yet firm grip, he kneads them, pinching and tugging softly, drawing out more moans that escape from your lips.

The old, wooden door groaned under your weight as you leaned against it, your breath catching in your throat. His lips, soft yet insistent, found their way to your nipple, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. You felt yourself drowning in his touch, in the way he made you feel utterly adored.

His gaze, dark and intense, met yours, the kohl lining his eyes like a smudge of night against the tan canvas of his skin. His tongue flicked playfully, a teasing caress that sent a jolt of pleasure through you. Each movement was deliberate; each touch a whispered promise.

He shifted his attention to your other breast, his deft hands working in perfect harmony with his mouth. You couldn't help but arch your back, your body instinctively seeking more of the exquisite torture. The rough wood of the door dug into your skin, a stark contrast to the velvety softness of his lips and the warmth of his hands.

His touch was an orchestra of sensation, a dance of pleasure that stirred something deep within you. It was a raw, primal connection, a language spoken without words, understood in the depths of your soul. The world narrowed, fading into a blur of color and sound, leaving only the intoxicating presence of him, his touch, his gaze, and the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that threatened to consume you entirely.

“I want you to feel everything,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, making you shudder with anticipation.

He falls to his knees, a look of hunger in his dark eyes. With a swift movement, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and presses his mouth against your most intimate parts. A jolt of heat surges through your body as you try to squirm away from his eager touch, but his grip tightens, keeping you firmly in place. Your mind races with desire as you yelp out, your hands instinctively reaching for his thick, dark brown locks, tangling in your grasp. The intensity of the moment overwhelms you as you give in to his fervent passion.

“Hae—Haechan!” you gasp, his name feeling foreign yet perfectly right against your tongue. Each syllable feels like a spell, causing a desperate moan to escape from him as he feverishly licks at you. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but you welcome the pain as it fuels your desire for him. You grind your hips against his tongue, unable to control yourself as he dominates you with his mouth. He pants against your heat, driven by pure impulse as he closes his eyes and savors every delicious taste of you.

His lips and tongue move with wild abandon as he sucks on you, filling the small cottage with shameful groans and wet smacking sounds. Your legs start to tremble, but he shows no signs of stopping. You cry out and your head falls back, hitting the door behind you as you convulse in his grasp. A powerful sensation washes over you, causing a tightness in your gut before it finally releases. Haechan eagerly licks you up, cleaning away the evidence that you left all over yourself and on his face.

Your breaths slow down and meld together, as if in perfect harmony. The gentle rise and fall of your chests echoes in the quiet room. "I lost myself for a moment," he says softly, with a hint of apology laced in his words. It's almost as if he didn't intend to take you on this journey to the 12th gate of heaven, but couldn't resist the pull either.

He sets your leg down gently, and he helps you right yourself. He guides you to the edge of the mattress, and as he lays you down, there’s a palpable shift in the air. You watch as he stands before you, the heavy cloak slipping away to reveal more of him, piece by piece. The sight of him in his white tunic and dark breeches sends your heart racing, and when he sheds those as well, leaving only his undergarments and the silver charm necklace you once stole from him, your breath catches in your throat.

You instinctively look away, your cheeks flushing. Your body betrays you, reacting in ways you never anticipated, aching for connection. There’s a pull within you, a desire to close the distance and feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

This man who had once threatened your life now stands before you, igniting a raw, undeniable longing that makes your heart race. You grapple with the gravity of the moment, torn between fear and desire.

He used to be your prey, but as he leans down and crawls onto the mattress, you start to see him in a different light. He presses his lips against yours once more, humming a tune that sends shivers down your spine. Your body melts into relaxation, and your senses are heightened even more than before.

“It's not the flute, is it?” You struggle to speak between kisses.

"I don't think I want to reveal any more secrets to you tonight." he responds with a playful smirk.

You surrender to the sensation as it consumes you. He was right - you had never experienced anything like his touch before. Your eyes follow him as he removes his undergarments, and you become slick at the sight.

“This might hurt; just relax and focus on the melody,” he says with a soft caress of your face.

You nod, realizing now that you trust him more than you initially thought. He coats himself in you and you moan at the lewdness of the act. He was coated in your arousal and soon he was slipping inside of you. He hums a beautiful note, one imbued with magic, easing any discomfort.

“It's beautiful,” you say, captivated by the sound.

His eyes shine at the compliment, and he kisses you. It was strange to think that this love was all an act, because if this is what pretend love felt like, you could only imagine the intensity of real love.

His hips sway to a rhythm that you can't quite hear, but you feel it pulsating through your body. His movements are fluid, like the waves in an ocean. The chain around his neck, swinging in time with his thrusts. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, clinging to him as if he were the only life raft in the midst of a raging storm. With every thrust, he fills you up with his love, overwhelming you with intense pleasure and making you feel alive. In that moment, it's as if you couldn't survive without him, and he knows it. He pours his love into you, determined to fill every empty space so that you never have to feel alone again.

His movements quicken, the rhythm growing more urgent as passion overtakes you both. Haechan's eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense.

"You're a symphony," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. His fingers trace delicate patterns across your skin, leaving trails of tingling warmth in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more.

Moonlight streams through the window, bathing your entwined bodies in an ethereal glow. The air is thick with the scent of arousal and magic.

You run your hands along the planes of Haechan back and you cling to him as your overtaken by that feeling again. The release makes your limbs weak and mind numb.

Your muscles clench and release around him in a tidal wave of pleasure, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust. He finally withdraws, his body trembling as he releases on your stomach, The air is thick with tension and the scent of sex, but as Haechan's magic fades, all that remains is the sound of your rapid breaths.

As he settles beside you, the silence encases you both, thick with unspoken words and emotions. Your mind races, trying to make sense of how the events had unfolded so drastically.

You glance sideways at him, marveling at the stark contrast of your feelings—a sudden urge to survive, to revel in this newfound complexity. It was almost surreal: one moment you were in peril, and now, here you were, yearning for the warmth of his presence.

Determination courses through your veins; you refuse to succumb to the fate that looms ahead. If this is what Haechan's love felt like—the intoxicating blend of danger and allure—then you would indeed fight tooth and nail for every moment you could grasp.

Working alongside Haechan had become a bit awkward, but you pushed the tension aside as you both raced through the labyrinthine alleyways of the town. The urgency of the mission overshadowed any lingering emotions between you. You had received a promising lead on the elusive King of Wolves; a halfling informant had mentioned spotting him stumbling out of a tavern, drunk and vulnerable.

The king was never without his entourage, a handful of ruffian wolves who surrounded him like shadows. Despite them believing you to be dead, you understood that you still needed to be cautious. The element of surprise was in your favor, but luring him out would require a careful strategy.

Everything was going according to plan so far. If the informant was correct, then Ten had successfully slipped something extra into the king's drink.

As you maneuvered through the narrow streets, your mind raced with possibilities. You would have to bait the king, drawing him away from his pack. That's where Haechan came in. Haechan kept pace with you, his presence a steady reminder that you weren't alone.

Haechan maintained a watchful eye on the pack from over your shoulder as you both tracked the wolves ahead. The night was quiet and chilly, with a biting wind that whipped through the alleyways, assaulting your exposed skin. You cursed yourself for having given away your hood.

You waited patiently, your heart racing as you scanned the scene for the right opportunity. Though Haechan remained silent, the melody of his flute echoed in your mind—a lullaby only the chosen victim could hear. He knew that timing was crucial; if anyone interrupted or stopped the target, the trance could easily be shattered. Every second felt like an eternity as you both prepared to strike when the moment was just right.

The pack was a grotesque sight, with elongated frames, snarling muzzles, and bent, crooked limbs. Their figures resembled a tall, slender man who had forced his way into the mouth of a wolf, wearing the creature’s body like a horrid costume. They looked sickly and unnatural, and it came as no surprise that they struck fear into the hearts of the townsfolk.

While trolls, goblins, dwarves, and other creatures managed to coexist with humans, these beings were unlike any you had encountered before. They had made a conscious choice to adopt such a horrifying appearance. They were changelings—shapeshifters capable of assuming any form they desired. They had chosen to embrace the guise of ghouls and monsters that haunted the night.

As the pack slinked past an alleyway, the King stumbled in, his steps unsteady from drink and poison. He leaned against a cobblestone wall to steady himself, his gang too intoxicated and merry to notice him faltering behind as they continued forward.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Haechan lifted his flute to his lips and began to play a silent composition. Almost instantly, the King's body straightened, moving as if pulled by invisible strings, like a toy soldier suddenly animated. He began to march further into the alleyway, drawn by the haunting melody, oblivious to the world around him.

You wait a few seconds, holding your breath as the pack continues down the road, their grotesque figures just out of sight. Haechan remains vigilant, his eyes locked on the pack, ready to act if they turn. You know that time is of the essence; you can’t afford to let them discover the King’s absence.

With a swift movement, you push yourself off the wall and follow the King into the alleyway. Haechan’s silent melody fills the air like a ghostly whisper, and you can feel the tension building as the King’s contorted form glides deeper into the darkness. Your knives are unsheathed, gleaming under the faint light, ready to strike.

A few feet behind him, he suddenly halts. You hold your breath as you witness his body crumple, a howl of confusion escaping his lips. For a moment, it seems he’s still lost in the depths of the enchantment—but then he stumbles, regaining control.

Realization dawns on you: Haechan must have shifted his focus to the pack once they noticed their missing king. Haechan's magic is now redirected, enchanting the pack that seeks out their leader—perhaps to coax them away from the alley and give you precious moments to act.

You watch as the King sways unsteadily, his eyes flickering with awareness. He glances around, scanning the alleyway for any sign of his gang, oblivious to the danger lurking just behind him. You know you can’t wait any longer; it’s time to make your move.

He's drunk. He's an easy target. Take him out. The mantra echoes in your mind as you silently slip out of the shadows, your heart pounding in your chest.

With lightning speed, you dart forward, knives glinting in the low light as you approach the swaying figure of the King. He doesn’t see you coming; his bleary eyes are still scanning the alley, lost in confusion and intoxication.

In one fluid motion, you bring your blades up, the metal shining with intent. Before he can react, before he can summon the last remnants of his senses, you strike with precision. The cut is clean; a swift arc of steel, and his head rolls away from his body, the wolfish features contorted in a final grimace of surprise.

You expect his body to crumple into a lifeless heap, but it doesn't. The headless form sways for a moment, arms reaching up as if searching for its lost head.

“Shit!”

You manage to slip away while he’s still floundering in his confusion. You sprint, heart racing, hoping that Haechan can hold off the other cronies for as long as possible. You may have lost him for now, but you know he has your scent and will find you soon. Your feet carry you through back alleyways and down dark streets until you're bursting into the crowded tavern. You’re met with laughter and cheers that erupt around you as you stumble inside.

“Aye, look, it’s Red!” the patrons call out in greeting. You have no time for pleasantries. Ten gives you a startled look from behind the counter, aware that something has gone awry. You send him a quick, urgent glance and head toward the back of the house. Ten excuses himself and pulls a bewildered Doyoung along with him.

“Well? What happened?” Ten whispers, barely able to contain his surprise.

“I killed him. Well, I thought I did. I cut off his head, but he’s not dead,” you reply, arms crossed and brow furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have much time. I need your help.”

“No way! I already poisoned him on your behalf,” Ten exclaims, raising his hands in exasperation.

“You poisoned the King of Wolves!” Doyoung gasps, his rabbit ears flattening against his head in fright.

“Keep it down!” you hiss, casting a wary glance around. You regretted not filling Doyoung in on your plan earlier, but you didn’t want him caught up in this mess

“What’s going on back here? Red, is that you?” Lia calls as she approaches the small circle where you all huddle.

“Look, guys, I don’t have time to explain, and I’m sorry to drag you into this mess but If word gets out that the King of Wolves was poisoned at this tavern, you will all be on his hit list. So you might want to help me!”

“Who poisons the King of Wolves!?” Lia gasps in shock.

Doyoung points an accusatory finger at Ten, who shoots him a glare in response.

“Guys, focus! There’s a headless wolf after me, and if I don’t leave soon, they’ll come after you too,” you remind them. “Any ideas on how to take him down?”

“Aren’t the wolves changelings?” Lia asks.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Doyoung confirms. “I read once that if you light them on fire, they burn to ash.”

“I heard that if you show them their reflection, they cower,” Ten adds.

“Well, he doesn’t have a head right now, so that’s out of the question.” You say.

You hear distant howling. That cant be good and your thoughts flicker back to Haechan—where is he? Did he manage to shake off the wolves? The cold grip of worry squeezes your chest as the distant howling amplifies

“I have to go now. Don’t worry; just keep your heads down. If anyone asks, the King of Wolves never stepped through those doors.”

“Where are you going?” Lia asks, concern etched on her face.

“I need to finish this.” You grab a candle lantern from the wall and head out through the back door.

You sprint toward the docks, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you push your body to its limits. Haechan had agreed to meet you there if anything went wrong. The gravel underfoot shifts with each hurried step, but the sound of your heartbeat drowns out the crunching noise. You can feel the rush of impending danger creeping up behind you, reminding you that time is not on your side.

The alleyways give way to a wider street, and you navigate around groups of townsfolk enjoying their evening, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just moments away. Their laughter and loud conversations contrast sharply with the urgency of your mission. You dodge around a cluster of patrons who block the path, their jovial cheers fading into the background as you push through the throng. The crowd thins as you approach the water, and soon you find yourself alone. The air is thick with salty brine, and the sounds of waves lapping against the shore become the only company you have left.

But before you can take a breath of relief, a razor-sharp slash rakes across your back. Pain erupts, and you stumble forward, the lantern slipping from your grasp and extinguishing itself in the dirt with a soft hiss. Darkness envelops you momentarily, panic bubbling up as you realize who had struck you.

“lɹᴉƃ uɐɯnɥ ʎllᴉs,” an ancient voice rumbles behind you, low and mocking. He had no mouth yet you could hear him.

Struggling to gather your bearings, you force yourself to turn and face him—the King of Wolves. The sight of him sends a jolt of dread through you. His haunting figure looms over you. You can feel the fresh blood seeping through your clothes, and your back aches with a pain that warns you of the severity of the wounds. Even with magic, you know it will take days to fully recover from cuts this deep.

You force yourself to stand tall, despite the agony radiating through you. The howling you heard earlier echoes in your mind, a haunting reminder that you’re not alone. Panic flares anew as you realize that his cronies could emerge at any moment. You hope Haechan can fend them off a little longer. you have to think fast.

"ʞɐǝʍ ǝɹ'no⅄ ˙puᴉɥǝq ɯoɹɟ ƃuᴉɥɔɐoɹddɐ 'ǝɔᴉpɹɐʍoɔ ɥɔns oʇ ʇɹosǝɹ no⅄" he snarls, the effects of the poison and booze long gone.

"I'm not afraid to use underhanded tactics on scum like you." You shot back, circling around him, both of you sizing each other up.

He lunged, and you barely dodged his claws. Your body was tired, aching all over, but you were determined to stay on your feet. You threw a knife, but your aim was off, and he sidestepped with ease. It was frustrating; your eyelids felt heavy, and you could hardly focus.

Then, you heard a melody—a familiar tune that made your heart race. Suddenly, energy surged through you, making you feel lighter and stronger. You didn’t need to look around to know who it was. Revived, you fought back, pushing the king back for once. He swung at your ankles, but you rolled away just in time. You were on slightly equal footing, but you needed to gain the upper hand before he wore you down again.

Footsteps approached, and hope flickered inside you.

"Red!" Lia shouted. She was with Ten and Doyoung, and relief washed over you.

"Stay back! It’s too dangerous!" you warned, trying to keep the king's attention on you.

"Don’t be a hero!" Ten yelled, annoyance clear in his voice. "You can’t win without us!"

You exchanged blows with the king, your heart racing as you saw Doyoung preparing an arrow. You held the king off while Lia lit the arrow's tip. In one fluid motion, Doyoung let it fly, and the king of wolves erupted into flames. You all stepped back, eyes wide, as you watched him burn to ash.

Just then, Haechan appeared around the corner, flute in hand, playing that energizing melody that made you feel like you could take on the world. It was the last thing you heard before the music faded and everything began to blur around the edges.

It had been a week since that fateful night. The echoes of that ancient voice still haunt you, but you pushed the memories aside as you stood before the queen, the severed head of the wolf king resting ominously on a velvet cloth. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of approval and intrigue as she took in the sight.

“You have done well,” she proclaimed, her voice a soft yet commanding presence in the throne room. “In ridding us of this beast, you’ve secured not just our safety, but your own place in history.” With a graceful wave of her hand, she summoned her guards, who strode forward bearing an opulent chest.

As they opened it, a dazzling array of rubies, emeralds, and sapphires spilled forth, glimmering like stars in the dim light. Gold coins cascaded down in a shimmering waterfall, their clinking a symphony of wealth

The sheer abundance of treasure left you momentarily speechless, and you could hardly believe the magnitude of your reward. You accepted gratefully but your mind lingered on Haechan. He had chosen not to attend the queen’s audience, cloistering himself away as he still relied on the myth of his existence as a shadow. He preferred to operate in secrecy, a specter amongst the whispers of the realm.

You stroll into the tavern, the warmth and chatter wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. You’ve brought some gifts and treasures, a little token of thanks for the friends who stood by you in that crazy battle. It just felt right.

"Drink up, fellas! Drinks are on Red tonight!" your former boss shouts, raising his mug high and getting everyone's attention.

You wince at the name. "Would you stop calling me that already?" you groan, rolling your eyes.

Lia smirks, leaning against the bar. "What do you want us to call you, then?"

"Just call me Y/N," you reply, finally giving them the name you’ve always wanted them to use.

"Y/N, huh? It suits you," Ten says, pouring a mug of mead for a troll at the bar, who looks way too eager to drink it.

"Was that a compliment?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

"Don’t push it," he shoots back, giving you a mock glare, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Laughter echoes through the tavern as everyone raises their mugs in salute. The atmosphere feels electric, and in that moment, you know you’ve found your people.

As twilight deepened, you made your way to a familiar cottage, navigating through the dense woods that wrapped around the kingdom like a protective shroud.

Rubies and a dazzling array of gems spilled forth as you toppled over the chest, the treasures scattering against the old, rickety floorboards of Haechan’s hideout. The glint of gold caught the flickering light of the lantern, creating a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the dim space.

Haechan leaned back against the wall, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “So your word truly holds value, huh?” he teased, walking up to the trove. His fingers sifting through the precious stones as he reveled in his unexpected fortune. “Now, what’s your next move? I can’t imagine the pack isn’t hunting for the one who took down their king.”

You shrugged, a casual air masking the weight of your adventure. “They’re pretty useless without their leader. The royal guard has rounded up most of them, and for any stragglers, they’re probably getting out of town as fast as they can.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of hope creeping into his tone. “Are you planning to stay, then?”

“Never did I claim that,” you replied, glancing around the haphazard room. “There’s nothing for me here. I can’t spend all this gold in the slums anyway; I’ve got to see the world.” You stretched with a bored yawn, letting the wild possibilities of adventure wash over you. “But it would be a trifle dull to travel alone,” you hinted, letting a coy smile dance on your lips.

“If only you had a companion,” he shot back with a grin, earnestness hidden beneath the teasing.

“I know, it’s quite sad, really.” You turned toward the exit, pretending to be disinterested. “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

“Y/N.” The sound of your name, spoken for the first time, stopped you in your tracks, resonating in the air and binding you to the moment.

You looked over your shoulder, curiosity piqued and a smile still lingering. “Yes?”

Haechan shifted, his gaze steady and sincere. “You don’t have to go alone, you know.”

For a heartbeat, you considered the weight of that offer. Freedom beckoned ahead, yet the idea of shared adventure was equally tempting. You felt a connection forming, a spark of possibility that ignited your imagination. The world awaited, filled with danger and excitement, and perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if Haechan journeyed alongside you.

“What do you say then?” you replied, a playful challenge in your tone. “Are you ready to step out of the shadows and into the light with me?”

Note: I might expand this world more for other members in the future so if you guys have any cool ideas that would work in this setting, lmk and i may incorporate them into a work in the future (far future cause i need to finish my other wips lol)

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crazylittlejester · 6 months ago

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Fic Master List

redoing this lmao. almost all of these are Warriors centric fics, and if he ain’t the MAIN focus, he’s at least like second. Click titles for the links

Last updated: August 20th

Series:

1. You’re A Part Of Me- [Description] A bunch of fics that focus on Time/Mask and Wars both during the War of Eras and after it. The first fifteen fics or so in this series are pretty unconnected and can be read in any order. They reference each other in small ways but not in any way that would be significant. After part 15, the fics get a little more connected but for the most part can still be read in any order!

Works in this series: Misunderstandings, Melody, Regrets and Regrowth, Overwhelmed, Poisoned (?), Sick Day, Safe, Roots, The Scarf, Recovery, The Medic, Sugar, An Adventure Interrupted, A Moment of Peace, Spilled Secrets, The Following Dusk, Warriors vs. The Sinking Feeling That Time Is Up To No Good, Lost Bets and Cat Sweaters, Melancholy, Drowned & Frozen, Fever, Memento Mori, Asking For Help, Respect, Fragments

2. Fierce Hero 9- [Description] The Big Hero 6 AU no one asked for

Main Story: Fierce Hero 9

Bonus Chapters: Pancakes and Mourning, Beginnings, The Other Universe, Secrets and Sick Days, The Adventures of Mask and Wolfie

3. Linked Through the Centuries- [Description] A bunch of different Links find themselves in a strange land, armed with only one of the things they remember having last in their possession. They need to team up together and figure out why they were sent there, what the threat is, and locate the Hero of Time before it’s too late (this is my own Links Meet AU!)

4. The Midnight Hours- [Description] What takes place between Sunset 14 and Dawn 1 (written before the Dawn arc was finished)

Works in this series: The Midnight Hours, The Following Dusk

5. Big Brother Wars- [Description] Literally just a collection of fics I’ve written of Warriors being a good big brother to various members of the chain :)

Works in this series: Dog Days, Bad Dreams Better Future, Sky’s Terrible Day, Misconceptions, Closer, Really It’s Just A Scratch

Multi Chapter Fics:

Of Officers and Stuffed Elephants- Summary: Being an officer at Castle Town Police Department meant that each day was full of surprises, but one specific call comes in one day that completely changes Wars’s life

The Longest Battle- (written with @hero-of-the-wolf) Summary: After a difficult journey during the day full of obstacles and hard battles, Time finds himself trapped repeating the same battle over and over again. He has no choice, if he wants to save his brothers. However every time he uses his ocarina to reverse fate, he finds the price of saving his lost companion is the life of another.

A Mortifying Change of Plans (or Twilight’s Worst Nightmare: A Party)- Summary: Twilight was perfectly comfortable with his idea of how the evening would go: he could just stand there in a corner, watching the princess and his brothers from afar. He wasn’t a huge fan of social events, but this was easy enough. He could do it. Just as long as no body changed his plan. He would be fine. He could do this…

Random Fics that don’t really connect to anything else:

Trapped- Summary: Legend and Warriors get stuck in a tight room in a dungeon and have to work together to get out of it

(You Aren’t) Selfish- Summary: Time’s fine. Really, he is. Because he has no other choice. With everything all the younger heroes around him are going through, one of them has to be okay enough to support the others, and it’s going to be him.

The Captain, The Sailor, and Some Oranges- Summary: Warriors takes Wind out scouting him because the little sailor found himself unable to sit still and he needed an outlet for his energy. It’s a good thing Wars wasn’t alone, his blood sugar dips too low and he didn’t bring himself any snacks

Slept In- Summary: Warriors was so tired, surely sleeping in and enjoying just laying in his bed would have absolutely no consequences? SURELY he could sleep in and nothing would happen because of it, just this once? Right? (or: Mask abuses being unsupervised)

Faded Sun- Summary: Nightmares weren’t an uncommon occurrence in the life of a hero. However, Time didn’t anticipate how rattled he would be after being forced to face the reality of how badly war had impacted someone he cares so much about. (or: Time, with his adult eyes and current understanding of life, sees Warriors from the end of the War of Eras and is able to for the first time really see just how different he was and just how far he’s come in the past few years)

(The) Trouble with Words- Summary: Mask once again finds himself in a position where his actions might have severe consequences for Captain Link, and he feels incredibly guilty for the trouble he causes his brother. However… in his defense… the guy deserved it.

Apples or Oranges- Summary: Staying in Hateno was meant to be a break for them: a chance to shop and explore the village, a chance to catch up on much needed sleep, a chance to spend time with a brother. But of course Warriors simply cannot catch a break, and this time it’s all Time’s fault, the little shit. Well… and the fault of a seemingly innocent apple tree.

Close Call- Summary: The life of a hero is a dangerous one, and when facing danger every day, it’s easy to forget how fast things can go wrong. After almost losing Warriors, Time has to really take a minute to assure himself the captain is okay

Fireworks- Summary: Warriors doesn’t like fireworks very much at all

A Quiet Night- Summary: Warriors tries his best not to let the chain see how badly the war and everything that happened still effects them, and his plan of sneaking off to cry in the woods had been working pretty well for a decently long time. But Legend hears him while up on watch, and he’s not just going to leave Warriors to cry alone

A Helping Paw- Summary: Warriors has been acting weird ever since Twilight was injured, and Twilight is going to do anything he can to try to get his brother to loosen up, even if he accidentally hurts himself in the process

Pirates and Ice Cream- Summary: Twilight is having a miserable awful time in his senior year of high school, he just has to make it through the end so he can join his brother at college. Although it appears Warriors isn’t having the best time either

Scary Dog Privilege- Summary: After a long day, Twilight and Warriors sneak out to the tavern, and when two strangers don't seem to get the hint and leave Warriors alone, making the captain visibly uncomfortable, Twilight steps in to put them in their place

Flour and Flowers- Summary: It wasn’t often the group got a break from everything. At the ranch, Time takes an opportunity to show his wife and the boys how much he loves them all by doing something nice for them and cooking them breakfast by himself. Or at least he PLANNED to do it by himself

Boy’s Night- Summary: After a really long day, Sky kicks out Twilight, Warriors, and Time because they won’t stop hovering, and forces them to take a break. They find themselves in a bar, and Warriors simply CANNOT believe how oblivious Time is to what goes on around him. or Time cannot for the life of him read when people are hitting on him because it simply never occurred to him that was a thing that could happen, and Warriors has made it his personal duty to watch his brother’s back

2 a.m. Shenanigans- Summary: Twilight had been resting all day and he was starting to get bored. Problem is, Wild is dead asleep on top of him and he can’t move. Warriors and Sky rescue him from where he’s stuck, and the three of them take time to relax and unwind by running around outside in the dead of night

Star Light, Star Bright, First Star I See Tonight- Summary: He hadn’t realized the other heroes were slowly becoming family… He hadn’t realized when he’d started to view them as brothers. or: Warriors got bored on watch and the Thought Spiral caught up to him, and he started thinking about his family, and he comes to the realization the heroes around him have started to make him feel safe again

if a single one of these links doesn’t work or if there’s one single mistake in here somewhere i WILL explode-

#omfg this took me an hour to type out and organize i need to go lay down now lmao #to anyone who takes the time to read through this or just acknowledge/like the post ily #you get a kiss on the forehead /p if you reblog #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fanfiction #lu fic #jes fic #jes talks

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doumadono · 1 year ago

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Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, fem!reader, viking themes, seer!Mirko, blood

Summary: the Earl sought counsel from the seer, seeking guidance after Shoto's proposition to send him and Touya on a mission to the north. Concerned about the rumors surrounding the mission, you resolved to extract information directly from Shoto

Word count: circa 6.5k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

MASTERLIST KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT III - SEEKING ANSWERS

The cold winds of late autumn swept through the rugged hills as earl Endeavor rode toward the dwelling of the renowned seer, Mirko. His thoughts were consumed by the intriguing proposition his youngest son, Shoto, had presented regarding a land rich in goods. The idea of sending his eldest son, Touya, to oversee this promising territory crossed the earl's mind, a strategic move that could secure his settlement's prosperity.

Upon reaching Mirko's abode, the atmosphere seemed to change. The air grew thick with an otherworldly aura, and the eerie silence made the settlement's seer even more intimidating. Mirko was a young woman with a fearsome reputation, her presence alone sending shivers down the spines of those who sought her guidance. Mirko was not beautiful in the conventional sense; her appearance held an unsettling allure. Long, wild locks framed her face, and her eyes, intense and piercing, seemed to hold secrets of both past and future. Tribal markings adorned her skin, marking her as a conduit to the spiritual realm.

Earl Endeavor, a man hardened by battles and strategic decisions, felt a twinge of uncertainty as he approached the seer.

Mirko's dwelling, draped in dark fabrics and adorned with symbols, exuded an aura of mysticism. She welcomed him with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "My lord," she spoke, her voice a haunting melody, "what brings you to seek the guidance of the unseen?"

Endeavor hesitated momentarily before speaking. "I come seeking counsel, Mirko. My youngest son has spoken of a land rich in goods. I contemplate sending my eldest, Dabi, to oversee it. What do you foresee in the tapestry of fate?"

Mirko, seated in the midst of her mystical domain, gestured for Endeavor to sit.

Endeavor unfolded his plan, explaining the potential prosperity and influence this land could bring. "I intend to send Dabi to ensure our dominance over this territory. What do your visions reveal?"

The air thickened with an unspoken power, and her haunting hums echoed through the room. The earl observed, a sense of unease settling over him as he witnessed the seer's transformation.

Her eyes closed, Mirko began to sway rhythmically, her body guided by an unseen force. The haunting melody of her hums intensified, creating an otherworldly atmosphere within the sacred space.

Endeavor found himself being on the precipice of something beyond his understanding.

Her voice carried a spectral melody, and the room seemed to pulse with an unseen heartbeat. Mirko's eyes, still closed, painted visions of impending doom with her words.

"In darkness veiled, the land awaits, Echoes of sorrow, at destiny's gates. A wolf, fierce, prowls in the night, A dance with death, a sinister delight."

The seer's hands moved gracefully through the air, as if conducting an unseen symphony of fate. Her words painted vivid images of a land consumed by shadows and the imminent clash between two primal forces.

"An eagle, majestic and bold, Descends from heights, its destiny foretold. A battle fierce, 'neath the moonlit gleam, In shadows cast, where spirits teem."

The eagle and wolf, symbols of opposing forces, danced in the tapestry of Mirko's vision. The room echoed with the weight of her words, each rhyme a forewarning etched in the annals of fate.

"Blood on feathers, and darkness entwined, A struggle unfolds, destinies aligned. In the land cursed, where choices are made, The echo of battle, in shadows will fade."

"What does it mean?!" The earl growled loudly. "Tell me, now!"

As Mirko's body moved, a voice emerged from her lips, yet it seemed detached, as if another entity spoke through her. The words, laden with an eerie resonance, foretold a grim fate awaiting those who ventured into the land Shoto had spoken of. "The path you tread is bathed in blood, earl Endeavor. Death dances upon the horizon, and shadows darker than the night itself await those who dare to grasp the threads of destiny."

Endeavor felt a chill coursing through him. Mirko's words seemed like a macabre prophecy, a dire warning wrapped in a melody that resonated with the spirits of the unseen.

"Blood will stain the soil, and death will be the echo that reverberates through the ages. The spirits speak of a land cursed by the choices of the living," Mirko continued, her voice carrying the weight of the ethereal.

Endeavor, despite his stoic exterior, couldn't shake the disquiet settling in his chest. Mirko, in her trance, spoke as if guided by forces beyond mortal comprehension. The grim portrait she painted clashed with the earl's visions of conquest and prosperity.

As Mirko's humming reached a haunting crescendo, she opened her eyes, the once vacant gaze now piercing through the fabric of fate. The trance lifted, leaving the seer standing before Endeavor, a conduit between the living and the unseen.

"The spirits have spoken, my lord. The path ahead is shrouded in darkness, and the choices you make will echo through the very essence of time," Mirko uttered, her words lingering in the air like an unspoken decree from the spirits themselves.

Endeavor leaned forward, his expression stern. "Speak plainly, Mirko."

Mirko's voice carried a weight beyond the present. "The flames may consume not only the intended but all who stand too close. Choices shape destinies," the woman replied mysteriously.

Endeavor emerged from Mirko's dimly lit hut, the weight of her prophecy hanging in the air like a shroud of uncertainty. The pale light of the moon bathed the settlement nearby in an eerie glow as the earl took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Silence enveloped him, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Endeavor closed his eyes, reflecting on the words Mirko had spoken. Despite the foreboding visions, a resolute determination burned within him. He knew the risks, but the allure of wealth and power beckoned him forward.

Turning to Mirko, he offered a nod of gratitude. "Thank you for your insights, Mirko. May the spirits guide us through the shadows." As a token of appreciation, Endeavor gently took Mirko's palm in his hands and pressed a grateful kiss upon it.

The seer's eyes, still veiled in the mystery of her visions, met his with a knowing gaze.

Mounting his horse, Endeavor set forth, determined to confront the future that awaited him. The night held its breath as Endeavor rode back to the settlement, a lone figure against the canvas of the darkened landscape. The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but the ember of ambition burned brightly within him, lighting the path toward the destiny he sought.

Dabi sat in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, his presence almost like a shadow against the flickering candlelight. The rhythmic sound of a whetstone against his sword filled the air, a comforting repetition that matched the beat of his troubled thoughts.

The raucous atmosphere of the tavern buzzed around him, but the glances thrown his way were not ones of admiration or desire. The courtesans, usually attentive to potential patrons, seemed to cast him disgusted looks. Even though he was the heir to the earldom, the one who would sit on the throne after his father's eventual passing, they all were disgusted by him. His status brought him no favors in this realm of longing and fleeting connections.

Dabi's eyes occasionally flickered across the room, catching those disdainful glares. He couldn't deny the sharp pang in his chest — a mix of frustration and a longing for a connection he had been denied for so long. He had grown accustomed to rejection, so much so that he had stopped actively seeking companionship. Still, the yearning for the warmth and softness of a woman's touch lingered, a desire he had learned to bury deep within.

As he took a swig of ale, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the bitterness that had settled in his heart. Dabi continued to polish his sword, the repetitive motion a way to distract himself from the disapproving looks that haunted him. In the midst of the crowded tavern, he remained a solitary figure, surrounded by people but untouched by the warmth of human connection.

The loud thud echoed through the quiet walls of the Great Hall, jolting you awake from your shallow slumber. Concern etched across your face as you rushed out of the room you shared with Hilda, following the source of the commotion. The dimly lit corridor led you to Dabi's chamber, where you found him struggling to regain his balance, a victim of the ale's intoxicating effects.

"Easy there," you said, your voice soft but laced with genuine concern. "Need a hand?"

Dabi looked up at you, his turquoise eyes momentarily clouded with confusion before recognition set in. He grunted in agreement, accepting your offered help. Together, you steadied him, and he leaned against the wall for support. The flickering light from the fireplace cast a warm glow on both of you, creating an unexpected intimacy in that late-night encounter.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his usual aloofness momentarily giving way to a hint of vulnerability. The moment was fleeting, but it lingered in the air as you helped him back into his chamber.

You assisted Touya onto his bed. The warmth of the hearth seemed to soften the edges of the usually stern and enigmatic man. However, as you turned to leave, his hand shot out, gently grasping your wrist. When you met his eyes, you were met with a vulnerability that seemed to pierce through his usual façade.

"Stay," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of desperation.

You hesitated. The rules that governed your roles in this Viking settlement were clear, and getting too close to someone of higher standing could invite trouble. Yet, the sadness in his eyes and the unspoken plea tugged at your empathy.

"I… I shouldn't," you started, but he tightened his grip ever so slightly.

"Please," he whispered, his tone a mixture of loneliness and longing.

In that moment, you found it difficult to resist. Against your better judgment, you stayed, settling on a bed beside him. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Touya's eyes never left yours.

The room was shrouded in shadows, and the warmth of the fire seemed to cocoon you and Touya in a fragile bubble of shared vulnerability.

With a hesitant yet genuine smile, Touya broke the silence. "Tell me about your homeland," he requested, his eyes showing a glimmer of curiosity.

His request hung in the air like a delicate thread, and you couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh before responding. "You want to hear about the place you tore me away from? Like a flower ripped out of the life-giving soil?" Your words held a weight, a mix of resentment and sorrow.

Touya met your gaze, his expression carrying the burden of understanding the pain he had caused. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and sincere.

In the flickering glow of the fire, you began to weave a tale of your homeland. Your words painted a vivid picture of quaint cottages with thatched roofs, their walls weathered by the salty breeze that swept in from the sea. The narrow cobblestone streets echoed with the laughter of children playing and the rhythmic sounds of craftsmen honing their skills. "Near the shore, where the cliffs stood tall and proud, we built a small chapel—a haven of solace and prayer. Its stone walls echoed with hymns, and the air was filled with the scent of incense," you recounted, your voice carrying the nostalgia of a place left behind.

As you spoke, Touya's piercing eyes remained fixed on you, absorbing every detail of this distant world he never truly understood. The contrast between the harsh Viking settlements and the idyllic Christian village seemed stark.

"The coastline, painted in hues of blue and gray, witnessed the ebb and flow of tides. Fishing boats set sail at dawn, their sails billowing in the morning breeze, while the cliffs provided a vantage point for the villagers to gaze upon the vast horizon," you continued.

Touya's features softened as he envisioned the serene landscape you described, a world far removed from the tumultuous life he had known. Touya's eyes closed, a faint smile gracing his lips as he absorbed the essence of your words. "You must have been missing the place ever since," he pointed out, the words carrying a gentle understanding of the yearning that comes with reminiscing about a home left behind.

You nodded quietly, the flames of a fireplace reflecting in your eyes. "Indeed. The memories are like whispers of a distant melody, a reminder of a life that once was. I can almost feel the salt-laden wind against my face, hear the distant hymns in the chapel. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I close my eyes and pretend I'm back there, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home."

Touya's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression, as the echoes of your quiet sobbing reached his ears. He opened his eyes, and there he found you, tears streaming down your cheeks, your gaze fixated on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

His heart constricted with an unexpected ache. A flicker of empathy illuminated his usually guarded gaze.

"But it is all gone. All gone. You and your people took everything from me. And now I'm here, locked in a cage of a shadow of something once called life. Apparently, this was God's plan for me," your voice carried a weight of bitterness and sorrow.

His gaze softened as he watched you, the firelight casting shadows on your tear-streaked face. "Gods have their own way of weaving destinies, entangling lives in threads that stretch across time and space. Perhaps, just perhaps, there's a reason our paths crossed in this tumultuous journey."

You gave Touya a searching look, the flickering firelight dancing in your eyes, and asked, "What do you mean? Why would the God bring me here, to this… place of captivity?"

Touya looked at you with a glint of intensity in his eyes. "Our gods are different, you know. Freya, Odin, they're not like your Christian God. They're not confined to a single doctrine. They're free, just like the wind that sweeps through these icy lands. And I believe, with all my heart, that the Allfather sent me to your village for a reason, and that reason was you."

You couldn't help but snort at his words. "You're drunk, Touya. Those gods of yours aren't guiding anything. I'm here because of the whims of men, not gods."

Touya locked eyes with you, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken emotions. Slowly, he wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer until there was barely any space between you. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "You're beautiful."

His breath sent shivers down your spine, and before you could fully comprehend his words, his lips boldly found yours. Shock coursed through you at the unexpected kiss, your first taste of such intimacy. The heavy scent of alcohol lingered on his tongue, but amidst the surprise, you felt a strange warmth. You hesitated at first, unsure of how to respond, but the gravity of the moment pulled you in.

As the kiss continued, you found yourself brushing your lips against his, a hesitant exploration of uncharted territory. The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, bearing witness to a connection that transcended the roles you were assigned in this harsh world.

The following day, Endeavor summoned Dabi to his side, his face stern and determined. The air in the room felt heavy with an unspoken gravity as Dabi approached his father. "Touya," Endeavor began, his voice cutting through the silence, "I have a mission for you."

Dabi's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and apprehension. "What kind of mission?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on Endeavor.

Endeavor's eyes bore into his son's, revealing a mix of authority and expectation. "You, Shoto, and a selected group of warriors, including Hawks, will be sent to the northern part of Sweden. There's a land there with potential, rich in resources. It's time to expand our influence, and you're crucial to this endeavor."

Dabi nodded, acknowledging the weight of the task ahead. The mention of Shoto and Hawks in the same mission stirred a sense of unease, but he kept his emotions in check. "Understood," he replied, his tone resolute.

Endeavor continued to lay out the details of the mission, his plans unfolding as a complex web of politics, power, and strategy.

Little did Dabi know that this journey would lead to unforeseen challenges, testing not only his strength as a warrior but also the bonds that held his family together.

Hilda approached you with a furrowed brow, a concerned expression etched across her features. The flickering light of the torches in the chamber cast shadows that danced upon the walls as she spoke. "Y/N, I need to talk to you," she said in a hushed tone.

You looked up, sensing the seriousness in her voice. "What is it, Hilda?" you asked, your eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity and apprehension.

She took a moment before responding, choosing her words carefully. "I think I just need a listening ear. Touya is going on another mission. But what worries me more is that Shoto, his younger brother, is being sent alongside him."

You furrowed your brows, recognizing the tension between the two brothers. "Isn't that a cause for concern? They don't exactly get along, do they?"

Hilda nodded solemnly. "No, they don't. The earl's decision to send them together is raising suspicions. It's a risky move, and I fear it might not bode well for the stability of the mission."

Concern etched across your face as you contemplated the potential consequences of such a decision. The dynamics between the two brothers were already strained, and sending them on a mission together seemed like a recipe for conflict. Hilda's worry mirrored your own, and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on both your minds.

You finished brushing your hair, the strands flowing smoothly through the comb. The flickering candlelight in your chamber created a soft ambiance, but your thoughts were far from the present moment. Hilda's words echoed in your mind, and the worry for Touya settled like a heavy stone in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to Hilda, who was quietly arranging some furs in a corner of the room. "Hilda," you began hesitantly, "is there really nothing we can do for Touya? I can't shake off this feeling of unease."

Hilda paused, her gaze meeting yours. The lines on her face spoke of years of experience and wisdom. "Y/N, sometimes the currents of fate are beyond our control. All we can do is navigate the waters as best we can. Right now, the best course is to stay vigilant and hope for the best."

You nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The unpredictable nature of the situation left you feeling powerless, and it frustrated you. "But what if something happens to him? What if Shoto…"

Hilda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We can't predict the future, dear. All we can do is be prepared for whatever comes our way. Keep an eye on the situation, and if there's an opportunity to help, we'll take it. For now, focus on your tasks and be vigilant."

You sighed, acknowledging the wisdom in her advice.

Hilda observed you with a shrewd gaze, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. As you finished your nightly routine and settled onto the furs, she couldn't help but voice the question that lingered in her mind. "Y/N," the woman began, her voice gentle yet probing, "forgive me if I overstep, but your interactions with Touya have been minimal. Why this sudden concern for him?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering your words carefully. The truth was, your initial reservations about Dabi were not baseless, but something about Touya's vulnerability had stirred a different emotion within you. You looked at Hilda, deciding to share a part of your thoughts. "I may not like him, but I can't shake off the feeling that there's more to Touya than what meets the eye. The way he spoke about his past, about losing everything, it resonated with me. It's not pity, Hilda, but a sense of understanding, maybe empathy. And now, knowing he's going on this dangerous mission alongside Shoto, it's hard to ignore the worry."

Hilda's smirk widened as she spoke, her eyes glinting with a mischievous light. "Oh, my dear, I can see your cheeks flushing when you speak about him so fondly. You're having a crush, am I right?"

Hilda's smirk didn't go unnoticed, and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. Her teasing words struck a nerve, and a flicker of irritation danced in your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hilda. It's just concern for a fellow human being," you retorted, your tone defensive.

Hilda chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Concern, my dear, often wears a different face. There's no shame in admitting you care for him. After all, this world is full of unexpected twists, isn't it?"

You pursed your lips, attempting to maintain composure. Deep down, you knew there was a kernel of truth in Hilda's words. The concern for Touya had indeed taken a different form, and your heart acknowledged a connection that transcended mere worry. Yet, admitting it to yourself felt like navigating uncharted waters.

Ignoring Hilda's knowing gaze, you turned away, feigning disinterest. But within, a storm of conflicting emotions raged, and you couldn't deny the impact Touya had made on your guarded heart.

As the night wore on, sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning in your simple bed, a peculiar yet potentially useful idea began to form in your mind. The notion of extracting information from Shoto about his plans took root, and you found yourself contemplating the details of how to execute this risky but potentially advantageous scheme.

The flickering light of the dim chamber barely illuminated your face as you hatched a plan to subtly and strategically approach Shoto. The urgency of the situation and the looming mission compelled you to consider taking matters into your own hands, even if it meant navigating the treacherous waters of deceit. With a determined resolve, you prepared yourself mentally for the intricate dance of conversation that lay ahead.

In your best dress, adorned with the finest that could be salvaged among the thralls, you made your way to the tavern after learning from Natsuo that Shoto was seen going out with a warrior named Hawks. As you stepped out, the cool breeze of the late afternoon caressed your face, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

Arriving at the tavern, you could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking mugs seeping through the wooden door. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it open, revealing the warm, dimly lit interior. The air was thick with the scent of ale and the low hum of conversations. You scanned the room, finally spotting Shoto and Hawks in a corner, engaged in a conversation.

Shoto's two-colored hair caught the wavering light as he raised his tankard in a toast. "To power and the thrill of the hunt," he declared with a smirk, taking a long swig.

Hawks leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes.

The duo seemed engrossed in conversation, their laughter mingling with the low hum of the tavern. Female thralls, drawn by their presence, attempted to engage in conversation, but the exchanges were marked by a darkness that hinted at their underlying intentions. Shoto and Hawks were having fun in the company of two thralls with exotic features that hinted at a southern origin. The air was charged with an unmistakable tension as the men engaged in flirtatious banter.

One of the thralls, feigning coyness, asked, "What brings you to our humble company tonight?"

Shoto, with a sly grin, leaned in to the thrall seated by his side, and said, "Oh, just the usual – seeking a bit of warmth in this frigid place. Perhaps you ladies could provide some, hmmm?" He mused, running his hand up and down the girl's shoulder.

The other thrall, playing along, responded, "Warmth, you say? Well, you might need to work hard to earn that from us."

Shoto frowned a little, yet his voice stayed low and smooth, "You seem to be unaware of my position, woman. I am the heir to earl Endeavor, and I demand that you address me with the respect befitting my status," he forcefully grabbed the other woman by her shoulder, causing her to tumble off her chair and land on the floor next to him. "So, I suggest you watch your manners, for I am the best you can find in this establishment. Consider your words carefully before opening that foolish mouth of yours next time."

Hawks nodded in agreement, "Indeed, the gentleman here is right. Shoto, don't scare the lady."

The conversations continued in this bold and wry manner, each word dripping with innuendo as the men skillfully navigated the delicate dance of desire. The atmosphere in the tavern buzzed with anticipation as the thralls played their part in the seductive exchange, the one that previously ended on the floor now sat quietly, letting Hawks wrap his strong arms around her shoulders as his hand was playing with her breasts from time to time.

Summoning your courage, you approached them, the rhythmic thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. As you drew nearer, you caught Shoto's eye, and a subtle smirk crept onto his face. Hawks, on the other hand, eyed you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The atmosphere shifted as you prepared to enter a world of alliances and secrets, uncertain of what the outcome might be.

"Well, well, what brings you to this den of sin all alone? Where's your precious Touya? Couldn't keep up with his demands?" the youngest Endeavorson taunted, his tone laced with amusement.

You brushed off his wry remark. "I think it's time for us to bury the hatchet. Our relationship didn't start on the best note, and I believe we can find a way to coexist peacefully."

He looked at you, seemingly surprised by your suggestion. Shoto considered your words, and after a moment, he offered you a seat with them.

Throughout the interaction, Hawks observed the scene. You gave him a brief smile, trying to maintain a cool demeanor in the company of the two men.

Shoto turned to you with an air of faux politeness, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I believe we can have a civilized conversation, don't you?" His eyes darted towards the thrall who had been seated beside him, and with a dismissive gesture, he uttered, "You, leave us."

The thrall shot you a cold glance before complying with Shoto's request and vacating the space.

Now alone, Shoto leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "There, much better. Now, let's chat, shall we?"

You took a deep breath before speaking, "I must admit, despite the fear you instill within me, there's a certain charisma about you. It's hard not to notice."

Shoto's grin widened, appreciating the acknowledgment. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. And by the way, I quite like your accent. It adds a certain charm." His compliment was laced with a hint of mischief as he reached his hand out to briefly rub your shoulder.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Shoto's hand landed on your shoulder. Suppressing a wince, you decided to play along with his casual demeanor. When he asked about the real reason for your visit, you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well, I just wanted to get to know you a little better, my lord."

Shoto raised an eyebrow, considering your words. "Interesting choice of words. Here, have some mead." He poured some into a wooden mug and handed it to you, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You accepted, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

Hawks, with a twinkle in his golden eyes, couldn't help but comment, "Quite a beauty you have here, Shoto. Earl Endeavor's thralls are indeed a treasure."

Shoto, taking a sip of his mead, glanced at you and replied wryly, "All Christian women have this softness within them. I just happen to enjoy breaking it." His words were delivered with a certain darkness that sent a chill down your spine.

Trying to maintain composure, you played along, responding with a forced smile, as you looked at Shoto's companion, "Well, thank you for the compliment, sir."

As Shoto continued to drink, you couldn't shake off the unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As more mugs of mead were emptied by the men and the atmosphere in the tavern grew warmer, you mustered the courage to bring up the topic that had been gnawing at your thoughts. Leaning in, you addressed Shoto, "Forgive me for intruding, but I overheard that you and Touya are going on a mission. Is it true?"

Shoto's eyes, a mix of icy determination and something unreadable, met yours. He took a moment, swirling the remnants of his mead in his mug before responding, "Yes, a mission to the north. Father believes it's a land rich in resources, and he wants us to secure it for the settlement."

Hawks, who had been listening attentively, chimed in, "Aye, a mission of great importance. The north can be treacherous, though. Many dangers await those who venture into the unknown."

You nodded, though a lingering concern for Touya flickered in your eyes. "What kind of dangers are you talking about? Is it just the harsh conditions of the north, or is there something else we should be aware of?"

Shoto's stoic expression betrayed little, leaving you to wonder about the true nature of the mission and what it might mean for both brothers.

Hawks took a sip from his mead, his golden eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and wariness. "The north is a wild place, full of untamed landscapes and creatures. Wolves, bears, and more roam freely. Not to mention, the weather can be brutal, especially this time of year."

Shoto's gaze never wavered as he observed your reaction to Hawks' nonchalant explanation.

You sensed there might be more to the story, but both men remained guarded in their responses.

Shoto's sudden shift in demeanor caught you off guard, his hand landing on your knee with an unexpected boldness. He began to rub your knee casually, his gaze steady as he threw a question your way. "Let's change the topic, my dear. The ruggedness of our upcoming mission might be a bit too much for a delicate female mind like yours to comprehend," he remarked, his fingers tracing small circles on your knee, playing with the hems of your dress. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in, his tone low and almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, has my older brother had his way with you yet?"

You felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance at his audacity, but you tried to maintain composure. "That's none of your business, Shoto," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And the mission—"

"Oh, don't play coy," he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'm genuinely curious. After all, I'd hate for you to miss out on experiencing the full range of pleasures in our little settlement."

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, and you found yourself navigating the conversation with a mix of caution and defiance, unsure of where Shoto was leading with his intrusive inquiries.

You met Shoto's audacious question with a bold response. "No, my lord, I haven't been with anyone, ever," you asserted, trying to maintain a sense of control in the conversation.

Hawks chimed in with a cryptic comment, "Well, isn't that a rare treasure in these parts. A thrall with untouched cunny, how intriguing."

You shot a wary glance at Hawks, uncertain about the implications of his words.

Shoto, however, seemed more amused than surprised, his smirk widening as if he had expected such a revelation. "You're missing out on experiences, thrall. I could show you what it's like. I doubt my older brother knows how to please a woman. Look at him, covered in scars, a truly disgusting sight. No normal woman would willingly lie with such a damaged man."

You felt Shoto's hand sliding beneath the fabric of your dress, making your breath catch in your throat. His audacious suggestion hung in the air, and the atmosphere became charged with tension.

You pulled away, a mix of surprise and discomfort evident on your face. "Maybe… Nut I didn't have enough mead yet, my lord," you asserted, trying to maintain a semblance of control over the situation.

Shoto, undeterred, leaned in with a sly grin. "Afraid of a little adventure? I promise you, it'll be an experience you won't forget," he whispered, his mismatched eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.

As Shoto poured another mug of mead for you, you discreetly took small sips, ensuring that the majority of the liquid found its way into Hawks' cup while the two men were engrossed in conversation. The effects of the mead were beginning to show on Shoto, but you remained clear-headed.

The conversation in the tavern continued, filled with laughter and raucous chatter. You observed Shoto's growing inebriation and wondered if this was the opportune moment to extract information about the mission.

As Shoto, in a visibly inebriated state, decided to make his way back to the Great Hall, Hawks was more than willing to accompany him. However, seizing the opportunity to gather more information, you stepped forward and offered to walk Shoto back on his behalf. Hawks, busy with the two other thralls he managed to lure, readily agreed.

With Shoto leaning on you for support, you began the journey back to the Great Hall. The night air was crisp, and the sound of distant revelry echoed through the settlement. As you walked, you subtly steered the conversation toward the mission, aiming to extract any valuable details Shoto might unwittingly reveal in his inebriated state. As Shoto stumbled beside you, you ventured to ask, "Shoto, why do you harbor such resentment toward Touya? It seems like there's a lot of tension between you two."

Shoto's response was punctuated by occasional hiccups, and he spoke with a slurred cadence, "Touya… he's always been the favorite. Father sees him as the rightful heir, even after he attempted on killing him… When he was a baby… I'm just… the spare. I've had to fight for every scrap of approval, every shred of acknowledgment. It's fucking infuriating."

His words were tinged with a mix of bitterness and vulnerability, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of their strained relationship.

Shoto's alcohol-laden breath hung in the night air as he delved deeper into the caverns of his animosity. His words spilled out, laced with venom and a fervent desire for retribution. "You see, Y/N… Touya has always been the golden child… Father dotes on him, oblivious to the struggles I faced. I fought tooth and nail, but in his eyes, I'm still the disappointment." His voice resonated with a toxic blend of envy and resentment. "I wish he'd disappear, fade away… It would be so much easier without him overshadowing me at every turn… Fucking Touya. Father might finally see my worth."

As he spoke, you couldn't help but sense the profound wounds that fueled Shoto's disdain for his older brother, wondering if there was any way to mend the frayed bonds between them.

With a heavy sigh, you opened the huge, wooden door to the Great Hall. In the dimly lit hallway, you guided Shoto with careful steps, avoiding any unnecessary noise. As you reached his chamber, the weight of your question hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "My lord… Do you plan to harm your older brother during this mission?"

He paused, his drunken demeanor momentarily overshadowed by a serious glint in his eyes. "Hurt him? No. But if fate has other plans for him, who am I to intervene?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if Shoto's words held any truth or if they were merely intoxicated ramblings. As you opened the door and let go of his waist, you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that there was more beneath the surface of his seemingly casual response. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across his face, adding an enigmatic air to the entire exchange.

The sudden force of Shoto's grip on your waist surprised you, and before you could react, his lips collided with yours in a messy, drunken kiss. The taste of mead lingered on his breath, making the encounter less pleasant than you might have imagined. You winced, feeling a mix of discomfort and confusion as the moment unfolded.

Shoto's hand slipped beneath your dress and moved up your leg, resting between your thighs. As he pulled away, his eyes were glazed, and he chuckled under his breath, resting his back against the wooden wall. "You're an interesting one, Y/N," he slurred, releasing his hold on you and stumbling into his chamber. "I'll make sure you're mine, not his." The door closed behind him, leaving you standing in the hallway, processing the unexpected exchange with your palm pressed against your mouth.

As you turned around, your heart sank, its rhythm momentarily disrupted - there, in the corridor, stood Touya. His expression held a mixture of surprise and shock as he observed you, and an unspoken tension hung in the air.

Touya's harsh words hung in the air, stinging like a bitter truth. "I can't believe you're like that, Y/N, letting my brother touch you this way. I thought you were different, not like every other thrall, but I guess I was wrong."

A lump formed in your throat as you desperately wanted to explain, to make him understand, but before you could utter a single word, Touya turned on his heel and left, the resounding crash of the door slamming shut echoing through the dimly lit corridor.

Now, you found yourself standing alone, the weight of his accusations settling in. The corridor seemed colder, lonelier in the aftermath of his anger. You replayed the scene in your mind, the hurt etched on Touya's face, the disappointment in his voice. It was a bitter cocktail of emotions that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

The truth was, you never intended to betray or hurt Touya. You considered chasing after him, explaining that it wasn't as it seemed, that your intentions were never to betray him. But the finality of that slamming door weighed heavily on your shoulders.

A lone tear traced the contours of your cheek, a delicate testament to the waning emotions within. It was as if you had relinquished something profoundly vital, a precious fragment of your life slipping away, leaving behind a poignant void.

heathen wolves: @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan @violet-forgetmenot

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ravennaortiz · 1 year ago

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A Charming Wolf

Summary: 18+,AU, Angst, Smut, Opie x Reader

Opie had struggled for years with his image. Most people saw him as a monster not just for his association with the club but also his physical stature. While he knew they weren’t necessarily wrong to be wary of the beast that lurked below, it still pained him. He wanted nothing more than to be seen for the caring, gentle giant that he was. When he first met you he felt truly seen for the first time. What started off as neighbors turned into a close friendship that then blossomed into a whirlwind romance that took his breath away.

All these things blew through his mind as he stood on all fours in front of you tonight, patiently awaiting your response. He knew this was the next step if your relationship was to last but he knew all too well the risk involved in showing his true form. If you shunned him tonight….. you wouldn’t be able to see morning. His yellow eyes tracked your movement as you approached and knelt before him gently caressing his furry ear. You barely spoke above a whisper but his lupine ears heard your statement clear as day. Heat coursed through his fur covered body at your words “I’ve always had a fantasy about this”.

Opie rubbed his cheek against your thigh as you continued to stroke his ear. He could hear your heart beat pick up and the scent of your arousal trailed through his nostrils as he took a deep breath in. You smelled like vanilla and he knew he needed to taste you. You gasped slightly as Opie suddenly shoved against you pushing you off balance and making you fall onto the couch. Your heart pounded in your chest and you felt heat pool between your legs as the couch sagged under Opies weight as he moved over you and gently nipped the tender skin of your neck. Your light moan of his name combined with your heavenly scent awakened the animal side of him. Opie turned his attention to the barrier of your shorts, using his teeth to try and tug them and your panties down your legs with your help. “Opie” you gasped as you felt his cold lupine nose against your core before he dipped his tongue into your center. Opie growled as he savored the heavenly, sweet honey taste of you as your back arched off the couch. Pleasure built as Opie you his long, thick tongue to explore your soft center taking your breath away and you too see stars as he pushed you over the edge within a couple minutes. Opie smiled wolfishly as your release drenched his furry face and your thighs squeezed around his head as your hands gripped his ears pulling him closer as you let out an incoherent moan. Your head was fuzzy and you felt like you were floating on a cloud as Opies moved away from you.

Once you had come down slightly from the high of your earth shattering orgasm you leaned up onto your elbows to look over the man you loved in wolf form. You bit your lower lip as your eyes trailed over his soft red fur from pointed muzzle to the cock between his legs. Opie watched you as you smiled mischievously before turning over on the couch and wiggling your ass in the air. Turning your head to look at him your pretty eyes dilated with lust called to him. The couch sagged as he mounted it pressing the head of his engorged cock into your center. You both groaned as the tip easily slipped in to your slick stretching you in a way that had your toes already curling. “I want it all Opie” you moaned as your eyes locked with his as you pushed back talking more of him. Without missing a beat Opie thrusted forward fully sheathing himself inside of you causing your eyes to roll back as you moaned silently, the overwhelming sensation had you gripping onto the couch cushion until your fingers hurt. Opie gave you a moment to adjust as he closed his eyes relishing in the feel of your soft walls pulsing around him. Opie slowly started thrusting in and out of you his eyes ablaze as he watched himself disappear into you with every snap of his hips, your moans a melody made specifically for him as your body gripped and released him. “Opie, feels so good” you managed to get out as your arms gave out under you as his thrust started to become quicker and your orgasm started to build again. Opie whined as he felt his knot start to swell, the urge to pour himself deep into you overpowering him. In his haste to please you he had forgotten about what it meant to do this in his wolf form. Opie’s pace stuttered as he tried to stop. “Don’t stop Opie.” You moaned as you started to grind back on him to keep him inside. “Knot me Opie” you begged as you looked back at him your gaze on his. It was like he was caught in your spell by your words as he growled and pushed back into you, his knot nudging at your center as he pounded into you stronger than ever. After a couple more hard thrust that had your face smashed into the back of the couch an obscene pop filled the air and your body convulsed under him as he shoved his knot inside you sending you over the edge into the deep chasm of pleasure. Opie’s orgasm followed right behind your causing him to howl as he felt your body milk every last ounce of his cum out of him. Opie carefully lowered his upper body onto you and nuzzled your back as the two of you caught your breath. “I love you my Charming Wolf. I choose you forever and always Opie” you murmured contently as your eyes closed.

Morning

Opie strutted into the clubhouse the next morning with a huge smile on his face. “Guess she took it well then man” stated Tig as he greeted Opie from the bar. Opie chuckled before replying “ Oh she took it well alright, took it real well several times” he stated with a wink causing Tig to choke on his coffee before he headed out to the garage to start his shift.

Taglist:@darqchilddaydreamz

Thanks for reading! Likes,comments and reblogs are appreciated!

#sons of anarchy #ravennasmasterlist #soa fanfic #soa fanfiction #opie winston soa #opie winston #opie x reader #opie smut #opie winston fanfiction #soa smut #sons of anarchy smut

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kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit · 7 months ago

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List of characters you 🫵 the Audience can request!

___________________________________________

In my oneshot all characters are aged up in their senior year 18/19 others in college 20/25 even if it don't say it in the story I strongly want to add this clarification

I only write Fem Reader and Gender neutral Reader

No poly relationship request please they make uncomfortable (not the people just that I'm not poly)

___________________________________________

What I do write

W/W lesbians

M/F Heterosexual

Fluff

Angst

Au's

Strangers to lovers

Friends to lovers

Meet cutes

Established relationship

Sensual insinuations

Sexual scenes (very minor it's not full smut just the scene afterwards the act)

What I don't write and that I'm uncomfortable with

Adult x minor

Rape/ grooming

Sexual Harassment in fiction

Pro shipping

_________________________________________

Monster high list. And their genderbent names

Draculaura = Laurence

Frankie stein = frankie stein

Cleo de nile= Cleon de nile

Clawdeen wolf= Claws wolf

Nefera de nile = Nefero de nile

Abbie Bominable = Abbott Bominable

Catty Noir = Clawton Noir

Castra Fierce= Casper Fierce

Robecca Steam= Robert Steam

C.A Cupid = C.A Cupid

Rochelle Goyle= Rockwell Goyle

Gigi grant= Gavin Grant

Venus McflFlytrap= Vinny McFlytrap

____________________________________________

Ever after high and their genderbent names

Apple white= Aspen white

Raven Queen= Raven King

Briar Beauty= Bryce Beauty

Ashlynn Ella = Ash Ella

Lizzie Hearts= Liam Hearts

Blondie locks= Brody Locks

Cerise Hood= Crimson Hood

Madeline Hatter= Mason Hatter

Melody piper = Ryder Piper/Rhythm Piper (can't decide over these two names)

Darling charming= Dashing Charming

Chase Redford= Charlie Redford

Courtly Jester= Gallant Jester

Duchess swan= Duke Swan

#fanfiction #request box #character x reader #x reader #ever after high x reader #monster high x reader #genderbent #character list #ever after high #monster high x you #monster high #x female y/n #x gender neutral reader #x reader fanfiction #rules in requesting #please request #request open

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spookyserenades · 2 years ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Three

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 21.5k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi lovelies, it's Dana! Thank you all so much for all of the lovely feedback on the first two chapters of Trouvaille! I always enjoy answering questions, hearing reader theories, and even gushing over the Trouvaille hybrids together. In Chapter Three, we'll finally meet the mysterious wolf hybrid Namjoon, and some of the paranormal aspects of the plot will be introduced as well. There's a bit of angst in this update, a fair amount of awkward interactions between characters, but a healthy amount of soft and domestic moments as well. As always, if you would like to be added to the taglist or chat with me at all, my inbox is open and I'd love to hear from you. Thanks for reading and please enjoy the latest update!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Pulling into town, the rain had slowed into a light mist, shrouding the homes on Y/N’s street in a blue-gray fog. The orange headlights from her car cut through the haze, guiding her way to the driveway at the side of the house, lamplight from within the first floor illuminating the gloom of the morning storm outside. The Beach Boys CD had looped by now, the sunny melodies doing little to brighten Y/N’s stress-induced jaw clenching.

With her mother’s last minute visit sprung upon her, Y/N had little to no time to prepare herself for the situation, let alone the six hybrids she had barely just met. She spent much of the ride back grinding her teeth and muttering under her breath, Taehyung periodically rolling the window up and down while she pressed pedal to the metal to beat her mother to the house. The squeaking noise of the window glass set her on edge, trying not to look at Taehyung cross-eyed, praying to the sky that her parents wouldn’t embarrass her within an inch of her life.

The hybrids had lapsed into pensive silence after her mentioning of the surprise visit, and she didn’t dare glance through the rearview to get a look at Jeongguk’s likely disgusted expression. Y/N hadn’t even noticed the hushed whispering in the backseat, too bewildered to hear much else but the curse-loop bouncing around in her own skull.

Leave it to her mother to completely disregard Y/N’s insistence she would come around later in the week to introduce the hybrids to her, in a controlled environment with more time to warn the hybrids of her mother’s quirks. She mostly blamed herself, with the fact that her kitchen was bare of food and calling her parents right away to tell them about the adoptions– she kicked herself for not holding out a bit longer, perhaps waiting for when she got Namjoon home– but it was all too late now. There was no convincing her mother to stay away, especially not without worrying her, or even worse, offending her.

Turning the car off, Y/N twitchily attempted to brighten up, not wanting to taint the first impression Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jeongguk were getting of their newfound home. Clearing her throat, she shakily turned to the backseat, a sheepish smile stretching across her face.

“We’re here,” she ignored Hoseok’s amused expression as he read the discomfort in her air, Yoongi squinting out the window past him to look at the house through the mist. Jeongguk had his bag of items from the drugstore tucked under his armpit, an unlit cigarette already poised between his lips. “Let’s head in and get out of this fog.”

Grabbing the box of donuts from the console and fishing around in her pocket for the house keys, Y/N yanked her car door open, not even bothering to pull up her hood to protect her clammy strands of hair. Jeongguk was right behind her, the flicking of his lighter clicking in her ear, a puff of smoke tantalizingly curling around her. She’d definitely have to have one of those later, when she could grab a moment to be by herself.

Dodging puddles in the gaping potholes of her crumbling driveway, she popped the trunk, hauling out the trash bag of the hybrid’s belongings. While it was half-full, it was exceptionally heavy– a burden that was immediately lifted by Taehyung’s nimble fingers hefting it over his shoulder along with his bags from the drugstore. Before she could protest, he was following Hoseok to the door to the lit-up kitchen, leaving her to fall into stride with Yoongi.

“Alright, I get it now. This place does look totally haunted,” Yoongi murmured to her out of the corner of his mouth, fanning away smoke from Jeongguk in front of them. “Marlboros. If you’re gonna smoke, at least have a menthol,” he whispered, low enough for Jeongguk to miss but perfectly audible to Y/N beside the leopard hybrid. Laughing weakly, Y/N had a warm feeling in her stomach at Yoongi’s attempts to make her smile.

The hybrids made a half-circle around her as she unlocked the door, Jeongguk’s tattooed hand stamping out his cigarette but in the ashtray Y/N had used nights before. She peered into the glass slider while she slid it open, but Seokjin and Jimin were not lingering in the kitchen.

Inside, it was warm and the air had a faint buttery smell of toast, yet did little to balm Y/N’s anxiety surrounding her parents impending arrival. She could hear the sound of the TV going in the parlor as she and the hybrids filed in behind her, placing the donuts on the island with a thump. It appeared that someone had cleaned up the kitchen meticulously after their breakfast, even the stainless steel of the fridge had been wiped to a polish.

“Whoa, this kitchen is awesome,” Yoongi breathed, immediately circling the island to run his hand along the stovetop with a grin on his face.

“Yoongi, were you a line cook at that bar you worked at too?” Hoseok remarked teasingly as Yoongi admired the pots hanging from the rack over the island.

“Yeah, actually. I worked just about every position at one point or another, Foxy,” Yoongi answered, folding his arms over his chest.

Taehyung had set the garbage bag on the breakfast nook, slowly placing items from it on the table one by one. Jeongguk was impatiently standing behind him, tapping a foot on the tiled floor, snatching a little leather notebook from Taehyung’s hand as soon as he pulled it from the bag. Taehyung simply returned to retrieving items from the bag, tucking a weathered black jean jacket under his armpit as he went.

“I can show them around, if you need some time to get ready for your parents,” Hoseok said from behind Y/N at the coffee pot, where she was filling a mug up to the brim. Hoseok had somehow become her saving grace the past two days when it came to helping out, and she almost wanted to hug him in relief as the words left his mouth.

“Thanks, Hoseok. I owe you,” Y/N squeezed his wrist, watching dimples appear on his cheeks.

“Oh! Did everyone come back today?” Jimin’s voice came from the entry of the kitchen, eyes wide as he scanned the room full of people. Brushing past Hoseok to greet the coyote hybrid, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder where Seokjin was, his absence peculiarly profound to her.

“Good morning, Jimin!” Y/N said brightly, his smile as he saw her step from behind Hoseok equally as radiant as her voice. “Everyone, apart from Namjoon.”

Jimin hummed, eyeing Hoseok who had stalked off to the mysterious garbage bag on the breakfast bar. Y/N motioned for Jimin to come closer, which he did gracefully in his sock-clad feet, bending low to hear her.

“My parents are coming today. My mother gave me a call and totally surprised me with it, sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner,” Y/N whispered in his ear while trying to hear what Yoongi was saying to Jeongguk several feet away. Jimin made a noise of surprise, Y/N pushing the opened box of donuts towards him, gesturing for him to take one.

“Don’t apologize, Miss Y/N. I’m sure they’re lovely people,” Jimin assured her, his penchant for titles slipping into his speech. Heat rising up her neck, she was thankful his sight was trained on the donuts as she took a hearty swig of the coffee in her mug, which probably did nothing but add to her jitteriness.

“How’s Seokjin?” Y/N changed the subject, hoping that the jaguar hybrid wasn’t nursing a wine hangover. Jimin placed a powdered sugar donut on a paper towel, casting a look over his shoulder towards the foyer.

“He’s upstairs. He moved up to that pink bedroom this morning, reading a book or something,” Jimin responded, licking a bit of sugar off of his thumb. Y/N began to sweat, forgetting that she had told Seokjin to pick out a bedroom in the first place, and began to worry about cleaning up his previous room if one of the other hybrids decided to claim it that afternoon. While she had left her high stress level job days ago, Y/N had a whole new set of situations that seemed to crop up quickly.

“Jimin,” Yoongi interrupted, nodding at the coyote hybrid as he approached the island. Yoongi had a bomber jacket slung over his shoulder, sliding a canvas knapsack across the granite countertop. “This yours?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open, grasping the bag with relief, checking the contents of the bag frantically. Yoongi swiped a chocolate donut from the open box, munching on it thoughtfully as Jimin pulled a dented brown Stetson hat from the bag with a frown. Standing on her tiptoes to peek at the others, she noticed Hoseok with a stack of athletic wear he was most likely wearing prior to his arrival at the shelter, and Taehyung crumpling up the empty garbage bag.

“This was Jin’s, I’ll take it to him when we find him,” Hoseok joined her, Jimin, and Yoongi at the island, holding up a ratty drawstring bag in one of his hands. Taehyung had snuck his way next to Y/N silently, opening random cabinets with the garbage bag in his fist. Finding the drawer that hid the trash, he tossed the bag in with a grimace, blowing his bangs out of his face with a gust of air.

“Why don’t you guys get settled before my parents get here? Hoseok has offered to show you around, to pick out your bedrooms,” Y/N urged, still mournfully lamenting the fact that she hadn’t seen Seokjin yet that morning.

“Before you ask, Yoongi, we aren’t sharing a room, sorry,” Hoseok nudged Yoongi with his shoulder, the leopard hybrid’s mouth set in a grim line. Hoseok was already on his way out to the hall, Yoongi trudging after him with Jeongguk not far behind, leafing through his notebook with a detached expression.

“I’d sooner share a room with Satan,” Yoongi shot back under his breath, tossing the last piece of his donut in his mouth before disappearing from the room with the fox and elk hybrids.

Taehyung begrudgingly followed the other three, looking like he wanted to say something to Y/N as he watched her tuck away the leftover donuts for later. Jimin stayed behind, as Y/N predicted he would, finding his own mug in the cabinet to help himself to some more coffee.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jimin asked softly as Y/N brushed crumbs from the counter into the sink, raking a hand through her hair in distress.

“Oh, that’s okay, Jimin, thank you. I guess I should warn you… my mother is a little out there,” Y/N grit her teeth, avoiding Jimin’s eyes as she sipped her coffee. “She might hug you, or ask you if you want a tarot reading…”

“A… tarot reading?” Jimin’s voice was laced with confusion, slinging his knapsack around his trim shoulder. Nodding, Y/N made her way to the bags of toiletries Taehyung had left on the breakfast nook that were likely for Jimin, Seokjin, and Namjoon, which he had separated so each bag had one of each item. Smiling at Taehyung’s quiet consideration, she selected a bag for Jimin and offered it to him.

“Yeah, fortune telling. She’s a pagan witch, not so far off from that movie we watched last night,” Y/N joked, realizing the joke went right over his head as he stared at her with alarm. “These are for you, Taehyung helped me pick up some other things you might need,” she thrust the bag into his open palm, the astonishment slipping from his face as it settled back into a more neutral expression.

“Thank you. Hugging is fine. I’m alright with staying unaware of what the future holds, for now,” Jimin murmured, following Y/N to the foyer.

“I hear you. Not that she took that into account growing up, however,” Y/N sighed, pausing by the room Seokjin was in previously. He had made the bed. “I’m just going to freshen up a bit before they get here, so I’ll see you in a few?”

“Alright, Miss Y/N. Give a holler if you need anything,” Jimin grinned, Y/N returning the gesture before hurrying away so he wouldn’t see her blushing. She didn’t have the heart to tell Jimin to drop the titles again, and for some reason she found she actually liked it when he used them.

Like clockwork, as soon as Y/N began to detangle her rain-mussed hair in her bathroom, her phone buzzed with her mother’s “on the way” message. Cursing, Y/N hastily changed into some drier clothes, heart racing as she prayed that a disaster wouldn’t unfold. She hadn’t exactly been forthcoming on the phone with what kind of hybrids she had adopted– all men, almost all large predators. There was a chance her father would blow a gasket seeing that many men living with Y/N, or her mother totally embarrassing her by trying to set her up with one of them; like they were at a wedding and the hybrids were groomsmen.

Y/N had been single for most of her adult life; a few college hookups were as close as she got to a relationship. Always focused on studies, keeping up with her friends, and spending quality time with her family, she never really found the time to enter the dating scene. Especially as she landed her job after graduation, Y/N was busier than ever working at the animal hospital, with little thought spent on men and relationships. She knew that her mother and father talked behind her back about her lackluster dating life, and that her mother in particular wanted to see her in a loving relationship, but her mother trying to set up blind dates with one of her friend’s sons was more annoying than helpful. There was a real chance her mother would corner one of the hybrids and ask them what she thought of Y/N, or maybe even offer a compatibility reading, the thought mortifying and making Y/N twist her hair up into a bun a little too tightly.

While Y/N was a little less cosmic than her mother, she did hold the belief that there would be a “right person, right time” situation that magically manifested into her life; whether it be a college romance in her literature class, a new doctor sweeping in from across seas at her job, or a handsome stranger reaching for the same vinyl at the record store– but those instances never came to pass. Instead, Y/N found herself invested in work, house restoration, and antique hunting on her weekends with Roy or her father. Her hope had not diminished in finding the right man, but it had become something she had tucked away and forgotten about. With the adoptions of the hybrids, Y/N was certain her mother would get up to her old tricks again, and Y/N would have few defenses against them after all this time.

Above her head, Y/N heard scuffling footsteps, likely where the tour Hoseok was leading was at the moment. The room above her bedroom was one of the tower rooms, the gray and maroon one– the room that her older male cousin always stayed in when her grandparents lived in the house. It had a little balcony attached to it, where one or two people could stand on and look out over the backyard, but had no space for a chair or much else. Smoothing the fabric of her fresh tee shirt, Y/N made her way back to the staircase at the front of the house, stowing away the materials she had used on Friday night to strip it in the broom closet. She was a little behind schedule with the restoration work, but she figured she’d be able to get back to the grind in the next coming weeks, once the hybrids felt more at home and fell into a routine.

After a few moments of polishing a glass vase with a cloth on the table by Seokjin’s previous room, Y/N heard the clanging of the door knocker indicating her parent’s arrival. Tucking the cloth into her back pocket with a curse, Y/N tried her best to compose a pleasant expression on her face as she went for the door.

“Hi honey! We waited until the rain let up to come on over, oh! I see you’ve started on that staircase,” her mother rushed past her with large recycle bags as soon as Y/N swung the door open, her father sheepishly hobbling after her wheeling a little wooden wagon stacked with containers. Sputtering, Y/N patted her mother’s back as she quickly squeezed her, the midnight blue velvet shawl she was wearing slipping from her shoulders to her hooked elbows.

“Here, let me take those,” Y/N grabbed two of the bags her mother had stuffed with food, her father ruffling Y/N’s hair affectionately in greeting.

“Don’t refinish that staircase with that horrid glossy varnish again. When my father did that, I thought your grandmother was going to have a heart attack,” her mother warned, narrowing her eyes at the humongous box of hybrid clothes by the stairs Y/N had yet to unpack.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Y/N affirmed, making haste after her father who was already on his way to the kitchen.

“Now, where are your friends, honey?” Her mother inquired, her silver bangles making clinking noises as she gesticulated around the kitchen. Y/N hummed softly as she began unpacking boxes of salad greens and sacks of potatoes from the first bag.

“They’re upstairs, I think. I just brought three home from the shelter this morning, so one I had brought back yesterday offered to show them around to pick out bedrooms,” Y/N explained, wondering when Hoseok would bring everybody back down, and if he’d let Seokjin in on the situation at hand. “There’s still one I’m going back for tomorrow. It seems that it’s pretty difficult to earn his trust,” Y/N added, sliding several new bottles of condiments into the fridge.

“It’s good that you’re waiting for him to open up a bit more, darling. One of the worst things you can do to a hybrid is force them into a situation while they’re still distrustful of you,” her father pointed out the obvious, handing her a jug of orange juice.

“How old are these hybrids of yours, anyways, Y/N?” Her mother asked, packing a bunch of frozen fruit into the freezer.

“They’re all mid-to-late twenties,” Y/N replied casually, stretching up on her tiptoes to fill the cabinets with cans of various beans and boxes of pasta. Her mother had truly gone all out at the grocery store, like she was preparing her for a hurricane.

“Oh, good. They’ll fit in with all of your friends during the cookout,” her father said positively, folding up empty bags to put in the wagon he had brought along. His green jacket had a couple of yellow leaves stuck to it.

“I’m going to make some of those bean burgers out on the grill for lunch, honey. Keep the potato salad out, will you?” Her mother started towards the patio by herself with a lighter and a platter of patties and cheese, her father shaking his head fondly.

“Everything alright, sweetheart? You look like you haven’t been getting much sleep,” her father asked once her mother was out by the grill, accepting a stack of plates from Y/N. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Y/N smiled. Her father was always quick to see what was really going on with her.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been pulling a few late nights, and I had one of those nightmares last night– the one I used to have as a kid,” Y/N admitted, hugging her midsection. Her father’s eyebrows knit together in concern, smoothing his hand over hers on the counter.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s probably stress related, you’ve had some exciting past few days, with the adoptions and quitting your job,” he assured her, turning around when he heard her mother shouting at him through the glass door. Her father, unlike her mother, was not one for the supernatural or unexplained.

“She needs the buns. I’ll be right back,” her father murmured, bag of bulkie rolls in his fist as he trudged out into the patio.

Y/N put the remaining groceries away, the refrigerator and cabinets now fully stocked. She was extremely grateful to her mother, once admiring the full shelves, knowing that she likely wouldn’t have been able to make it to the store for a few more days herself. Somewhat comforted by her father’s logical words on the topic of her nightmare, she decided not to worry about it too much. Thinking about it too much may encourage the nightmares to begin recurring again.

“Hoseok said your parents are here?” Y/N spun around at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, his fiery eyes trained on her as he leaned against the counter. Again, Y/N wondered how long he had been standing there while she was staring into the cupboard with her eyes glazed over. He had a habit of sneaking up on her.

“Oh! Hi, Seokjin,” Y/N made her way to him, nodding her head towards the patio. “They’re out there. My mom’s making us some lunch.”

Seokjin followed Y/N’s gesture, peering out the window while she checked him out. His posture was lax, shirt a bit wrinkled from sleep, but there didn’t appear to be any blood leaking out from his patched-up wound through the fabric. Y/N was surprised he didn’t appear to have any sort of hangover, even with the 3/4th’s of a bottle of wine he had the night before.

“Ah. You look like your mom,” Seokjin commented under his breath, a whisper of a smile on his face. Blushing, Y/N busied herself with collecting silverware to place on the counter.

“How are you feeling today?” Y/N asked, Seokjin tearing his gaze from her parents bickering over the grill.

“Much better. Look,” turning back to see what Seokjin wanted to show her, Y/N nearly fell over as she came face-to-face with Seokjin lifting his shirt up to his shoulders, rotating slowly so she could see his side. Trying to keep her mouth from falling open, she realized the wound had mended itself to something that looked more like a nasty cat scratch, and his bruising had all but vanished. The fabric of his shirt fell quickly as he lifted it, Y/N’s face as hot as an iron.

“U-um, good! It looks like it healed pretty quickly!” Y/N rushed out, hastily stacking napkins on the island and almost shouting in relief as Hoseok bounded into the kitchen with Yoongi and Jimin in tow.

“They’re here!” Hoseok exclaimed, ears flickering as he looked out the window. Yoongi was reaching for the donut box again, and with the look of his thin cheeks, Y/N had no qualms letting him eat them all at this point.

“They brought us food, too,” Seokjin added, pointing to the cabinet full of snacks Y/N had left open before he came into the kitchen.

“Did you all pick out a room you like?” Y/N inquired, Yoongi tucking into a glazed donut. Nodding, he pointed to the ceiling.

“I’m going to stay in that beige room upstairs, if that’s alright. I like your piano up there, too. It’s beautiful,” Yoongi said through a mouthful of donut, sinking into a barstool.

“Of course, I was hoping one of you would stay in a tower room. Thank you, by the way– that piano has been here a long time, before my grandparents lived here. I think it was my grandmother’s father’s,” Y/N smiled, fond memories of trying to teach herself songs on the piano as a child popping up in her mind.

“Jeongguk picked that other tower room, the dark one. He went out to smoke again, said he’ll be down after,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, pushing hair out of his face. So Jeongguk would be in the room above Y/N– fitting, as her older cousin that used to stay there was just as bristly as him.

Taehyung appeared in the doorway, his expression a touch nervous as he noticed Y/N’s parents outside. He hung back, fiddling with the petals of a wilting flower arrangement on the coffee bar that Y/N had forgotten to replace a couple of days ago.

“And Taehyung is in that purple room by the billiard’s room. At least, that’s where he put all his stuff. He’s still not talking to us,” Hoseok muttered into Y/N’s ear, helping her set out glasses on the counter. It was curious, Taehyung seemed to only speak directly to her, and avoided the others at all costs. Even now, it looked like Taehyung wanted to say something to her as he watched her and Hoseok at the sink, but with the fox hybrid and Seokjin flanking her sides, he wouldn’t move an inch.

Flinching as the glass door of the slider screeched open, Y/N took a deep breath bracingly as her mother came in from outside.

“Honey, I need the hot sau– my goodness!” Her mother exclaimed upon seeing the kitchen filled with the five hybrids, pressing a hand to her mouth with glee. “Oh, honey– honey! Watch the burgers, I’ll be there in a few moments,” she shut the door, shooting Y/N a pointed look as she scanned all of the hybrids with a thoughtful face.

“Mom! Uh, let’s see,” Y/N panicked, waving her hands around, gesturing to Seokjin, “This is Seokjin, and Hoseok and Jimin… Yoongi is on the stool here, and over by the coffee pot that’s Taehyung,” Y/N blurted, each hybrid’s ears fluttering at the sounds of their names.

“My, you’re all such handsome young men, something my daughter neglected to tell me,” her mother crossed her arms with a playful expression, a choked sound coming from Hoseok’s throat next to Y/N. Heart falling to her ass, Y/N immediately felt heat shoot up her neck and pool in her cheeks, mouth gaping in horror at her mother’s audacity.

“Mom!” Y/N squeaked, wishing the floor would open up and suck her into the Earth’s core. Yoongi was laughing, eyes scrunched up in mirth as he watched the mortification bloom across Y/N’s features, and Y/N couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with any of the others.

“Relax, honey, could you get me that hot sauce?” Her mother waved her off, apparently not noticing Y/N’s distress. Numbly, she fumbled for the bottle in the fridge, Seokjin opening the door for her with an amused smile smugly set on his lips.

“Oh! Another one,” she heard her mother say, Y/N whipping her head around to see Jeongguk stalking into the room, eyes wide as he stared at her mother. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Seokjin raised his eyebrows, exchanging a bracing look with Y/N as she hastily brushed past him to shove the hot sauce in her mother’s hand.

“Um… Jeongguk…” the elk hybrid replied warily, trying to nonchalantly tuck the pack of cigarettes in his hand into his sweatpants pocket. Forcing herself to laugh lightly, the sound coming out more chopped up than she had hoped for, Y/N patted her mother on the back, urging her towards the patio again.

“Y/N, honey, I need another spatula too. Stop trying to shoo me away,” batting Y/N’s hand away, her mother winked at her knowingly.

“Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll get it for you,” Jimin pulled a metal spatula off the wall hook by the stove, saving the day as he spoke up bravely. Mouth hanging open, Y/N stepped to the side as Jimin handed her mother the spatula, sliding the glass door to the outside open. “Do you need any help on the grill?”

“Oh, dear, that would be just wonderful…my husband is dreadful on the grill. Are you a Libra? You’re so polite,” her mother hooked a hand around Jimin’s elbow, the coyote hybrid’s bright smile as he led her out the door ever-blinding, but his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“A-a Libra?” Y/N heard Jimin stutter, leading her mother out to her father. Head in her hands, Y/N felt a migraine coming on.

“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry about her, she can be a little forward,” Y/N mumbled, too embarrassed to turn around and face the remaining hybrids. After that show, she wasn’t even worried about her father saying something vaguely silly to any of them.

“She’s funny. I’m going out there,” Hoseok returned confidently, giving Y/N’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze as he breezed past her and outside. Scoffing, disbelief flooding through her, she watched the fox hybrid saunter out to the grill, giving her father a firm handshake with a dimpled grin.

“Are we sitting out there?” Seokjin inquired suddenly, next to her with the stack of plates and silverware. Nodding dumbly, he too exited the kitchen in pursuit of the picnic table outside, tail swishing languidly behind him. Apparently, Y/N was the only one feeling the embarrassment of the whole situation.

“Well, at least Namjoon isn’t here, that’s all I gotta say,” Yoongi piped up as Y/N crawled to the coffee bar. Barking out a short laugh, Y/N pulled a fresh mug from the shelf to pour the dregs of the coffee pot into it, taking it like a shot. Watching her carefully was Taehyung, putting the bag of coffee beans down he had occupied himself with studying during the entire exchange with her mother.

“Fair, I suppose. Ugh, it’s just like her to ask Jimin about his zodiac sign, I mean seriously… oh shit, I should hide the tarot cards in the library before she gets an idea,” Y/N complained, dropping her mug into the sink with dismay. Yoongi simply chuckled, tucking a lock of his long hair behind his ear and rising from his seat.

“Should we go out?” Yoongi jabbed a thumb towards where the others were, Jimin appearing to be manning the grill with her father, Seokjin cornered by her mother at the picnic table. Gripping the countertop with unease, Y/N nodded as Yoongi looked at her quizzically, taking the container of potato salad with him.

“Let’s get this over with,” Y/N muttered to herself, Taehyung underfoot like a shadow as they marched outside. The last to trudge out, of course, was Jeongguk, who kept a good distance between himself and everybody else, eyes narrowing across the backyard towards the one of the trails further out into the property. Y/N wondered if he was planning his escape route, not that she blamed him.

“Yoongi! You’re a cook, right? Are these done?” Hoseok shouted from the grill, Y/N’s father scratching the back of his head as he hesitantly poked at a burger with a spatula, Jimin checking the propane levels of the tank under the grill. Shaking his head, Yoongi went over to investigate, exchanging the potato salad for the spatula with her father with an encouraging look.

“I brought these out, too,” jumping at Taehyung’s deep voice beside her, he lifted the napkins and glasses balanced in his arms. Despite his build being less muscular than Jeongguk’s, Taehyung had demonstrated considerable strength in the past couple of hours– especially with the stack of nine water glasses he was currently holding up with three fingers.

“Oh, good, thank you Taehyung! Let’s go rescue Seokjin and help set the table, shall we?” Y/N eyed her mother, who had somehow managed to get Seokjin to sit down on the bench while she perched on the table in front of him, explaining something with wild hand gestures. Seokjin looked extremely confused, ears turned backwards.

“Hi, everything alright over here?” Y/N interrupted her mother, who was actually giving Seokjin a history lesson on the grounds. Seokjin’s eyes softened as he saw Y/N peek over her mother’s shoulder.

“Yes, why wouldn’t it be my silly girl? Don’t worry so much, Y/N, I was just telling Seokjin here about the pond over by the old stable back there,” her mother smoothed a hand over Y/N’s back comfortingly, her spicy perfume suddenly making her nostalgic. Y/N was just glad she wasn’t inquiring about a betrothal between Seokjin and herself.

“I didn’t know there was so much land back here,” Seokjin straightened out a plate beside him, curiously watching Taehyung place the glasses and napkins and brushing leaves off of the table.

“Well, that’s because Y/N hasn’t started clearing all the brush out of here, honey. When I was a kid living here, my father and uncles were meticulous with the landscaping,” her mother informed him, irking Y/N as she reminded her of all of the things she had yet to accomplish with the family home.

Lowering herself onto the dampened wood of the picnic bench across from Seokjin, Y/N grimaced at the slimy feeling, all too familiar from summer's past. Taehyung made himself comfortable next to her, not noticing her mother studying the side of his face as he lowered an ant crawling by his plate onto the grass.

“You’re Taehyung, right sweetheart?” Standing, her mother found her spot next to Seokjin, whose cheeks were turning rosy as she used his shoulder to lower herself down. Taehyung nodded, twiddling his fingers, evidently not keen on speaking to her mother, either.

Y/N could hear Jeongguk and Yoongi bickering from all the way where she was sitting, but she sensed no malice in the words yet. Her father was laughing with Jimin and Hoseok, deep in conversation. Y/N had a suspicion earlier that her father would like Hoseok; they were pretty similar in certain ways Y/N had observed in the fox hybrid so far. Jimin was nothing but perfectly pleasant in general, so it was no surprise that he was able to charm both of her parents.

Starting to relax a little bit now that she had her eye on her mother, Y/N felt the caffeine start to make her crash a little. There were so many things she wanted to do later in the day with the hybrids, namely gifting them all of their new clothes and maybe going for a nice evening walk around the trails in the backyard. She wasn’t too sure if she could fit in a nap that afternoon, but she was determined to make the most of the energy she had left in order to make everyone feel at home, safe, and entertained– perhaps to make up for the spontaneous dropping in of her parents, as well.

As she was lost in thought, she hardly registered her father, ambling over with the potato salad and a frosty jug of iced tea from the fridge, setting it down on the table and snapping her out of her reverie as he took his spot next to her mother. The latter had gone back to chatting with Seokjin about the house, his attentive listening actually quite adorable. Melting a tad, Y/N poured a glass of tea for Taehyung and then herself, sliding the jug across the table for Seokjin. In the middle of all of this, Jeongguk had found his way to the table, sitting at the farthest part of the table on Y/N’s side.

“Here we go,” Yoongi carefully approached the table, perfectly cooked burgers nestled on the platter on his arm making Y/N’s mouth water. He had tucked the spatula in the waistband of his sweatpants, Hoseok right behind him with his own plate of buns.

“Ah, look. Yoongi even toasted the buns,” Hoseok pointed out excitedly, setting them down in front of her father and taking his seat next to him. Yoongi was a little pink from standing in front of the grill, clutching the platter tightly as Jimin danced around him to grab a seat beside Hoseok. Everyone still seemed to be avoiding both Taehyung and Jeongguk, Yoongi reluctantly sitting in between them with his lips pursed.

“Thank you for taking over, honey. I think you cooked them better than I could have,” her mother gushed to Yoongi, already helping herself to a bun and burger. Yoongi ducked his head in embarrassment, taking a sip of some iced tea Seokjin had kindly poured for everyone else at the table.

“Yoongi said he worked at a bar in the city, cooked there, too,” Hoseok said around a mouthful of potato salad, swatting a mosquito that was buzzing around his twitching ears.

“What bar? My husband and I have been to almost every bar in Boston,” her mother inquired, putting a bun and burger on Seokjin’s plate for him. Clearing his throat, Yoongi’s hands stilled while slathering ketchup on his bun, an odd look crossing his face.

“The Black Lodge,” was all he said in response, quickly taking a bite of his burger to prevent him from having to speak further. The name rang a small bell in Y/N’s mind, but she had no memory of actually spending time at a bar by that name– it certainly wasn’t one on the streets of her old stomping grounds, perhaps it was closer to Cambridge, or tucked away in a corner street she and her friends didn’t venture out to. Her mother and father exchanged identical shrugs, apparently they hadn’t patroned the bar either.

Her father was extremely interested in Jimin’s time as a rancher, perhaps because he was a fan of old western movies. Thankfully, he didn’t bring this fact up, as Y/N recalled Jimin’s recoil from Hoseok’s cowboy comment. Taehyung remained quiet as a mouse next to her, his elbow occasionally brushing her’s when he reached for his glass of tea. She’d have to do some brainstorming on how to get him to open up a bit more to the others; Y/N was just counting her lucky stars he was even speaking to her.

“Y/N, honey, remember Mrs. Khan’s hybrid when you were little? Keaon, the white fox… they moved away, our old neighbors– to Maine. Well, anyways, don’t you remember him? You always loved when he’d shift, and play with you in the yard,” her mother suddenly brought up, both embarrassing and puzzling her. She shrunk a little under the gazes of most of the hybrids, their expressions piqued with interest.

“Yeah, I remember Keaon, why do you ask?”

“Well, I noticed Hoseok is a fox, too! You know, foxes have always been Y/N’s favorite animal ever since she was a kid,” her mother said matter-of-factly, Y/N flinching in her seat with her statement.

“I–” she started, words dying on her lips as Hoseok began laughing boisterously.

“Oh, is that true?” Hoseok chuckled, thankfully not sending a wink her way as the table all turned to look at him.

“Yes, yes! There’s a picture framed in the library of her and Keaon, we took it at the cookout before they moved away. Oh, poor Y/N– she was devastated when he left,” her mother pouted sympathetically, Y/N wanting to bolt into the house and lock her bedroom door. So much for her mother backing down on the humiliation.

“Alright mom, come on! I was like ten when they moved!” Y/N groaned in exasperation, her appetite vanishing as she poked some potato salad on her plate with a fork. She hadn’t thought about Keaon in years, and was surprised that her mother had made the connection to Hoseok before she had. In addition, she felt eyes boring into her from all directions, increasing her discomfort tenfold.

“Dear, did you know that Jimin worked at a national park?” Her father changed the subject, picking up on Y/N’s embarrassment, the table breaking into a new conversation with Jimin at the center of it. Breathing a sigh of relief, she happily sunk into the background, her father clearly favoring both the coyote hybrid and Hoseok. Her mother continued to fuss over Seokjin, piling more potato salad onto his plate, before considering Yoongi’s empty plate and reaching over the table to do the same.

Jeongguk had smuggled his little journal to the table, Y/N noticed him hiding it on his lap, flipping through it almost frantically and periodically checking his surroundings like he was being surveilled. Raising an eyebrow, Y/N wondered what exactly the journal contained – he didn’t seem like the diary type.

The sun had come out by now, warming Y/N’s skin pleasantly and evaporating the gloomy mist that was hugging the brush in the backyard. The light shone on pretty strands of crimson in Hoseok’s dark auburn hair as he teased Jimin, who looked more relaxed than ever conversing with the fox hybrid and her father. While the lunch had its hiccups at Y/N’s expense, it brought her happiness that her parents seemed to like all of the hybrids so much, and the latter didn’t seem to mind their questions or antics.

Now that she thought about it, perhaps she was overestimating her mother’s matchmaking tendencies. While she was certainly aggressive about it in college, over the last couple of years her mother had backed off significantly with the blind dates and nudging her towards handsome strangers at the library whenever she helped out with the book club. She hadn’t even offered Y/N a love reading in quite some time. Y/N started to feel a bit bad for thinking that her mother would try and set her up with hybrids she would be living with, painting such a bad picture of her in her head when in reality she seemed to truly be determined to make the hybrids feel welcomed.

“Cookout?” Seokjin’s voice had her re-focusing on the flow of the conversation.

“I guess she hasn’t had the time to tell you all yet. This Friday, Y/N is going to host our end-of-the-summer cookout here. We have a bonfire, lots of food, and you’ll get to meet the neighbors!” Her mother cheerily exclaimed, collecting dishes from people in her immediate surroundings. Seokjin cocked his head, looking at Y/N for confirmation. He had a little bit of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah! It’s always a lot of fun, and you can meet some of my friends, too,” Y/N encouraged, knowing that her weekly three-way video call with Laura and Alice was coming up, creating the perfect opportunity for her to break the news of the adoptions and the upcoming cookout. Laura wasn’t able to come the year before, her son coming down with a fever the day of the event, so Y/N knew that she’d be extremely excited to introduce her son to the hybrids; kids loved them, and it would be very sweet to see the hybrids interact with a child, Y/N thought.

Y/N hadn’t seen her two friends, the twin sisters Laura and Alice Santos, who she had met in elementary school – in months. With her hours at work, Laura’s packed schedule with little Kai and her husband Tyler taking up much of her time, and Alice’s newly appointed position at the newspaper she wrote for, all three girls passed each other by like ships in the night. Gone were the days of spending the weekends at new tapas bars and trendy brunch spots once the pace of adult life really began to pick up. Y/N was desperate for time with her girlfriends, the thought of a sleepover watching 90’s rom coms and eating greasy pizza with them almost brought a tear to her eye. She was determined to make more plans with them for the future with her newfound free time, once she actually saw them at the cookout, not planning on letting them leave without at least one adventure in the books.

Y/N began to help everyone clear away the plates, noticing Jeongguk sneaking away towards the side of the house, nose in his notebook and cigarette burning at his fingertips. Shaking her head, Y/N sped into the house, trying to avoid Hoseok in case of the likely event he’d begin to tease her about the fox conversation. Yoongi was hard at work at the sink already with gloves, scrubbing grease off of the spatula and handing Jimin utensils to place in the dishwasher.

“Oh dear! What time is it, honey? I have to get to the library for the book club by two!” Her mother suddenly gasped as she lugged plates into the kitchen, snatching her father’s wrist to get a look at the time on his watch. A frown settled over her features, pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders in dismay.

“If you want to be on time, we should probably get going, darling,” her father noted calmly, giving Hoseok a pat on the back as he picked up a fork her father dropped in the chaos.

“I’m sorry, sweets, we wanted to stay a bit longer and get to know you all some more, but I suppose it’ll have to wait until Friday,” her mother rubbed Y/N’s arm mournfully while she put the jug of iced tea back in the fridge, her head turned to speak to the hybrids. Snorting at her mother’s affection for the hybrids already, she walked her parents to the door, Seokjin and Taehyung evidently competing to see who could stick to her more closely on the way. She thought she felt a light tug at the back of her tee shirt, but chalked it up to her wild imagination.

“By the way, honey. I talked to Judy the other day; she’s looking for help at her shop in town. Something to think about, while you figure out what’s next,” her mother suddenly offered, pausing on the porch. Judy, her mother’s friend from high school, owned a metaphysical store in the town square, selling candles, books, and herbs. Not exactly similar to what she was doing at the animal hospital, but a possible source of income nonetheless.

“Okay, I’ll think about it. Bye mom, dad,” Y/N pulled her parents into a group hug, grateful for the book club’s meeting cutting their visit short. Her father ruffled her hair once more, lugging the wooden wagon that was carrying the food earlier down the porch steps. Waving to Seokjin and Taehyung hanging by the threshold of the front door, her mother spirited away down the street, her father trying his best to keep up in her haste.

Y/N let out a long, ragged breath of relief as they disappeared from view, making a mental note to check in with Judy sometime during the week. It was highly likely that her mother told Judy that Y/N would be able to start right away, and it wasn’t the worst job she could land while figuring out where her career would take her next. Besides, she definitely needed an income to cover future expenses in order to provide for her new housemates.

Turning to the two hybrids waiting for her at the door, she gave them a grateful smile, hoping it would convey her sympathy for putting up with her parents for so long. Seokjin, with his sweet disposition, had gotten the brunt of her mother’s fussing and doting. At least Taehyung’s silence saved him from some cheek-pinching. Seokjin stepped to the side, allowing her through the door, closing it as soon as Taehyung scampered out of the way. Y/N stopped short at the stairs, the big box of clothes sparking a happy excitement for the first time that afternoon.

“What’s in there? I noticed it this morning, did you order a refrigerator or something?” Seokjin wondered aloud, nudging the box with his sock-clad foot. Y/N heard the sound of the dishwasher kicking on, and the hushed voices of Jimin and Yoongi in the kitchen.

“I got you guys some clothes, just to last you until we can get to the stores and you can pick out stuff yourself. I felt bad you only had that one set from the shelter, but I hope you like some of the things I picked out… I don’t know your personal styles, yet, of course,” Y/N replied, using her thumbnail to slice open the tape on the box. A soft exclamation came from Seokjin as he stood behind her crouched form, curiously watching her peel the flaps of the box open while Taehyung plopped down on the stairs to do the same.

“You got us clothes? When?” Seokjin breathed, Y/N pulling out all of the sock packs piled on the top of the order and setting them to the side. Humming a tune, she happily made piles for each hybrid, checking the sizes on the packs of boxers to make the piles accordingly. She hadn’t noticed Taehyung turning pink at the sight of the underwear, turning his face to stare at the basement door.

“Last night! I found a great online site, overnight delivery. I wrote down all your measurements on my phone yesterday morning so I could get things that fit properly.”

“Huh? What’s all this?” Hoseok strolled out of the kitchen, eyes round in surprise at the rather large stacks of underwear, socks, and pajamas Y/N was still adding to. She was amazed at how small the items were folded in order to fit inside the box, it seemed practically bottomless.

“Y/N bought us some clothes!” Seokjin was now crouched down next to Y/N, eagerly glancing into the box as she unpacked it. Hoseok whistled, plucking up a pair of slides that Y/N placed on top of Jeongguk’s pile to examine.

“Oh, no, Hoseok, these ones are yours,” Y/N pointed to the pile by his foot, Hoseok promptly setting Jeongguk’s down and trying on his own pair of slides, flexing his feet and taking them for a lap around the foyer.

“Wow, these are comfy,” Hoseok commented, running in place. Giggling, Y/N pulled out a cobalt blue v-neck long sleeve, checking the tag to recall who she had gotten it for. The material was much silkier and softer than the picture on the website gave justice for, and she had to suppress the urge to press it to her face.

“Taehyung, this is for you,” Y/N sang, placing it gently in his lap instead of his pile she had been stacking on the step next to him. He ran his fingers over the shirt, holding it up to his chest to check the fit.

“You didn’t have to get all of this, you know,” Hoseok tutted, hesitantly accepting the sage thermal from her outstretched hand. Seokjin grumbled from beside her, shooting the fox hybrid a dirty look. Scoffing, she added the black satin button down she had purchased for Yoongi into his heap.

“And what? Let you all stroll around in a single set of sweats for a week? Come on, Hoseok,” Y/N scolded, spotting Jimin and Yoongi slinking into the room in search of the commotion. Hoseok was effectively clammed up with her response, scratching the back of his head, his lips pressed together.

“Whoa, is it Christmas?” Yoongi shouldered past Hoseok, the front of his white tee shirt wet from washing dishes at the sink. Hair falling forward, his ears turned back as Y/N gestured towards his stash of clothing, eyebrow raised. “So that was what was in that huge box.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should leave Namjoon’s things in this box?” Y/N pondered aloud, folding the dusty rose thermal she had gotten for him, the fabric cozy to the touch. She could place his toiletries in there, too, so he’d have everything in one place when he arrived. Judging by his measurements, Namjoon was the biggest of all the hybrids, only piquing Y/N’s curiosity over his appearance, as well as her intimidation towards him already.

“Where’s the elk?” Hoseok peeked into the kitchen, his slides making a slapping sound against the marble tile of the foyer. “He’s going to give himself lung cancer at this rate.”

“Ah, just leave him, Foxy, it’s nice without the storm cloud he brings along with him,” Yoongi complained from his spot on the floor he had dropped to, throwing his head back in annoyance. Snorting, Y/N finished sorting out all of the clothing, partly regretting stacking everything on the floor because it would be difficult for the hybrids to carry so many items to their rooms without making multiple trips; and she only had two hands to help one at a time.

“Your parents were so nice,” Jimin commented out of the blue, Y/N almost forgetting he was there leaning against the staircase banister by Taehyung. A noise of surprise ripped from the back of her throat, recalling her mother’s arm looped through Jimin’s when he went outside to help at the grill, like he was walking her through a homecoming promenade. “Although, I felt bad that I didn’t know what your mother meant by being a ‘Libra’,” he trailed off, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Y/N giggled, tucking away Namjoon’s things for later. Seokjin was busy admiring the lavender shirt she offered him, his tail flicking back and forth in a pleased manner, the appendage occasionally brushing her calf from where she was crouched.

“It’s a zodiac sign, there’s twelve of them, and they’re given according to your birthday. Funnily enough, you are a Libra, Jimin – October 13th, right?” Y/N had all of the hybrid’s birthdays on her phone already, noticing the night before that Jeongguk and Namjoon’s birthdays were coming up quickly. Y/N loved celebrating birthdays, and had to come up with a scheme to get close to the two hybrids somehow so she could plan a nice celebration for the both of them.

“How did she even guess that?” Yoongi scoffed, hauling himself to his feet with some of his clothes slung over his arms.

“My mother has a bit of a knack for knowing, if that’s what you want to call it,” Y/N shrugged as she almost teetered over trying to stand, electricity zapping through her as Seokjin’s hand slid into her’s, gently hoisting her onto her feet. Unfortunately for her, her foot caught an old floor tile that was sticking up a little, making her stumble back directly into Seokjin’s broad chest– a small oof coming from the jaguar hybrid at the contact.

Though Seokjin was the one she knocked into, it felt like she was the one with the air punched out of her, his hands coming around to grip her waist to right her upwards and away from his chest. Squeaking out an apology and a thank-you, she couldn’t bear to turn and get a look at his face. Horrified, she made awkward eye-contact with Hoseok, who had an eyebrow raised at Seokjin’s hands still around her waist. Quickly stepping away from Seokjin, his hands sliding from her body, she gathered up some of Jimin’s clothes, eager to flee the scene with the coyote hybrid who was surreptitiously looking out the window by the front door.

“I’ll help you guys carry this stuff to your rooms, okay? Just gonna start with Jimin, his room’s the closest,” Y/N rushed out loudly, halfway down the hall already. Her heart was racing, seeing the smug look on Yoongi’s face and feeling Taehyung’s eyes bore into the side of her skull when she fell into Seokjin. She really had to work on the clumsiness.

Rushing into Jimin’s room, Y/N laid down the clothes on his impeccably made bed. His window was cracked open, a beat-up copy of Play It as It Lays sitting on the blue velvet chair next positioned next to the window. It wasn’t her copy of the book, but she was pleasantly surprised by Jimin’s taste in literature. The book must have been one of the items in his knapsack from the shelter garbage bag.

Jimin scuffed into the room shortly after her, Y/N busy placing folded tee shirts into his dresser so she could avoid his eyes. Clearing his throat, he knelt beside her to stack his socks into the drawer. Peeking at him through her peripherals, there was a smirk curling up the corner of his mouth. Huffing, Y/N tucked a pair of pajama pants into the dresser and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Okay, go ahead and laugh,” Y/N insisted, Jimin’s shoulders shaking with his suppressed chuckling. Shaking his head, he allowed a small laugh to escape, golden eyes squinted with glee.

“Miss Y/N, you’re pretty clumsy. If it gets any worse, it may become worrisome,” Jimin remarked matter-of-factly, swatting away the tank top Y/N had tossed at his face. Sighing, she couldn’t help but agree with the coyote hybrid as she was more jumpy than ever since they all had arrived at the house. That, and she could still feel the weight of Seokjin’s hands on her waist, adding to her feelings of jitteriness.

“I have to work on that, don’t I?” Y/N sighed, leaning against the door to the hallway. Jimin worked quickly putting all of his clothes away, humming contentedly as he went, still shaking his head with amusement. “Maybe I should start using that gym downstairs…”

“You could work out with Hoseok, he has great balance,” Jimin encouraged, ear twitching at some sound Y/N couldn’t hear. “I think Jeongguk just came in from the backyard.”

Straightening out, Y/N peered down the hall, nervously grinding her teeth. She’d might as well go out and help Jeongguk with his clothing, as Jimin was pretty much all set with putting his own things away. Cocking his head, Jimin looked at her with sympathy, settling himself on his chair by the window.

“I’m gonna go check in on him. See you in a bit?” With a nod from Jimin, she left his room, setting off down the hall to search for the elk hybrid. She followed her nose, the scent of smoke clinging to Jeongguk as he stood with his back to her, dumbstruck, in the foyer. The other hybrids had cleared out and already lugged their share of clothing away; all that was left was Namjoon’s box and the everything she had left by the stairs for Jeongguk.

“Hey, you’re back?” Y/N skipped up to his side, deciding not to be intimidated by his looks or sharp tongue anymore, it was unlike her anyhow. Besides, killing with kindness was her specialty. Jeongguk flinched at the sound of her voice, hurriedly tucking his journal into his pocket and craning his neck to peer down at her by his side. Somewhere, he had found an Anchor Animal Hospital pen Y/N had stolen from the office, tucked behind his heavily pierced ear. Narrowing his eyes at her, he crossed his arms over his chest, nodding towards the clothes.

“I’m assuming these are for us?” He ignored her greeting, not-so-subtly scooching a few inches away from her. Smirking, Y/N brightened up a bit, loving the potential challenge of getting him to crack.

“Mm-hm, that pile over there is for you. Left everything for Namjoon in that box,” Y/N confirmed, gathering half of his garments up in her arms to help him up the stairs. “Come on, I’ll help you bring it all up to your room.”

“Wait,” Jeongguk choked out, scrambling to grab the remainder of his clothes and jog up the stairs behind her. Muttering curses, Jeongguk followed her towards the end of the hallway to his room, the wallpaper peeling on the walls outside of the bedrooms. Y/N had yet to get to the second floor living spaces for restoration purposes, and to be frank, the whole floor gave her the creeps. She was saving the task for last, once she finished working on her bathroom and the staircase, but now that she had the hybrids living there, she felt it was more important to make the space most of them were occupying less Amityville Horror-esque.

Passing by Taehyung’s room, she caught a glimpse of him shrugging on his new hoodie in the full-length mirror by his closet. Grinning, she continued to Jeongguk’s bedroom, a cool breeze coming in through the little door out to the balcony he had left open. While the bedroom was newly refinished, it still set her on edge, mainly due to the memories of her cousin chasing her out of that very bedroom in a Ghostface mask as a kid. Y/N gently laid Jeongguk’s clothes on the velvet bench in front of his bed, the elk hybrid awkwardly standing in the doorway with his arms full of packs of boxers and socks. She wanted to get a better look at him, especially his tattoos and the antlers encircling his head, but found it hard to stare at him for too long.

“Did you walk around the back yard a bit? It goes back pretty far,” Y/N opened up his empty wardrobe, the deep scent of hickory smacking her in the face. Jeongguk grunted in response, shuffling over to her side to push the folded clothes into the wardrobe with haste. Snorting, Y/N continued to put his clothes away, smoothing out the materials so they laid flat. As they worked side-by-side, she studied the red iris tattooed on his forearm with minor interest.

“How are you planning on getting the wolf back here? From the looks of it, he doesn’t like you at all,” Jeongguk said after a few moments, taking Y/N by surprise. Frowning at the pajama pants she was sliding into the wardrobe, she considered his statement– while rude, he wasn’t wrong at all.

“I’m still thinking about that, honestly. I’m not sure what I can say to get him to trust me just enough to get him out of that shelter, but I really don’t want to have him deal with Gerry much longer. That guy is an asshole,” she admitted, self-consciously squeezing her eyes shut. Jeongguk said nothing, the sound of him traipsing over to the balcony door making her sneak a peek at his form.

Leaning out the window, Jeongguk spoke with a cigarette poised between his lips, “Well, there’s not much you can say to convince him to trust you; trust doesn’t work like that. He either has to suck it up and get in the car with you or rot in that shelter,” he lifted his pierced brow at her, sparking up his lighter, not bothering to ask whether or not he could smoke in the house. Y/N didn’t have the courage to dissuade him, especially when he was seemingly attempting to help her with the Namjoon situation in his own way.

Shutting his wardrobe, Y/N considered his words as he leaned over the balcony to smoke. Perhaps she was going about getting Namjoon home the wrong way; Jeongguk was right, trust has to be earned over time, not with perfectly strung together pretty words to convince. Y/N didn’t think that pointing out to Namjoon the following morning that he would have to continue enduring life at the shelter unless he came along with her was wise, either. She supposed in the end, all she could do was keep persisting and returning to the shelter until he was comfortable to leave with her.

There was also the ordeal of Hoseok’s fear of wolves– something Y/N understood as she had a few phobias of her own– which didn’t make things exactly easier. Y/N felt fortunate that Hoseok was so kind to her right off the bat and her affection for him was already growing steadily, so introducing a hybrid into the house that would make him feel on edge was borderline heartbreaking to her. There would have to be a conversation between her and Hoseok in the near future surrounding the issue, which was another thing she had no idea how to go about. Consulting Seokjin would be a likely solution for tips on how to dance around the subject of Hoseok’s wolf phobia.

Realizing that she was staring at Jeongguk, leaning lazily over the balcony with his eyes roaming rapidly over the landscape of the backyard, Y/N awkwardly shuffled her feet, snapping out of her internal monologue.

“So… I’ll leave you to it. I’m gonna check on the others and clean up a bit downstairs. Um, thanks for your advice, by the way,” Y/N made her way to the door, Jeongguk humming in response, not sparing her a glance as she slipped from the room. She shut the door behind her, hoping it would block out most of the smoky scent coming from the room, trudging down the hall deep in thought.

Jeongguk was a bit of an interesting character. Clearly, he wouldn’t be warming up to her as quickly as say, Hoseok and Seokjin. However, the latter two painted such an unflattering picture of him for Y/N the night prior, and she had yet to experience much from Jeongguk to back that up. Sure, there was the exchange at the shelter, but Y/N could understand where he was coming from with his speculation of her intentions, especially when Ben made similar points in nicer words. With time, Y/N had a feeling that Jeongguk would come around; she was just hoping there would be less fights between him and the others now that they had the space to distance themselves.

“Hi,” a soft greeting had Y/N nearly jump out of her skin, clutching her chest as she whirled around to face the voice– Taehyung, in his new black hoodie, standing outside of his bedroom. She had to get used to people living with her if she didn’t want to have a heart attack every time one of the hybrids sought her out, pronto. Dropping her hand from her chest, she found herself melting under his garnet eyes.

“Hey, Taehyung, that sweatshirt looks nice! What’s up?” She leaned into the banister by the stairs, hearing Yoongi and Seokjin’s voices from the room down the hall with the piano.

“Oh, um, thank you… it’s comfortable. I was just wondering what you were doing,” he murmured while shoving his hands in the hoodie pocket, his voice quite low so Y/N had to strain her ears to hear him. Truthfully, she was on her way to clear out her old wardrobe in the green room on the off-chance Namjoon decided to claim it, as there were plenty of other rooms he would get to choose from. She just didn’t want to be caught with her pants down.

“I was going to pack up my clothes from when I was a teen, and bring them down to the storage closet in the basement,” Y/N swiped a finger over the banister, collecting a thin layer of dust from the wood with a pout. Looks like she had neglected her cleaning duties during the past few months of mayhem at work.

“Can I come?” Taehyung quickly asked, shooting a glance down the hall at a peal of laughter coming from Seokjin. A noise of surprise came from Y/N involuntarily, delighted that she would have some company during her task, and even more excited that she could potentially get to know Taehyung better. Grinning, she nodded enthusiastically, motioning to follow her down the stairs. He synched up in her stride, hair curtaining his face in soft curls, almost completely covering his rounded ears just barely peeking out above the dark curls. Taehyung definitely looked the most human compared to some of the other hybrids, apart from the redness in his eye color.

“Taehyung, I’ve been meaning to ask… what kind of bear hybrid are you? It didn’t say on your information sheet at the shelter, and I’m curious,” Y/N wondered as they descended the stairs, a few out-of-tune notes from the piano floating from the billiard’s room as she spoke.

“Kodiak, I’m from Alaska, originally,” Taehyung answered after a few moments, Y/N having to lean closer to him to hear.

“Alaska! I’ve always wanted to go there, it’s a beautiful state,” Y/N gushed, part of her wondering how he had made it all the way to Boston. Jimin, too, was from far away, and she still didn’t even know where the others had traveled from besides Yoongi, an apparent Boston native.

“Yeah…” Taehyung murmured, evidently not keen on elaborating on his former home.

Again, like when her parents were leaving earlier, Y/N felt a tugging sensation on her shirt hem. Bewildered, she peered at Taehyung– whose hands were still buried in his pockets. A chill crept up her spine as Taehyung cocked his head quizzically, waiting for her to lead the way to the green room, as she felt unease worm its way into her chest.

For a long time, Y/N had shut out her connection to the supernatural elements of life. Y/N, picking a career path that was based in science, logic, and method, had done so in an attempt to distance herself from her childhood and the way she was raised. Her mother, a witch, filled her youth with the beautiful aspects of all that the occult can be; reverence of nature, how to identify friendly house spirits, card reading and spiritual cleansing. But as her mother had once told her, something that she had always kept in the back of her mind: once you open yourself up to the spiritual world, there is no turning back.

There were instances growing up where she had encountered frightening things within her grandparent’s house, and had that recurring nightmare with the terrifying creature pursuing her off and on for years. Spirituality she had once so gleefully embraced had turned into the source of her constantly looking over her shoulder, seeking the owners of whispered words and fingers tugging a lock of hair. She loved the house, but it was full of secrets. Y/N had hoped by the time she had moved in after years of being away from the house, and apart from her dabbling in the supernatural, she could live there with her newly forged skeptic’s mind without a problem. With the return of her nightmare, and the uptick in brushes from an unseen force in the last few days, Y/N saw those hopes dashed and divided.

Unnerved, she sped into the green room, Taehyung following closely behind. It might be time for her to get back into working some protective magic, she didn’t want things to get to the point where spirits were bothering the hybrids. Spirits, hybrids– these weren’t the sort of things Y/N thought she’d be dealing with months ago, so much for the plan of living a semi-normal life.

“Alright, I think this will fit everything…” Y/N tabled her worry over the ghost matter, dragging her old duffle bag out from the closet. Taehyung had made himself comfortable on his side, laying on the bed with his head propped up on his arm. Chuckling, she felt a lot better that there was someone with her while she turned over some of her anxieties in her mind. Flinging open the wardrobe, she cringed at the amount of black tee shirts about to tumble out and drown her, most of them stuffed in there without being folded. She shoved her arms in the wardrobe to pull out a big stack, bringing them over to the bed to place in the duffle bag.

Taehyung sat up, reaching for a tee shirt to fold without a word. Footsteps from upstairs made the tips of Taehyung’s ears flutter, to which he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt upon noticing Y/N’s eyes on them. Strange.

“Hmm. Alice In Chains, nice,” Taehyung commented after a few moments, smoothing out the tee shirt on his lap with a smirk. That was one of her favorite shirts in high school, and one of the less embarrassing shirts of the bunch compared to the Green Day crop top she was hurriedly stuffing in the duffle bag.

“Grunge fan?” Y/N asked with a smile, dumping another batch of baggy garments on the bed beside him.

“Definitely. Wish I could have seen some of the bands in concert in the 90’s,” he replied with a tone of melancholy. If Taehyung was a classmate of hers in highschool, Y/N would have had an embarrassingly huge crush on him. Nodding in agreement, she wondered if busting out a MTV Unplugged DVD would be a nice bonding moment between them.

As they worked in comfortable silence, Taehyung would occasionally snort with amusement, lifting up a blink-128 tee shirt to Y/N’s humiliation, but it was all in good humor. Leafing through some of the relics of her past usually made her quite sad, but with Taehyung there, and his thoughtful comments on certain artists she used to love, it was actually an enjoyable experience.

“Oh, did you know that Mad Season was–” Taehyung began, but was immediately cut off by the sound of the door creaking open and a newcomer barreling into the room.

“Hey, I was looking for you!” Seokjin exclaimed, his cheeks flushed as his eyes narrowed in on Taehyung before softening at Y/N’s slightly-startled gaping mouth. “What are you guys doing?”

“I’m cleaning out the wardrobe here, just in case Namjoon wants this bedroom. Taehyung’s helping out, too,” she explained, noticing Seokjin’s damp hair and change of clothes. He had donned the lavender tee shirt she had selected for him, which looked unfairly good on him, picking up the sunset in his eyes perfectly.

“Could you use an extra set of hands?” He made his way to her side, picking up a pair of baggy jeans. They were almost done, but Y/N had no right to deny his help when he was so eager to assist.

“Thanks, Seokjin. You’re so helpful,” Y/N praised, giving him a fond pat on his shoulder. Seokjin straightened out his back at the praise, fingers fumbling to fold the denim properly. Taehyung fell into his usual silence again, as he normally did when another hybrid was around, much to Y/N’s disappointment. She’d have to ask him later what he was going to say about Mad Season.

“So, I think tomorrow afternoon, we could all do something fun! We could walk around town, maybe go to the bookstore, get some ice cream before the shop closes for the season. Anything you want to do in particular?” Y/N tucked a plaid pair of pants into the bag, getting it out of her sight as rapidly as possible. After a couple days of mayhem, she thought it would be nice to spend a day out relaxing and getting to know one another.

“Is there a music store around here?” Taehyung mused, Seokjin dropping the lacy tank top he was holding in shock. Y/N, too, was surprised he spoke in front of the jaguar hybrid, but was more overjoyed that he came out of his shell a little bit to do so.

“Yeah, there’s a vinyl shop in the town square. They sell instruments, equipment and offer lessons, too,” Y/N zipped the last of the clothes into the duffle, admiring the empty wardrobe with glee. With some of her new free time, she was considering taking up some piano lessons, so the trip to the music store would be a worthwhile venture in tandem with making Taehyung happy.

With a sweet smile, Taehyung nodded, slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder before Y/N could grasp the straps. Seokjin was still gaping at the Kodiak hybrid, blinking rapidly and nudging Y/N’s ribcage with his elbow. Shrugging, she grasped Seokjin’s wrist to tow him along, hurrying after Taehyung’s path to the basement door. The heavy weight of Seokjin’s wrist in her hand felt grounding, and ever since Seokjin had awoken from his fever the previous day, Y/N couldn’t help but want to be near him, to reach out and touch him in some way. He didn’t seem to mind being pulled along, head hanging bashfully as he tried to match her stride exactly.

“Here?” Taehyung pointed at the bottom of the basement steps, to a little alcove tucked under the stairway where Y/N stashed her winter jackets. She gave him a thumbs-up, reluctantly dropping Seokjin’s wrist she was still cradling, watching Taehyung heave the bag down and push it under the stairs.

Peering around the basement in search of her fox hybrid, Y/N poked her head into the bathroom, twirled around the gym, and even stepped into Hoseok’s room to find it empty. Disappointed, as she was already missing him regardless of his incessant teasing, she pouted, returning to Taehyung and Seokjin already bounding up the stairs. Even with the basement being beautifully and cheerily refinished, she didn’t want to be left alone down there, especially with whatever kept tugging at her shirt all day long.

“Hey Seokjin, you know where Hoseok is?” Y/N gasped as she made it up the stairs, more out-of-shape than she cared to admit. Running after the hybrids was harder than it looked, considering their inhumane speed and strength. Seokjin’s chest wasn’t heaving like her’s from the effort, and Taehyung was even yawning into his elbow.

“Watching TV with Jimin, last I heard,” as if on cue, she heard Hoseok’s laughter ringing through the halls in the direction of the parlor. Y/N nearly fainted at the thought of sinking into the couch for a couple of hours, hoping to marinate in her thoughts about bringing Namjoon home.

“I think I might join them, if you two want to come as well,” she pressed her hand over her heart, the rate slowly going back to normal as she admired the way Seokjin’s curls had dried over his face, silkier now that they were clean. Again, the two clung to her like glue as they followed her to the TV room, sandwiching her so closely she could heat coming off of their bodies. She felt like she had bodyguards, which was a pretty silly thought but at the same time made her feel protected from whatever may come her way.

“Jinnie!” Hoseok sang from the recliner, where he had nestled himself cozily in a throw blanket and an extra pillow. Seokjin cringed next to Y/N, his fingers brushing her arm as he curled them into a fist. Jimin was sitting criss-crossed on the couch close to Hoseok, a glass of iced tea in his hands, an episode of Hell’s Kitchen on the TV.

“Hoseok, I told you I hated that nickname, I’d rather be called cupcake,” Seokjin grit his teeth, looking about ready to throttle the fox hybrid. Y/N snorted at the utter shock registering on Hoseok’s face, a split second from blossoming into hysterics.

“Alright, then, come here, cupcake,” Hoseok managed through fits of laughter, Seokjin fuming as he plopped down on the couch as far away from Hoseok as possible. Jimin was rolling his eyes, turning up the TV a notch to rise above Hoseok’s giggling, scooching over with a soft smile so Y/N could settle down next to him.

Taehyung was left lingering in the doorway, only budging when Y/N patted the open spot between her and Seokjin. As he walked, the hood of his sweatshirt dropped, his hair just matted down enough so his ears were truly visible for the first time. They were positively adorable, rounded and small, and Y/N had to suppress her urge to squeal upon seeing them. Taehyung wiggled in his seat, inching closer to Y/N rather than the grumpy Seokjin muttering under his breath. Jimin smelled delicious next to her, the lavender shampoo she had left in his bathroom for guests coming off of him in tantalizing waves as he raked his hands through his silky honey-colored strands. Getting comfortable, Y/N put her feet up on the ottoman, laughing heartily at Gordon Ramsay calling an unfortunate chef a muppet.

After a couple of hours, Y/N shook out her stiff limbs, suddenly alert after nodding off while watching TV. She had caught her head lolling over onto Jimin’s shoulder, which is what had woken her up, drowsily murmuring an apology with a pat on the back of his hand as she righted herself. Jimin simply smiled softly, his posture adjusted towards her body, telling her she likely was taking a cat nap on his shoulder all this time. Flushing scarlet, she looked around the room, noticing Hoseok had also fallen asleep on the recliner, his lips parted slightly, ears drooped against his head and blanket pulled up to his chin. Taehyung had gone, judging by the way Seokjin had stretched out his legs over the space the Kodiak hybrid had once occupied, the jaguar hybrid still watching Gordon Ramsay roast a team of contestants.

“What time is it? How long was I out? Where’s Taehyung?” Y/N rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. Damn, she hadn’t even thought about her plans for the following morning while she was sitting there, like she intended. Sorry Namjoon, she thought.

“It’s 5 PM, two and a half hours, and he went upstairs shortly after you fell asleep,” Seokjin answered completely, not tearing his eyes away from the television as he spoke. He still looked a little ticked, even though the incident with Hoseok was hours ago, and the fox hybrid was fast asleep. Y/N wanted to go and pinch Hoseok’s rosy little cheeks as he snoozed, looking way too precious for his own good.

“You alright, Jin?” The nickname slipped from her mouth before she could stop it, her drowsiness getting the better of her. Seokjin sat up ramrod straight, ears fluttering furiously as he finally stared her down with a hard-to-read expression. Swallowing thickly, Y/N tried her best not to shrink back into the safety of Jimin’s proximity, painting on nonchalance.

“Uh, I’m fine? Great, I like this show! I’ve never seen it before,” Seokjin floundered, suddenly trying to mask his emotions as best he could. All of that just because she had used his nickname, Y/N noted that for future purposes. Still, she didn’t buy his excuses, because the way his broad shoulders were tensed up, something was obviously still bothering him. She supposed she couldn’t force it out of him if he didn’t want to disclose.

“Miss Y/N, Yoongi came in a while ago. He’s making dinner,” Jimin informed her quietly, his husky voice sending a shiver down her spine. All of these hybrids were completely lethal to her nerves. She was pleasantly surprised, though not without a twinge of guilt that Yoongi was cooking while she slept away on the couch drooling on Jimin’s shoulder. Now that her senses were becoming a bit more sharpened as she came back to the land of the living, she could smell a spicy, herbal, tomato scent in the air. God, she hoped Yoongi was making pasta.

Jimin had switched to whiskey while she was out, and Seokjin had his glass of white wine resting on the coffee table. Shaking her head at the thought of alcohol, she wondered if that was why Hoseok passed out so soundly in his chair, but it seemed there was no drink glass near him. The events of the day must have worn him out – she did make him get up extremely early.

Struggling to her feet, she set off to find Yoongi, assuming Jeongguk was still shut away in his room as Jimin nor Seokjin had mentioned him. Jimin waved her off with a grin, Seokjin ducking his head as she passed by. Man, was he easily flustered.

Following the delicious smells coming from the kitchen, she was nearly blinded by all of the lights Yoongi had turned up, compared to the dimness of the parlor she had come from. He was by the stove, his hair tied back with what looked like a rubber band that came from a bundle of vegetables, stirring a large stockpot serenely. He even had a glass of red wine on the island as he worked, and used dishes soaking in soapy water in the sink. Impressed, Y/N skipped into the kitchen, his spotted ears swiveling in her direction, but his face remained trained on the pot he was stirring.

“Hi, Yoongi!” Y/N greeted, seeking out a glass of water for her dry throat. Reaching by his head for the cabinet containing the glassware, she peeked into one of the pots he had going, a decadent looking tomato sauce simmering away.

“Good morning, sleep well?” Yoongi replied, setting down the slotted spoon he was using to stir spaghetti on the spoon rest. Cringing at the vaguely suspicious look on Yoongi’s face, she figured he must have caught her napping on Jimin. How embarrassing.

“I had no idea I was even going to doze off, I swear. The amount of caffeine I drank today was enough to choke a horse,” Y/N raised her hands in defense, Yoongi’s carefully constructed disapproval crumbling into minor amusement. Going back to stirring the pot of pasta, Yoongi used his other hand to bring a sip of wine to his lips, eyes narrowing at the fettuccine dancing in the boiling water.

Pouring herself some water from the dispenser on the fridge door, Y/N hoisted herself up on the countertop beside the stove, studiously watching Yoongi cook. He simply lifted a brow at her as she drank her water and occasionally sniffed the air, detecting something else that was being cooked. It was a few moments before she realized the oven was on, as she was peering at the floor and swinging her legs happily.

“What else are you making?” She couldn’t stop her query, excited that the kitchen was getting some use after all that time after the renovations her and Roy had worked so hard to complete. Yoongi hummed, hefting the pot of pasta over to the sink to drain it with her flowery pot holders, his tail flicking like an agitated cat. She hoped she wasn’t bothering him.

“I roasted some veggies on a sheet pan, put them in the oven. Chicken, too, with some of those herbs in the fridge,” Yoongi returned the pot to the stove, lobbing a giant hunk of butter into the mound of pasta. Mouth watering, she couldn’t believe he had done so much while she snoozed away, and the guilt from earlier returned tenfold.

“Wow, Yoongi, thank you so much for cooking… lunch, too,” Y/N murmured sheepishly, ashamed that he was picking up slack already in the meal department, mere hours into coming to the house.

“I like to cook,” Yoongi started after a beat of silence burning a hole into the side of her face with his feline stare, putting a lid on his simmering sauce. “It’s relaxing, brings me peace. You don’t have to feel guilty about me taking it upon myself to do something I enjoy.”

Snapping her head up to lock eyes with him, she wondered how he could possibly read the emotions flooding though her, squirming in her spot on the counter as he dissected her with his eyes.

“H-how–?”

“Silly girl. Don’t you know hybrids can pick up on scents better than humans? We can smell your shifts in moods, what they are,” Yoongi turned his back on her, tossing a bowl of salad with a pair of tongs Y/N hadn’t seen before. Dread flooded through her, because no, she did not know that. “I guess you’ve got some research to do.”

Y/N gripped the lip of the granite countertop with panic, realizing the hybrids had been able to smell her vastly extreme range of emotions all this time. Her embarrassment, her fluster, the annoyance, even the frustration was all perfectly legible to them; and there was no way for her to mask it at all. Even with dropping this bombshell on her, Yoongi appeared as though he had said nothing out of the ordinary, apparently ignoring her distress on the countertop as he dressed the salad. He could smell it, anyways.

“Uh, is there anything else I should know right away? Can you read my mind?” Y/N squeaked, Yoongi’s ears dropping flat to his skull as he shot her an unimpressed grimace.

“Who do you think I am, Edward Cullen? No, we can’t read minds,” Yoongi grumbled, although there was a twinkle in his eye that exposed the mirth towards her reactions. “We have better hearing than humans, too. Heart rates, breathing, whispers that you thought we didn’t catch– we can. There’s the scenting, too–”

“Yoongi? Did you make chicken?” Seokjin interrupted, bounding into the kitchen with his empty wine glass. Reeling, Y/N processed all of the new information Yoongi had offered her; the fact they could hear every time her heart skipped a beat, and “scenting”? What on earth was that?

Yoongi shooed Seokjin over to a barstool, claiming that he was “in the way”, although Y/N was seated right in front of the spice cabinet he had to squeak his hand by every so often while she was sitting there. Seokjin smiled at her widely, his cheeks bunching up roundly as he did so. Y/N could only weakly return the action, turning over hundreds of burning questions in her mind distractedly.

“Foxy up yet? It’s almost time to eat, I could use some extra hands to bring everything outside to eat,” Yoongi leaned across the island, filling Seokjin’s empty wine glass with the red he had been drinking. Y/N sprung into action, eager to not look like Yoongi had pulled a carpet from under her feet. Easing herself off the counter, she willed her heart beat to stay steady as she slinked towards the hallway. Seokjin opened his mouth to say something, watching her try to escape the room, but she halted him by speaking first.

“I’ll round everyone up,” Y/N offered, nearly smacking headfirst into Jimin as he entered the kitchen. So much for keeping that heart rate down, Jimin grinning at her like the cat who ate the canary. Shaking her head, she hurried by him, feeling his yellow eyes on her long after she made it to the parlor where Hoseok was.

Tiptoeing to the recliner, Y/N turned off the TV, cooing softly at Hoseok curled up with the throw blanket. His face was so serene, it felt wrong to have to poke him awake, one of his ears twitching slightly as she got close.

“Hoseok?” Y/N whisper-shouted, not wanting to startle him awake. His nose and ears twitched simultaneously, but all he did was pull the blanket closer around his body with a curled fist in the knitted material. Snorting softly, Y/N leaned across his body, tentatively placing her hand on his shoulder and shook. “Hoseok!” She murmured with more volume, squeezing his shoulder.

All at once, his eyes snapped open, his hand shooting out from under the blanket to wrap around her wrist with alarm. Y/N realized just how close her face was to his, able to detect the flecks of gold in his irises, swallowing thickly as his nails dug into the flesh of her sensitive wrist harshly. Wincing, she found herself unable to free herself, stuck hovering over him with her heart hammering around in her ribcage.

As soon as he realized it was her, Hoseok’s eyes widened with disbelief, immediately releasing her wrist with shock. Bringing the sore skin to her chest, she rubbed the crescent-shaped marks with her other hand dazedly. Hoseok scrambled out of the chair, cursing and spewing earnest apologies so quickly Y/N could hardly understand them. She wasn’t frightened by his reaction to being woken up; she couldn’t even imagine some of the ways it could have happened to him in the past– but she was admittedly a little startled at the sheer strength he held in his hand alone. Y/N could hardly move under the vice.

“Shit, shit. I’m so sorry, let me see,” Hoseok held out his hand, eyebrows pinched in concern. Y/N slowly lowered her wrist into his outstretched palm, trying to avoid making him feel worse than he already was. Hoseok sucked in a breath, his fingers curling over her arm and turning it over to grimace at the marks he had left on her, his other hand coming up to brush his fingertips softly over skin erupting in goosebumps at his tender touch.

“I’m okay, Hoseok, It’s my bad for startling you,” Y/N assured softly, his thumb rubbing slowly over the deepest well his middle fingernail had created. Her words did little to melt the guilt festering over his fine features, corners of his mouth turned down in distress. He hadn’t even broken skin, for crying out loud.

“You didn’t… fuck. Seokjin won’t like this,” Hoseok muttered to himself, passing his fingers over her wrist one more time before removing his hands to pull them through his mussed hair. Y/N wasn’t sure what he meant by bringing Seokjin into the situation, but decided to let it go.

“Hey, no harm, no foul! I’m fine. Dinner’s almost ready, that’s why I came to wake you. I should probably grab Taehyung and Jeongguk from upstairs, too,” Y/N nodded towards the kitchen, prompting Hoseok to trudge behind her, tail literally between his legs.

“Let me go get them,” Hoseok pleaded, the apologetic droop in his eyes almost too much to bear.

“Sure, thank you, Hoseok,” Y/N smiled encouragingly, holding his eyes just long enough for him to hang his head briefly and dash up the stairs. By the time he had disappeared up the landing, so too, the marks on her wrist faded significantly. Poor Hoseok, she thought, making her way back to the kitchen.

Shaking off her scattered nerves, she made her way back to the kitchen, Yoongi pulling the tray of chicken and vegetables out of the oven with a grunt. His hair was tumbling out of the flimsy hold the rubber band offered, getting in his eyes as he set the hot pan on the stove. Seokjin appeared to be outside setting the table, his pastel shirt visible by the large willow tree over the dining table. Jimin was with him, two bottles of wine in his arms while he poured several generous glasses for the table. If there was one thing for sure, the hybrids liked to drink.

“What can I take, Yoongi?” Y/N hid her arm behind her back, not chancing the leopard hybrid spotting anything amiss with her. He was poking the chicken with an extended index finger to check the doneness fastidiously, and Y/N thought to herself all he was missing was a cute apron.

“Here, you can take the salad out,” Yoongi approached her after ditching a dish towel he was using to wipe his hands clean, salad bowl in hands. Taking it carefully, she inspected the greens dressed with sliced citrus and shaved parmesan. She couldn’t have made something as elegant in her recent frazzled haze if she tried.

“This looks so good,” she mumbled, mouth watering as she peeked around his shoulder at the sizzling chicken on the cookie sheet. Yoongi smiled slightly, his teeth peeking out adorably, leading her to the door to the patio with a guiding hand hovering over her mid-back. She could feel the warmth of his palm through her shirt even though he wasn’t touching her, grateful for the cooling evening air rushing into her lungs as he urged her outdoors. He assured her he’d be right out, leaving the door open to retrieve the chicken.

Y/N trudged through the overgrown grass with the salad, hoping Hoseok wasn’t still beating himself up. By now, the marks on her wrist were gone, and it truly was an involuntary reaction he had to being woken up. At the table, Jimin was still filling a glass with a hearty pour of Cabernet, a covered casserole dish with the saucy pasta sitting at the center of the table next to a basket of bread rolls and a dish of butter. Yoongi had gone all out.

“Hi guys, I brought the salad,” Y/N plopped down at one of the center seats, noting that Seokjin and Taehyung would likely be flanking her either side. She slid the bowl next to the pasta, grinning as Jimin offered her one of the glasses of wine. Y/N felt the wine coat her throat like liquid velvet, trying to avoid smirking at Seokjin immediately scooting onto the bench next to her.

“Yoongi told me he liked to cook, but I didn’t expect this,” Jimin made himself comfortable across from Y/N, sounding deeply impressed at the spread of food in front of him. Nodding in agreement, Seokjin leaned back on the bench on his palms with his eyes closed, trying to catch rays of the orange sunset on his face.

“Did you get Hoseok up? He can be pretty grouchy when he wakes up,” Seokjin mused, eyes still closed as he sucked in a deep breath pleasantly. Y/N didn’t feel the need to solidify the truth in that comment by relaying the earlier sequence of events.

“Mm-hmm. He’s getting Taehyung and Jeongguk,” Y/N confirmed, expertly disguising her glazing-over of facts with another sip of wine. Speaking of the devil, Hoseok had found his way outside, Taehyung close behind.

“Wow, Yoongi made all this?” Hoseok exclaimed, all evidence of anything amiss with him completely unreadable on his face. Damn, he was good, Y/N thought to herself, as he shot her and Seokjin a cheeky grin. She didn’t miss, however, the way his eyes swept over the skin of her wrist, exposed as she was toying with the stem of her wine glass. The tiny crease between his eyebrows Y/N picked up on disappeared once he realized the marks were gone.

“Out of the way, Jeongguk,” Y/N heard Yoongi shout from across the yard, the elk hybrid appearing to be blocking the way to the table with his leisurely strides. Yoongi stepped around the taller hybrid, making haste for the table with the pan he was holding. As expected, Taehyung slid into the empty spot on her other side, eagerly grasping his filled wine glass.

Everyone settled in pretty quickly, praises for Yoongi’s hard work coming from every direction as they tucked into the meal. Seokjin piled spaghetti on Y/N’s plate for her, reminiscent of her mother filling his plate for him earlier in the day, the memory filling her with warmth. The food was absolutely delicious; down to the pasta sauce Yoongi had admitted was from scratch as well. Y/N inquired about how he had learned to cook so well, his answer being working on the line at the bar and watching the cooking channel on his days off.

“What else did you do at the bar, Yoongi?” Hoseok asked, taking a deep sip from his wine glass, a blush settling over his cheeks. He had avoided eye contact with Y/N for much of the dinner, Y/N distracting herself by lowly speaking to Taehyung beside her about their trip to the record store the next day.

“I told you, I pretty much did everything. I worked on the line making food for a bit, did some bartending. For a while, I helped out with security, bookkeeping… I played piano often during the weekend,” Yoongi pierced a slice of grapefruit from his salad with a fork, pushing it around his plate.

“Oh, a piano bar? How fancy,” Hoseok remarked, nudging the leopard hybrid with his elbow. Yoongi looked peeved, inching closer to Jimin, who was minding his business by munching on a buttered roll.

“Y/N said she’s going to take us to an ice cream shop tomorrow,” Seokjin announced proudly, chest puffing out in excitement. Jimin and Hoseok brightened significantly, Y/N remembering how much they had enjoyed the ice cream bars from their lunch yesterday. Jimin voiced his approval of the plan, smiling fondly at Y/N in a way that made her melt a little in her seat.

“Oh boy, like we’re twelve?” Jeongguk suddenly quipped, filling his wine glass up while rolling his eyes dramatically. Frowning, Y/N began to feel insecure– maybe she was treating them a little childishly.

“Will you just shut up? Why complain when you could just be quiet?” Yoongi barked, fed up with the younger hybrid’s never-ending bitching. Besides, it was uncomfortable to watch the shadow of doubt cross over Y/N’s face, her excitement turning to worry at the drop of a hat.

“Shut up? Maybe you guys are twelve, seriously. I can’t stand it,” Jeongguk shook his head in disgust, pushing his plate of half-eaten food away from him. Hoseok looked positively livid, staring at the elk hybrid so intensely that it made Y/N shiver. Jimin, similarly, had his jaw set in annoyance, however he held his tongue.

“The rest of you might be okay with being nothing more than a domesticated pet, but I’ve had just about all I can stand for today,” Jeongguk rose from his seat and tossed his napkin on his plate, his words hitting Y/N like he had thrown knives at her, visibly flinching into Taehyung’s shoulder.

Yoongi calmly got up from his seat, harshly catching Jeongguk’s wrist as he began to storm into the house. While Yoongi was slight, he must have had considerable strength in his grip, yanking Jeongguk to a halt as the leopard hybrid’s lip curled back.

“You know, you could be a lot worse off right now, elk. You have a lot to be grateful for right now. You have clothes on your back, food to eat, a roof over your head– and most importantly, someone who gives a shit if you’re living and breathing,” Yoongi spat, each word enunciated clearly through his teeth. Hoseok was gripping his fork so tightly it looked like his knuckles were about to come through his skin. Jeongguk yanked his wrist from Yoongi’s grasp with a repulsed expression, stalking into the house with an agitated stride. Y/N flinched again as he slammed the glass door into the house, half expecting it to shatter from the impact.

“He’s such a prick,” Hoseok ground out, appetite vanishing as he read the sadness enveloping Y/N like a heavy shroud. Yoongi returned to his seat, draining his wine glass with measured movements. The scent of guilt was thick in the air, and it made him feel ill.

“Don’t listen to him, Miss Y/N. He’s young, jaded. It doesn’t make what he said right, though,” Jimin rushed to comfort her, hating the way Jeongguk had ruined a perfectly good meal with his thoughtless words. Y/N offered a weak smile, her lips shaking at the corners. To be honest, she felt like crying, but she wasn’t about to break down into tears in front of them.

Seokjin had stayed silent during the entire altercation, but Y/N could see in her peripherals how stiff his posture had grown. He was gripping the bench so hard, his fingernails were scraping wood shavings from the seat.

“It’s alright, Jimin. Um, I’m gonna clean up the kitchen, put away the leftovers… again, thank you for the food Yoongi. It was delicious,” Y/N managed, trying to keep her voice steady, collecting the bowl of pasta, her plate, and Jeongguk’s abandoned setting to dash into the house.

She knew she had to flee before the first tear fell, harshly scrubbing the plates with a sponge while she used her shirtsleeve to hastily wipe away a pathetic tear rolling down her cheek. Y/N was more upset that Jeongguk was under the impression that she intended to reduce them to pets, rather than the fact that he had said it out loud in front of everyone else. Humiliated, she didn’t know how to face the others, let alone go through with the plans for tomorrow’s outing now that what he had said wormed its way into her brain, convincing her she was treating the hybrids frivolously.

Watching red sauce from the pot Yoongi used swirl down the drain, she was thankful the tears had stopped as quickly as they came, anxiety over the hybrids walking into her weeping over the sink preventing any more drops from spilling over her lash line. Part of her wanted to peek at the slider to check if they were on their way in, but she was too afraid she would come face-to-face with Jimin’s sympathetic expression or Hoseok’s barely-contained anger. Sniffling, she dried her hands off, quickly wiping down the counter and stuffing the leftovers into the fridge. She knew it would be polite to go back outside and tough it out, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. A few moments to collect herself was in order.

In her bedroom, she sighed deeply, head pounding from everything that had occurred that day. She’d abused her body by drinking so much coffee, not getting enough sleep, and running around like a crazy person for days. Numbly, she pulled pajamas out of her dresser, leaving them on her bed and making her way to the shower. Being rained on earlier made her feel sticky and her hair smelled of earth, and a hot shower would be nice to drown her sorrows for a bit.

Steam filled the bathroom as Y/N stripped down, tossing her raggedy clothing into the hamper with a little more force than necessary. She had dealt with many men like Jeongguk before; quick to anger seemingly from nowhere, rude, and reactionary. Normally, she wouldn’t take anything a man like that would say seriously, in fact, she’d often give their acidity right back. Never before had they affected her the way Jeongguk did, every icy word cutting her deep. In a way, it made her want to try harder to prove him wrong, that she simply wanted to share a nice life together, not treat them as pets. It would be hard to do, considering how much he already disliked her and his current situation.

She boiled her skin in the shower, using a calming shampoo to make herself feel better. The water was scalding, but she still felt a cold draft coming through the shower door. Frowning, she turned the water up even higher, promising herself to take a screwdriver to her bathroom window tomorrow and fix the draft problem.

As she rinsed her hair, Y/N’s eyes shot open as she heard a thud from above her, making her frown. Seems Jeongguk was out on his balcony for another smoke break. She felt a touch guilty for buying them for him, considering the intensity of his habit so far, but she was too pissed at him to care enough at that moment.

Turning the shower off after the remainder of the chamomile body wash suds were rinsed from her skin, Y/N wrapped her body in a thick towel, cursing at the frigid temperature of the bathroom. She didn’t remember it being so cold when she had come in to start the shower, and the temperature of the steam should have heated the room significantly. Pulling the towel closer around her body, she could have sworn she could see her breath in front of her, but blew it off as being completely ridiculous and impossible. Moving to the skin vanity, she reached into the mirror cabinet to retrieve her lotion, mumbling under her breath as goosebumps rose on her arms. The room was deathly quiet, not even the crickets outside that usually kept her awake were chirping.

Shutting the mirror cabinet distractedly, Y/N set her lotion down, moving to comb her hair, her eyes catching a shape behind her in the mirror. Looking more closely in the fogged-up mirror, she realized it was her, from her childhood, the old woman. Comb clattering to the floor, Y/N shrieked involuntarily, the ghostly sight of the creepy elderly woman scaring her out of her wits. She hadn’t seen her since she was a girl, and had no idea why she had made her presence known. Shaking, she turned around, feeling sick to her stomach, but all at once the apparition was gone.

Screaming again at the sound of her bathroom door being blasted open, Y/N fell to the floor, clutching her towel so closely to her she thought she’d lose circulation. Seokjin and Taehyung barreled into the room, Seokjin’s eyes blown out in concern as he saw her cowering on the floor. Taehyung’s chest was heaving, head turning in every direction to scope out the bathroom for the source of her fright.

“What happened?! Are you alright?” Seokjin exclaimed with urgency, kneeling down to collect one of her hands quivering on the floor to brace herself. She was absolutely not alright, the old hag who followed her around the yard as a kid was back, this time inside her house. But there was no way to express this to the jaguar hybrid, smoothing a thumb over the back of her hand with a deep crease of worry etched in his brow. To do so would risk him calling her crazy.

Taehyung had made a lap around the bathroom, opening up the closet to the towels to check for any intruders, hands on his hips as he came up with nothing.

“I-I… um,” Y/N stuttered, heart threatening to break free from its cage, “I s-saw a spider, huge one. Crawled into the sink drain,” she lied, hoping her anxiety would cover up the absence of the truth. There was no way she was telling them about the hag just yet, especially since they had barely just arrived. A new anxiety was crawling down her spine: she was simply in a towel, and she tried as best she could to stay covered up in front of the two men in her bathroom.

“A spider?” Seokjin confirmed softly, gently helping her to her feet and never averting her eyes from her face. Nodding, she glanced at Taehyung, who was cocking his head at her inquisitively, eyes on her damp hair. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not.

“Sorry I worried you guys,” Y/N mumbled, feeling humiliated that she was standing like a drowned rat in front of them, lying to their faces. What would she do if they saw the ghost as well?

Seokjin shook his head, guiding her out into her bedroom. To her surprise, the rest of the hybrids, including Jeongguk, were standing in her bedroom, various expressions of concern across their faces. Jeongguk was close to the door with his eyes narrowed at the window looking out to the yard, and upon seeing that Y/N was unharmed, he nodded and disappeared from the room. Feeling more exposed than ever in the damp towel, Y/N wasn’t sure how to usher everybody out as quickly as possible. Clearly, the remaining hybrids needed extra reassurance that she was alright.

“I’m sorry, guys. I’m okay, just got spooked by a spider,” Y/N explained, Jimin brushing a finger over his lip as he considered her excuse. Half of the room seemed not to buy it, Hoseok frowning as he gripped her bedpost, Yoongi’s eyes roaming over her skin. She chalked it up to him checking for injuries, but the weight of his gaze made heat rise up her throat in embarrassment.

“We thought there was someone who broke in, or you fell, so I guess a spider is a lot better than those two fates,” Jimin replied, politely staring at the floor while he spoke. Y/N didn’t think he was used to seeing a woman in such a state of undress, his cheeks pink.

“Come on, everyone, let’s give her some privacy so she can get dressed,” Taehyung suddenly spoke, shocking everyone in the room as he waved his hand to coax everyone out. Y/N didn’t really want to be left alone in the room, but she had to get out of the damp towel before she caught a cold.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Seokjin asked her once more, as the others filed out of her room. Y/N could definitely tell he did not buy her spider cover-up, but he was too kind to say otherwise. Placing a hand on his bicep, Y/N gave him her best encouraging smile.

“Yeah, thank you, Seokjin. It’s nice to have people here to check up on me,” she answered truthfully, feeling a whole lot safer now in the home than she ever did as a child with her grandparents. Seokjin smiled at her, telling her to come out and watch TV with them when she was done.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Y/N shakily got dressed, eager to get out of her bedroom for a bit and be around some living people before bed. She didn’t even know if she’d be able to sleep that night, all she knew is she definitely had to do some protective magic in the days to come. With a house that size, it would take her a long time, but it was worth it if she could banish the spirit that had been bothering her all day. As soon as she pulled her pajama top over her head, she set off to the parlor to the hybrids waiting for her.

Y/N wasn’t sure how she had fallen asleep in her room that night, but thanks to watching several episodes of Twin Peaks late into the night, she had no problem sinking into the mattress and knocking out, regardless of the possibility of a ghost hovering over her while she snored into her pillow. Her alarm shocked her out of her sleep in the morning, her wake-up call to go pick up Namjoon, potentially. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she resolved to tackle all of her obstacles today with positivity.

She hadn’t asked any of the others if they had wanted to join her to the shelter that morning. For some reason, she felt it would be best to attempt to bring Namjoon home by herself, perhaps he was wary of the others, and she needed to stop by the library to speak with her mother afterwards anyways. Before bed, she texted her mother about getting her some of her black salt for the protection magic, to which her mother sent her a vague reply about retrieving some from her while she was at the book club the following morning. To Y/N’s relief, her mother didn’t push the subject of Y/N beginning to pick up her spiritual practices again. Y/N had a suspicion her mother knew a little bit more about her current situation than she was letting on.

Y/N threw on a knitted sweater and an old plaid skirt she had gotten from her cousin, pulling on a thick pair of tights to combat the chill of the morning. She wanted to look more presentable than she had the past few days, hoping it would stave off any more concerned looks from not only her hybrids but also her mother, who would definitely comment on the perpetual nervous smile on her face. She had to get rid of that ghost today.

Turning on the coffee pot in the kitchen, Y/N yawned as she listened for any movement in the house. She couldn’t hear anything, however, it was quite early and they had gone to bed pretty late. Y/N was beginning to think some of the hybrids, like Hoseok and Yoongi, were nocturnal in nature. Filling her to-go container with the hot coffee, Y/N hesitated before pulling out a second cup, filling that one as well. If Namjoon came with her, the least she could do was bring him something to warm his belly. Upon further consideration, she put a couple of protein granola bars and a ripe apple into her bag for him as well. She was crossing all of her fingers that he’d be willing to leave the shelter that morning.

She wrote a little note to the hybrids letting them know her whereabouts and stuck it to the fridge, confident they would be able to scrounge up their own breakfasts especially with Yoongi there. The draftiness of the house made her shiver, pulling a cozy beret over her head as she loitered by the front door. Autumn seemed to be rolling in quicker than normal, and she worried about reinforcing all of the windows and doors in the house before the winter months as she made her way to her car.

The drive into Boston had her squirming in her seat. If Namjoon was anything like Jeongguk, she was in trouble. She’d prefer if he was closer to Taehyung’s version of “strange”, as the other hybrids had coined him, but honestly she didn’t know what to expect at all. The weather that morning was clear of rain, the sky a light gray and the scent of briny ocean on the highway filtered through her windows. It was a lovely day for walking around, no humidity, and pleasantly cool. Getting over the fiasco of last night’s dinner, Y/N resolved to go ahead with her plans to take everyone out for a day in the town, even if that meant leaving Jeongguk at home to smoke himself into oblivion in the backyard. While the rest of them were watching TV after her encounter with the spirit, Jeongguk had spent at least an hour on the grounds, nose buried in his notebook. More than ever, Y/N itched to see what was in that notebook of his.

Traffic was light and Y/N got to the shelter as soon as it opened. Gerry wasn’t there, as she pushed open the glass door; she assumed it was his son, a younger, still gray-looking man in his thirties. Brushing a stray yellow leaf from her sweater, Y/N approached the man counting the register, squinting through the darkness as there was only half of the fluorescent lights turned on in the shop. The man looked up at her when she tapped her fingers on the tin desk, somewhat set at ease she didn’t have to see Gerry’s stupid face for the third morning in a row.

“Are you Y/N? Here to pick up Namjoon?” The man peered at her over his rectangular glasses, closing the register discreetly.

“Yes, sir,” Y/N nodded, surprised that he had referred to Namjoon by name. His nametag read Robert.

“You can go ahead and get him. I think he’s ready to leave now, after I convinced him last night. My old man’s tired of getting snapped at with those teeth of his, and he came down with a cold last night. Wanted him out of here by the time he came back,” Robert explained, handing her the keys to the cells during his speech. Simultaneously enthralled by Robert’s persuasion skills and disgusted with Gerry’s impatience, Y/N started towards the back room without a word.

She fidgeted with her skirt as she went, nervous now that she knew Namjoon had shifted for sure. At last, she might be able to have a two-sided conversation with the wolf hybrid who caught her eye the most that night she discovered all the hybrids. The heavy metal door was left ajar, Y/N shouldering into the room with a huff to steel herself. Immediately, she headed towards the last remaining occupied cell, eager to get a look at Namjoon.

He was seated on the edge of his bed, staring straight at her. And of course, like the others, he was absolutely gorgeous. Eyes warm like a thick amber honey, golden skin beneath his green tee shirt, and shining silvery hair swept off his forehead as if he was running his hands through it all morning. Upon making eye contact with her, his eyes narrowed, full lips pursing as he sucked in his cheeks thoughtfully.

“Good morning,” was all Y/N was able to manage lamely, wrapping her hands around the bars of his cell. He was a large man, even seated, his mass was intimidating– and even shifted, he held all the danger in his eyes of his cautious wolf form. Namjoon stood, walking towards her, his height towering over her as he assessed her attitude, hopefully reading cheerful and friendly from what Y/N was trying to put off.

“You didn’t bring any back-up today? Not even the fox?” Namjoon’s voice was deep, melodic, the authority dripping from his tone enough to make her want to take a step backwards. She refrained from doing so, in order to stand her ground.

“Back-up? No, no one came with me today. We stayed up late watching TV, I wanted everyone to get some proper rest,” Y/N laughed, attempting to lighten the mood. Namjoon didn’t crack, lifting an eyebrow as he appeared to consider her answer.

“Are you ready to come back with me today?” She asked after a few moments, unable to break free from his gaze. Something about his eyes was so familiar, and looking away felt impossible.

“Do I have much of a choice? Robert said they’re going to stop feeding me,” Namjoon grumbled, the ear that had a piece missing fluttering just so. He shifted from one foot to another, eyeing the key ring in her hand. Y/N hastily unlocked his cell door, eager to free him.

“Not that they were feeding you much, anyways, the bastards. One of the others told me you only got ham sandwiches twice a day,” Y/N fumed, pulling his door open with great effort. The iron bars were incredibly rusted and heavy, and Y/N was relieved she never had to set foot in the disgusting shelter again after Namjoon and herself got in the car.

To this, Namjoon didn’t reply. He took a step out into the open room, a little shaky in his stride, like he hadn’t walked on two legs in weeks. It took him a few moments to stretch his legs out, gritting his teeth in annoyance. His incisors were particularly sharp, Y/N noted, and she couldn’t decide if that was cute or concerning.

“Let’s go,” he grunted finally, after reaching the door to the hallway with more stability. She moved before her mind could catch up, following him briskly down the hall. So far, so good.

When they reached the front of the store, Robert caught up with the two of them, giving Namjoon a slight nod. He handed Y/N a thick manila envelope, to which she accepted with puzzlement.

“These are the official adoption papers, I fetched them from the State House myself instead of sending them through the mail. Pleasure doing business with you,” Robert shook her limp hand, Y/N startled by the word “business”. However, she was pleased to have the official documents right away, thoughts turning to the database where she could look up the hybrid’s pasts. Namjoon scoffed from behind her, impatiently tapping his foot.

“Thank you,” Y/N painted a fake smile on her face, finally ridding herself of the forsaken shelter as she led Namjoon out to her Land Cruiser. Namjoon slowly got into the passenger seat, staring at Y/N as she started the engine and straightened out her hat.

“Here, Namjoon, I brought you some coffee. I have some granola bars and an apple in my bag, too, if you’re hungry,” Y/N held out the to-go cup that wasn’t smudged with berry lip gloss, adjusting her rearview mirror with her other hand nervously. Namjoon’s stare was much more unnerving than gentle Jimin’s, whose gaze was soft around the edges, while Namjoon’s was probing and steely.

“Hmm… thanks,” Namjoon muttered, breaking free from eye contact as he accepted the coffee with both hands. Bringing it to his lips, it was Y/N’s turn to stare at him as he took in the street surroundings. Namjoon was truly beautiful– devastatingly so. His hair was like starlight, and his side profile was stunning.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I have to make a short stop before we go home,” Y/N pulled out into the street, navigation to the library playing out in her mind. Traffic was still light for a Monday morning, so she’d get there in no time at all.

“Do whatever you have to do,” Namjoon replied easily, fidgeting in his seat. He opened the glove box, immediately diving into the CDs to Y/N’s great surprise. “Have any tapes?”

“Tapes?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. It was rare to have anyone these days to even know how to operate a tape, but she could have sworn that her dad had left a tape or two in the glovebox. The Land Cruiser did, in fact, have a tape player as well.

“You have a Rolling Stones tape,” Namjoon relayed matter-of-factly, Y/N cringing. The thing probably had hair on it with age. With practiced ease, Namjoon carefully popped the tape into the player and rewound it.

“Wow, I’ve never met someone who knows how to play tapes under the age of 50,” Y/N joked, internally scolding herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She had to remember not everyone was Hoseok.

“I like them, they have a unique sound. You can hear what time does to the tape,” Namjoon said simply, thankfully not taking offense to her joke. Typically, old tapes hiss and fade with age, and she had never considered it as a charm before.

With an elegant index finger, Namjoon pressed play, the tinny sound of the tape pressing through the speakers instantly. Similarly, Namjoon began to relax, sitting back in his seat and taking another sip of his coffee. Unfortunately, Y/N already found it impossible to relax around him.

They enjoyed three songs on the tape until Y/N pulled up by the library, throwing the vehicle in park. She was planning on letting Namjoon stay in the car, but he was checking his surroundings in disbelief, already unbuckling himself to get out.

“I know somebody in here,” Namjoon stated, an interesting edge to his voice. He almost sounded fond. Perhaps Namjoon was a Boston native, but his accent was closer to Jimin’s rather than Yoongi’s. Cocking her head, she hurriedly got out of the car to follow Namjoon rushing into the library. He was pretty fast, all of a sudden, busting through the front doors.

“Crap,” Y/N muttered, losing Namjoon immediately in the labyrinth of the bookshelves. Dreading having to go find someone to call for him over the intercom system, Y/N thought her best bet was seeking out her mother. Trying not to panic, she remembered that her mother had told her to meet her at the reference desk rather than the book club room, before the meet started. That’s where she’d have to go for Namjoon’s bat signal, anyways. Making a wide circle around some hungover-looking college students, Y/N speed walked to the reference desk, spotting her mother’s mustard yellow shawl of the day.

“Mom!” Y/N exclaimed desperately, her mother scanning a returned book and dropping it in surprise.

“Honey! You’re early! Here, I’ve got your salt,” her mother pulled a large mason jar of black salt out of her patchwork satchel, handing it over gingerly. Taking it impatiently, not caring at the moment that a young couple standing by the desk was staring at the two of them with confusion, Y/N tucked it into her bag, crushing one of the granola bars.

“Mom, I need you to call a name over the intercom. The hybrid I picked up this morning disappeared as soon as we got in here,” Y/N breathed, worried sick that Namjoon might already be halfway to Fenway Park.

“Oh, Christ, honey, I can do that. What’s his name?” Her mother grabbed the mic to the system, frowning with worry. Before Y/N could say anything, her mother looked past her, face splitting into utter shock and recognition. Turning urgently, Y/N spotted him just behind her.

“Namjoon? Where have you been?” Her mother gasped, blood draining from Y/N’s face.

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