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nightingalescall · 11 months ago

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God's Perfect Lamb

Kingdom of Ebreau:

Prologue(you are here)|part 1|part 2|part 3

"OH MY GOD!!!!!"

You screamed as you free fell from the sky. The wind whistled pass you, whipping your hair and slapping your cheeks until they stung. You flailed about, thrashing your arms and legs in the air, desperately hoping to slow your descend into inevitable doom.

This day could not get any weirder. You thought the day when you got transmigrated into this world took first place in that department but fate took that as a challenge and proceeded to completely and utterly prove you wrong. The day you got here, at least you were safely lying in an open field on the outskirts of the city, unlike now where you were falling to your death from the sky.

You had endured a great amount of hardship during your stay in this world. You know all those stories about someone getting transmigrated into a parallel world as a noble or wealthy merchant or maybe even a royal? Well, you didn't get that privilege. You weren't placed into the body of a princess, a duchess, a countess or.....anybody, to be honest. You were just you. Plain old (y/n). So the idea living a life of luxury and comfort was thrown straight out the window at that revelation. You had nothing with you. No money, no property, no status. You had to start from the ground up if you have wanted to survive in this new world.

But that wasn't the biggest problem. By "nothing", that includes having no form of identification. You're not sure if it's just a subject of it never being brought up in those novels or if identification just wasn't a thing in those world, but in this one, it was a serious issue.

Having neither a place to stay nor enough money to buy one, you were forced onto the streets until you had the finances to own one. So it wasn't unexpected when the authorities took notice of you and brought you to their headquarters to give you necessary aid. It was all going well until they found out they had absolutely no record on you in their database. That's when they became hostile and grilled you to no end.

You couldn't just say you were from another universe and you had no information to based any lies on so many of their question were met with a silent stare or a soft "um".

In the end, they decided to label you a person of interest and should be kept under surveillance since they had no dirt on you to convict or pardon any crimes you may have potentially committed (even though you didn't). You were both relieved and surprised at the conclusion they came to since even you, yourself were convinced they were going to throw you in jail.

With no charges pressed on you, you were free to go. But where though? You were still homeless, jobless and penniless. Pitying you, they ended up giving you the help they initially planned on giving. They gave you a job.

And that's how you ended up as their errand girl. Any trivial or simple matters such as relaying messages to guards, sending documents to scribes and then retrieving them, delivering packages to and from the headquarters etc etc. It was an easy job so the low pay wasn't a surprise. It was barely enough for the small house you rented a few blocks away from headquarters. However, you were given food and allowed to eat with the guards at headquarters everyday as long as you remained their errand girl so that saves you the money and worry of getting enough to eat. It was a win-win situation for both parties. You get a job and the guards can always keep on eye on you. Thus, even with little to no money to your name, you settled into your new life in this world.

It's been more than a year since your transmigration and to be honest..... You were sick of this place. Remember the aforementioned win-win situation? Yeah, that was only in the beginning. As time went on and your suspicion has pretty much been cleared up, you were still stuck with doing this minimum wage job (if that was even a concept in this world). Just because you were getting by with this job doesn't mean you were happy with it. You only had enough for daily necessities. It's already been a long time since you've arrived here and you had not once enjoyed any type of indulgence in that time gap. Just work, work, work. Those damned guards keep saying you still need to be under surveillance but you knew well that they were just trying to keep you around to do their bidding. Honestly, what kind of guard lets a potential fugitive into their room to get something for them? You knew they trusted you. That's why they wanted you to stay as their little helper.

So here you are now. In the middle of the night, on your way back to headquarters after helping deliver a package to the biggest temple in the country, the Temple of Sonnet. This world, or at least Ebreau in particular, was a country of strong faith. They are a religious country where every citizen worshiped Calerus. Though his title may vary from person to person, it’s always some form of wealth and gold so most people call him the God of Prosperity.

With religion being such as important part of the kingdom, it wasn't surprising when you found out the temple worked in close relation with the imperial palace. The Royal family of Ebreau collaborated with the Temple of Sonnet in both political and cultural aspect. Organising nationwide celebrations, meeting with diplomats from afar, anything that are related to the affairs of the country, chances are both parties are involved. Basically, you mess with the temple, you mess with the Royal family. So definitely not someplace you like hanging about at, lest you want to accidentally offend someone and get a ticket straight to getting-your-head-chopped-off town.

The cold breeze of the night sent shivers down your spine as it blew into your thin clothing. You rubbed your hands together, desperately trying to warm them up but to no avail. You scurried through the courtyard quickly, making your way back to the entrance of the temple. It was relatively silent, saved for your footsteps and the distant sound of flowing water from a fountain somewhere.

Thankfully, the walk was a short one. Reaching the opened gate of the entrance, you walked past the two statues of Calerus at each side of the gate and out back onto the familiar cobble walkway. You snuck a few glances at the white statues of the god of this kingdom as you passed by.

Even in the dim moonlight, you could see the white marble eyes of the statue staring down at you, its mouth curved downward as both hands were outstretched to the side with white round discs made to look like gold coins pouring out of its hands and onto the base of the statue.

This was how the people of Ebreau depicted their God. Sharp eyes casted downwards, overseeing and observing their every move, his hands overflowing with gold, symbolising his absolute authority over the wealth in the land.

You stood, staring at the statue as you were reminded of the saying of the people.

Calerus, the prosperous.

Calerus, the strategist.

Calerus, the omnipresent.

Calerus, the all knowing.

Calerus, the god of Ebreau.

"All is within his hand. Follow his plan and golden rain shall pour at your journey's end."

...

"Tch."

You clicked your tongue as you turned away abruptly from the statue and continued on your way back. A look of disdain plastered on your face as you marched off from the temple.

The more you thought about how worshiped Calerus was and how many praises the people sang for him, the more angry you got. You weren't jealous. No, you weren't some narcissist with a god complex who wanted this sort of treatment. Of course not. What you were pissed about was how Ebreauans talk about how everything in life was Calerus' work. His plan, so to speak that allowed you to prosper and succeed. They claim that all challenges are obstacles on a path towards prosperity that Calerus has specifically chosen for someone.

"Everything has a purpose and meaning."

Well, personally, you though it was pretty nonsense.

If this god of theirs was so smart and crafty, if everything truly happened according to his plan then why the heck were you here? Why were you here in this fantasty world? What purpose did He bring you here for? And why has that "purpose" not shown itself even after you've been thrown here for almost 2 years?!?!

In your mind, Calerus is nothing but a liar and a fraud. Where's the prosperity He promised? What did He have planned? Did He even have anything planned??

You were angry and with good reasons. The people you've met here have been telling you that Calerus has something planned for you even if you're not from Ebreau since day one. They assured you that He will look over you, even if you're not a follower. Yet, you've been met with nothing but problems and hardships during your stay here. And worse, you don't see it ever becoming better.

"What a scam."

You mumbled under your breath and scoffed.

"Ugh..Huh?"

You groaned softly as you suddenly felt lightheaded. You legs got weak and you began to wobble, stumbling forward a few steps. You pressed your hand to you head, applying pressure to both of your temples. Nausea seizes your body as you gagged.

"Huhg..!"

The world spun around you and the ground below your feet felt like it disappeared as you lost your footing. You fell forward and braced for impact.

But it never came.

...?

You slowly regain control as the short-lived dizziness subsides. The disorientation passes and you now realised the odd position you're in. You're...Floating? Your face was hovering several inches away from the ground despite your hands not supporting your upper body. And when did the streets of Ebreau get so....White and fluffy? In fact, they looked like cloud-

"Heretic."

A deep voice suddenly rumbled in your ears and your head shot up. A man with shoulder length grey hair stood before you, his golden eyes piercing into your soul as he spoke with authority. He donned black robes that exposed only his left arm and part of his chest. Golden streaks also lined themselves along the right sleeves and tails of the robe. He seemed.... Ethereal. Godly even.

Wait....Godly?

"C-calerus?”

You stuttered in fear and disbelief.

“One did not expect to be recognised by thou so quickly. Peculiar for a non believer."

Calerus suddenly lifted his right hand and flicked two of his fingers upwards. That's when you felt a force tugged you up from behind and you hung in midair in front of the god.

"Uwah!" You yelped at the sudden yank. Before you could even recompose yourself, Calerus continued speaking again.

"And to not posses any ounce of humility. Calling one by mine name. Who does thou think thou art?"

You felt a force wrap itself around your neck before squeezing. You gasped and grasped at the invisible force, desperate for it to let go or at least loosen. You choked.

"cough! Stop! P-cough!"

You pleaded as you gasped for air.

"Why would one do that?"

You continued to cough as the force squeezed tighter. You were gonna die. Oh god, you were gonna die. In panic, you blurted out whatever came to mind.

"Because, cough, you still, gasp, owe me!!"

The grip around your neck disappeared and you fell onto the soft ground (if it even was ground). You gasped and coughed. Your lungs greedily sucking in air now that your airways were opened again. That relief was short-lived however as the next moment, you felt a hand grabbed onto your jaw and forced your gaze up.

Calerus stared coldly into your eyes as he spoke.

"Elaborate."

You panicked. You just said that on a whim. Surely, you weren't actually going to ask for compensation from a god....right? There was no way you were going to pull though with what you just said.

The fire inside Calerus' golden eyes told you to do so otherwise, though. You swallowed before slowly speaking.

"You....You brought me here. Why? Why separate me from my family? Why separate me from my friends?"

Calerus raised an eyebrow.

"Bring thou here? To punish thee, of course. Thou spoke ill of mine name."

You shook your head.

"No. I meant, bring me to this world. To Ebreau. What reason do you have?"

Calerus fell silent. He seemed to be lost in thought. You waited agonisingly long before he spoke.

"So it is thou. Thou art the otherworldly traveler, yes?"

Otherworldly? Yes. Traveler? No. Kidnapping victim would be more accurate. Though, you simply nod at his question. It was close enough, you suppose.

He released you jaw and backed away. His gaze blank and devoid of emotion as he raised his hand again. You felt a soft tug this time and you were gently helped up onto your feet.

It..Worked?

Calerus sighed before saying,"It would indeed seem one has forgotten about thy needs after thou came to mine kingdom."

Your eyes widen in surprise at his confession

"One will give thee the compensation thou deserves."

"Wait, really?" You couldn't hold back your astonishment.

Calerus stayed quiet as you asked and you felt cold sweat rolled down your face, thinking your question may have angered him.

His gaze went down onto the ground for a brief moment before flicking back up to you.

"Yes. However, know that one was not the being that brought thee to this land."

You tilted your head. "You're not?"

"No. One merely accepted thy visit to mine kingdom."

"Then...Who did?" You asked, the words rolling off your tongue slowly

"Mine....Equal. A ruler of another land far from mine."

Your head was spinning from this revelation. Some other god brought you here? Why? And why let you stay under another god's rule? Before you could ask, Calerus had began to speak again.

"One is not enlightened with the reason why thou has been brought here but one admits fault for neglecting thee after accepting thee as one's own. As such..."

Calerus stepped forward, his steps firm and steady. He raised his right hand to his mouth before biting his index finger. A small wound appeared on his skin and you saw golden blood begin to seep out from the opening. He stretched out his right arm as he made his way towards you.

"W-what are you doing?" You fumbled over your words as you backed away in horror, clutching your hands over your chest.

But Calerus was faster.

In the blink of an eye, he was already in front of you, finger pressing on your forehead. You felt the warm liquid dripping down your forehead as your eyes opened wide in fear, terrified at what he was going to do to you.

He began to chant.

"Might of the northern spirit, wisdom of the southern dragon, divinity of the elements of the east and west, hear one."

You wanted to pull away from his hand but be it fear or some other unknown force, you couldn't as you stayed rooted in place, breathing heavily from anxiety. If the god before you noticed your petrified state, he surely paid it no mind as he continued.

"Let the earth know that the power of gold shall have a vessel to call its own. Let the people rejoice for a vassal of Calerus, the Prosperous Lord shall walk among them. May the world celebrate the birth of mine lamb."

His finger left your forehead for a split second before it came back, colliding with your forehead as he flicked his finger against it. A surge of power shot into your head from his fingertip and spread throughout your body. The sheer magnitude of the force made you almost black out as your vision clouded with dark spots. As if you also suddenly got punched, you were propelled backwards, stumbling and struggling to catch yourself.

You felt yourself stepping on air and lost your balance, falling backwards. The ground(clouds?) had disappeared behind you, opening a small hole that let you fall through. You reached out your hand in a desperate attempt to hold onto something but to no avail.

You fell. Down and down until you could see that the "ground" you were standing on was indeed clouds in the sky. The sky. Calerus peeked his head over the edge, observing you as you fell with the same stoic look on his face. Just before he went out of hearing range, you heard him speak.

"One will be in touch."

He disappeared from view.

Now, back to the present, you were falling to your death, screaming and crying as you begged Calerus for mercy. Where's the compensation?! Was everything just now a trick?! Did you get scammed again?!

Tears rolled out of your eyes and flew into the air as you cried in fear, leaving behind trails of water droplets following your descend.

You sobbed as realisation kicked in that nobody was going to save you, as hopelessness consumed you to the point of not being able to think anymore.

The ground got closer and closer as the seconds ticked by. You closed your eyes which were still overflowing with tears, submitting to your faith and praying the impact will immediately kill you so you won't have to suffer in pain.

Goodbye.

"Ugh!"

You groaned as the impact came. Your back collided with the ground and you were....OK? You were in some pain but nothing too bad. In fact, the pain was already passing now.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and blinked away the tears still trapped inside. It was daytime already. How much time has passed? You looked around and saw petals of different hues falling down before landing on the dirt beside you. Above you, a tree with yellow leaves swayed gently, its branches lightly bouncing up and down while its yellow leaves, detached from their place on the branch, fell softly down and landed on your face. It seemed you fell through the tree just now. That would explain the tears on the hem of your sleeves.

Aurum trees?

Propping yourself up into a sitting position, you stared up as you wondered. While not rare or particularly hard to care for, aurum trees are only planted within temples of Ebreau due its yellow leaves. They are the only type of trees in Ebreau that grew leaves of that shade of yellow. A yellow similar to gold while not being being fully golden coloured. The colour yellow symbolises wealth in Ebreau and thus, indirectly their god, Calerus. They are a symbol of the divine hence why aurum trees are only grown in temples.

Then, that raises the question. Why were you at a temple?

You lowered your gaze from the tree and you nearly gasped from the scene in front of you. You were sitting in the middle of a flowerbed that consisted of various types of flowers with different hues for each one. Not far from you, rows of nuns and monks knelt in an orderly matter, faces all shocked and astonished. Some had their hands clasped together while some were covering their, what you assume to be, gaping mouths. Hushed whispers erupted as they stared and observed you. You even made eye contact with some of the nuns and monks in which all turned away immediately with flushed cheeks.

What's going on? Did you intrude on something? Oh no....

Before your thoughts could spiral any further, a tall shadow suddenly loomed over you. Your head snapped upwards as you met eyes with the figure, a man dressed in white robes with golden embellishments around the collar and hem of the sleeves. His eyes were purple, like amethysts. Under the sunlight, his long blonde hair seemed glossy, shiny even as it draped over his shoulders while he towered over you. Despite his intimidating stance, a soft smile was present on his face as the tails of his eyes curved upwards slightly, giving the impression of a kind and good hearted soul.

The man knelt down, his sleeves fluttering gently due to the breeze. That's when you got a better look at his face. He looked familiar...

It wasn't until that soft and silky voice of his poured out of his mouth when you realised who he was.

"Hello, Messiah. We've been expecting your arrival." He placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head at you. "I am Saint Zephyr Venrose. Representing the temple of Sonnet, the esteemed imperial family and the whole of Ebreau, I humbly welcome you." He lifted his head and smiled. Your breath got caught in your throat as he confirmed your suspicions.

Zephyr Venrose. One of the few saints in all of Ebreau and head of the temple of Sonnet. Closely associated with the royals of the kingdom and is a man of power within the boarders of Ebreau. He often gives speeches given his position as head of the biggest temple in the country during festive events. That's where you've heard his voice the couple of times you were passing by or, if you were in a good mood, listening to him talk. You've never been able to get a good look at his face since you were always pushed back by the crowd so you didn't recognise him at first glance. However, now with his face inches away from yours, you could see every last detail of his features and you must admit, you understood why the folks liked him so much.

Zephyr must surely be blessed in his appearance.

You froze in place as you stared in surprise at him, wondering why he was talking to you and processing his words.

Did he just call you Messiah?

Zephyr noticed your silence and your staring. He adverted his eyes as his gaze dropped down towards the ground while he smiled to himself.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion at the sight.

Zephyr coughed lightly before his arms reached towards you. You gasped as he suddenly picked you up bridal style from the flowerbed. Not used to being held like this, you gripped onto his robe for support. Your face contorted in worry and anxiety as you looked at the ground, afraid of being dropped.

Zephyr, of course, took notice of your panic and in response, tightened his grip on you, pulling you closer to him. As you felt his fingers pressing into your skin more tightly, you looked up at him, surprised he realised your concerns so quickly.

He smiled warmly at you as he leaned down, closing the gap between your faces even more. His blonde hair brushing and tickling your face as he whispered into your ear. "Don't be afraid, Miss Messiah. I will never let you fall." His hot breath hit your earlobe and you felt your heart skipped a beat. He pulled away before walking with you in his arms towards the rows of nuns and monks.

"Rejoice, my brothers and sisters for our Savior has come. Our God has delivered us our salvation. May glory be with his name for all eternity."

Zephyr announced loudly and his words were met with echoes of response from the other devotees.

"May he reign supreme!"

Your head felt like it was going to explode with all this information. Was this....Was this the compensation Calerus meant? To be his hands and eyes as you walk along the common folks? To be loved and praised like how he is? To be worshiped? You felt dizzy from being bombarded by this revelation.

You looked back up at Zephyr, hoping he could shed some more light on this predicament you found yourself in. However, you swallowed your words the moment you looked into his purple irises.

Zephyr was known for his gentle and endearing nature. Some say he's the embodiment of kindness. He's the type of person people can't help but be drawn towards due to the sense of security he gives and the tranquil aura he possesses. That was your initial impression of him too.

But looking at him now, you wondered if you were wrong.

With the closeness between you two, you could see the the subtle shade of pink on his cheeks and the flushing redness at the tip of his ears. His breathing fanned your face and you noticed how quick and shallow his breaths were. His fingers went from pressing firmly into your skin to digging themselves into your thighs and waist. Then, if you looked hard enough, you could see him swallowing occasionally.

And last but not least, you couldn't help but notice his eyes that had always been filled with warmth and tenderness seemed....

Crazed.

~✟~

A prologue/world building chapter for my future yandere stories taking place in this universe. If you spot any mistakes, please do point them out so I can correct them and give everyone the best reading experience! Especially with Calerus' old English(?) part, I'm still not sure when to use thee and when to use thou. I only did some basic research on Google.(T_T)

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere stories #transmigration #fantasy #isekai #yandere saint #male yandere #female reader #yancore #yandere obsession

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athenamikaelson · 5 months ago

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Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 11

Word Count- 3.8k

Warnings- Mentions of Suicide(Damon trying to die because of his wolf bite), swearing, death, blood, gun/gun-shot wounds, smaller chapter but big things happening cliffhanger ending

“Yes, Elena. Once again, I’m fine. I have to go run an errand and then I’ll see you guys at the square. OK? Toodles!”

I quickly hung up my phone, just in case Elena decided to ask what errand I was running. How the hell am I supposed to tell her I’m going to try to talk a dying Damon Salvatore off the ledge?

It’s been two days since Demon dropped the bomb that he was dying and then disappeared. He hasn’t answered my calls and whenever I ask Stefan about him he says “I’m working on it.” Not well enough, clearly, because the Bunny Eater called me 30 minutes ago telling me Damon just tried lighting himself on fire and he needs my help talking him down. I’m not sure why I’m the one he called for this since I’ve heard Damon on more than one occasion say he’d rather die than listen to me speak.

Damon and Stefan have made me keep quiet about this, so no one else but us three knows. Which is why I fibbed a bit on my phone call with Elena. I’m not entirely on board with keeping this a secret. What do the Salvatores think is going to happen when the werewolf bite kills Damon? Just tell everyone Damon went upstate to a farm, just like what parents tell their children when their turtles or dogs die.

Although Damon and I have had our differences, I can admit the thought of him dying doesn’t sit well with me. Especially since he got bit trying to stop the ritual. Even though it didn’t stop it, it did save Tyler and Caroline. Who I guess was replaced by that bitch Jules and some random vampire Klaus had in his back pocket.

I take a deep breath as I exit my car and walk up to the front door of the Salvatore house. I don’t bother knocking since everyone kind of just lets themselves in when it comes to this place. I’m about to call out for Stefan but within a moment he’s flashed in front of me.

“Oh good lord,” I clutch my chest in surprise. At this Stefan’s eyes widen and he reaches out to me.

“I’m sorry, Y/n! Is it your heart again? Do you need anything? Here take some of my blood,” Stefan frantically says.

I put both of my hands up and shake them, “Stefan calm down dude, okay? I’m good, you just scared me. I’ve got to start getting you vamps little bells to wear around your necks.”

Stefan slightly laughs but I can still see the weariness in his eyes.

“Really Stefana, I’m good.”

Stefan sighs and nods, “Sorry, I just…with everything going on I’m just…,” Stefan rubs his hand over his face and now I can clearly see the exhaustion and sadness on it.

I take a step closer and wrap my arms around him in a hug, “It’ll be ok, we’ll figure it out, alright?”

Stefan doesn’t say anything but I feel him nod as he wraps his arms around me tighter as if me hugging him is the only thing keeping him grounded. And after seeing his older brother trying to light himself on fire, it might just be.

After another moment Stefan releases me and smiles at me but it doesn't reach up all the way.

“He’s down here,” He says and I follow him down to where Elijah was when he was daggered.

At the thought of the Original my heart sinks. It’s been three days since I’ve seen or heard from him. Each time I hear my phone ring a small part of me expects it to be him with his stupid posh accent telling me he’s sorry for ghosting me, but every time I answer it’s never him. I’ve tried to distract myself with hanging out with the girls, or Theo, and even the occasional phone call with Jenna who talks to me a lot now about the supernatural since we both learned about it recently. Bonnie and I have also been going through her deceased Gram’s grimoires and things to see if we can find anything on why my chest bled and then magically healed itself, but nothing comes up. It’s disheartening but Bonnie says she won’t stop searching until she’s found the reason. Our time together has made me realize just how good of a friend Bonnie is. She’s loyal and kind and she’d fight for her friends until her dying breath. Which is sadly something she has already done once. I really like hanging out with her and her teaching me more about her world. I may not understand much about witches but it’s nice to see how excited she gets when she talks about it.

“Are you going to be good down here by yourself,” Stefan leans down to whisper to me.

“What,” I question now realizing he’s been talking this entire time.

“I have to go to the square to go speak to Elena but after I’ll be back. Just whatever he says, don’t let him out. Ric should be here soon too. He can take your place when he gets here.”

I do a soldier’s salute and he rolls his eyes as he walks back upstairs. Leaving me and Grumpy down here by ourselves. The door that separates us is big and wooden with a small window that has three metal bars. I look through and frown when I see Damon scrunched up, sitting on the far side of the room.

“Are you going to eat me if I come in?”

“Drinking your blood would be a fate worse than death,” Damon’s scratchy voice speaks up after a moment.

I roll my eyes as I unlock the door and push it open, I quickly make my way inside and close it. I lean against the door and cross my arms as I look at the dying vampire in front of me.

“Stefan really thought you of all people would be the one to talk me off the ledge,” Damon grunts out as he puts his head up to look at me.

“That’s exactly what I said. I told him you’d be more likely to do it again after hearing me speak,” I laugh out.

Damon’s upper lip twitches for a moment and he lets out a strangled laugh, “You’re not wrong.

We’re both quiet for a moment before Damon speaks up again, “I’m going to die.”

I take a deep breath and sit down against the door mirroring Damon, “At the moment, yes you are.”

Damon raises an eyebrow at me, “So you’re not going to fill me with fairy tales about some special cure and that by tomorrow I’ll be fresh as a daisy?”

I shrug my shoulders, “Is that what you want me to do?”

Damon stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head, “No, I don’t.”

“Alright then. Works for me. You know, Stefan called me to try to talk you down because he thinks what you did was crazy. But… I understand why you did it.”

This captures Damon’s attention as he stares questioningly at me, “You do?”

I nod as I play with a loose thread on my shirt, “Ya. You’re scared. And in pain. You think this is the only way out, but it isn’t. And I’m not saying that because of some magical cure. I’m saying that because you still have time left to say your goodbyes and to be with those who actually care about you. Even though you’re an actual hellspawn. I know that this is scary, you’ve been alive for over a century and now you’re facing mortality for the first time in years. I would be scared too.”

Damon’s jaw clenches and for a moment I think he’s mad but when I see him turn his head to stare at the wall next to him I realize he’s trying to hide his emotions.

“Damon you can stare at that wall all you’d like but I meant what I said.”

At the sound of footsteps, I stand up.

“Ric’s here. Try not to be such an ass to him. You’re kind of like his only friend,” When he doesn’t make any noise about my joke I frown and start to unlatch the door, “I’m glad I met you, Damon. I don’t tell a lot of people that, but it’s true. Thanks for bringing out a fire in me I didn’t know I had.”

Damon says nothing and I quickly wipe a stray tear from my face as I open the door.

“I’m glad I met you too, Y/N. Even though you’re a pain in the ass,” I turn and make eye contact with Damon, and even though the room is dark, I swear I can see small tears building in his blue eyes, “I don’t believe in next lives or whatever…but if they somehow exist, I wouldn’t mind meeting you again in that one, Pukey.”

I let out a small sob as I run over to the seated man and throw my arms over him. He lets out a grunt of surprise and after a moment he wraps his arms around me and I can feel the dampness from his tears on my shirt.

“If you tell anyone about this I’ll kill you,” He tries to threaten but his voice comes out strained so it doesn’t hold much punch.

“Ya whatever, Demon.”

—

It’s night by the time I get to the square for whatever movie night the town’s having. Elena asked me to come earlier since she says everyone needs a break from all the chaos that has happened. I’m not excited to see how she’s going to react to the news about Damon. But for now, I’m grabbing my fluffy blanket and walking towards my friends and watching this stupid movie.

Jenna, Jeremy, Bonnie, and Caroline all sit together talking as I walk up behind them.

“Hey guys,” I say and they all spin around to look at me. Bonnie and Jenna both send me warm smiles and waves, Caroline hops up and guides me over to the group talking my ear off already, and Jeremy tries to send me a smile but that dude looks like he would rather be anywhere else.

“What errand took you so long,” Caroline questions.

“Oh, Theo just needed some help bringing back his football gear and stuff. I guess the coach has been bothering him to get it back for weeks since the season ended,” I say which isn’t a total lie since I did do that after leaving the Salvatores.

“How is Theo,” Jeremy asks.

Ever since the funeral Jeremy and Theo have been gaming together. When I asked Theo about it, he said he was doing it out of pity and that someone as cool as him wouldn’t hang out with an emo like Jeremy. But after passing by Theo’s room and hearing him and Jeremy laugh and make fun of each other over call, I don’t think Theo is really doing this out of pity anymore. After moving here and with everything that has happened with our parents it’s been hard for Theo to make friends. Even though he says otherwise. I know he has people to hang out with at school, but it’s all brainless jocks who probably don’t even care to know my brother’s favorite color. He needs a good friend like Jeremy in his life.

“Theo’s good. Even though he was pissy this morning because he says you cheated last night,” I admit to him as I sit down next to Jenna and Caroline.

Jeremy shoots me a look of disbelief, “I did not cheat! That jerk! He’s the one who cheated,” Jeremy lifts up his phone and starts angrily texting someone. A someone, who I’m guessing is my brother.

I look around noticing the absence of my best friend, “Where’s Elena?”

They all look at each other wearily before Bonnie grabs my hand, “You might want to prepare yourself for this.”

I look at her confused for a moment and whisper, “Is this about the Damon thing?”

“You knew?!’’

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

“Bro!”

They all yell out and I raise my hands in surrender, “Hey! Stefana and Demon made me keep quiet. They didn’t want to stress anyone else out more.”

“How long have you known,” Caroline asks me and I grimace, “Like… since John’s funeral.”

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It just wasn’t my place to say.”

They think about this for a moment before nodding.

“Elena went to go talk to Damon and Stefan is off trying to find a cure,” Bonnie says.

“Let’s hope he finds one in time.”

We all quiet down after a moment and go back to watching the movie, but 5 minutes later I feel a tap on my right shoulder.

I shoot Jenna a questioning look as she leans down to whisper to me, “Anything from Elijah?”

I just send her a small shake of my head and she returns it with a comforting smile and a squeeze to my shoulder, “His loss then.”

Over the past few days of Jenna and I talking about the supernatural, we’ve also been chatting about other things like school and relationships. It took me a while to open up but after I did I brought up Elijah. Talking to Jenna about Elijah, and everything that’s happened with him has actually made me feel somewhat better. Jenna’s been more of a mother figure to me these past three days than my own mother has in almost 18 years.

Out of the corner of my eye, Jeremy quickly stands up, capturing all of our attention.

He hangs up the phone and turns back to us with a nervous look, “Damon escaped and Elena wasn’t there yet so Ric thinks he’s coming here to see her. Ric says the bite is making him hallucinate so he’s not himself right now.”

“Fantastic,” I mutter to myself and Jenna slightly elbows me and shoots me a disapproving look.

“If Damon is off the rails, there is nothing you can do to stop him. Let us take care of it,” Bonnie gestures towards herself, and Caroline and I want to groan at this. It’s really starting to piss me off how the supernaturals keep pushing us humans away every time we want to help. Just because we don’t have super strength or heal within a split second doesn’t mean we’re useless.

“You keep doing this! You left me behind before, and guess what, Elena was still killed,” Jeremy exclaims to his girlfriend, “I’m going to find my sister. You go ahead and try to stop me. Y/N, Jenna, you with me?”

Jenna instantly nods and I shoot a look at Bonnie and Caroline before walking towards Jeremy, “Let’s go.”

—

“There he is!”

I follow behind Jeremy as we see a wounded Damon staring off into space. Jenna left a while ago to go find Ric, leaving Little Gilbert and I to try to find Elena. “Damon,” Jeremy tries catching the attention of the delusional vamp and I watch with caution.

“Where’s Elena? I need to see Elena now,” He frantically says and I send him a smile as Jeremy walks closer to him.

“Hey, let’s get you out of here first, alright,” Jeremy grabs Damon, who instantly falls into his arms. I go to the vampire’s other side and grab his arms trying to help Jeremy with the deadweight.

After a bunch of odd stares and murmurs from passersby, we finally get Damon through the crowd and into the empty Grill.

Jeremy drops Damon off at a table and goes to tell Ric where we are. I’m still holding onto Damon's arm as I watch Jere, but turn around when I feel Damon do the same. And I freeze.

“Y/n, move I don’t want to hurt you,” Sheriff Forbes stands in front of us holding her gun and pointing at Damon.

I go to try to reason to her but Damon flashes away, spooking Liz and all I hear is the sound of a gun and a piercing in my left arm.

“Oh god,” Liz looks at me for a moment in shock but when she looks behind me her features go straight to fear.

A strangled sob escapes my mouth as I watch Jeremy fall to the floor, his once-grey shirt turning red, as blood spills from his chest.

“What the hell did you do,” I scream at Liz as I run over to Jeremy with tears in my eyes.

I strip off my sweatshirt and place it over his bleeding chest.

“Come on Jeremy, you’re going to be alright,” I sob, “You’re going to be alright Jere,”

Another sob comes from my mouth as Jeremy’s shaking hand grabs mine for comfort.

“I know this hurts but I have to keep pressure on it, okay. You’re going to be just fine.”

I can hear Liz call for paramedics as she tries to move my hands so she can hold down the sweatshirt.

“Don’t you dare,” I snarl at her and she sits back.

“Jeremy…Hey! Jere,” I shake my head as he closes his eyes.

Bonnie and Caroline rush up to us and Caroline gently sets me back so she can try to help Jeremy. I sit there with silent sobs as I watch Bonnie tell Caroline that Jeremy’s ring won't bring him back since the sheriff is human.

Caroline bites into her wrist and places it onto Jeremy’s mouth, “Go on, Jeremy. Drink.”

“What are you doing,” The sheriff questions her daughter even though she is not the one who should be speaking at all right now.

“I’m helping him.”

I sit there with tears in my eyes as Jeremy doesn’t wake up and I know it’s because he’s dead. The others must realize this too because they all sit back with sobs of their own. The sound of a door opening captures my attention and I look up to see Ric and Jenna staring over at us.

“Bonnie what’s wrong,” Ric asks as he and Jenna run over to us. As soon as they see Jeremy though they halt. Jenna instantly falls to her knees crying and I crawl over to her ignoring the shooting pain in my arm. I grab her into my arms and she instantly latches to me and sobs into my shoulder.

“I know what I need to do,” Bonnie says aloud as she stands, “I need you to grab him. T-Take him with us.”

“No, no, no, no. You can’t move him. This is a crime scene,” Liz tries denying which has me wanting to smack her. Jeremy’s dead all because of a prejudice she has.

“Mom, just let them go,” Caroline tells her mother and Liz stands up so Ric can grab Jeremy’s body.

“Okay. Alright, come here, buddy. I got you,” Ric says and I hug Jenna tighter.

—-

Bonnie sits in front of us chanting over Jeremy’s body. Candles around us burn hotter as Bonnie shakes her head, “No.”

“What? What is it,” Ric asks.

“They’re angry at me for coming back here. They don’t wanna help.”

I shake my head in denial.

“Well, they have to.”

Bonnie looks at Jeremy with tears in her eyes, “They said there’ll be consequences.”

“Well, he’s just a kid. Tell’em to shut up.”

Bonnie continues chanting and the witch house starts to shake.

“Emily! I know you’re there. Please help me. I love him.”

Jenna, Ric, and I watch in silent horror as everything stops and Jeremy is still lifeless. Bonnie cries holding him and Jenna crawls over to her dead nephew.

I look down at Jeremy and let out a sob of relief as I see him flutter his eyes open.

I sigh deeply as I watch Jenna and Bonnie hug Jeremy.

“Y/N?”

I turn to Ric who is staring at my arm, I watch as he slowly lifts his fingers and touches my shirt. I fight the urge to groan in annoyance as I look at the fresh blood on his fingers.

“Anyone want to take me to the hospital?”

—

“OK, so it appears you’ve lost quite a bit of blood,” The doctor tells me as he tapes gauze over the gunshot wound on my shoulder. I have a gunshot wound. I was shot. What the hell?! Somehow the bullet that killed Jeremy went right through the upper part of my shoulder.

Ric and Jenna had dropped me off about an hour ago. They insisted on staying, but I told them my mother would be here soon and they should get back to Jeremy.

“We’re going to have to give you some blood. Do you happen to know what you’re blood type is? It appears that on your medical records, your mother and father’s blood types are listed but yours isn’t.”

I shake my head, “I’ve never had to get blood drawn before so I don’t know.”

The doctor nods, “That’s fine. We would give you the universal donor blood but for some reason, we’ve had a shortage in blood lately,” I nod along as if I don’t know exactly why that is, “But we’ll take some of your blood and do a test then find out what your type is.”

I nod and thank him.

“We called your mother but it seems she can’t get out of work and your father didn’t answer. Is there anyone else you’d like to call to be with you?”

My heart hurts as I think about how both my parents couldn’t bother to come to see their own daughter in the hospital, “Um...no thank you. I’m alright.”

The doctor sends me a smile, but he looks almost as hurt about my parents not being here as I am. Tell me about it man. I watch silently as he takes a vial of my blood, tells me he’ll have my results soon, and then leaves.

Great who the hell is going to drive me home?

—

I’m awoken by a small shake to my uninjured shoulder. I squint my eyes to see the doctor from before looking down at me wearily.

At this, I try to sit up but waves of pain stop me.

“Don’t move sweetheart it’ll just rip open your stitches,” The doctor gently pushes me back down. But the look on his face makes me nervous.

“Is everything ok,” I question.

The doctor is silent before he shows me a blood bag, “I was able to find a match for you, but… your blood type is Type B,” His tone and words confuse me. Wouldn’t he be relieved he was able to find me blood?

“I don’t understand,” I shake my head in confusion.

“I don’t know if I should be telling you this without a parent present. I could be fired,” He says to himself as if he’s fighting some internal battle.

“Please… what are you talking about?”

The doctor places a hand on my shoulder and frowns at me, “Your mother’s blood type is Type A, and your father’s is Type O,” At the confusion still clearly on my face he sighs, “Genetically those two blood types combinations can only produce Type A and O children. So…”

My entire world seems to come down crashing on top of me as he finishes his sentence.

“You can’t be related, biologically, to your father.”

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ajortga · 6 months ago

Text

clothes

pairing: sam carpenter x fem reader

word count: 973 (drabble!)

summary: sam loves showering you with affection, even if it means lending you her whole closet.

To say that the weather in New York City is cold is an understatement. It was sunny in the afternoon when you went to browse around your favorite book store.

You had tossed on a jacket beforehand when you got into Sam’s car so she could help drop you off before running a few errands. It was off by the time you arrived. It was pretty warm, you thought your sweater might have been enough.

So you had given it to her and told her she could drop it off at home if she went.

But now, with a hand holding a bag full of new books that were on your booklist, mother nature had certainly had a change of heart. By the time you started checking out and asked Sam if she could pick you up, it was cloudy and freezing cold.

“Pfft, gentle breeze,” you murmur to no one in particular as you walk out. Sam had told you you should’ve brought it just in case, but what’s the point? The aesthetic of you, the “mysterious girl” just looking at books and a Gracie Abrams tote bag hung over your shoulders wouldn’t be so aesthetic with a huge jacket tied over your waist.

Now that you think about it, you could’ve just put it in your tote. Too late cause your sweater was probably at home now. You didn’t want to have Sam say, “I told you so, baby.” You were too stubborn to go back into the store where it was warm.

After a couple of minutes, the familiar black car that belonged to Sam drove by and parked at the nearest open spot. Before you could follow it, she messaged you:

sammy<3: Do NOT even think about walking. I’m not making my baby girl walk in the cold. Change of weather, huh?

You roll your eyes, sigh as you sink back into the bench you were on and start looking through your books.

After a few minutes, you hear someone whistle at you as you turn and see your girlfriend. She put on a leather jacket as she approached. “Hey, cutie. Successful book shopping?”

You bite back a shiver while you nod. “Mm… O-oh yeah!”

She eyes you skeptically, knowing you too well.

“I told you to wear thicker clothes,” she sighs, pulling you into her chest and wrapping her arms around you. “Aye-yai-yai-yai-yai. Here,” she takes off her leather jacket and holds it out to you.

“No, put that back on, I’m not letting you freeze.”

“Bitch, you’ve been freezing. I’m fine, baby, I promise. I’m fine with the cold and walking around the shops for another thirty minutes. But you.. You have the shivers as soon as you get into a room a degree lower than the one you were in. You’re crazy to think I’d let you freeze.”

Okay, now she was just telling you you had a low temperature tolerance.

“No way! I’m not letting you die out here!” You exclaim, you didn’t want her to freeze to death.

She was still holding the jacket in front of you, her eyes showing she wanted you to open your arms so she could drape it against you. “Says the one whose nose is literally tomato red and sniffling. Baby, I swear I’m fine. Come on.”

“No, I can do it!” You exclaim, exaggeratedly stomping around up and down the walkway. Sam just sees a little tiny person dramatically walking up and down as you put out your arms to make it seem like you were some buff guy.

Another gentle, but freezing breeze blows against you, like it was on Sam’s side. It’s not long before you’re holding back shivers and shudders. Your girlfriend raises her eyebrows.

You stomp a few moments more before you come to a stop, slowly turning to Sam with a pout. “Jacket?” You ask, voice small, so innocent and completely defeated.

Sam can’t help but laugh, “I knew it.” She helps you thread your arms through her leather jacket. It was a little oversized on you, she grins because of it.

You didn’t want to tell her that you probably wouldn’t give it back to her. She’d probably come around and search your apartment while you acted clueless, like it wasn’t hiding in your closet with all the other clothes you’ve stolen from her. Sam would never tell you that she found you asleep one night wearing her hoodie and clinging onto a giant teddy bear that she won for you at the fair.

She found it cute, until she realized the teddy bear was wearing another shirt you stole from her. She practically jumped to cuddle you, feeling bad you had to pretend that Sam was with you on nights she worked late.

As the jacket swallows you whole, you hug it tighter against yourself. It smells sweet and leathery with a hint of cinnamon.

It smells like Sam.

It makes you jump up and down happily. A grin plasters on your face as you turn to your girlfriend, opening your arms. You feel very warm now. It’s even warmer when Sam steps closer and envelopes you in her embrace, resting her chin on your head. She runs her hands through your hair and inhales the scent of your shampoo. If anyone can make your stubbornness fade away in a blink of an eye, it was Sam.

“C’mon, cutie. I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate when we get home, that sound okay?”

You nod as she scoops you up into her arms and begins walking you back to where she parked.

To say the least, you were smothered with affection when you got home. The best part was, Sam didn’t question when her leather jacket was gone from the place it was usually hung up the next day.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega imagines #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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ellecdc · 1 year ago

Text

Come Back, Be Here (part 2)

pt1 // pt2 // pt3 // pt4 // pt5 // pt6 // pt7 // pt8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 6k words

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How will Sirius react when he finally gets his love back, but you don't seem to recognize any of them? (concept inspired by Recognition by aeaean__bliss on ao3)

Sirius entered the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow the next morning with (far too many, in Lily’s opinion) bags of your things.

My girl is not going without, Red. He’d simply said. Who was she to argue?

After a restless sleep, most of Sirius’ night was spent doggedly watching your sleeping form. He couldn’t complain; he’d certainly had worst nights and he’d happily spend the rest of his nights this way if that meant keeping you around. Once Harry was up for the day according to his parents, Sirius decided to leave you in Lily’s capable hands while he retrieved some things from his flat, and picked up some personals for you from Tesco. He had left a glass of water, more pain potion and your wand which had been in the cloak you were found in on the bedside table with a note saying he'd be back soon.

He brought the bags into your bedroom – or, the spare room, he supposed – and tried to suppress the panic he felt when you weren’t in the bed where he’d last seen you this morning.

He failed though, and he did indeed panic. Apparently, the trauma of unexpectedly losing a loved one (and then getting them back much the same way) takes longer to shake than 18 hours.

Sirius noticed a shuffling sound in the bathroom, and his rational mind told him that you were simply using the washroom and he should just wait outside, or, hell, knock like a gentleman.

The other half of his brain – the one currently driving his central nervous system - was telling him to break doors down.

He decided to choose a happy medium and pulled his wand, leaning to listen against the door. When he failed to hear any more movement, he opened it slowly. He held his breath and begged his heart to stop hammering in his chest as he surveyed the room. He moved into the seemingly empty bathroom, until he turned back towards the door and saw you hiding between the open door and the wall.

“Whoa there love, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spook ya.” Sirius chuckled under his breath, holding his hands up in surrender. He tried to smile while his heart broke at the sight of the cowering girl before him.

Your hand trembled as you lowered your own wand and let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“No, I’m sorry, gorgeous. I should have knocked.” He countered. “You got my note?”

You seemed to shake yourself and square your shoulders.

“Yes, you had errands?” You queried as you both exited the bathroom.

“That I did!” He answered jovially. “I took care of some business and sent a note to my supervisor saying I’d be taking a leave of absence for the next while. I also went shopping.”

Sirius pulled out the bags he had set behind the couch with a flourish.

“We’ve got you lots of your own clothes now, so you won’t need to borrow from our dear Lily flower.” He said, motioning towards the tracksuit spilling over your body.

You peered into the bags, and Sirius watched excitedly as you pulled the bag he had brought from his and Remus’ flat to your lap. Please remember he begged you silently.

You gently pulled out a zippered knit jumper. Your zippered knit jumper. “This is mine.”

Sirius failed to suppress a smirk. “It’s all yours, love.”

“No.” You argued. “This is mine, it was mine. Before.” You stated clearly, holding it up in front of you. Your brows were furrowed, and Sirius tried to ignore how cute you looked.

“Ah, so it is.” He offered noncommittally

Your eyes flit between him and the sweater for a few moments, and Sirius let you ponder. Please remember.

“I loved this sweater. It was my favourite.”

Sirius hummed as if in thought. “Do you remember where you got it?”

Your left eye twitched as you scrutinized the article of clothing.

“I think,” you started, grunting as if it was hard to get out. “I think it was a gift.”

Yes, Sirius thought, you can do it baby.

“Who gave it to you?”

You actually whimpered as you dropped the jumper into your lap and clenched your forehead.

“I can’t...” You started. “It’s like I know that I know the answer, but I just can’t get it.” You muttered miserably.

“Hey, hey. That’s alright.” Sirius said, removing the sweater from your lap and replacing it with his hands. He drew circles on the backs of your hands and willed you to look at him.

He continued talking when you finally met his eyes. “You don’t have to remember right now. You’re alright.”

Your eyes jumped from each of Sirius’ grey ones as if searching for the answers you were missing. He’d gladly give you all of them if he could.

Slowly, so, so slowly, you lowered your forehead to his.

This is how Lily found you both; Sirius on his knees in front of you with your hands intertwined in your lap and your foreheads pressed together. She hated to interrupt.

“Knock, knock.” She called to the room quietly. The two of you whipped your heads to face her, both blushing as if you had been caught doing something naughty.

“Hate to interrupt Pads, but I was wondering if you could help me with something for a sec?”

Sirius turned back to you and offered you a soft smile before joining Lily in the hallway.

“Well, that looked cozy.” She teased gently which was met with a very dramatic eyeroll.

“Yeah, yeah, Red. What is it you needed.”

“I spoke with Dumbledore. I haven’t told him why yet, but I asked for a Healer – one specialized in neuropsychological practice.” She trailed off as Sirius’ eyes widened in horror.

“There’s a healer coming here. To your safe house.” He managed, feeling like he might faint.

“Well, no,” Lily muttered, “you’d have to go meet her at St. Mungo’s and then apparate her here.”

Sirius stared at what he officially considered to be his dumbest friend.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He whispered as he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the kitchen. “What point of in hiding or safe house don’t you understand?”

Lily ripped her arm from his grip. “Listen, Dumbledore trusts the healer, they won’t be given the address, you’ll just be escorting them. And, I want to be here for her.”

Sirius had begun tallying up counter points but deflated at the end of her sentence. Lily didn’t miss it.

“I want to be here for her.” She repeated.

Sirius sucked in a breath between his teeth and looked to the heavens for answers. The heavens had never answered him before so he wasn’t sure why he felt disappointed when they left him on his own again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Red.”

They were joined in the kitchen by James and a miniature version of James who appeared to have just woken up as he rubbed his eyes with two pudgy hands from his father’s hip.

“There’s the prongslet!” Sirius beamed at his godson.

“Pa-foo!” The child squealed and held his arms out for him, tiredness completely forgotten.

Sirius happily took the almost-toddler and sat him on his lap.

“Alright Pads?” James queried.

“Not bad Prongs, yourself?” He responded coolly.

James grimaced at his friend’s displeasure with him but carried on making small talk while preparing breakfast for the infant.

The awkwardness was interrupted by a light knock, but it wasn’t from the front door. Lily and Sirius exchanged a look while James took Harry from Sirius’ lap.

“Y/N?” Lily called tentatively, which was answered by the bedroom door slowly opening and exposing you.

You had changed out of Lily’s tracksuit and were wearing the zippered knit jumper and a pair of green corduroy trousers that Sirius knew he bought a size or two too large but figured they could spell them smaller, and it’d be easier to let them out as you regained some weight. It appeared you had already spelled them in, and Sirius tried really hard not to stare at how good it made your arse look.

“Awe! I remember that sweater! That’s the one you bought her for her birthday; isn’t it Pads?” Lily exclaimed, causing you to pause and Sirius to blush furiously.

You watched as James smirked and Sirius looked towards you shyly.

“Did I thank you for it?” You asked as you cleared your throat and sat at the far end of the table.

Sirius coughed before he answered. “Er, yeah. Yes, you loved it.” He admitted.

“Good. It was my favourite.” You reiterated and looked to the little babbling baby in James’ lap.

“Who’s the little one? Must be yours.” You mentioned, motioning to James. The baby was the spitting image of what you could only imagine was his father, except perhaps the eyes. He had...

“Yes, he has his mother’s eyes though.” James admitted, smiling adoringly at Lily who shared his grin and brushed a finger across the baby’s cheek.

“Y/N, this is our son, Harry. Harry James Potter.” Lily stated.

The three friends smiled at the baby at one end of the table before turning to meet your ghostly pale face of at the other end of the table, who seemed to be looking at Harry in horror.

“He’s...” you started before swallowing, “he’s Harry Potter?”

Lily and James shared a look before Lily answered with a simple “yes.”

You looked frantically at the three adults surrounding the child.

“Is this house safe?” You demanded; Sirius was almost excited at how much like your old self you sounded but was startled by how familiar this panic of yours was. The last year you had together was spent in almost a near state of it. “Who knows we’re here?”

“What’s the matter, love?” Sirius started, standing up slowly but stopping all movements when you stood as well, wooden chair grating loudly against the floor beneath you.

“Who knows the child is here? Who can get in?”

“Y/N, please, I need you to calm down and tell us what’s wrong.” Lily pleaded, approaching you with her hands up from the opposite side of Sirius who began doing the same.

“‘You-know-who’ is looking for him. The prophecy.” You stated, eyes watering as you stared at Harry in James’ arms, who had since stood from the table and had his wand pointed at you.

“James, put your wand down.” Sirius spat as his friend as he reached you and gently touched your arm.

“Who knows he’s here? Is this house safe?” You demanded again, your voice starting to sound shrill and your breathing becoming erratic.

“It’s safe love, we’re safe. It’s okay. The house is protected by the Fidelius charm. Please breathe for me.” Sirius said as he gently embraced you and pulled your head to his chest, shielding you from the aim of James’ wand with his body.

His words seemed to work, as you let out a breath and leaned into his touch. “You’re sure?” You muttered into his chest.

“I promise it’s safe, love. I’d not let you or Harry stay somewhere that wasn’t.” He said, pointedly shooting a look at James who had finally lowered his wand.

He relished the feel of you in his arms for as long as you would allow it. Apparently, you needed it just as much, because it was a few moments before you were finally willing to pull away from his chest.

“Vix, why don’t we go play some cards?” Lily asked, holding up a deck.

You smiled and nodded, and the two of you retreated to the bedroom, Harry on his mother’s hip. The men waited until they heard the door click behind you.

“Look, mate-”

“You pointed your fucking wand at her whilst she fretted over the wellbeing of your son!" Sirius seethed at his friend.

"Sirius-”

“She is broken James. She is not dangerous, she’s scared.”

“Sirius please, I-”

“She’s fucking terrified; Lily and I can hardly touch her, she’s afraid of her own shadow. I didn’t immediately announce myself this morning and I found her hiding in the bathroom with her wand at the ready. She escaped, bloody hell knows how, but she escaped and she’s terrified. And you pointed your wand at her!”

“I’m sorry!” James finally shouted. “Sirius I’m sorry. I’m scared too. I’m scared. And honestly, I think it’s because I’m afraid I deserve it. I feel guilty, Sirius. So. Bloody. Guilty. I couldn’t sleep for months without seeing the look on her face the moment we realized she wasn’t going to make it home with me. And I didn’t sleep at all last night because I hate myself for leaving her there and I think if she could remember me, she’d probably hate me too. And she should. She should hate me. And if she did, she’d probably want me and my family dead. Okay? I’m fucking terrified and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” James’ finished, his chest heaving as if he ran a marathon.

Sirius huffed at his friend and felt his face heat up. He angrily wiped at it and his hand came back wet – he was crying. “Fuck” He breathed and leaned over the table.

“I’m sorry.” James whispered again.

You and Lily played a few rounds of goldfish, rummy and big bertha. Lily asked you where you had learned to play these games, but all you could remember was that your friends at school taught you; though you couldn’t remember who the friends were. As the two of you played, your left eye kept twitching.

Lily was reshuffling the deck when there was a knock at the door.

“Hey girls, the healer is here.” James said through the door before gently opening it.

A kind witch who introduced herself as Healer Grundke entered the room with Sirius and James, who picked up a babbling Harry to sit out of the way.

“So,” The Healer started, having you sit at the end of the high bed with your feet hanging off of it, “We’ll start with some easy questions.”

You told the healer your full legal name, your date of birth and hometown, and your parents’ names without any issues.

“Very good,” she continued. “I’m going to continue asking questions about yourself, your life, your family and your friends. But I’m going to cast a diagnostic spell of your mind which should show us a scan of the locations of your brain that your answers are coming from, and if there happens to be anything interfering with you recalling that information. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded and the healer waved her wand above your head. Sirius watched as a scan of your brain materialized above you. Sirius thought it was beautiful, even though he had no idea what any of it meant. Lily appeared to be scrutinising it with much more authority whilst James and Harry enjoyed the look of the pretty lights.

“What does your father do?”

“He...he was an ambassador. He worked in government.”

“Was. Has he passed?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry to hear. How did he pass?”

“Heart attack.”

With every question and answer, lights flashed across your scan, signifying information entering and exiting different areas of your brain.

“And your mother?”

“Also dead.”

“How did she pass?”

“Car accident.”

“How old were you when she passed?”

“Fifteen.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Half siblings, from my mother’s first marriage. They both chose to stay with their father in Canada when she relocated.”

“Where did you attend school?”

“Hogwarts.”

“Which house were you in?”

More flashes appeared on the scan.

You chuckled before giving her your answer.

The healer averted her eyes from the scan to your face. “What makes you laugh about that?”

“I was a hat stall.”

“Were you really?” The question comes from James, which earned him a nudge from Lily.

“Yes. It was humiliating.” You said with a smirk.

“What caused the stall?” Sirius asked, though he already knew.

You looked up and to the left as you recalled your sorting ceremony experience.

“The hat probably would have thrown me into Slytherin immediately had I not been muggle-born. Small mercies that, I suppose. I wasn’t quite outgoing or extroverted enough to be placed in the house of the brave, though I had a strong sense of justice. Loyalty was one of my biggest attributes, but I wasn’t always very kind or thoughtful with my words. I wasn’t extremely bookish or the academic type, but I was witty. Apparently, I was a real mystery.”

The healer smirked at that.

“That you are, dear.”

You smiled kindly at the healer.

“Okay, where were we? Ah yes, what was your favourite class in school?”

“Hmm...”

Sirius smirked. My little swot. Can’t even choose a favourite class after all these years.

“Probably charms, or transfiguration. I really enjoyed care of magical creatures as well. Arithmancy and alchemy felt familiar and came easily to me because they reminded me of muggle maths and chemistry. I think...”

You trailed off as the scan turned an angry colour for a minute before it settled back down.

The healer looked at the scan and asked again.

“You liked charms, transfiguration, care of magical creatures, arithmancy, alchemy and...”

The scan moved again, and even Sirius could notice that a flash of light was trying to travel a path between two memories, but one appeared to be wrapped up inside of a silver-coloured orb, which caused the light that had been travelling to it to splinter and disperse.

“And, I think, uhm,” You tried again as your left eye started twitching. “I enjoyed astronomy.” You finished on an exhale.

“Astronomy.” The healer clarified.

“Uhm,” You thought again, “yes, I liked astronomy.”

“Did it cause physical pain to recall that information?”

“Yes.”

Sirius and Lily exchanged a glance.

“Where did it hurt?”

You sighed, “the pain seems to stay primarily behind my left eye. If I try too hard it becomes a pulsing pain that seems to circulate around my skull. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better.”

“No apologies necessary, this is very helpful.”

The healer was quiet for a moment while she looked through the notes.

“Okay, do you remember graduating from Hogwarts?”

You thought for a moment before responding. “I remember that I did graduate, but I don’t remember the day.”

“And what did you do after graduation?”

“I moved in with friends.”

“Who did you live with?”

The scan flashed again.

“I don’t know.” You admitted.

“Did you work?”

“I remember working. I remember fighting.”

“But...” The healer pushed.

“But I cannot remember for whom or with who was working nor fighting.”

The healer was quiet for a moment.

“Y/N, can you look at Sirius for me please.”

Your gaze moved and you held eye contact with Sirius.

“Think of a memory with him.” You were instructed.

A light travelled in the lower left scan unaffected.

“Can you describe the memory?”

A faint blush appeared on your cheeks.

“I thought of how he held me this morning, after an argument in the kitchen.” You admitted.

Sirius’ heart thumped in his chest. When asked for a memory of him, you thought of being held in his arms. I’m one hell of a lucky man.

“Very good. Now, Sirius, can you ask her about a memory from before she went missing?” The healer in structed.

Sirius thought for a moment.

“Do you remember when we got into a fight, and you charmed my hair pink and wouldn’t reverse it until I announced in front of the entire Great Hall that I was wrong and you were smarter than me?”

Your scan flashed violently as the healer and your friends watched a light travel along a path towards the same large silver orb as before. As soon as the light met the orb, it splintered. You winced.

“Okay, alright. Now, look at Lily please.”

You looked back up at your red-headed friend as your left eye stopped twitching. The red head offered a gentle smile in return.

“Think of a memory with Lily.”

Again, they watched as a light travelled along a path on your scan completely uninterrupted.

“What was your memory?”

“She made me tea and served it the way that I like.”

“When was this?”

“Yesterday – last night. I don’t know what time.”

“Very good,” the healer said, looking at her notes. “Now Lily, can you tell her a memory of you two from before?”

Lily smirked. “What about the time we skived off prefect rounds to go skinny dipping in the Black Lake after we caught McLaggen cheating on me?”

The scan flashed violently again as the light travelled to an orange-coloured orb and splintered upon impact.

“I see...” The healer stated, more to herself than anyone else.

“Healer Grundke, what is it that we’re seeing?” Lily asked finally. Sirius was thankful someone else voiced it, he was sort of intimidated by this woman if he was being honest.

“Well, I can’t be sure yet, but I have a hypothesis. Perhaps we can test it out.” She turned to the other three adults in the room. “Do any of you know how to occlude?”

James shook his head and Lily grimaced, but Sirius nodded his head. “I can’t say I’m extremely good at the practice, but I have some experience.”

“That’ll do, Sirius. Can you please sit beside Y/N here?”

Sirius smirked “I would love nothing more, m’lady.” He said in a sultry voice and winked at you. You rolled her eyes at him. Oh my Godric! We’re making progress!

Sirius propped himself on the bed entirely closer to you than was strictly necessary, but he couldn’t really be blamed, he was after all just a man.

The healer walked across the room and picked up a small picture frame from the fire mantle. She looked at Sirius to ensure he was watching her and threw it across the room where it hit the wall and smashed to the ground.

“We were all thinking it, and she just does it.” James murmured to himself, earning him a kick in the shin from his wife.

The healer walked back over to Sirius and pulled up a matching scan of his brain above him. He was astonished to see how different his scan looked compared to yours. Your lights travelling the paths were a warm yellow, while his were red. The thoughts and paths were also organized differently.

“Okay Sirius, please recall the memory of what you just saw me do.”

Sirius did as he was asked, and the healer watched his scan as the red light travelled a set path before she used her wand to mark where the light travelled to.

“Thank you, now occlude that memory from your mind for me.”

Sirius closed his eyes in concentration. Occlusion didn’t come as naturally to him as it had to his younger brother Regulus, possibly because Sirius never much felt like keeping his thoughts to himself anyways. He preferred to anger his parents by voicing his thoughts and opinions, whilst Regulus found comfort in keeping those locked away. Nevertheless, Sirius understood that sometimes one needed to lock some thoughts away, what with his psychopath cousin Bellatrix and her love for Legillimency. It was also one of the only ways Sirius survived his time at Grimmauld before he finally left for good in the summer between 5th and 6th year. Sirius boxed up this memory of the healer smashing the picture frame in his mind and slowly opened his eyes, keeping the memory in its box.

Sirius’ eyes fell to Lily who looked astonished. He took a peak up to his scan where the healer had erased her mark and exposed a purple-coloured orb that sat in its place.

“Is that...Is that the memory?” He asked under his breath, hardly believing what he was seeing.

“I believe it is.” She answered.

The room sat in silence for a few moments before Lily broke it.

“So, are you suggesting that the orbs present in Y/N’s scans are areas of occlusion?” Lily asked scrutinizing the scan above her friend’s head.

“I believe it is Lily. My current theory is that your friend has occluded memories associated with those closest to her.”

“But she remembered her parents, and siblings.” James interjected from the far side of the room.

“But they didn’t need protecting.” Lily exhaled, looking wide-eyed at her friend.

“Exactly.” The healer said, clearly impressed with the thought process of Lily Evans Potter as well as her own work here today.

“So let me get this straight.” James stated, standing up with a baby in his arms and joining everyone else in the centre of the room. “Y/N has buried her memories of us - her friends and Order members - so deep inside her brain that even she can’t access them in order to keep them safe against...”

“Against people willing to use torture, Legillimency, or other nefarious means to get information. Yes James, exactly.” Sirius finished James’ thought bluntly, staring at his friend with a blank face.

“So, what you’re saying is I’m a total arse.” He concluded.

“Yes, and we have it on a healer’s authority too.” Lily agreed, winking at Sirius.

Sirius glanced up at his scan and noticed the box surrounding his memory fading. The occlusion was wearing off.

“But look, the protection of the memory has worn off now that I’m not focused on protecting it. As far as we know, Y/N isn’t even aware that she is protecting memories. Why is it different?” He asked the healer.

“I'm aware that there are protected memories, I’m just not actively trying to do it.” You countered.

“I have to admit, I’ve not seen anything quite like this before myself.” The healer admitted. “It would appear that whoever or whatever you were trying to protect these memories from required more than a temporary solution.”

“Will she be able to resurface the buried memories?” Lily interjected.

“I believe so. There’s very little that magic can’t undo,” She started as she waved her wand with a quick reparo to the picture frame and the sheet rock that the picture frame hit. “I suspect once she begins to relax and feel safe in her surroundings, this underlying sense of needing to protect the memories will dissipate.”

The room stayed quiet for a few moments; Sirius looked over at you as you fiddled with your hands in your lap. He wished so badly he could jump inside your brain and know what you were thinking. How did this all make you feel?

“I feel a pull,” You started quietly. “When I’m trying to recall a memory, or someone tries to remind me of something. It’s as if someone is pulling at rocks that have been tightly wedged into a crack in the wall. Sometimes they wobble or crumble a bit. Hurts like hell for a minute but, I don’t think it’s impossible.”

The healer hummed in acknowledgement. “It seems that patience and time will be the answer then. It is likely a good thing that your memories don’t all come flooding back in at once. That’s bound to be very painful, both physically and emotionally.”

The room collectively nodded at her words.

“Healer Grundke, could you show me the spell for this scan? It appears that the grey orb is Y/N’s memories of Sirius, and when she tried to recall her memory with me in school, it went to this orange orb. I think we’d be able to help her with some memories if we understood more how they were being organized.” Lily asked.

The healer stared at Lily for a long moment. “It would be my pleasure, dear.” She took a few minutes to show Lily who practiced the incantation over James’ head. “You know, after this war, you’d have quite the career as a healer.”

Lily’s face lit up to the colour of her hair as she stared abashedly at the healer. “Thank you, healer Grundke, that’s quite a compliment.”

The healer smiled kindly at Lily and patted her shoulder, “You give me a call when you’d like to chat more.”

The adults shared some goodbyes as the healer wished you a speedy recovery and Harry babbled absolute nonsense with his slobbery fist waving at everyone.

“Y/N, I owe you one hell of an apology.” James started once Sirius returned from escorting the healer back to St. Mungo's. “Actually, I owe you many apologies, but I want to start with how I treated you this morning.”

Sirius, who was still feeling petulant over the matter, scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. You, on the other hand – the beautiful angel that you are – smiled kindly at your friend despite Sirius’ demeanour.

“That’s alright, James. I don’t think I’d trust myself much either.” You looked back down at your hands. “Someone who’s been held by Death Eaters shows up unannounced and conveniently can’t remember a thing? That’s not suspicious at all.” You laughed wryly.

James seemed appeased by your words, but Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s you babe, you’re not suspicious.”

You looked at Sirius very intensely before responding. “But how much of me is left here, Sirius? Do you recognize me? The person I was?”

Sirius stuttered. “Well, yeah. I mean, love, you’re still in there.”

You grimaced and returned your glance to your hands.

“Who is someone without their memories? Their experiences? Those things make a person. I’m nothing more than a shell.” You admitted quietly.

“Oh, honey.” Lily said as she walked back into the room, having put Harry down for a nap. “You haven’t forgotten everything, just us.” You laughed at the deprecation. “And we’re not gone completely, see?” She paused as she pulled your scan back up. She pointed at the orange orb. “There’s me, and there’s this oaf.” She pointed at the grey orb as she nodded towards Sirius who scoffed.

“And tell me, do you remember when James convinced you to set Snape’s robes on fire in 5th year?” She asked and watched as a light travelled towards a red orb before splintering. “See, right here, there’s James!”

“Did I really light his robes on fire?” You asked quietly, looking at James.

“You sure did beautiful; I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of anyone ever in my entire life. Until the day Lily gave birth to our pride and joy of course, but that day still remains a very close second.” He proclaimed. Sirius chuckled and Lily rolled her eyes.

“See? We’re still in there, and we still make up quite a significant portion of your mind, which makes you, you. You’re still here, and we’ll help you get it all back.” Lily finished.

You smiled at your friend with a loving gaze, and Sirius already felt a step closer to the you that had been buried – literally - this past year.

“Were you really with Death Eaters the whole time you’ve been gone?” Sirius asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Surprisingly, your scan flashed violently, and lights travelled toward two orbs – one black and one green – on the opposite side of the scan. “Yes, I was kept mostly at the Lestrange Manor.” You admitted.

Sirius shuddered. His bat-shit crazy cousin, her husband and her brother-in-law were not ideal hosts for even an afternoon tea, let alone for the past few months.

“You had allies?” Lily whispered, eyes not moving from the green and black orbs on her scan.

“Allies? With Death Eaters?” James asked incredulously.

“James.” Sirius warned, putting his arm behind you protectively.

“James, don’t start.” Lily added. “Look, she’s alive which is more than any of us ever expected. That is thanks to someone, seeing as she had life-ending injuries the last anyone saw her. Plus, I don’t remember her being well-versed in occlumency while she fought with the Order, do you?” She asked the two men who both shook their heads.

“No, so that means, someone taught her. Someone knew she had people to protect and then they helped her do so.” She added and watched again as lights travelled to the two orbs before fizzing out.

Sirius looked over at you as you rubbed none-to-gently at your temples. He leaned into you and placed his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why don’t we call it a day, hm?” He asked as he drew circles against your back. He could feel you nod your ascent.

“Dumbledore called an Order meeting tonight, five o’clock.” James reminded the room. “Gives you guys about three hours for a nap.”

“That might be good, yeah? You can see everyone again, maybe it’ll help jog your memory.” Lily offered and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah.” You breathed out without looking up.

“Okay, that’s it. You two, out.” Sirius said pointed at Lily and James. “It’s nap time for Princess here.”

“’M not a princess.” You muttered causing Lily and James to chuckle.

“Who said I was talking about you, gorgeous? Now out, out!” He quite literally shooed the other two adults out of the room (in their own house, mind you) and closed the door behind them. He turned to face you as you sat on the bed looking at him with a cheeky smile.

“What’s that look for?” He asked as innocently as Sirius Black could manage.

“If you wanted a nap so bad, you could have just said so Princess.” You said, smirking at him.

“I have no shame; I’m willing to admit I am a Princess and would love a nap.” He peeled his jumper off and watched as you moved up to the head of the bed and laid down on the right side. Sirius felt a crack in his chest at the sight of you curled up there; that was the side of the bed you always took when you moved in together. Without thinking, Sirius shifted into Padfoot and leapt onto the bed, curling up on the opposite side. He was startled by a sharp laugh.

“No way.”

Padfoot turned to you and tilted his head.

“I remember Padfoot.” You said. The large black dog could feel both of his ears pop up as he let out a whine. Remembers. Remembers good dog.

“He was always such a pain in my ass.” You muttered with a smirk as you pulled the throw blanket over your body. Padfoot’s chest rumbled, am not pain, am good dog. You heard what could only be described as a doggy scoff as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Continue to part three here.

#marauders era #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #first wizarding war #first wizarding war fanfic #reader insert #escapism #self insert #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #sirius black blurb #sirius black ficlet

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sugucvnt · 7 days ago

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PERFECT ROLE | 2.7k

alcoholic! toji fushiguro x fem!reader

description: you’ve always been his perfect housewife. you’ve been there to keep the bed warm, keep the food hot, and there to cry when he’s been out all night drinking.

tags/warning: angst, crying, kitchen sex, clothed sex, mentions of drinking, implied alcoholic, toji's not a great husband but he is trying, REPOST (from my other account lolol), emotional sex

all of your days seem to start the same.

laundry, feeding your child, cleaning her room, etc. when you signed up for motherhood, you weren’t expecting the redundancy that tags along with it. still, even your bad days feel good and you couldn’t imagine trading motherhood for anything else. you smile a little as you tuck your last child into bed, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead before leaving quietly.

you have no regrets because you love your little girl. and sometimes, you love your husband too. the sound of jingling keys seems to snap you out of your thoughts and you huff out a breath, making your way downstairs. the stairs croak a bit, so you’re aware he knows you’re coming.

it isn’t written on your face, but you are rather upset. you’ve known your husband since he was a teenager- which means you’re aware of things he may not even be aware of. like the fact that he honestly prefers eating with other people. you’ve noticed the man goes a little crazy when you refuse to eat at the table with him. not just that, though, but you know the way his mind works.

toji doesn’t know what a promise is. or he’s got no idea what it means to make one.

he’ll make tons of empty promises that he never intended to keep in the first place, and then he’ll get pissy at you for being upset with him. it’s unfortunate, but you’ve always learned to just accept it and work around that flaw. until now, you’ve never allowed his blatant disregard for your feelings to send you into such despair. your emotions are a tool you’ve worked diligently to keep in place. it’s like a stone wall: they aren’t so easily broken or disturbed. not by just anyone, at least. the only person who could disturb the artificial peace you’ve created to keep yourself sane is toji.

you’re barely near the man, still leisurely walking down your loud, wooden steps- but you can smell him.

cheap liquor. it’s all you’ve been able to smell this week.

“‘m back,” he calls, the shrinking scar on his lip pulling into a sickening grin. it seems so long ago but there was a time when you enjoyed his smile. there was a time when it brightened your day just to see the stupid little smirk he’d have on his face when you did something for him, or even when you’d wore a pretty outfit he liked.

“it’s late, toji,” you start, finally making your way down the steps and right past your husband. he barely feels like that to you anymore. “haven’t even had work this week but you’re out all night. it’s funny.”

you shoot him a quick glare before brightening up the kitchen a bit when you turn the stove light on.

“don’t be like that, i let you go out when you wanna.” he sits in one of the chairs in the dining area, a sly grin still glued to his stupid face. your eyebrows furrow and your head turns to look at him, your hand anxiously playing with the loose strings of your nightgown.

“let me? toji, you can’t let me do anything. i haven’t even been out to do anything but run errands.” another sigh escaped your lip and you feel like you might vomit. you’ve been up since 6, running errands, doing laundry, and making breakfast. not to mention, crying yourself nearly to death worrying about your husband. is he alright? why’s he been out so much recently? does he need to talk?

you’re worried out of your mind. it’s like your head’s been spinning and your thoughts aren’t even your own. so anxious, you’re nearly on the verge of vomiting daily. toji hardly even notices you said anything before he’s back to picking at the food on his plate.

“you promised you wouldn’t keep drinking.” he’s draining your energy day by day and you’re unsure if you can even keep up. your voice is merely a croak, fingers still widely tangling and untangling in the loose threads of your satin gown. you wanna say good night and kiss him on the cheek? even tell him that you aren’t mad, just worried is all.

you don’t.

you’re about to move past him. you’re tired and irritated- you need some sleep and a long bath and much to your dismay, he carefully grabs your arm. you’ve been with the kids all day. the kids you’d agreed to procreate when he promised a foolish illusion of a perfect family. you won’t regret your children- don’t think you could ever live with yourself if you did, honestly.

but you’re starting to think you chose the wrong person to start a family with.

he doesn’t speak. his presence is so subtle, it’s like he’s holding his breath. you feel a chill run through your back when he pulls you into his lap, attempting to have you straddle him. your energy, the rest of it, has been used up for the night. you don’t have the proper motivation to even fight with him. on a normal night, maybe you’d push him away a little hard and then come back to apologize. maybe on a normal night, you’d just bury your face in his welcoming neck without fighting him. maybe even ask if he’s okay. you wanna know. you gotta.

however, tonight isn’t a normal night. you haven’t had one in a while.

you have enough energy to turn your head to the side. you can barely stomach looking at his flushed face and wild hair. he’s as red as a tomato, with individual strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. you’ve been missing him so much that the images of how happy he used to look simply from being around you and your children flash through your mind, almost as if your own head’s mocking you. like your mind’s telling you how pathetic it is that you’re losing the family you built. going from a loving housewife to your husband’s burden.

does he hate you? is that why he’s been acting so recklessly? you’re no stranger to fantasizing about your life before a family. you often thought about a different career choice or how much free time you’d have if something, anything, had changed. that didn’t mean you didn’t want toji anymore, though. the thought of him hating you or feeling any type of disgust with you caused your stomach to churn painfully, embarrassingly enough. he was still your lover. always had been.

“you know how much i love you, yeah?” he whispers, the scent of liquor heavy on his thick tongue. his words cause you to flush with a bittersweet sensation. loves you? he’s constantly gone and making you worried. you can’t remember the last time he asked about your day or helped out at home.

you pout childishly, stifling an unwanted laugh. nothing about this is amusing to you, but you genuinely can’t help the laugh beginning to escape your lips. “yeah? then i don’t see why you make me worry so much.” you finally bring yourself to face him, tears awkwardly welling in your eyes. blinking them away, you subconsciously pressed your head against his. you can hear his breath hitch in his throat before his hands gently grip your clothed waist. you’ve been doing well at keeping your frustration with your situation at bay, but something about sitting in your husband’s lap just broke you. when was the last time you were able to feel his warmth? it felt nice. you were starting to remember just how much you missed feeling his body against yours again.

god, you were beginning to feel so needy.

“hey,” you hear him start before he quickly stops talking. you assume he’s attempting to rack his tipsy brain for the right words, but it must be difficult in his haze. still, he’s seeming to sober up in your presence. “don’t cry, please. not over me.”

tears still drip from your eyes, your body ignoring his words. how can you stop now? you’ve been crying all day. all week. he’ll never understand what he’s doing to your mind until it’s too late for the both of you. you’re constantly on edge, feeling like you’ll break. he’ll tell you something sweet, claiming he’ll stop or that he’s sorry- but won’t do anything to make you believe it. you’ve stopped trusting him and you hate that so much. hate how much you’re regretting a relationship with him and how far you’ve both taken it.

neither of you is ready to be together.

even then, you can’t leave. you have a child together. and secretly, even if you won’t admit it, you still love him. even if you’re angry and frustrated, and depressed- you’ll always love him. you’ll always be here, keeping the bed warm and keeping food on the table for when he gets home.

that’s one promise you can’t break.

“please, you’re hurting me a lot.” you’re trying to be honest. until now, you’ve held the way you’ve felt for as long as possible, only confronting him when the situation escalates. you’ve been a good woman. a good wife, for him. “i can’t- not by myself. please, toji. please.” you plead with him, bringing the back of your hand up to quickly wipe away your unwelcome tears.

even in the dim light, you can tell how much his face drops seeing you cry. you’re aware of how his mouth opens, but then quickly shuts. his eyes find yours and his hands squeeze your waist a little. nothing is stopping you from releasing a low groan, so you do. poking your lip out while you watched, or rather felt, for his every move.

he presses a chaste kiss to your neck and suddenly, you can’t remember what you were so upset about. the feeling of his scarred lip bewitches you and forces more groans from your lips. your body seems to move on its own, hips gyrating over his clothed bulge in a steady movement. your lips move to his neck now, your brain filling with fuzz while his hands travel over your needy body. goosebumps begin to form along your skin when he touches you, but he barely notices. it’s been too long since you’ve been touched like this.

“there she is,” toji pushes his strands of hair out of his face before gently grabbing your chin. his eyes are intimidating as ever, but you feel a sudden warmth when he looks at you now. the same gentle fire in his stomach you used to feel. it’s dangerous. it’s dangerous because it feels like hypnotism. every worry or stressor in your life seems to become so blurry they’ve disappeared. your feelings are surprisingly at ease, and shoulders that were once tense now drop lazily. “my pretty lil’ housewife. knew you couldn’t stay mad at me…”

his words should snap you out of your daze. they should upset you because now it’s clear he’s either attempting to make a shitty apology or distract you. despite your awareness, you’re unable to bring yourself to stop.

“yeah…” you breathe out hoarsely, attempting to roll your hips against his hardening bulge once again before he stops you, tightly gripping your waist. your head shoots up to stare at him, silently questioning him. his hands quickly leave your waist before silently fumbling with his belt and zipper. you suck your lip into your mouth and nervously pull your nightgown up to your tummy. the world around the both of you seems to fade away, the only thing on your mind now being your husband. toji, toji, toji.

you breathe out a cool breath, shaky fingers snaking down to pull your sticky panties to the side. your husband’s mouth pulls into a grin when he notices his effect on you, blowing some air from his mouth. you watch intently as his thick fingers wrap around the base of his cock. he glances up at you for a split second before he’s rubbing the top of his cock against your wet clit. you shiver, your chest rising and falling dramatically from such a simple touch. you can feel nerves surge throughout your stomach from both pleasure and anxiety, but you ignore it.

it’s painfully quiet, the only sounds being your soft groans and toji’s grunts. he slicks his cock with a mixture of saliva and your arousal before lining it with your entrance. once he pushes in, you can no longer contain yourself. your eyes water again from the stretch, but you’re still moaning. couldn’t stop if you wanted to. your mouth hangs open, tongue lolling to the side while bottoms out in your tight heat.

“been so long baby,” he whimpers, fucking whimpers, in your ear, the familiar feel of his hands now back on your waist. “missed feeling you like this so bad.” you can feel his hips thrust upward, fucking into you in swift movements while you just take it. you feel his cock drag against your sopping walls, the sound of your slick gushing not going unnoticed by either of you. it’s almost awkward the way you just sit there and take what he’s giving you.

his pace slows down now and then, the gentle drag of his throbbing cock sending waves of pleasure through your body. you huff out gentle breaths into his neck while toji has his way with your body for the first time in a while. neither of you feels talkative tonight given the tension, but you wanna cry out to him. your body’s been on fire these nights without feeling his cock filling you up so, so so perfectly.

with a free hand, he makes a gap between the both of you and presses his finger to your aching clit, causing you to cry out loudly. you throw your head back, finally gaining a bit of control. you leisurely rotate your hips, holding onto toji’s broad shoulders as a way to keep your balance. toji never stops moving. he never stops fucking himself inside of you, one hand gripping your ass while the other gently presses down on your clit.

you know he isn’t good at apologies. is this his way of apologizing? you can’t help but wonder.

he could feel your walls gripping him like you were too afraid to let go- and it was driving him insane. you could tell as much, groaning from the way he throbbed inside of you. “gripping me like-” he stops and grunts, pace quickening once again. you can hear the sound of his cock pounding you, along with the sound of your slick continuing to escape your pussy. it’s almost too much, really. “like you want another baby. do you? you wan’ another, hm?”

goodness, no. you don’t need another child in this situation. you wouldn’t be ready and you know he wouldn’t be either. despite that fact, the fantasy of him pumping more children into you was starting to force a reaction from you. your toes clenched tightly while you rode his cock, pulling yourself off a bit before sliding down quickly. the nerves in your stomach were out of control and you broke out in chills. you were almost there. you buried your face in his shoulder while you moaned, riding out your quiet orgasm. his fingers sped on your aching clit, encouraging you to use him for your own pleasure. he was so lovely in bed.

toji whispered how much of a good girl you were for him before he found himself painting your walls in thick ropes of hot cum. he thrusts into you a few more times before halting, hands weakly wrapping around your hips in an attempt to pull you even closer.

he didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was sorry.

“‘m sorry i haven’t changed.” his voice was croaky, you’d noticed.

“‘ts okay. won’t leave you. can’t.” your lips were pursed while you lay your head on his shoulder, thinking about your words. there was nothing sadder to you than your own desperation. no matter how this played out, you couldn’t see yourself leaving him. no matter how much you were regretting your marriage, you’d never leave.

you were realizing that maybe you weren’t good for each other after all. the toxicity of your relationship was nothing to laugh at.

but even then, you’d continue playing the role of his perfect housewife.

#— TOJI FUSHIGURO #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #smut #fanfic #jujustu kaisen #toji fushiguro smut

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trashydez · 2 months ago

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like a phoenix. (2.7k words)

what if phoenix- instead of being virtually indestructible, actually wasnt? what if he was actually incredibly prone to death, but he just… never stayed dead?

(trigger warning for a multitude of causes of deaths!! some in detail and some not. other tw’s include implied suicide attempts, implied child neglect, derealisation and thinking one is already dead. be warned! take care of yourself!)

at 9, he wakes in his bed after having a high fever and his mom ships him off to school hours after it began. he finds it odd, because last he’d checked his temperature (that morning, when he told his mom he felt like he was going to die and his mom had left to go run errands, barely sparing him a glance), his temperature had been at 107 degrees farenheit. that was definitely high, but after he slipped into unconsciousness, writhing and restless and in a lot of pain, he woke up to his mother checking his temperature and saying he was fine to head off to school. he didnt feel fine, but his temperature had gone down significantly enough that his mother felt like he had no excuse not to go. hes glad he went to school though, even as he shivered, sneezed and sniffled, because there he found a friend in a boy with a funny bowtie and a heart made of gold.

he crunches and chokes on glass shards and poison but doesnt die. the doctors dont find anything wrong with him, aside from feeling a bit ill, so he goes back into the courtroom and dollie is convicted of murder. hes happy his roommate is away for some theatre troupe thing, because the sickness eventually catches up to him and he throws up shards of glass, acid and blood. it cuts into his throat and burns his eyes and he swears, he swears he dies right then and there, freezing and shaking and everything hurts. but when he wakes up hours later, the sun having set and the only light source in his dingy dormroom the moon outside, hes amazed to not feel sick anymore. but the puddle of sludge is drying beside his face and he considers himself lucky, or maybe unlucky, because unlike dahlia’s other victims, he actually lives to tell the tale.

phoenix arrives early to the office, having been in the public library nearby reading a book on reincarnation. he enters the office and promptly has his skull caved into his brain. he does not see his assailant, but when he wakes, theres an oddly dressed girl crying, crouched over his boss’ cold body. he doesn’t think about the drying blood in the back of his head, or how cold mia’s body is (and why he can even tell, considering the fact he has not touched her corpse) or the chapter in the book he’d been reading that talked about quantum immortality— all he thinks of is proving maya fey’s innocence.

as it turns out, being constantly anxious and terrified of mortal peril actually has its perks. maybe the fact he’s a lawyer whose only ever dealt with homicide cases definitely wasn’t benefiting his mental wellbeing either. in any case, its that fear of literally everything and constant feeling of impending doom that makes his body react before his mind does. taser! danger! maya! so, he gets tasered. and it fucking HURTS, but he feels more relieved than frightened as the searing pain shoots through him, because he’d been able to push maya away before von karma got to them both. wasnt a symptom of death by electrocution an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and imminent death? maybe he was going crazy. when he comes back though, its to his head in the lap of a crying spirit medium, so maybe a psychotic break isnt too bad if it means everyone else gets to escape with no damage to their own psyche.

its only after she stops screaming in terror- oh my god, nicks a zombie!! kyahh!!!- and nearly beating him with her bulky magatama necklace, that she tells him what she saw. (“like, there was a sudden bright light and then i realised it was coming from you! but when i tried to touch your glowing skin,” she says it like its the most absurd thing she’d ever seen, which really said something considering the fact she was from a family of people who could channelthe dead “it was HOT! like, japanifornia summer hot! blazing! i was only able to check your pulse after you cooled down a bit…”). maybe its this that makes him less alarmed by the way his skin glowed in the dark of his trashed bedroom, after drinking himself to death following a certain phone call from a terribly sad, newly bossless detective. he doesnt think he can bear the taste alcohol ever again, after that.

maybe the number of times he’s died of blunt force trauma to the head should be a cause for concern, even more so when he wakes up without any of his memories. he’s terrified, and doesnt even knows who he is, until he does, and is able to prove maggey byrde innocent. fun times! he should probably watch out to make sure his next death wasn’t to the head, lest he be as mentally impaired as a number of people liked to say he was… (and he should probably also be concerned by the fact he was already thinking of the next time he’d die, but ah well, blame it on the concussion).

as it turns out, getting whipped to death was not on his list of ways he thought he’d die next, but life liked to mess with him like that, it seemed. still, dragging his delirious self to the bathroom of his office to try and save the infected wounds from killing him wasn’t all that fun, and he’s immediately reminded of his first death, slow and painful, alone and scared of what came next. he feels bad for feeling relieved when maya shows up and screams upon seeing the state he and the bathroom (that’d he’d accidentally trashed when his legs gave out after he opened the door, a number of bottles fallen to the floor beside him) were in. he stops her from calling the police- there was no point, he didn’t have much time left. but when she asks what she could do, he goes quiet. (…just… stay here? i dont- he coughs up a distinctly red shade of spit. maya makes a noise between a choked cry and a whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck. but phoenix was shivering worse now, and hugs himself tigher. i dont want to die alone.) so she stays with him, on the cold bathroom floor, as his labored breathing eventually slows. when he awakens, he finds maya asleep leaning against him, and promises to get her burgers as a thank you.

who knew death by a monkey throwing a giant bronze bust of max galactica at you could happen? at this point, he’s almost glad he was basically immortal, because there was no way in hell he’d allow his autopsy report to say ‘cause of death: monkey manslaughter’! edgeworth would laugh himself to tears if he saw! not that he could see. or cry, because he was dead. and not coming back. damn.

so edgeworth isnt dead! yippee? he thought it was his thing to get reanimated after death, not edgeworths. when he saw him, standing in the middle of the police department, alive and breathing and very much not dead, he nearly started laughing. he must’ve finally gone insane! curse the amount of times he’d died of brain related injuries, not that he knew how many of them there were at this point. he might actually have laughed a bit, because pearls was looking at him like he was losing it (he was) but he couldnt really bring himself to care as he had more pressing issues at hand, like saving his best friend from a crazy serial killer holding her hostage, and punching his other best friend in the face for faking his own death (because really, dying was his thing! not edgeworths!). and if he pulls edgeworth into a hug immediately after, throwing caution in the wind (you only live once, right?), the warmth- a normal, human temperature, unlike his burning hot when he came back from death- is enough to stabilise his harried mind for just a moment, before he has to return to his guilty client and his hopeless situation.

by some crazy turn of events, he actually doesnt die from having boiling hot coffee thrown at his face. it burns, and maya screams when she sees the boils on his face after that first trial with godot, but after throwing a wet towel over his face and putting him in timeout on the sofa for 12-hours, the burns go away as if they were never there. he fell asleep at some point, and after alot of back and forth debate, they eventually came to the conclusion that 1. his body heat rising to burning levels when he dies must have caused his body has to grow immune to heat and 2. since sleep was like a ‘temporary death’, a ‘temporary wound’ would just heal like it did when he died of normal wounds, right? he didn’t want to dwell on it too much, because maya was looking at him like she wanted to test that theory for real, so he quickly changes topics before things got out of hand.

so their theory on the immunity to heat thing was correct! …almost. larry had tried to stop him, but it was fire and he was basically immune to heat, right? nope! his skin burned and boiled but he didn’t die as he tried to run across the burning bridge. even so, nothing hurt more than falling through one of the burnt planks and slamming onto the surface of the freezing cold rushing stream below. luckily the death was near immediate, but unfortunately he came to while in the water still, so he swallowed a sizeable amount of water before paramedics arrived. he hears the doctors find his survival miraculous, despite the scorching hot fever he was now under. he blacks out again, and comes to in the hospital, feeling absolutely terrible.

the horribleness feels familiar though, and when edgeworth walks in, he realises what it must be, when the man presses the back of his hand to his temple and quickly pulls his hand away as if burned. (oh. he thinks, tearing up despite himself. it must be the fever. i’m going to die like this again.) his internal monologue must’ve been external though, because edgeworth balks (‘again?!’). but phoenix was crying in hiccups and sobs, feeling terrible and like he was nine years old again, wishing his mother were there to nurse him back to health like she’d never done before. he faintly hears edgeworth sitting down on his bed and reaches out, gripping the mans waist like it was a lifeline. in a sense, it was. “don’t go.” he whispers, gripping the man tighter like he’d disappear into thin air (again). “please, please don’t go.” in his delirium, he nearly wails in despair when he feels edgeworth move, but he was only moving to readjust himself so he’s lying next to him, their bodies so close that it must burn, but the only sign edgeworth shows that he’s in pain is a wince and the crease of his brow. he allows himself to be cried on, curling a protective arm over phoenix’s burning body. “i- i dont know what’s going on, wright, but i’m not, i’m not going anywhere, okay?” he seems to be attempting exasperation, but it comes out terrified and concerned, but phoenix is fading quickly, so it might just be his waning mind making up things that don’t exist. “i am terrified. your body is life threateningly hot and— wright? wright!”

he comes to with nurses surrounding him, and a distressed edgeworth swearing on his life that that man was dead, his body was seizing and on fire and- and his heart stopped beating! but phoenix couldn’t dwell on it, because the mention of fire immediately brought him back to why he was in the hospital at all. and plus, it gave him the chance to use his best friends sensitive treatment of him afterwards to convince him to play defense attorney, so that was nice. still, he feels like he dies when he finds out dahlia had actually been iris and that godot was actually his dead mentors apparently not dead boyfriend. oh, and he was also a murderer. he also feels like he dies when dahlia- actual, serial killer and dead by execution dahlia, was exorcised from maya’s body. but that had more to do with his soul leaving his body in terror rather than actually dying, so that was a nice change of pace… probably.

later, he’d had to have a conversation with edgeworth to give him an explanation on just what the hell he’d witnessed in that hospital room. although, apparently his re-aliving symptoms must’ve started becoming more dramatic, because miles describes it as his whole body glowing as bright as the sun, and then his eyes opening for a moment to reveal nothing but white, glowing eyeballs with no irises. phoenix has to convince him to still board his flight the day after, that he was okay… probably. maybe not safe, but definitely okay. (still, edgeworth stays the night at his, and they hold eachother close, basking in the shared warmth of two alive bodies in heat equilibrium, listening to eachothers breathing and rhythmic heartbeats, no signs of impending mortality in sight, save for, what did the french call it? la petite morte? most of all, phoenix basks in the promise miles makes to him. “i’m not going anywhere,” he repeats, over and over like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was phoenix. “i’m not going anywhere, i promise.”)

and when he loses his badge, he thinks he really does die, permanent and definitively. he feels far away from his body when the forger is called to the witness stand. feels like a ghost when the council walks out the room and past him, making no eye contact and answering the unanswered question on the tip of his tongue. feels his life crumble to pieces when a blonde man with a pleasent, almost saintly smile gives him the most maddeningly sympathetic look and tells him he is sorry for his loss, as if there really was someone dead. only, the only one dead must’ve been him, because there was no one else there who had just lost their life. he couldn’t even hear himself as he laughed, which turned into sobs, as he excused himself and fleed to his bicycle. not one pedestrian bats an eye at the state he is in, so he must really be a ghost, cycling past speeding cars and large trucks and buses as if it couldn’t kill him, because he wasn’t there, he was already dead. when he reaches his office, freezing and quiet and dreadfully void of any human life, he passes by the window his boss had died at and sees his reflection, unkempt and red faced and badgeless. he wants to scream, but he couldn’t because no one would hear a ghost scream, so instead he just sits down in the spot his mentor had lost her life in, and mourns.

when two weeks later a warm, incredible alive life falls into his hands in the shape of a little girl with a too big tophat and a joy for being alive that he’d lost years ago, well, maybe he is glad that he couldn’t die for real, if only to be able to wake up to that beaming grin as his little girl tries to pull her daddy out of bed because she’d made breakfast, and it only smells burnt because of the magic something she’d added as a special ingredient. he eats it, char and all, because he can’t taste the burnt-ness of it anyway, but he could taste the love and care put into it, and that was more than enough to take his mind away readying himself for his next death. instead, he thinks of his daughter’s next performance at the wonder bar, and their next trip to kurain, and miles’ next visit. for once, he thinks of living.

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plantmayo · 1 month ago

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gold and bones

[ID a digital portrait illustration with sketchy lines and painterly colors. Dante, a man with medium brown skin, short curly hair, and a vaguely goth outfit, has a glowing barn owl on his shoulder. He is looking at the owl as she stares at the camera/end ID]

#mayo's art #mayo's ocs #death's errand girl #mayo's ocs dante #january 2024 #clip studio paint

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mayonneise · 6 months ago

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everyday i think about the awful lesbian superheros that i write. i am mildly obsessed with them

#mayo speaks #death's errand girl #theyre like. my sort of take on a magical girl superhero inspired typr character but theyre women in their mid 30s #and thry are side characters but unfounatrlt i think about their backstory so often bevause i just keep adding dramanto it #onenof them literally faked their death to go practice nexromancy and the other is a researcher looking for aliens AND fighting ghosrs

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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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