#elanor x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowersandbigteeth · 3 months

Text

Your Naga Lord saves your Mother

A/N: I've had this oneshot sitting in my drafts in a while, combining some old asks

Naga Lord (Leander) x F Maid reader

Word Count: 6K

General Plot: You and your family are staff in the house of a Naga Lord. Things go sideways when your childhood friend's father falls for you mother.

W: Description of murder, yandere behavior, spitting, otherwise sfw soft yandere fluff

More SFW fics here

“Hurry up now,” your mother said brightly as she ladled a bit of porridge into a bowl for you to eat. “Master Dervin will be cross if you're late with his breakfast.”

Though the two of you were mere servants in the Naga Lord’s home, she always fed you first before you had to do your duties for the morning.

She glanced up as you scarfed down your breakfast, her eyes warming as they met your father’s.

“Good morning, my favorite ladies,” he said, kissing her and ruffling your hair.

“Papa! I have to work!” You pouted, but he just snickered, stealing your spoon and taking a bite of your porridge.

“Don't bother making yourself neat for that snake bastard,” he chuckled as his hands slid around your mother’s waist.

“Charles, please. Someone might hear, and we'll be out on the street!”

He shrugged. As you finished your meal, your mother arranged the morning dishes for the Naga family on a silver cart, taking a moment to smooth and repin your hair before you were to serve them.

Your father was sure to spit in Dervin’s bowl when your mother looked away, making your eyebrows jump. He put a finger over his lips, winking at you.

“I'm off to the stable,” he said, grabbing an apple as he went. “Have a nice day, my pretty girls!”

You blinked at the contaminated bowl, wondering if you should throw it out.

“What are you staring at?” Your mother chided, pushing the cart towards the door. “Get along; I can hear them coming down the stairs.”

You hurriedly fixed a pleasant but distant look on your lips as you wheeled the cart into the dining room.

“Good morning, Mr. Leander,” you said to Dervin's only son, as he was the first to enter the dining room.”

“You’re radiant this morning as always (Y/N),” he beamed, taking his spot at the table. “but stop calling me ‘mister’ you never used to.”

Your ears heated as you placed his breakfast in front of him.

“It's not appropriate, sir. We were children then. You're to be the master of the house and will be married soon. I'm sure your fiancee wouldn’t appreciate-”

He cut off your words with a sharp hand.

“Don't speak of unpleasant things,” he grumbled.

“Apologies, sir.”

“Stop calling me-”

The arrival of his mother cut off his own words. She was a lovely Naga, sharing Leander’s white hair and sapphire blue eyes. Like his, her tail was a shocking electric blue.

“Stop prattling with that servant, Leander,” she snapped. “She has work to do. You're bothering her.”

Mrs. Elanore was not a pleasant woman, but she didn't like you servants to be harassed by the males of the house. Whether it was actual concern or jealousy, you didn't know, but your mother, especially, appreciated it.

Dervin, her husband, took every opportunity to corner her, trying to ply her with gifts and sweet words. Your mother was having none of it, which is why you delivered their meals, not her, and why your father spit in his food.

You nodded, thanking Elanore as you served her the tea she liked.

“Where is that imbecile?” she muttered, referring to her husband. “There are so few things I ask of him, but he can't manage the simplest tasks. He is to arrive on time for every meal. There must be some decorum in this household!

Her sharp blue eyes flicked to you.

“Go get him (Y/N).”

Leander slid in front of you like a vibrant blue flash before you could even respond.

“I'll go, mother. (Y/N) has her work, as you said.”

She gave him a tight nod, and you took the opportunity to finish setting the table for their return.

“I should fire your family,” Elanore mused. “your father would be happier, don't you think?”

You glanced up for a moment to find her eyes traveling over your form.

“You and your mother are too pretty to be maids,” she snorted. “You'll only cause trouble wherever you go.”

“Our family has served yours for generations,” you muttered, scared she might put you all on the street. “My grandparents died here, and so did theirs.”

“Just like a human,” she hissed, baring her teeth. “Servile and obedient. You’d think you’d have found something else to do in all those years.”

“Apologies, ma’am,” you said, looking at your shoes.

She waved a dismissive hand at you, sipping her tea.

“It’s in your nature. There’s nothing to be done. You and your mother are good at your jobs at least.”

Your cheeks warmed at the backhanded compliment. It was different when Dervin or Leander complimented you. She acknowledged the skill that had been passed through generations, not how you looked. You and your mother knew how to run a house. Your masters needed structure to maintain their dignity. With little to do, they would become depressed slobs if you didn’t keep everything running efficiently. At least, that’s what your grandmother told you.

Slithering through the wide doorway, Dervin and Leander settled into their spots at the table, and you took your place in the corner, waiting in case one of them needed something. The two male Nagas looked very similar in their features, handsome with a strong jaw and wide shoulders, but Dervin’s hair was jet black, as were his eyes. They always appeared blank and cold, which frightened you. Elanore wasn’t warm, but her gaze reflected an expressive nature, not a monstrous stillness.

Your eyes watched him take a bite of his breakfast, trying to hide the disgust that roiled in your stomach.

“Where’s your mother?” he snapped after a few big bites.

You didn’t speak at first, your eyes drifting to Elanore for permission. She answered for you.

“She’s in the kitchen where she ought to be. The servants are my business as the Lady of the house. Don’t bother yourself with their whereabouts.”

“I pay them,” he barked, but she ignored him, turning her attention to Leander.

“You’re to visit Iris today, Leander. I’ve purchased a gift for you to bring your fiancee.”

She snapped her fingers at you, and you hurried to her side to take the small package and walk it around the table to her son.

“I don’t wish to bring her any gifts,” he snorted, not even taking the gift from your hand. “She’s not my fiancee.”

Elanore rubbed her temples.

“The two of you are infuriating, you know that? You have one job, Leander. You have to marry well and produce an heir.”

She waved a finger at you.

“You can keep your little maid as a comfort doll if you like, but you will do as I have arranged.”

“I’m a grown man, mother. I don’t have to do anything.”

Electricity crackled between their eyes as they engaged in a silent power struggle. You stood awkwardly to the side, still holding the gift.

“I’m sick of this! I do my very best to advise you two idiots on the proper way to conduct yourselves, and you act like spoiled children!”

Her tail snapped faster than you could see and struck Leander across the cheek with a crack. Blood dribbled down his pale skin, and his eyes hung on her, the warm blue turning to ice.

“I should have never married a common husband like you,” she snarled, turning her ire toward Dervin. Vulgarity and Mediocrity are in your blood, and you’ve infected your son!”

Dervin’s black eyes flashed.

“My mediocre blood saved your foolish noble family from destitution. Thanks to my benevolence, you are able to live in the house your family has owned for generations. If not for me, you’d be begging on the streets, pleading with your relatives to take you in as a servant.”

“Fools,” she snarled, picking up her tea and slithering out of the room.

“Bring your mother to me,” Dervin demanded when she was out of earshot.

You let out a trembling breath as you thought up a lie.

“She went into town this morning for groceries, sir,” you said, knowing he’d never lower himself to search for her in the kitchen.

You screamed as the bowl he was eating from sailed across the room, shattering beside your head.

“Father!” Leander shouted.

Dervin gave him an amused but cool smirk before turning his attention to you.

“Send her to my room when she returns,” he barked and stormed out.

You leaned against the wall, panting as you mentally checked yourself for harm. Leander’s warm hands cupped your cheeks, looking you over.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

Your gazes met, but words wouldn’t come, so you shook your head.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his warm arms wrapping around you and pressing you to his chest.

You inhaled the spicy scent of the soap he used mixed with his own natural fragrance.

“I won’t let any harm come to you.”

When he pulled away, you found yourself looking at your feet, trying to avoid his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I dropped the gift,” you muttered, picking up the broken box.

You plucked the pretty hairpin from the shards of ceramic, seeing it was still whole.

“I’ll find a new box,” you said, trying to slide around him.

He stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, curling the other around your fingers.

“Keep it,” he said. “I’m not marrying Iris. My mother has no say in the matter, despite how she likes to posture.”

Your gaze shifted to the red slash bisecting his cheek.

“Let’s get this cleaned for you, sir. It will be a problem if it gets infected.”

He frowned but followed you to the kitchen.

“Is everything alright?” your mother asked as you pulled the first aid kit off a shelf.

“Good morning, zhingha,” Leander said, greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek.

The word meant “mother” in the Naga’s old language. He had never considered his biological mother his; when he was a boy, he got quite attached to yours. He spent most of his time in the kitchen with you, playing and avoiding Elanore’s tantrums when you were children. The two of you had made the pantry your fort, and you’d put on little shadow plays while you lay on the floor together.

Your mother’s eyes focused on his wound, and she clucked.

“Poor thing, come bend down where I can reach you. You’ve grown into such a tall man,” she said, taking the kit from you and pulling out the correct supplies.

You hopped on the counter, swinging your feet as you watched her disinfect and bandage the cut.

“What mother in their right mind would do such a thing to their son,” she muttered as she worked.

She already knew who’d done it because she treated Leander’s wounds often. When she was done, she patted him on the head like when he was a little boy.

“That’s better.”

“We should go into town today,” he said. “My father is looking for you.”

She frowned, a flash of fear streaking across her face.

“Don’t worry. I’m supposed to be visiting Iris. We can take the carriage, and you can visit with your friends instead. Go have Charles ready it.”

She nodded, giving him a wan smile before she hurried to find your father. You hopped off the counter and headed to do your chores while your mother was safely out of the house.

Before you could make it out the door, Leander’s thick, electric blue tail coiled around you.

“Ah, ah, you’re coming too, saiya,” he cooed, dragging you into his arms.

Your heart thumped at the silly nickname he’d given you as a child. The word meant “little bear. " When he was young, he was fascinated with your round ears compared to his, which pointed at the end. As they had so often back then, his finger traced the arch of one as he hummed his pleasure.

“Sir, you shouldn’t,” you whispered, but Leander was too pleased with you in his arms.

He dipped his head, nibbling at your ear.

“I should eat you up, sweet little thing,” he whispered, making your body explode in butterflies.

He carried you out the back door to the stable, where your father was busy arranging the horses to pull the carriage. When he saw you tucked behind Leander’s large biceps, he frowned.

“Put my daughter down. She’s not your doll,” he said, his tone more curt than he probably should have been with a family member of the house he served.

Out of only politeness, you were sure, he set you down. Your mother let out a light, silvery giggle, patting your father on the shoulder.

“Oh, don’t be so strict, Charles,” she said. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it.”

As Leander tugged you by the hand into the carriage, you heard your Dad lower his voice, so he thought the Naga couldn’t hear.

“I don’t like those snakes touching her. They are far too familiar. Miss Elanore’s grandfather would never have allowed him to fondle her the way he does. Things were the way they should be when he was around.”

Beside you, Leander snorted, rolling his eyes.

“He also drove the family to bankruptcy,” he muttered under his breath.

“Listen,” your father went on as he helped your mother onto the seat next to him, and still unaware you could hear him quite clearly. “I’ve been talking with the Willards about (Y/N).”

“The Willards?” she asked. “The tailors?”

“Yes, they have a boy about (Y/N)’s age. Apparently, he has taken an interest in her, and his father approves. He thinks a girl raised as a maid will make a dutiful wife. I think we ought to consider it. We can visit while we’re in town today.”

You remembered the Willard's son Joshua from when you were sent on errands to pick up clothes for Elanore. He was a handsome young man, though a little on the skinny side. He seemed nice enough. Still, your cheeks burned, and you folded your hands tightly, hearing your parents plot your marriage.

“I don’t know, dear,” your mother hummed. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

He let out a grunt.

“I’d do just about anything to get our girl away from that snake. He’s only going to ruin her, string her along, and throw her away when he’s bored. They’re all the same. The Willard’s can give her a good life.”

You felt Leander stiffen beside you. As the carriage took off, his tail wrapped around you so tight you whimpered. He glanced down, his face darkening to a cool blue.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, loosening his muscles but not letting you go.

He gently unwrapped the hairpin, clutched in your palm, and busied himself fastening it to your hair.

“So pretty,” he murmured, greedy eyes eating you up. “I won’t let anyone else touch you (Y/N).”

You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting. You’d always liked Leander. He was very handsome, and as children, you’d been inseparable. However, you also realized the massive gap between your two worlds. You were just a maid, and he was the only son of a wealthy lord. It wasn’t meant to be. Your father had explained to you many times before that Leander only doted on you because he was immature and unwilling to grow up. He thought he could still play make-believe with your life, and he warned you to be wary of him.

Feeling raw and confused, you tried to keep your eyes out the window, focused on the passing countryside as you made your way toward town. When your father stopped to park the carriage, he nodded to your mother as you climbed out.

She held out a hand to you.

“Darling, I need you to come with me. We’re going to stop at the tailor’s,” she said, carefully avoiding Leander’s gaze.

He, however, would not be tricked.

“How convenient. I need to stop there as well,” he said with a grin, tugging you back towards him with his tail. “(Y/N), keep me company as we walk so I don’t get bored.”

Your father gave him a deep grimace but was silent as he finished tying up the horses and escorted your mother by the arm down the busy avenue, walking a few steps ahead of you. You watched the two of them whisper to one another as you made your way to the Willard’s shop.

“Greetings!” Marshall Willard said with a grin when he saw you and your parents enter the shop.

His eyes jumped to the large Naga next you, and he winced just slightly before calling his son.

“Joshua! Come greet our guests. I’ll help the customer.”

Joshua appeared from the back, giving you a pleasant smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. (Y/LN). It’s wonderful to see you,” he said politely. “Can I offer you some tea?”

Meanwhile, his father greeted Leander.

“Young Lord Szake! What can I help you with this morning?”

You moved to follow your parents to the kitchen with Joshua, but Leander pulled you back by the shoulders.

“I’m here to buy (Y/N) some dresses,” he said, pushing you gently in front of him.

Everyone in the room looked at you, and your cheeks burned.

“What? Why, my lord?” you stammered.

He tipped his head at you.

“If you’re to be my personal attendant, you can’t follow me around in threadbare wool dresses. You ought to represent the Szake family well.”

“Personal attendant?” you parroted, confused. “But I’m just a maid.”

“Not anymore,” he declared. “Every Lord has a personal attendant to handle the paperwork and their calendar…those sorts of things.”

“But isn’t that normally a man?” Mr. Willard asked.

Leander beamed at him, a cold smile full of hate.

“(Y/N) has known me since I was just a child. She knows everything about me. I wouldn’t dare trust anyone else with my personal affairs.”

Your father frowned.

“Nonsense,” he barked. “(Y/N) is going to be married and have a domestic life, as she should. You’re a wealthy Lord; I’m sure you can find a qualified candidate.”

Joshua nodded beside him. You looked up at Leander, eyes large.

“I can’t be your personal attendant, sir,” you added. “It’s not proper. What will people think?”

He smirked at you, his long, strong fingers pinching your chin so you had to look at him.

“Fine…If your father insists you have a domestic life, you shall.”

Your shoulders wilted with relief, and you let out a breath.

“Oh, thank goo-”

“As my wife.”

Everyone in the room’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“What?!” they all said at once.

Leander gave Mr. Willard another bitterly cold grin.

“Measure her for dresses fitting the station of a Lord’s fiancee.”

“Absolutely not!” your father said.

“Lord Szake will never allow of this!” Mr. Willard pointed out.

“She’s to be my fiancee!” Joshua hissed, taking an incensed step towards Leander. “My father has already approved it!”

Leander’s gaze shot to him, danger reflected in his irises.

“There are not words on this plane to describe how little I care about whatever arrangement your families have worked out. (Y/N) will marry me, and you will dress her properly.”

He sank into his coils, pushing you in front of Mr. Willard, snapping his fingers.

“Now.”

You saw the man’s jaw tick, but refusing Leander’s request would only be bad for his business, so he pulled out his measuring tape and approached you. Not sure what was happening, you gave him a pleading look, begging him to say something. Reading your confusion and fear, his stare shifted to one more gentle.

“Lift your arms, please, miss,” he said quietly.

The room was dead silent while he did as he was told. Joshua and your father glared at Leander, who seemed entirely unbothered, while your mother appeared uncertain. You watched her suck in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders before she approached the Naga, speaking in hushed tones.

“Sir, are you sure this is wise? I’m not opposed to this match. I-I know…I can see you love her…I’m only worried for (Y/N)’s safety. Such arrangements between classes rarely work out well. Your fellow nobles will never accept her. Would you subject her to their cruelty?”

For a moment, he seemed to be considering her words, eyes sliding to you.

“My family has never been accepted into our peers good graces. You know my father was a common merchant. My mother married him out of desperation. She traded her noble title for his fortune. People’s opinions are only that. Opinions. (Y/N) and I will face the same prejudices together. Do you wish your daughter to continue her life as a maid or-?”

He gave Joshua a dirty look.

“Or become a servant to a husband who can never love her as I can?”

Your mother sighed. She lifted her hand and smoothed a bit of hair that had come out of place as if he were her own son.

“Please…for me, be serious about this if it is what you intend to do.”

He tipped his cheek into her palm.

“I will never betray your daughter zhingha.”

Your father let out a strangled noise, marching out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Joshua, who had been pacing in place, stomped over to you, grabbing you by the arm to face him.

“Is this what you really want (Y/N)? A snake for a husband?”

Before you could answer, Leander’s tail shot out, jerking him away from you and tossing him into the wall.

“Don’t touch her!”

The young man climbed to his feet, clutching his ribs.

“You nobles can’t just take whatever you like! (Y/N) belongs with us!”

Leander slid across the room like an elegant blue river, lifting Joshua up by his throat.

“Do not address my fiancee by her first name again. If I see your eyes on her, I will gouge them out!”

Joshua’s furious face told you he didn’t plan to back down. His father dropped the measuring tape, hurrying to rescue his son.

“Of course, he wont’ My Lord,” he said. “You’ve made your intentions quite clear. Yes, Joshua?”

He gave Leander another long look before he gave in.

“As you say, My Lord.”

Leander dropped him, returning to his seat near you, and jerked his head at the tailor.

“Continue,” he snarled.

“Go to the back and help your mother,” Mr. Willard said to his son.

Joshua gave you a last lingering glance before he disappeared.

–

You arrived back at the mansion in a very different dress than when you'd left. Leander had insisted on buying you and your mother matching readymade dresses from the shop window while you waited for the fourteen others he ordered to be made. The soft peach satin fabric was the nicest thing you’d ever worn.

The first thing you heard as you walked in the black door was the smashing of ceramic.

“Stay here,” Leander said.

Your eyes quickly flicked to your mother, who grabbed your hand and pulled you into the pantry, peeking out through a crack in the door.

“Father?” Leander called, opening the door to the dining room.

He ducked as a vase flew past, smashing to pieces on the stove.

“That bitch!” You heard him screaming.

He shoved past his son, dark eyes jerking around the room.

“Father! Calm down! What's happened?”

“Where is the human woman?” he snarled.

You and your mother slipped back into the shadows, trying to be as silent as mice.

“Father! She’s not back from shopping yet. Please, tell me what’s happened.”

His eyes narrowed, but seemed satisfied with his answer.

“It’s your mother,” he snarled. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?”

He bared his fangs at his son.

“Don’t parrot me like a dumb animal. The damn woman left! She stole the gold in the safe and disappeared! No one’s seen her!”

He paced on his thick tail.

“She must have paid off the townsfolk. No one will tell me where she’s gone!”

“Has she made off with our fortune?”

His father glanced up at him.

“Of course not; I keep the majority of our money in the bank. Only you and I can access it. I planned for this possibility but never expected her to do it! She only got off with our emergency fund…but it was enough to live well for a long time. When will the human woman return?”

“I don’t know, father,” he said. “But whatever you need, I can help you with it.”

He waved a clawed hand.

“I don’t need anything done! I’m going to marry the woman. I should never have agreed to marry Elanore. I won’t make that mistake again. An obedient human wife will suit me better.”

Leander let out a cold chuff.

“She’s already married, father!”

“Easily fixed,” he hissed with murder in his eyes.

“You can’t be serious!”

He tried to push past his son toward the door leading out to the stable. Leander blocked his way, his icy irises determined.

“I can’t let you do that, Father,” he said, his tone low and even.

Your father came marching through the door a moment later, unaware of the drama playing out. He froze where he stood, eyes immediately focused on the two Naga, staring one another down.

The opportunity in front of him was too tempting for Dervin to resist, and his tail shot out, a victorious smile on his lips. You couldn’t stay the scream that erupted from your throat, your mother rushing past you to protect her husband.

Dervin’s focus shifted to her, and Leander lunged at the same second. Caught off guard, he threw his father to the floor, and they quickly became a writhing ball of tails and arms.

“You’d betray me too, son?” he gasped as he tried to overpower Leander.

You smelled the coppery stench of blood as sharp nails scraped each other's skin. More than willing to help, your father picked up a heavy cast iron skillet, making his way around the hissing Naga, quiet on his feet.

There was a resounding crunch as the skillet descended on Dervin’s head. He flopped to the floor, limp. Blood leaked in a pool around him, but he still dragged in a wet breath. Before anyone else could move, Leander snatched a kitchen knife from the rack, jamming it through his chest. Dervin let out his gurgling last breath and then was still.

You and your mother clutched one another, sinking to the floor. Neither of you knew what to say or do, but your father and Leander didn’t need any prompting.

“Help me with him,” your father said, slipping his arms under the dead Naga’s. “We’ll bury him under the pig pens.”

Leander grunted his assent, lifting the majority of the weight as they maneuvered the body outside.

“Come,” your mother whispered, trembling. “The blood.”

You nodded, filling the mop bucket with water before pulling every towel from the cabinet to mop up the mess.

“What now?” you found yourself whispering, though there was no reason to.

She shrugged.

“That’s for Leander to decide. He’s the Lord of this house.”

By the time they returned, you’d scrubbed everything to a sparkle, the only blood left staining your new dresses and the towels.

“Take those off,” your father said. “We’ll burn the linens.”

The two of you nodded, slipping the heavy dresses over your shoulders until you only wore the thick shifts underneath. Leander helped you out of your shoes and slipped the red-splattered stockings off your feet.

Your father gave you and Leander a long look before he spoke.

“Take your fiancee to bed,” he said. “She shouldn’t have seen all this. I trust it won’t happen again.”

Leander returned a tight nod, and something passed between their gazes. They’d forged a silent agreement.

It wasn’t until your mother and father left out the back door to burn the rest of the evidence that the tears came. It was a relief Dervin was gone. He would have killed your father and hurt your mother, but it was still horrific.

“Shhh,” Leander hummed, scooping you up in his arms.

He carried you upstairs to his bedroom, curling into a tight ring to settle you in the center. His arms wrapped around you, and he pressed your head into his chest.

“Everything is going to be okay now,” he said softly, carding the strands of your hair with his long fingers.

“Lei, are we all going to jail?” you sniffled, his childhood nickname falling past your lips all on its own.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling when they met yours.

“No. My mother did us a favor. If anyone asks, they’re touring the countryside until they're entirely forgotten.”

“What happens now?” you asked.

He tipped your chin with his thumb, dipping his head to slip his lips against yours. They were so warm that you felt your jaw's tension melt away. His eyes searched yours when they parted, carrying a lightness you hadn’t seen in many years.

“I’m going to marry you, and your parents will move out of the servant’s quarters. Your father and mother have earned their place in the Szake family. We’ll find some new staff.”

You nodded, his hair forming a smooth curtain blocking the world.

“Sleep now,” he hummed. “All is as it should be.”

Despite how you wanted to keep your eyes open, they slid shut against your will.

—

“Would you like lavender or rose tea, Miss (Y/N)?” your new maid asked as she opened the tea box in front of you.

“Rose,” you said, turning your attention back to the catalog in front of you.

You sat comfortably in the rose garden, enjoying the sunshine as you planned your wedding. It had been a month since the terrible night that Dervin died. When Leander had informed the merchants of the town that he was getting married, they’d sent piles of samples and booklets for you to look through. You’d never realized there were so many options! It was a little overwhelming. Since you’d come from humble beginnings, it felt strange spending so much money on decorations and lace, but Leander informed you it should be a grand occasion and not to spare a cent.

“Um…Miss (Y/N)?” one of your maids said, looking slightly frightened.

“What’s wrong, Lily?” you asked, concerned.

“Well…there’s a Miss Iris at the door looking for you. Should I bring her?”

Leander was out for the day, meeting with one of his importers, so you weren’t sure what she could want.

“Of course, bring her here.”

A minute later, an elegant Naga came slithering into the garden. Her curly violet hair was pinned in a pretty updo and she wore an elaborate pink dress, covered in ribbons.

“Hello, Miss Iris,” you said, waving for her to take a place at the table. “Can I offer you some tea?”

Her brow was drawn, and she looked you up and down.

“So…you’re who he picked,” she pouted. “Over me.”

Your ears burned, realizing you were speaking to Leander’s former fiancee.

“There’s no competition,” you said.

She snorted.

“Obviously not.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, and you expected a verbal lashing. You were a mere maid, after all. It was absurd Leander would take you as his fiancee. She sucked in a deep breath, and her expression suddenly softened.

“How…How did you do it?”

Your eyebrows jumped, confused.

“Do what?”

She looked around, uncomfortable.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You took a breath as your maid politely poured her a cup of tea.

“I suppose so…If you’d like.”

“I’m relieved.”

“Relieved…why?”

She sipped her tea, thinking before she spoke.

“Because I don’t particularly care for Leander. In fact, I don’t like him at all. He’s…very…intense. He kind of creeps me out. He only spoke of you when we were out on dates; it was incredibly boring and awkward. Not to mention…the way he talked about you…He was fixated on all of your little ticks. Did you know he carries a lock of your hair around with him? And sometimes your stockings! He showed up one day elated because you’d accidentally sneezed on him and used his handkerchief to wipe your nose! He was cuddling it like a treasure!”

Your ears heated. Where had he gotten a lock of your hair? You’d never given it to him.

“He what?”

Iris waved her previous statement away.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have liked him even if he hadn’t. He’s just…too much like a Naga male. Once they have something in their mind, they get…obsessed.

Our parents arranged our marriage. I hate that tradition. I’d never force my child into a marriage without love. That’s how you get murdered by some enterprising mistress!”

You blinked, unsure if you should be offended or not, but she went on.

“Honestly, there’s…someone else who has my interest. Only…he’s not a noble Naga.”

“Oh! That is a puzzle, isn’t it?”

She nodded, stretching her hand across the table to touch yours.

“That’s why I need to know how you did it! How did you win over Leander’s parents? Maybe if I can tell Joshua how to do it, I can…I don’t know…”

You giggled.

“Joshua…Willard?”

Her violet irises flared.

“You know him?”

“Ah…yes…but not well. He seems like a very nice man.”

Her eyes glazed over, wistful thoughts playing in her mind.

“He’s so kind and considerate. I’ve never met anyone like him, so gentle. A few weeks ago, I went to pick up a dress, and he helped me. His hands were so soft, and his voice was so sweet. Every night since then, we’ve been meeting in secret! I know he’s the right one and he thinks so too!

I don’t want to brute of a husband. I want a kind person who I can talk to. That’s why I have to know how to convince my parents not to marry me off to some…stranger!”

You weren’t sure how to answer.

“I think…You should do whatever you must to protect your beloved,” you said. “I can’t tell you exactly what to do because it will be different for you. We’re all different in different circumstances.

She looked a little disappointed.

“What I do know, though, Iris, is that if you love one another, you will find a way You two are adults, not children. No one can make you marry someone you don’t want to. It’s only a matter of how far you are willing to go, what sacrifices you will make to have the life you want.”

She nodded, thinking.

“But…” you started, pausing to sip your tea, “What if your parents went on a little vacation?”

“A vacation?”

You shrugged.

“Once you’re married, you’re married,” you said. “Maybe by the time they return…if they return… you’ve sorted your affairs.”

The two of you shared a knowing look, and she brightened.

“I like you (Y/N), you’re very clever! You’ve given me hope! Is there anything I can help you with in return? I want us to be friends!”

You smiled, picking up one of the catalogs.

“Yes, actually. I have no idea what is proper for a lady. Can you help me? We can plan our weddings together.”

She beamed at you, taking the catalog.

“Of course!”

A few hours later, Leander came slithering through the garden.

“Iris? What are you doing here?” he asked, his shoulders stiffening. “I thought I made it clear…”

Iris snorted and waved him away.

“I’m not here for you,” she said, raising her nose at him. “(Y/N) and I are planning our weddings.”

“Your wedding?” he asked, and she grinned.

“Yes! And now that you’re here,” she wrinkled her nose at him. “I think I’ll be off.”

She leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Thank you for your advice (Y/N). I’m going to talk to Joshua,” she said before sliding past Leander without saying goodbye.

“What was that all about?” Leander asked when she was gone.

You shrugged.

“True love, I guess.”

He pulled you into his coils, peeking over your shoulder at the catalogs on the table. He ran a finger over the things you’d circled.

“Lei, can I ask you something?” you asked.

“Anything, love.”

You twisted around to look at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Did you tell Iris that you were excited I sneezed on you?”

“Ah…noooo,” he lied, his whole face darkening to a deep blue. “Wh-Why would she say something silly like that?”

You giggled.

“Of course not,” you said, patting his chest. “I must have misheard her. Can I borrow your handkerchief? It's a little warm out here.”

He passed it to you and you daintily patted your forehead, handing it back. His eyes widened at the little scrap of fabric in his hand and he hastily stuck it in his jacket pocket.

Leander might be a weirdo, but he was your weirdo and you wouldn't have it any other way.

506 notes · View notes

nadinebrooks · 7 months

Note

Hello!! Can you do a couple head cannons with hufflepuff reader x Draco and a hufflepuff reader x Cedric (separate),maybe some Yule ball head cannons too only if you want to though (: if not just wanted to let you know I love your writing and your understanding of the characters is just incredible <3

Here is the link to my masterlist.

Cedric Diggory x Reader: Blossoming Love

Warnings: I don't believe there is anything.

The start of the school year at Hogwarts was a magical whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. The castle buzzed with energy as students returned to their beloved home away from home. Among those students was (y/n), a warm-hearted and hardworking Hufflepuff entering her sixth year.

Over the past couple of weeks, she was really starting to settle into her schedule. Her favorite class had always been Herbology. She absolutely adored Professor Sprout.

Professor Sprout’s voice rang through the greenhouse as she attempted to capture the attention of all of her students.

“Class, for this semester, we will be working on a long-term group project. Each of you will be paired with a partner and before you get too excited, I will be selecting your partners randomly.”

(y/n) exchanged excited glances with her closest friend, Eleanor Wilson, as they silently prayed that they would be partners. Nobody wanted to be partners with someone that they didn’t like or had never talked to.

The professor waved her wand as enchanted parchment soared through the air with names on them. (y/n) watched as a piece glided toward her and she held her breath in anticipation.

When the parchment landed in her hand, she unfolded it to reveal the name of her partner:

Cedric Diggory.

Eleanor’s eyes widened with surprise as she leaned over (y/n)’s shoulder and looked at the name. She giggled and winked at her friend.

Cedric wasn’t just any Hufflepuff. He was one of the more charming, talented, handsome guys (y/n) had ever come across during her time at Hogwarts. She thought he was absolutely perfect. However, the two of them had never really gotten a chance to know each other on a more personal level. They were in the same year, but (y/n) always looked at him like an unreachable star in the Hogwarts constellation.

Cedric slowly gathered his belongings and made his way toward her. Elanor smiled one last time at (y/n) and went to find her partner.

“Hi (y/n),” He grinned down at her. “I’m actually happy that we’re partners.”

“Really.” (y/n)’s eyes shot up in surprise. She was a little surprised that he even knew who she was.

“Yes.” He nodded earnestly. “Usually I end up pairing with one of my friends and that never goes well because I always end up doing all the work. But you don’t have to worry about that, I plan to pull my weight.”

For the project, the two of them had to explore and document herbal remedies for common magical ailments like burns, insect bites, or minor curses. Then they had to create a detailed pamphlet with instructions.

“Thank you, Cedric. I really appreciate that. I’ve also had my fair share of assignments where I’ve had to do most of the work.” (y/n) told him. And in that moment it seemed as if the two of them decided to pull their weight for the sake of the other one. They decided that the best thing would be to meet every other evening in the library when Cedric didn’t have Quidditch practice.

(y/n) very quickly learned that Cedric was so much more than just a pretty face. He was intelligent, funny, and above all, he was genuinely interested in their assignment and eager to collaborate.

As the weeks went by and the project unfolded, Cedric and (y/n) found themselves spending more and more time together. They were even spending time together doing things that had nothing to do with the project.

Even after doing their research in the greenhouse, they would have dinner together or play chess in the common room late at night. Rumors even started floating around the castle but somehow they hadn’t made their way back to them.

Once when the two of them found themselves alone in the common room, Cedric finally told (y/n) something that he had been wanting to tell her a couple of months ago. She uncovered a side of Cedric that only a few had seen - thoughtful and vulnerable. He found himself confiding in her about his aspirations, insecurities, and his innermost thoughts.

“You know (y/n), I really do appreciate your company. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” Cedric’s voice had gone somber.

“I hope you know that I’m always here to listen.” (y/n) looked over at him with empathy. She couldn’t image how hard it was to be him.

“Thank you.” His eyes were filled with gratitude. “I like that you treat just like you treat everyone else you come across. You just see me as Cedric and that means a lot.”

Their bond deepened over the course of the semester, and Cedric found solace in sharing his thoughts and worries with (y/n). He began to look forward to not only their meetings but staring at her across the room in Potions or getting to have breakfast with her. It was nice to know that he could be himself without the weight of the spotlight.

However, their growing friendship did not go unnoticed by Cho Chang. The rumors had made their way back to her. She was someone who had caught Cedric’s eye in the past and even though they weren’t officially dating, she always wanted to a presence in his life. She couldn’t help but feel jealous of the connection (y/n) and Cedric was forging.

One day, Cho confronted (y/n) while she was sitting out by the Black Lake reading a book.

“Stay away from Cedric.” She hissed dark eyes piercing into (y/n)’s.

“Cho, there’s no need to worry.” (y/n) was taken aback by Cho’s hostility. “Cedric and I are just friends. I would never try to come between the two of you.”

“I’ve seen the way you and Cedric have been spending time together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“We’re just working on a semester long project together.” (y/n) responded completely unfazed by Cho’s hostility.

Cho’s expression softened slightly when she saw that (y/n) was genuine about not wanting to come between the two of them. “You better keep it that way.”

“Cho, you and Cedric aren’t officially dating.” (y/n) let out a patient sigh that caused Cho’s left eye to twitch. “Besides, I doubt he sees me the same way that he sees you. I’m not as beautiful as you.”

“Not as beautiful as me?” Cho let out a dark laugh. “I can’t believe you actually think that. Not only are you beautiful on the outside, but Cedric sees your kindness and genuine nature.”

Deep down, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel that Cho was a vision of grace and beauty. Someone that she could never compare to. There was no way that Cedric thought about her the same way he thought about Cho.

Despite her insecurities, (y/n) continued to be a supportive friend to Cho. She listened to his hopes and dreams, offered advice when he sought it, and cherished the moments they spent together. Cedric found himself seeking (y/n)’s company more and more.

As winter approached, the Yule Ball became the talk of the school. It was an event filled with excitement and anticipation. Of course, the idea of the Yule Ball crossed (y/n)’s mind, but she hadn’t given it a ton of thought. Eleanor tried to convince her to mention it to Cedric but after that conversation with Cho, there was no way.

“You know, (y/n), the Yule Ball is coming up.” Cedric sat down his quill. His hand had started to cramp from writing so much. “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?”

“Me?” (y/n) sat her quill down and looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Cedric nodded with a warm smile. “I would love to go with you. You’ve been amazing and I can’t imagine a better date.”

“I’d be honored to go with you, Cedric.” (y/n) felt herself grinning. The thought of attending with him made her both nervous and excited. She never considered that someone like Cedric Diggory would ask her. And for second, the two of them felt themselves leaning in.

The world seemed to fade away as they shared an unexpected moment of intimacy. Their lips met in a tender heartfelt kiss. It was a silent confession of emotions that had grown stronger with each passing day. It was a realization that their bond was more than just friendship.

“I’ve wanted to do that longer than I care to admit,” Cedric whispered when they pulled away. His cheeks were flushed and both of their hearts were racing.

Now that their feelings were finally out in the open, the two of them spent the rest of the night working on the project, but not without sneaking glances at the other for the rest of the night.

#harry potter masterlist #harry potter imagine #harry potter preferences #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric deserved better #cedric diggory

73 notes · View notes

frodo-with-glasses · 11 months

Text

More Reading Thoughts: The Epilogue, Version Two

Like all good writers, Tolkien couldn’t quite make up his mind how he wanted to write this part. Once again tagging @lady-merian and thanking her for her patience X-D

Jirt’s Text

“…with many pauses for thought he was writing in his slow round hand…” I chose to believe this refers not only to the printed script but to the actual hand that’s writing it X-P

*Smash Bros title screen* Primrose joins the battle!

It’s Elanor’s birthday :-D

Elanor has red-gold hair confirmed

SHE CALLS HIM SAM-DAAAAAAD TTuTT

AND WALKS UP AND HUGS HIM AS HE WRITES

Sam: Only you have heard the whole Book more than once. Elanor, being Very Precise: Three times.

Hello yes Elanor is adorbs and I love her

Mirkwood is called Greenwood now!

MERRY WENT TO VISIT EOWYN IN HER WHITE HOUSE

MERRY GOT TO HANG OUT WITH EOWYN AND BERGIL AGAIN I AM LIVING

MERRY SR. IS GONNA GIVE MERRY JR. A PONY FROM ROHAN

I WILL ACTUALLY CRY

Sam, sighing: “These questions and answers aren’t fit to go in a book like that. :-(” Meanwhile, Sam, literally in a book:

BOOKCEPTION

“Mr. Meriadoc might help me. He’s clever at writing, and he’s making a splendid book all about plants.” Confirmed: Merry is an herb nerd and I would die for him

Sam still says Elanor is just as pretty if not prettier than her flower, and she’s still like “okay Dad” LOL

“Though it’s over, as we say, things don’t really end sharp like that.” Way to elbow the readers for criticizing your 13,594 endings, Tolkien

“I think it was very sad for him. And for you, Sam-dad. For your treasure went too.” HI HELLO YES OKAY IT IS FRODO TIME

YOUR TREASURE holy honey-nut feelios i die

“It was sad, Elanorellë. It was, but isn’t now.” (Tolkien I see you but I’m still gonna write angst and you can’t stop me ‘cause you’re dead)

Sam takes comfort in the fact that Frodo got his reward, and he himself got abundant reward as well. “I am a very rich hobbit.” And one more thing:

“Before he went Mr. Frodo said that my time maybe would come. I can wait. I think maybe we haven’t said farewell for good. But I can wait.”

*SCREAMS INTO A PILLOW*

WAIT. ELANOR WANTS TO GO WITH HIM. “I shall not part with you, like Arwen did with Elrond.”

HOLY PRECISION SHOT TO THE DAD-FEELS, BATMAN

Okay okay okay if you don’t have this book, you’re not gonna believe me, but I swear this is a 100% verbatim quote:

Elanor: Good night, Sam-dad. But… Sam: I don’t want good night but.

I freakin’ love Lord of the Rings 🤣

Elanor “spied” and saw Sam receive the scroll from the King! Just like the Conspirators spied on Frodo and the Ring! And Sam goes “well that’s karma if I’ve ever seen it” LOL

Okay so he went with the Fullwise name here

Elanor: When should we get ready? What will we wear? HOW MANY CURTSIES SHOULD I DO??

Sam: You wanna see elves, kid? You’re gonna see elves. Elanor: 🤩

Sam thinks the fire burns lower when Elanor leaves ;u;

This is the second time Tolkien makes fun of the hobbits praising the predictable clear weather at the end of March as “something unusual for the season”, which tells me he was very fond of that joke

Yay! He went with the singing version! X-D

And still ends with the sounds of the Sea. ✨Foreshadowing✨

Christopher’s Notes

Okay Tolkien’s “resumé” of the end of the book here gives some fascinating insights

“But Frodo cannot be healed. For the preservation of the Shire he has sacrificed himself, even in health, and has no heart to enjoy it. Sam has to choose between love of master and of wife. In the end he goes with Frodo on a last journey.”

He sacrificed himself…but has no heart to enjoy it… :-C TT~TT

“To Bilbo and Frodo the special Grace is granted to go with the elves they loved – an Arthurian ending, in which it is, of course, not made explicit whether this is an ‘allegory’ of death, or a mode of healing and restoration leading to a return.”

No wonder the ending is so haunting. Is it death? Is it healing? It’s both, and it’s neither, and it’s incredibly mythical and storybook-ish. Holy cow.

Also thought this was funny:

“Hobbit-children were delightful, but I am afraid that the only glimpses of them in this book are found at the beginning of vol. I. An epilogue giving a further glimpse (though of a rather exceptional family) has been so universally condemned that I shall not insert it. One must stop somewhere.” Tolkien really be like #I’mNotBitter lol

#samwise gamgee #elanor gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #assorted thoughts

36 notes · View notes

black-dhalias · 2 years

Text

—Pretty in Pink—

Eddie Munson X F!Reader Spoiler free!

Warning: swearing bittersweet angst, soft Eddie

You were like magic to Eddie Munson—like the cure all, perfect mix of everything sweet and ugh—he just could sit here all day. Your hands dragging through his hair, swirling circles with the pads of your fingertips. You would read him whatever fantasy book, the spine resting on the top of his head and his cheek pressed against your thigh.

All of his problems melted away, and he was left completely enveloped in your scent of vanilla and sandalwood. Hell, he even knew what sandalwood was because you were constantly burning those candles. Every few seconds, his eyes would flicker up to memorize the way your lips enunciated each word—in some ways, you never seemed to notice his obsession with you.

"...And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap. He drew a deep breath. 'Well I'm back,' he said." In fact, even as you shut the book, it took your silence to bring Eddie back to reality—which sucks because you are staring down at him with raised eyebrows.

A groan escapes his lips as he turns, burying his face in your joggers. "Well, there it is Eds, we officially finished Return of the King." He flips over, dark brown curls falling all over his face as he plays out, fully aware of the smile that dances across your lips.

Ughhhhh, he was an absolute goner! You just brought out the softest parts of him, and Eddie genuinely couldn't fathom anyone knowing him the way you do. Your laughter bounces off the walls and ceiling, it lifts the room and his mood entirely, "Nope. Unacceptable. Another!" He emphasizes every word with his hands, your body leaning back to make room for his antics. Dimples deepening, his voice booming—you hush him, throwing the book onto the duvet. Your parents adore Eddie, since his mom died back in middle school, he spent a lot of time at your dining room table. He was the unofficial son they never had. You really don't know how they'd react to him sleeping over... Its been happening more frequently, you'd hear him tapping on your window with god awful bags under his eyes.

However, as his right hand lingers in the air before brushing the backside of his ringed fingers over your jawbone and dragging down your neck. A burst of heat rushes to your cheeks, flushing them brightly, but you lean into his touch—familiar is how you would describe it. Eddie was just like this, eccentric and outlandish. Unconventional.

"Y/N?" His voice is much quieter now, and when you look down, his brown eyes are softer. Puppy dog eyes. The kind of eyes that you read about in books, and imagine looking at you the way Eddie does.

"Mmmm?" You hum, brushing a clump of curls off of his forehead, but he averts his eyes and you see a glimpse of anxiety.

"Nothing. Just wanted your attention." His sweet smile, you could hardly breathe, not that he really ever noticed that. .

That was then though, now you lived an entirely different life, one that didn't have an Eddie Munson—it was a life of sorority events, roller skating, and vibrancy. You were living it up in the land without snow, Florida State University called your name and you couldn't get their quick enough.

You fell in love with the sun, the people were so different—bolder than you expected and that sunshine became intoxicating. They were more accepting some ways, less in others. Being there made sense in your steps, the ones you'd journaled at seven years old. Go to college and have the best time, never look back at Hawkins. Fall in love, a lot. Join a sorority.

Sitting in your dorm the first night was a bittersweet experience because you missed home. You were aggressively homesick. At first, you wrote to Eddie and your parents every week, but those thinned out as you found your place. At one point, you didn't even remember the last time you wrote your so called best friend.

Eddie, however, did not fare so well once your letters stopped gracing his mailbox—he'd shut the door and walk back into the trailer, and soon enough, he stopped doing that too. What had started as just three months of radio silence, turned into a year. A whole year?! It was unbelievable to Eddie, more believable now since you had already done it.

He'd even stopped going over to your place altogether, to be close to you until he saw you again was the main reason—the hot meal was just a bonus. To think, he used to go there once a week. Kind of pathetic, the thought is bitter as he slips on his shoes to head to the dumpster fire that is Hawkins High. His own personal hell, that he was going through for a third time.

Lunch rolls around, which leaves Eddie sitting at the Hellfire table—Gareth across as he picks at the food. Disgusting, he can't wait to ditch this miserable place as soon as possible—but it's the first semester. Haven't even rung in the new year.

"Oh by the way, Y/N is back in town. And I might have mentioned Hellfire is meeting. Tonight." Jeff throws in, before looking back at his tray, averting his eyes away from Eddie who snaps to attention.

"What?" Eerie and calm, his tense smile smoothing out as he pops his lip. Inhaling deeply, fists tightening before he exhales and looks at Jeff. "Like Y/N Y/L/N?" He could hardly believe it, you were like a ghost to him, a distant memory. "Did she write you?" The last bit is intentional, Eddie aching to hurt himself a little further by knowing you talked to everyone except him. To lend to his pity party.

"Nah. I bumped into her at the video store, apparently Harrington works there now." Did you write Harrington? You just dropped off the face of the earth, Eddie didn't even know if you were still alive up until Jeff mentioned you. The metalhead did his best to not think about you at all.

"Oh." With that, Eddie drops the remnants of his meal onto the tray and leaves.

"What the hell was that?" Dustin asks, finally sitting down with Mike and Lucas.

"Eddie's girl is back from Florida." One of the other club member quips, remembering how you and Eddie would go back and forth every D&D session. They bite into their food, swallowing: "And Jeff here, invited her to tonight."

"What?!" Dustin exclaims, his eyes wide as he looks at Jeff. "Not cool, dude!" Jeff raises his hands in defense, and that's the last thing Eddie hears before he is out of earshot. Idiots... His idiots— but still, couldn't they just mind their own business.

"Mom! I'm heading to Hellfire!" You shout, seeing her turn the corner from the kitchen with the brightest of smiles. She reaches out and kisses your forehead.

"Oh it's just like when you were in high school." She almost looks like she's in tears, you awkwardly stand there before she shoo's you away. "Say hi to Eddie for me, dear." Mom just walks off nonchalantly, but your entire body had gone rigid at the thought of seeing him again.

"mhmmmm." You force out before sprinting out the door, before she can comment on your reaction. You know your mother well enough to know she misses Eddie, she even said it last night—'when you left off to the dorms, it was like I lost two of my kids'. Yet, you haven't talked to him in years, at some point he just stopped writing and you never could bring yourself to write him first.

Walking into Hawkins High is like a rush of memories, you used to walk these halls thinking you had everything—but your life had barely even started. Yet, there is still a lot of unfinished business here.

The old theater classroom is exactly as you remember, tucked away from prying eyes and the perfect spot for Campaigns. Your hand rests over the door, lips pursed together.

Three knocks. Eddie glances around at the party before leaning back into his makeshift throne, waving for someone to answer. Jeff scurries off to the door, cracking it slightly: "Speak, friend, and enter."

"Mellon..." Eddie's heart literally stops when you speak, the door being thrown open to reveal a shadow clone of you, smiling brightly. Nothing like he remembers you as. Yet you sounded exactly the same though, the same smile too.

You hold a tray, pride practically seeping off your expression: "I brought the tots as an offering, my liege!" To which Gareth is very quickly at your side, grinning and taking the tray from you. Remembering just how good those potatoes were, like fluffy and crispy heavenly goodness. With cheese.

Eddie almost breaks a smile, as he jumps down from the throne you had helped him build—aaaaa memories. His expression stern as he struts towards you, you smile tightly, leaning back as you peer up at him. Your eyes widening significantly, in a way that causes his brown eyes to soften—his shoulders dropping.

Sure, metalhead—scary, grungy, but not angry in the slightest. "Gareth!" He shouts, holding out his hand. The hellfire member places the tray of tater tots under his hand, and watches as the dungeon master plucks up three and pops them in his mouth. You practically see him melt, but what you don't see is another wave of memories hitting him.

"Your offering of tots is accepted. Sit oh pastel princess of the forgotten kingdom." Ouch, you let out a breath as soon as he turns his back and heads back to the head of the table.

Eddie always hid his feelings well, but even now, you knew him better than he'd ever let on. You could see past his eyes and into his soul, that's why he'd knew you notice the gentle jab. You were different. You weren't graphic tees and ripped jeans anymore, you were pastels and brightly colored shoes—you wore makeup, god dammit. However, it was your abandonment that left him cynical as ever.

"Tonight we shall journey to a land of sunshine, where the reigning pastel princess has inexplicably disappeared to." Eddie had completely left his notes to the dust, which never happens. He never got angry. Never raised his voice. Never got frustrated. Eddie was nothing like everyone in the school made him out to be, but right now, he just wished you understood half of what he felt.

"Let us begin..."

By the end of the session, you were borderline about to cry, but you promised yourself you'd stay the entire time. You hid it between forced bouts of laughter, but as soon as you heard the words leave his lips, you pushed away from the table roughly. "Look at the time. Gotta run, I'll see you guys later. It was nice to meet you kiddos."

Eddie watched your spiral when he ended the session, the way your hands fumbled to push your things into your bag and how you never looked at anyone. But you especially did not look at him.

"Dude..." Dustin watches the door slam before turning his head to Eddie, with wide eyes. "That was cold." No one had said a thing, they let Eddie send them on some crazy side quest to get back at his very clearly, ex-best friend.

If Eddie had been anyone else, he would have stood by his decision to do what he did. Eddie is not that kind of guy though, and he suddenly had a wave of guilt crash over him—still seeing your glassy eyes.

"Shit..." Dustin kind of makes a face, the kind you give to someone who just did something stupidly dumb.

"Yeah shit." The kid had only known you for that single session and it was all he needed to know you were a good person. Not the kind to want to make someone hurt, he spent half his life labelled as Eddie 'the freak' Munson.

Yet, because his little bitch feelings were hurt, he had made aggressively pointed jabs at you every time he could. You were so ready to get out of there, that you even left one of your mom's good dishes. Which made him feel even worse, but your car was gone from the parking lot by the time he cleaned up the room.

Eddie drove past your house everyday, but tonight was the first time in a year that he checked the driveway—empty save for your parents car. "Shit!" His brakes squeal and smoke, the air smells of burnt rubber—lights in the house turn on. "Fuck! Shit!" His tires burn rubber before he peels down the road, only to make an aggressive u-turn in the nearest cul de sac.

The beating his van took that night almost killed the old thing, he probably burned his whole gas tank driving up and down Hawkins. Going to every place he could think of, but you were nowhere to be seen—it was like you just disappeared. Did you even say bye to your parents? He thinks bitterly, crashing into his bed face first before turning to look at the alarm clock that's about fifteen seconds away from destroying his peace.

Three knocks. Eddie groans, burying a pillow into his face before standing upright—exhaustion overwhelming him, he hadn't even brought himself to change yet. Begrudgingly, he looks through the half window and throws open the door when he sees you. Still dressed in your clothes from yesterday. Fury in your eyes.

"Where the hell were you?" Eddie doesn't shout, but his voice is stern and rough, clouded with emotions. However, you stomp up the stairs towards him—jabbing your finger in his chest to enunciate every word.

"I. Hate. You. Eddie. Munson." You look borderline about to cry again, you had spent the night driving and ended up pulling over on some random back road when you couldn't see straight. "I verifiably hate you! And you're stupid, entitled, arrogant... petty insults!" You raise your voice, just trying to outrun your emotions that are threatening to take you out right now.

Eddie raises his hands in defense, stumbling back and placing obstructions to create distance between—laughing nervously. "Now. Now. Sweetheart, I went looking for you. I wanted to say sorry."

Instead of softening, you step around the chair and now Eddie has pressed himself into a the couch as you tower over him. "After you spent the night bullying me. You're unbelievable, Munson." He goes to respond, but your use of his last name is deafening. Remembering how you used to that to jocks that messed with him—messed with anyone in Hellfire. For a second, you just look at him—trying to read his expression, but all you see is the regret and your shoulders slump over on themselves. Eddie can see you crumble right before him. You aren't a vision from his past, a distant memory, you are right here in front of him. The metalhead reaches out to run the outer part of his fingers along your biceps, creating a sense of familiarity. As tears pour down your face and carve up your face into broken sections—he hates when you cry.

Eddie used to think that you felt emotions deeper than most people, because you were always trying to put others before yourself. You kept up with everyone's needs and sometimes, you would just break down like this. Like the weight of everyone's futures was on—Eddie stops moving, a very aggressive realization pounding into him.

"fuck..." Eddie finds it in himself to forgive you for just five minutes, and wraps you in his arms—at first, you are rigid, your sobs intensifying before you melt into him. Face buried in his shoulder, his hair smells of cedar and woods, but his jacket smells of weed. Not the aggressive smell, but the soft smell that never really washes out of your clothes. His chin rests in your hair, the smell of vanilla and sandalwood wraps around his lil mind again and he just exhales. God, he's missed you.

"I missed you too, Eds." shit. He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until he hears your hoarse voice from under him. He squeezed you a little harder, he didn't even need you to explain anything because you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. The weight of his future.

He hated high school and desperately wanted out, but everytime he thought he was going to drag himself to that building—he just wouldn't. It was his own fault. That alphabet ADD shit played a part too, but he actively chose not to care.

It was like a light bulb went off in his brain, a whole year without you, and the second he has you in his arms everything switches into place. His cheek buries in your hair, just trying to soothe your tears with his hands. Rubbing small circles and little movements—Eddie feels every stutter, but you're calming down.

Eddie freaking Munson... For some reason, his words cut deeper last night than any of frat brother's remarks—that first week was difficult in the sense that you didn't know anyone. You felt like an outsider, and you had only just gotten there and you were terrified of never fitting in.

Then the pieces started to pull themselves together, you found power in self expression and found your sense of style. With it, came confidence and for some reason, you ended up pretending Hawkins didn't exist. Eddie along with that, because Hawkins reminded you of all those feelings.

To him, you always reminded him of all the good things he had and all the good things he wanted. You were a steady reminder of a time when he didn't need to label himself as the freak, to ignore the way other people saw him because he had you.

"You still hate me?" He asks quietly, innocently, sweet like the boy you remember—the one who made you feel safe and protected. And when you separate yourself from him enough to look in those big round brown eyes, your lips tighten together. He watches them draw a thin line, just as your eyes soften—still just as red and puffy as before, but not so angry.

"No..." You sigh loudly, breaking eye contact and walking off. You can hear your heart pounding, making it difficult to hear your steps, but Eddie is very aware of every step you make. His hands stuffing deep in his pockets, even as you throw yourself onto the couch—arms crossed over your chest, just like when you were a kid. "No. I don't hate you, I never hated you."

"Then why'd you go?" He wasted no time asking you the big question, and you feel bad because you don't have an answer that doesn't sound selfish. Self-centered. Because it was, it was a decision made for you and most of the time, you don't think that's a selfish thing.

"Eddie. I was never going to be happy in Hawkins, I'm not a small town, small world kind of girl." The curly haired boy sits next to you, rubbing his hands on his thighs—his nerves going haywire, he missed you so much and here you are. Right here, and he doesn't even know what to say.

"Then write? Call? Hell computers are a thing, not that I have one, but still—!" For a second, you don't recall any other reason as to why you never wrote back. You had thought that he had stopped writing you, but—Eddie visibly sees you slump into yourself, on the brink of tears again. "Shit Y/N, don't cry..."

"No I just—" You shrug, chest heaving with every word as you face your guilt. "I thought you stopped writing me... I didn't get any letters for weeks and thought you were just tired of—" Eddie holds up his hand, eyes closed and you go quiet—waiting, knowing that he needs a second to think. It had only been a couple years, nothing substantial and he was still the same ole Eddie. The metalhead pops his lips, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he speaks: "Are you telling me...? That I could have been talking to you, my best friend, all this time?"

You weigh your answers, not sure what actually is the right choice, but the truth is—if he wrote you, you undoubtedly would have written him back. So you nod.

"Well now I feel shitty, because I missed you." His voice is growing more excited, you could almost forget the solemn energy he had earlier or the anger that laced his words last night. You laugh, as he jumps up onto the couch—old shoes and all.

You follow his lead, jumping up onto the couch, shoes and all, with a grin. "That's great, because I missed you."

"Good."

"Fantastic."

You go back and forth, just watching him as he hovers his hands over your cheeks before clasping your face in his hands. You feel his rings, and all his smells is the scent of Sandalwood. It engulfs his form and encourages him, it is enough to drive him forward.

"Can I kiss you?" Only Eddie Munson would ask to kiss you, and what were you supposed to do? Say no? Not miss the one person who always saw you?

When his lips hit yours, he imagines all the things he used to imagine—things he thought would never happen, the future and yeah, you weren't the same person. Yet you were still pretty, even in pink. And when he pulls away, he had the goofiest of grins and couldn't help, but keep your face in his hands.

"This year is my year. I can feel it. '86 baby!"

Then he kisses you one more time for good measure.

#imagines #requests #x reader #reader insert #request away #imagine requests #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader

162 notes · View notes

peachy-yan · 2 years

Text

Death Warmed Over

Ren x Reader

⚠️Warnings: Yandere behavior, sick reader

A/N: This is meant to be like. The flu or a really bad cold. It occurred to me while writing this that nowadays is maybe Not the best time to write a sick fic 😓 but I was reading a manga with the “taking care of the sick love interest” scene/trope and I was like “I should write that with Ren!” and anyway here we are

Synopsis: You’ve got a really bad cold and the cute guy from the library comes over to help take care of you after you send him a text asking for help.

~~~

“Ughhhhh” You rolled over in bed, finding it impossible to get comfortable when you felt this bad. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this sick. Your head hurt, your body ached, you felt freezing cold but boiling hot at the same time, and your nose was so stuffed you could barely breathe.

You hadn’t left your bed to even make a cup of tea or check your temperature. Not that you needed to. You could tell you had a fever and that it was a high one. The only thing you could really do was curl up in the fetal position under every blanket you owned and send a semi-coherent text to Elanor letting her know you were sick today.

Eventually you would have to get food or use the bathroom, but eating was the last thing in your mind right now and you weren’t sure you could leave the bed without collapsing into a puddle of sick goo. Everything hurt and you couldn’t even get the energy to pick up your phone and ask for help.

It could have been minutes or hours after you sent the texts to Elanor when you were woken from your hazy half sleep by a noise coming from the kitchen. It sounded like… the tea kettle? Sleep tugged at you like waves on the shore but inbetween dozing you thought you could make out the sounds of dishes being rattled and stuff being moved. Well. If someone had broken in, that was that. Maybe they’d put you out of your misery. Another wave of sleep washed over you and you forgot about the noises coming from just a room over until your bedroom door opened and someone stepped in.

You blinked.

“Har…uko..?” You must still be asleep.

“Y/n! Y-you’re up! It’s- it’s me! Ren. From the library!”

“Ren? Ugh cough what are you doing here?” You tried to sit up but fell back into the bed. You heard Ren set something down before you felt him next to you, gently propping you up with pillows.

“You texted me. Don’t you remember? T-the door was unlocked s-so I thought it would be ok to come in! I-I can leave if you want me to! But here, I made you some tea! And soup!”

“I- I did?” Your vision is swimming a little and your head hurts so much it’s hard to think. You start to say something but a coughing fit stops you and before you know it, you’ve got a cold washcloth on your neck, a cup of tea in your hands and an open bag of cough drops next to you.

“May I take your temperature, Angel?” Ren asks and you find yourself nodding, taking a sip of the tea which happens to be your favorite with just the right amount of honey added to it.

Ren’s hand gently smooths your sweat coated forehead and he takes the cup of tea from you before putting a thermometer in your mouth.

You start to doze off and the beep of the thermometer wakes you up to see Ren’s concerned face startlingly close to your own.

You stare at each other until your eyelids feel heavy again and Ren pockets the thermometer he was still holding.

“…fever is really high…” Ren is talking to you, you think, but it’s hard to focus. His hands are on you and he gently repositions you so that you’re laying down again. You feel the washcloth on your neck being taken away and you groan slightly. It was cold and it felt good, why was he taking it away??

Instead of a response, you feel the feather light touch of lips on your forehead and a hand stroking you hair. Or maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe Ren isn’t here and you’re having a fever induced hallucination of the cute guy from the library.

“Eep!” A colder, fresh washcloth was placed on your neck and you made a very undignified sound.

“You’re so cute, Angel.” Ren chuckled, and you felt him climb into bed next to you, holding you gently. Something tugged at the back of your mind, that maybe a virtual stranger shouldn’t be in your bed, holding you like this, but he was warm and it felt so nice to be held, that you ignored it. For the first time since you had woken up, you felt comfortable.

When you finally woke up, you felt a lot better. You vaguely remembered that Ren had come over to take care of you, and a hazy memory of tea and cough drops drifted by just as you noticed the arm around your waist. Ren was still in bed with you. Ren was still in the bed with you.

“Um. Ren?” Tentatively you gently tried to move his arm, but instead, his grip tightened and pulled you onto your side so you were facing him. You held your breath and saw his eyelids flutter open as awareness flashed into his bright eyes.

“A-Angel!” He breathed, still holding you. He scrambled backward maybe a moment later than was comfortable. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep! You were just so cute I couldn’t help myself…” He murmured the last part to himself.

“What?”

“What? N-nothing! I was just staying with you to make sure you were ok. D-do you want some soup now?”

“Oh.” You suddenly became very aware that you hadn’t eaten all day. “Yeah, soup would be great actually, thank you.”

“O-ok I’ll go get you some!” He leapt off the bed, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

I should check my phone. No new messages, but you saw that a conversation with Ren had been started. By you. Huh. You didn’t remember that, but he had said you’d texted.

Y/N: Hey, I’m really sorry to bother you but I’m super sick and could use some help.

Ren: I’ll be right over!

Y/N: Thank you so much! The door is unlocked so just come in :) I’ll send the address to you ^^

You didn’t remember any of that but you had been really out of it, and here the conversation was, right on your phone. You saw that you’d also sent a message to Elanor about missing work. That one you remembered. Though it was… less coherent then you had intended.

“Chicken noodle soup!” Ren came into the room with a bowl of soup. It looked suspiciously like he had microwaved one of those plastic travel soups and dumped it into a bowl. There was even still a piece of red plastic in it which he hastily pulled out.

“Oh! Thank you!” Ren set the soup down and you politely took a spoonful. Somehow it tasted slightly burnt.

“Well, I’m feeling a lot better now. Thank you so much for coming over, Ren. It really helped a lot. I thought I was dying this morning haha.”

“Of course, Angel! I would never let anything happen to you. In fact, I should probably just stay here to make sure you really are better.”

Earlier that day

Elanor felt her phone go off in her purse, and after several minutes of searching for it, (did she leave it at home? No, it had gone off so it was here) she fished it out of her purse. A text from y/n! They were a few minutes late today. Maybe this would be an explanation and an ETA for when they were getting to work!

Y/N: Suck toasty

Another text popped up.

Y/N: Sirru /(

Elanor reread the texts several times before giving up and putting her phone away. She’d just ask you tomorrow…

#14dwy ren #14dwy #ren #ren x reader #my writing #tw sick mention #the ending is so abrupt 😣 i lost motivation at the end and i felt like i had already written too much 😭#if it wasnt clear #reader was trying to text ‘sick today’ and ‘sorry :(‘

125 notes · View notes

arrianna21 · 9 months

Text

~Caramel Eyes, Mocha Paws~ Chapter 4

Summary: With unexplainable occurrences on the rise, you begin investigating the random attacks on your own until someone else apparently has the same idea as well. And suddenly, you find yourself caught at the wrong time and place.

wolf!yoongi x fem!reader

Word Count: 12,774

#1 | | #2 | | #3 | | #4 | |

There’s always a strange irony to things you realize as you pour milk into the cup. It drips with ease and you stop once a sufficient amount has been added. Using the toothpick, you curve the cream into a crescent moon and slice the other little dots into stars before carefully delivering the drink to the woman sitting at her table.

She smiles and thanks you in return while you continue working on more orders. While not rare, the fact that someone else is thinking about the moon too can’t help but nudge at your suspicions. A lot of people like the moon but since finding that note, you’re wondering if that’s also a sign of some sort. Especially after the other gift you received this morning.

As you headed to the café during your usual walk you came across a squirrel that had been dashing up and down the trees before stopping short in front of you on the trail. You froze so as not to startle it, watching it look at you with a twitching tail only for it to scurry off. In its place was an acorn, one in pristine condition, the nut glimmering a pretty brown hue with small designs etched into the shell. Unsure of its meaning, you stuck it into your bag and continued on your way even more confused.

Between the will o’ the wisp and squirrel, you’re half expecting some other person or creature to deliver yet another cryptic message.

The note is sitting on your desk at home, tucked behind your books. It surely had to have come from the will o’ the wisp that you found in the storage room but it couldn’t have been the one to write it itself. According to your quick online search, these phantom creatures don’t exactly communicate with others, instead leading people astray in the fog. Yet this one seems to understand you. Maybe it’s just a messenger, but for who? This mysterious WW isn’t recognizable unless the initials are for a pseudonym of sorts. Yoongi was the only other person there that night yet he had been on his laptop the whole time.

“Are you going to finish the order or keep watching it blend into mush?” Elanor asks over the loud whirring of the blender that’s currently mixing the coffee.

You quickly pull the container free and serve the drink into a cup with ice cubes before handing it off. “Sorry, got distracted for a second,” you say in a hurry.

“With what, the blender?” She jokes.

“No,” you shake your head, “just getting lost in my head.”

Elanor reorganizes the desserts that’ve gotten knocked around in the display case, resetting them to look presentable. “Yeah, but about what?”

Nothing you could possibly say out loud in public. “Just about my walk this morning. I saw a cute squirrel running around and burying nuts for winter.”

She gives you an odd look. “Right.” Before she can prod any further, a woman dressed in a business suit quickly walks in on the phone and orders an espresso and a couple of scones.

While Elanor takes over making the drink, you fetch the food and ring up her order. Inadvertently you end up catching bits and pieces of her conversation. “Yes, sir, I just wrapped up the interview with the victim in Greenbriar and grabbing a coffee before I head to the second one now.” The woman pauses, listening quietly to whoever’s talking.

You slowly ease the chocolate and lemon scones into the bag, doing your best not to noisily crinkle the bag too much. What does she mean by second one? Second victim? There’s only been talk of one attack. Maybe it’s not the same case. Greenbriar is all the way in the next county.

“Depending on what this one says, I think it’ll determine if there’s a connection between the attacks. But I believe—yes, well, I already have those scheduled with experts to verify,” she sighs to herself before clenching and unclenching her fist, “yes, I’ll schedule some more meetings and look into it.” Hanging up her phone, she rubs her forehead and lets out another sigh.

“Boss being a little overbearing?” You guess, giving her a sympathetic smile while handing her the drink and bag of food.

“Yep. I finally start getting things on track for this story and now my supervisor wants me to interview paranormal investigators or something to see what they think about these attacks in the woods,” she explains, taking a careful sip of her coffee. “I’m well aware of the importance of hearing from both aspects, but he wants to spin it as some spooky ghost story.”

“That’s certainly quite a take,” you note, drawing a snort from Elanor who’s actively listening in nearby at the register but not engaging in the conversation. “So is it true there’s been two attacks?” You lower your voice as you ask.

The woman nods while typing out something on her phone. “Supposedly. That’s why I’m out here to verify and see if there’s any connection between the two cases. Though this is a little ways out to be honest.” Her phone begins ringing again and she answers it. “Yes, sir?” She lets out another sigh before rolling her eyes. “Yes, I’ll bring you a banana muffin.”

You’re already putting one into another bag by the time she hangs up. “Here, it’s on the house. Consider the muffin payment for having to do the runaround with him,” you tell her, giving her the additional paper sack.

“Thanks.” Setting her phone briefly on the counter, you notice her GPS is open and leading to her next location. Must be the second victim. While she’s still digging around in her purse, you take another look at the coordinates and easily recognize the address that’s rather close by. The woman, having found some spare change, drops the coins and handful of bills into the tip jar before gathering her things to leave.

You watch her step out the door before glancing at the clock. “Hey Elanor, can you cover for me this afternoon?”

Just more and more coincidences.

~*~

The two story Air BNB house sits atop the brick foundation with a short stack of stairs leading up to the porch. Neatly trimmed hedges line the front with a decaying birdhouse that hangs on the lone tree. A fresh patch of grass grows over the plot of dirt where the blooming lilies and poppies once used to be, the colorful flowers always drawing your attention on your walk home from school as a kid.

Before this became a vacation home, it used to be owned by Mrs. Reyes. She was the librarian for decades and so you were a familiar face since you were always studying there. She gave you the offer of coming by once or twice a week to help clean her two story home as dust easily collected all throughout the many rooms.

It’s still strange being here in quite a few years. While you hadn’t planned on investigating the attack, after hearing about the other one from the reporter, you’re wondering if this really could be the work of something supernatural. Sure you could just tell Wolfy about it, but what can he do besides keep guarding the forest? It’s not like he can go into the city to investigate or talk with people. At the very least you can be lending a helping hand in the meantime.

The faded white railing creaks as you use it to help steady yourself while you climb the steps. You knock on the wooden door while the wind briefly picks up and stirs the wind chimes hanging at the far end, the dull silver butterflies swaying in the air as the metal clinks faintly. Otherwise, it remains completely quiet. Normally, classical music would be seeping through the cracked open windows, but there’s only the swaying tree branches that serve as your ambience.

There’s the sound of fast-paced footsteps and the door swings open, revealing blonde hair tied into an unkempt bun. If the brown-rimmed glasses aren’t already recognizable, then the burgundy cardigan draped over her shoulders surely is. What are the odds of you running into the rude customers from the coffee shop? If memory serves you correctly, you think her friend had called her Diane.

“Can I help you?” She sighs. Dark bags hang just below her eyes as she practically stares through you.

“Hi, I’m looking for Miranda Hutchins.”

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m Y/N and I work with the local paper, the Hallow Howler,” you answer with a smile. “I don’t mean to intrude but I was hoping to speak with her about what happened in the woods.” Clearly you don’t work for the paper, but you figure at least it’s credible enough to investigate further into this mess. Better than saying you’re a barista with an apparent knack for sleuthing.

She squints her eyes before asking, “Don’t you work at the coffee shop?”

Of course. “I work there part-time, but this is my main job,” you smoothly respond.

Diane stares back, eyeing you over while silently contemplating if you’re worth listening to. “Come in,” she eventually sighs, opening the door wider, revealing the foyer that used to be decorated with all sorts of landscape paintings but is now bare.

As you step inside the warm house getting away from the chill air, you take a moment to examine the place you once knew. While the faded floral wallpaper has been updated with a fresh coat of green paint, the rest of the house looks about the same as you remember. At the entrance there are still little end tables with a vase of fake wildflowers on each one. You can’t help but notice the thin strings of cobwebs that decorate a few of the petals. At least the appliances have all been upgraded as you catch a glimpse of the kitchen from your position. The nineteenth century vintage stovetop with its multiple knobs and drawers is now replaced with a more modern type. Even the retro mint colored refrigerator has been replaced by a fancy silver one that has a touch screen on the door.

Gesturing for you to follow, Diane takes you to the cozy living room, where a red couch and armchair sit in the middle facing away from the entrance. Against the wall, a new flatscreen tv sits on a stand, having replaced the old fashioned one as well. The channel is on some celebrity news show and you see someone with their legs propped up on the red velvet ottoman, bare feet sticking out from beneath the quilted blanket.

“Diane, was that the delivery person with our takeout?” The person asks, turning their head to look over and your eyes end up meeting as you recognize the other woman who barked both their orders at you. “Why’s the barista here?”

A part of you is almost impressed she can remember all the people she yells at.

“She works part time there but also works with the local paper and wants to do an interview with you,” her friend explains, coming closer. “Do you need anything while I’m up?”

“Yeah, some more water,” Miranda holds up the glass and Diane takes it before heading to the kitchen. You awkwardly shift on your feet, soles creating imprints on the faded beige carpet. “Are you just gonna stand there or actually ask whatever questions you supposedly have?” She snaps without looking away from the screen.

Moving forward, you position yourself beside the couch before easing down into the side that’s closest to her. You pull out your phone, ensuring the notes with your questions are ready. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me. I’m Y/N by the way,” you introduce yourself, not that she actually pays much attention as she continues watching her show. “Are you sure you’re comfortable talking about this again?” You tentatively ask.

She finally glances over to stare at you, her blue eyes rimmed red, the dark smudges beneath them tinted with exhaustion. Her black hair is tied in a messy ponytail with some strands sticking out in various directions. Even her clothes, though certainly some high-end fashion brand, are slightly disheveled. Her fuchsia long sleeve shirt is rumpled and seemingly drowns her within in the fabric. “Yeah,” she scoffs. “It’s not like I haven’t told my story over a dozen times at this point.”

“I just wanted to make sure,” you respond politely, keeping the customer service voice enabled before your mouth gets the better of you. “Could you confirm when and where this happened exactly?”

“Maple Berry Way at about 9:30pm,” she recites just as Diane comes back with her water, setting it down on the little side table beside her before going to sit at the other end of the couch.

Your fingers quickly type in the information. “And what were you doing there?”

“Hiking.” Next to you, Diane hesitates to which Miranda gives a stern shake of her head in return.

Resisting the urge to press further about their silent conversation, you focus on the next question. “Did you mostly stick to the main trails or did you go off the path?”

“Stuck to the main trail, obviously,” Miranda scoffs.

“I’m just asking questions to better understand what happened. Either way I’m not here to judge,” you reassure, silently noting her stiff posture. “So you were hiking on the main trails and then what?”

Reaching for her glass, she takes a sip of water before setting it back down. “After I finished, I was on my way back to the car when I heard noises in the bushes. Next thing I know I was being mauled,” she answers, shifting in her seat.

“Could you describe what attacked you?”

“Not really, I was too busy screaming and trying to get away. But it was big, whatever it was.”

“Do you know what kind of animal?”

A shrug. “Some kind of wolf I guess.”

Your fingers stutter in their movements, disrupting the rhythm as you clear your throat. “Any distinct features, something that maybe stood out to you?”

Miranda readjusts again before shaking her head. Absentmindedly, she begins fidgeting with her necklace, fingers softly rubbing the sapphire pendant. “No, like I said, I was just trying to get away.”

“There wasn’t anything that seemed odd about it?”

“What do you mean?” She freezes, fingers still touching her jewelry, eyeing you strangely in return.

You’re debating whether or not to outright ask before eventually saying, “Like, did it ever stand on its hind legs? Or you know, just attack in an abnormal way? Something that wasn’t quite natural?” Raising suspicions won’t do any good but at the same time she may have seen something at least. And if you earn any weird looks in return, then you’re just some believer of the supernatural, that’s all.

Her eyes narrow as she sits upright from her slumped position. “How’d you know about that? Look all I said in that police report was that it was a big animal. I’m not some superstitious person that chases shadows in the night, okay? So don’t you dare write me off as crazy or anything.” As though catching herself a moment too late, she clamps her jaw, pivoting her head towards the bay windows that look out into the front lawn.

Crazy wouldn’t be the word you’d use to describe her, or anyone for that matter. Belligerent or demanding, sure. But even if you were actually writing a story about this, you wouldn’t use those words either. You already know what it’s like having your theories dismissed by one person, a whole audience would be so much worse than that. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m here to listen to whatever you want to share. Just because something can’t be easily explained doesn’t mean that it’s not real or isn’t true. And who knows, you might not be the only one either.”

“That other reporter said she was investigating another case too,” Diane quietly adds, her leg shaking as her bare foot taps the floor in rapid succession.

“See?” You gently encourage, setting your phone down in between your legs as you lean forward slightly, trying to bring Miranda’s attention back to you. “This other person might’ve had a similar experience. If so, then it’d probably be a relief—for both of you, knowing that at least there’s someone else out there who experienced the same thing.”

Breaking her gaze away from the window, she faces you once more, scowling though maybe not from your line of questioning. Uncertainty is clearly evident yet curiosity also lingers in her blue eyes. “Have you talked to this other person?”

“No, not yet,” you say, desperately hoping she doesn’t shut down the interview as a result of your lack of information involving this other case.

She chews the inside of her cheek, contemplating something as her eyes shift to Diane before returning to you. “Do you know what the wolfman looks like?”

The sudden question takes you by surprise as your brows knit together though you’re sure your eyes widen in response. “Yeah,” you answer slowly. “Basically an extremely hairy or furry man with claws and teeth. Goes on murderous rampages, involuntarily transforms on a full moon, and is vulnerable to silver.”

She sniffs in response, partially resembling a hint of a laugh. “You almost sound like some kind of expert.”

You can’t stop your own laugh from escaping. If only she knew. You’re certainly more so compared to others. “Thanks, but not exactly. Just a fan of the supernatural really.”

“Anyway, basically like that, but without all the fur.”

“So a person with wolf like features sharp claws, teeth, and all?” You try envisioning this creature, but the resulting image you conjure up doesn’t quite fit. All you really picture is Gollum from Lord of the Rings though more vicious and animalistic.

Miranda grimaces, struggling for words. “In a way, but I said werewolf because that’s the closest thing it reminded me of except it wasn’t quite that. The features weren’t fully human and it just looked. . .evil.”

Evil? It makes you wonder if this is a similar situation to your run-in with the goblins. A will o’ the wisp had led you right to them that night, could the same one or one of its friends have done the same to her too? “Did you happen to notice anything else strange or peculiar that night? Like any glowing lights or maybe a weird sound?”

She stares at the carpet, lost in thought before slowly shaking her head though she doesn’t seem completely sure. From beside you, Diane stiffens and sharply inhales. “What about shining lights?” She softly murmurs, drawing both you and Miranda’s attention though the dark-haired woman catches her eyes. Both exchange looks with each other, an exclusively private conversation that’s between them. Diane silently pleads to her friend only for it to be disregarded by her friend’s hard expression in return.

It prompts your memory to recall a crucial piece of information from the few articles you’ve been reading about the incident. “Wait, were both of you out there that night?” All the reports indicated there was only one victim.

“No.”

“Yes,” Diane softly answers at the same time. Miranda sends her a scathing glare to which she helplessly responds with, “We already told the police.”

“So? She’s with the press and if this gets leaked, you’re screwed.”

You glance between the two of them. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Diane ignores the warning look Miranda sends her way. “My father is well-known. Actually he’s the CEO of Keaton Enterprises and word would’ve spread quickly if the media found out about the attack,” she explains, despite her friend’s obvious pissed-off facial expression.

“I won’t say anything,” you blurt, hoping they don’t get suspicious of your quick reassurance. While you truly do wish to prove your integrity, you also hope they don’t catch the hint of fear in your tone at the realization that her father runs the company your dad works for now. “Especially if you want your identity kept a secret. And if everyone knows it’s just one victim, we can stick with that,” you promise and Miranda rolls her eyes in return.

She shifts in her seat before taking another sip from her glass. “Like we’d believe you. You’re not the first journalist to spout supposed honest shit like that.”

“But I mean it,” you insist, “you’re identities aren’t important. I just want to hear from you directly to prevent misinformation from spreading about what attacked you.” At your mention of the attack, both women glance at one another before awkwardly looking away. “You can be honest with me. I’m not the paparazzi. I just want to know the truth.”

Surprisingly, it’s Miranda that speaks first, her voice somewhat low. “We could barely believe our own eyes.”

“Our minds can play tricks on us, but when our imaginations run wild that can make something seemingly normal a true nightmare.”

She shakes her head, black hair whipping furiously. “That’s what we’ve been telling ourselves, that the dark shadows were to blame and that it was just a normal predator. But it wasn’t.”

“And that’s okay, it’s why I’m here. Just try the best you can,” you encourage them. “Maybe let’s start with what you both were really doing out there that night.” When they visibly stiffen, you’re quick to reassure them again, “No personal information will be published without your consent.”

Both of them still look apprehensive before Diane sighs. “We were out drinking. Just a bottle of vodka between the two of us, nothing to make us too drunk. After having a busy day, we just wanted to let off some steam. While we were out there, we started hearing rustling in the forest. First it was quiet and far away, but as we started walking back to the main trail so we could get to the parking lot, something came running out and hit Miranda.”

“Could you describe the approximate size?” You ask.

“Big,” Miranda answers. “Probably similar to a bear but resembling more of a wolf.”

“Except it stood on two legs.”

“Yeah.”

A humanoid figure but with animalistic features, no wonder they kept saying werewolf. “That’s why you mentioned werewolves.”

“Not that it mattered because the cops are convinced we were just drunk off our asses and imagining it. Well, that I was too drunk,” she amends, a sharp edge in her voice and you catch Diane wince slightly.

“Do you remember any particular features that it had? Face, build, things like that?”

“Like, a hairless werewolf, I guess.” Diana grimaces in thought. “Maybe it was actually thin fur but the face looked sort of human while the body had long limbs with all the claws and teeth. Hence the wolfman comparison.”

“What did it do next?” You ask, still typing furiously on your phone.

From her seat, Miranda scoffs, “What do you think? It attacked us. Or me, specifically.” She points to her gauze-wrapped leg that’s propped on the ottoman.

“Miranda,” Diane softly scolds and turns to address you. “What she means is that thing didn’t hesitate once it saw us. Maybe we caught it by surprise when it came out of nowhere,” she guesses, “but there wasn’t any fear, just anger.”

“It could’ve possibly been hungry or rabid,” you theorize.

They shake their heads. “No, I don’t think so,” Diane says to which you look up in confusion. “When it bit Miranda, I slammed the vodka bottle over its head but it didn’t even react. Only when it kept biting at her did it eventually stop before taking off.”

Your fingers remain hovering above the screen of your phone and they helplessly shrug at your perplexed look. “It just stopped?”

“I know, it doesn’t make sense but that’s what happened. Something got it to stop, but nothing else was out there besides us. It was like a spell or the bloodlust was broken.”

At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if a witch or warlock were suddenly added to the mix. Will o’ the wisps, werewolves, and witches, oh my. “Could this be related to what you said earlier?” You look towards Diane. “About the shining thing you saw?”

“Maybe. Before it showed up, I thought I saw something shining or reflecting off the moonlight somewhere among the trees just before it attacked. But for all I know it was my eyes playing tricks on me.”

“The cops sure seemed to think so,” Miranda mutters.

“How bad are your injuries?” You ask her, looking at her bundled form.

She carefully eases the blanket back, revealing several long scratches that range from her thigh to her shin. In the middle of her thigh is a dark purple bruise.

“And is that where you were bit?” You ask, leaning a little closer but there’s no teeth marks anywhere to be found.

“Exactly where that disgusting bruise is at. And before you ask, yes, they didn’t find any cuts either. They think it probably just got close to breaking the skin but I know what I felt,” she insists. “My flesh was being torn apart.”

Despite her claims, her skin shows a different story. Maybe in the moment it felt like her skin was being torn open, but the lacerations aren’t actually that deep. “Does your leg feel weird where you got bit?”

“Not really, just…itchy,” she responds, her fingers automatically reach to scratch but she stops when Diane’s about to intercept. “I know, I know.” She gently massages the area instead. “I insisted they give me a rabies shot and everything else just in case.”

One can only hope that modern medicine will be enough to combat any diseases from possible supernatural creatures.

~*~

On your day off, you head to the opposite end of town towards Maple Berry Way in the hopes of finding anything useful about this strange creature that attacked the women. Maybe the police had missed something or believed it wasn’t crucial to the case. As you ride your bike, you stay on the sidewalk even though cars hardly ever come down this street as it’s rather secluded and takes you away from the heart of town. Even hikers and those who enjoy the outdoors tend to take other trails that are more lively and frequented.

As you reach the entrance, you hop off your bike and leave it resting against a tree that’s behind one of the few weathered-down benches near the road. No other cars are in the parking lot, leaving the area vacant like usual. Your feet leave indents in the sinking gravel as it throws your gait off-kilter until you reach the flat area where the path begins. Starting your trek down the dirt path, you follow the map on your phone where Miranda and Diane had marked the general area of the attack as best as they could remember, continuing toward the blue dot while looking for any evidence as you do.

Most of the trees are almost bare, with only a handful of brown leaves left in patches on some branches. An old wooden sign sits at an angle, the arrow pointing downwards instead of the direction it’s supposed to be in as you walk by. You can’t even make out the original writing as the letters are faded.

Up ahead, you catch a glimpse of a little orange flag peeking out from beneath the overgrown grass slightly away from the trail. You inspect the ground where remnants of shattered glass are still scattered about. This must be where they broke the bottle over the creature’s head. Avoiding the shards, you step carefully around the space, looking for any other clues but there’s not even a trace of blood whatsoever. You continue walking around, careful not to disturb any of the crime scene, but everything seems relatively normal. If they hadn’t told you about the bottle, you would’ve just assumed people were out here drinking and accidentally broke it. Basically normal.

“Can I help you?” A deep voice asks, startling you with a jolt. Turning around, you find two guys standing in dark clothes, the shine of police badges peek out from behind their jackets. Leave it to you to run into the cops. The one who spoke has pitch black hair perfectly styled to the side, revealing his smooth forehead and the arched brow that’s lifted, awaiting an answer. Beside him stands another man who’s slightly shorter with a mop of dark brown hair that makes him appear rather young.

“Hi, um, I’m just here to investigate the recent attack. The crime scene has been cleared so the public is allowed in now,” you answer, hoping it sounds as confident and professional as you try to seem.

“Yes, but our specific department still needs to gather more information so if you could come back tomorrow we’d be most appreciative,” the taller one explains, giving you an apologetic yet polite smile in return.

While he may be actually telling the truth, there’s no doubt that him or his department doesn’t exactly want you snooping around the area. Even if they haven’t found anything, this guy is smooth and most likely a pro at deflection. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in charge of public relations for the station.

Before you can respond, rustling sounds from nearby as another person appears from amongst the trees. “Hey, Namjoon, should we split up and check the northeastern area for—what’re you doing here?” The familiar voice wonders, original question abruptly replaced by another one. Yoongi, dressed in his usual hoodie carries a backpack over his shoulder, stops abruptly upon seeing you. His tone is hard, annoyed almost, so different compared to his usual demeanor.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you reply.

“We know each other,” is his pointed answer. “Besides, my help was requested by the department. Did they give you the same clearance?”

“No,” you scoff, fishing a small paper from your pocket and briefly flashing it to them. “It’s my journalist pass, and technically we don’t need them since the crime scene is currently clear now.”

His brows raise at that, humor glinting in his eyes as though he can clearly see right through your lie. “You’re a journalist too?”

The shorter man besides his tall partner with the deep voice smiles excitedly. “You work at the Hallow Howler too? That’s cool, so do I! I’m new so I don’t think we’ve met. What department do you work in?”

You’ve got to be kidding. Luck just can’t give you enough of a break. “Actually I’m more of an intern,” you backpedal, “my mom’s the journalist.” Was, your brain silently corrects. Technically you did borrow her press pass just for a moment like this. As long as they don’t notice that the expiration date is almost a decade old. “I’m just here inspecting the area while she follows some other leads.”

“Oh that’s cool! What’s her name?” The same guy asks, seemingly oblivious to your deceptions. Next to him, Yoongi faintly smirks, also expectantly waiting to hear your answer.

While you say her name, you frantically think of something else to switch topics to before you somehow slip up. “So is there much evidence besides the broken glass?”

“This is still technically an open investigation, we can’t disclose any of that yet.” Yoongi interrupts before the journalist can answer.

“Once we fill out our report and get all the details, we’d be happy to release it to the public.” The tall guy, Namjoon you presume, also responds.

“Then can I at least get statements from you, your partner, and your…assistant?”

“Yeah, though we’re still searching for evidence on what kind of animal this might’ve been which I’m sure is what you’re mainly wanting to know,” the shorter guy answers remorsefully.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I know that’s what everyone is most concerned about and we’re working quickly to figure that out. You’ll even be the first to know if that’s any consolation.”

“Does that have anything to do with checking the northeast area?” You point out and Yoongi narrows his eyes.

“We’re just covering our bases.”

“Are you checking that direction to rule out nothing came from the supposed legendary dark forest?” You guess.

While you know your question would throw out any credibility as a serious journalist, the sudden widening of the shorter guy’s eyes is enough to send your mind into hyperawareness. Even Namjoon inquisitively glances over to Yoongi who’s glaring you down.

“All those fairytales are seriously getting to your head,” he tells you snidely.

“Yeah, then it must be spreading because even the victim isn’t exactly sure what she saw.”

“Because she was drunk, terrified and in complete darkness,” he dismisses.

“Either way, something dangerous is out there.”

Namjoon hesitates before interjecting, “I’d be happy to talk with you privately once we finish up here if that’s alright. But he’s right, the dark forest is just a myth.”

If only that were true. “Maybe you’re right. And that’s very much appreciated but I think I’ll follow some other leads in the meantime. I understand this area is closed off so I’ll make my way to Briar’s Creek,” you politely answer. While not too far away, you have to head northeast to get there and the others seem to know this as well. Even if he’s throwing you a bone, you’re not biting. You doubt you’d get much out of him anyway. There’s too much authority within his tone, this man has definitely done plenty of damage control and PR speeches.

“Unfortunately, none of the forest is considered completely safe as we don’t know where this supposed creature is,” Namjoon says. “We’d advise not wandering alone. That goes for everyone, even if it’s overcautious on our part.”

“But what about for you all? That’s a lot of land to investigate and there’s only three of you here. Isn’t that just as dangerous for you too?”

“We have time as well as weapons for self-defense,” Yoongi reassures though a precursory glance shows none to be openly found. “They’re concealed if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“If temporarily assisting us with this part of the investigation will put your mind, and questions, at ease, we can allow that,” Namjoon amends much to everyone’s surprise. Yoongi sends him a dark look but doesn’t object.

At this point, you’ll take whatever information you can get. “Actually that would be great, thanks.”

“It makes things even,” the shorter guy adds, “and you’re more than welcome to come with me.”

“Perhaps you should head east with Yoongi,” Namjoon suggests to you. “Jimin and I can check the north since there’s less pathways.”

You spare a glance down at your shoes, just an old pair of sneakers that have certainly seen better days. Probably should’ve gone with actual hiking boots. “Sounds good,” you tell him, smiling before following after Yoongi who’s already on the move.

While the other two head in the adjacent direction, you walk after Yoongi as you try to catch up. The quiet ambience of the woods and two sets of footsteps are the only sounds for a few minutes before you bluntly ask, “Why the cold shoulder?”

His face pinches at your question before he uneasily looks away. “I’m not giving you the cold shoulder.”

“Fine, then why’re so grumpy?” He’s never been this cold with you except for maybe the first time you met after he caught you falling in the library. It’s not like him, and it makes you wonder what could possibly be bothering him. Unless he was sour before, something about your presence here has him upset.

Sighing, he shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders while ducking beneath to avoid a low hanging branch. “Because I’d rather be somewhere else than here on some wild goose chase,” he admits. “And everyone seems convinced there’s some monster in the woods when it’s probably just a wild animal.”

“Those two seem like they could handle this on their own. Why do they need you?” It’s not a scathing remark, but genuine curiosity that drives your questioning.

“I told you, I know my way around these woods. Better than they do as they’re both still new and getting acquainted with the area.”

“Seems like you all know each other pretty well,” you comment, struggling to watch your footing while also trying to keep up with him.

Yoongi stays quiet for a moment before admitting, “We live together for the time being.”

“So this is more of a favor and not an extra side gig.”

“Basically,” he nods, attention more so focused on his surroundings as he scans the woods. Besides the occasional draft of wind, hardly anything stirs except for the sporadic falling leaves. “Just helping them out since it’s the least I can do.” Yoongi glances over at you. “What’s your motive? Honestly.”

You point a finger at yourself. “Me?” Shrugging, you’re about crouch beneath another low branch but Yoongi lifts it, holding it up so you can easily walk under. “Thanks. Look, I just want to get to the bottom of this before more people get hurt.” And to also figure this out before the wrong people come investigating the woods and end up finding a certain werewolf.

“That’s why there’s an ongoing investigation. Do you not trust law enforcement to take care of it?”

“No.”

Your immediate answer catches him off-guard as he lets out an involuntary laugh. It’s the first smile you’ve seen today, resembling his relaxed demeanor you’ve already grown used to. “Okay, fair point. And I get it, I really do. But that’s why Namjoon’s department was called in to provide assistance. They specialize in complicated animal attacks like this one,” he mutters, apparently already expecting your response.

“So there is something going on,” you confirm.

He rubs the bridge of his nose and runs his fingers along his cheekbones. “No, they’re here to determine the exact cause. And before you ask, no, they can’t confirm anything yet until they rule out all factors.”

“But it’s complicated enough that a whole department specialized in strange cases has to come out and determine what happened.” Yoongi looks away while you mull over your own words. Department specialized in strange cases. If magic exists, and something supernatural is possibly the culprit, then are the cops also aware of it? How deep would it all go? Is that why Namjoon, and whatever department he represents, is here? To determine if a werewolf or something else is responsible for the attack?

And then a horrifying thought comes crashing into focus. A shiver cascades along your nerve endings and it feels as if a bucket of ice water is poured down your back. Is this department specialized in hunting supernatural creatures? What if they’re here for Wolfy?

You glance over at Yoongi who’s staring intensely off into the distance, seemingly listening for something. He did say they have concealed weapons for protection, apparently himself included. “See anything suspicious?” You wonder, drawing his attention away from the tree line as he jerks his head to you.

“No. Sorry, got lost in thought.”

“So I can’t help but wonder,” you start, choosing your words carefully while he waits, “do you really think the victim was exaggerating what she experienced?”

Your eyes meet and hold his and you see a flicker of remorse from within before he exhales. “Saying yes would be easier, less complicated,” he admits, “but no, I think she saw something that terrified her. But assuming it’s supernatural or anything like that is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

For once, you’re willing to accept his dose of reality. “Actually, yeah, I agree. There’s got to be some sort of logical explanation, we just have to find it.” And get them to leave your wolf alone, damn it.

“Exactly.”

“I mean, given the victim’s description, it could just be someone in a costume that attacked her.”

“What?” He glances at you in confusion until realization dawns. “Oh, did you interview the victim by pretending to be some journalist? Did you flash them the expired press pass and she just didn’t think twice?” Yoongi smirks, shaking his head while he deftly climbs over a log.

How could he actually see the date standing several feet away? You set your jaw, refusing to be sidetracked by his rather astute observation. “Look, you may think this is being blown out of proportion and just a waste of time, but there are others at risk. I have friends in the area that may be in danger.” You follow after him, hoisting yourself up the log with a grunt of exertion. He offers you his hand, patiently waiting while you crouch down before grasping it.

With a swift tug, Yoongi pulls you forward and you yelp at the sudden shift in weight, falling directly into him. Mind going blank, you barely have time to process that you’re in his arms before he sets you down. “Pretty noble of you to go all private detective the moment your town is in possible danger,” he notes, releasing you before slowly backing away.

Even through your clothes, you can still feel the warmth of his fingers that grazed along your waist before you shake your head in an attempt to reorient yourself. “Oh, please,” you scoff. “I’m just a concerned citizen if anything. And besides, this is a problem for the wildlife because if people start assuming it’s a dangerous wolf, then any local wolves in the area could be killed,” you say, your thoughts automatically returning to Wolfy. Supernatural strength or not, the general public wouldn’t take kindly to him. There’d be mass panic and hunters would be out in full force.

“I’m pretty sure your wolves will be fine,” he answers.

“Not if scared people take matters into their own hands,” you counter.

After passing beneath another drooping branch, the ground shifts, tilting downwards with cracks of rocks and roots protruding out sporadically. Both of you take the earthen made steps carefully, doing your best not to slip. Yoongi stays beside you, keeping his arm just within reach should you stumble. Once you’re near the bottom where the floor levels off, does he finally answer. “Y/N. It’ll be fine. You have nothing to worry about, trust me.”

When you reach the flat surface, you continue walking until a flurry of crunched leaves come from just ahead. Yoongi rushes in front of you and you watch as a cute, little dormouse scurries across before diving into another pile of large auburn leaves, squeaking as it does so. He lets out a huff and you notice that his hands are curled open, as though he were about to take a swipe at it.

“Then why are you nervous?” You wonder, to which he immediately relaxes his stance and looks at you from over his shoulder.

“I’m not,” he laughs.

“Well, you’re not completely at ease either.” Realization dawns. “That’s why you’re upset, isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, walking forward until you grab a hold of his sleeve, forcing him to face you. Yoongi stops, standing still as he uses his shoe to lightly kick at the pile of dead leaves. “No, I’m frustrated that there’s no definitive answer as to what exactly did this. It’s hard to tell based off what they’ve found which isn’t much.” You continue to skeptically glare at him before he lets out an exasperated sigh upon sensing it. “Okay, fine. It is a little worrying. Is that the response you’re looking for?”

Keeping a tight grip on his sleeve so he can’t turn or walk away, you ask, “What do actually think did this?”

“Not a wolf, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he answers. He’s looking at you now, unwavering and without a trace of doubt. “And what about you?”

Suddenly, you feel shy almost, having your questioning redirected back at you. His dark umber eyes feel as though they’re piercing straight into your mind. Like he’s searching for something. Confirmation? Honesty? You’re not sure. But it’s you that ultimately breaks eye contact before you release your hold of him. “Same,” is all you say.

“Glad we’re on the same page then,” Yoongi notes, moving in between the clusters of trees.

It’s annoying that he can just render you speechless with hardly any effort. And from such a simple question too.

“Are you coming?” He calls from up ahead and you rush after him before you get left behind.

Huffing, you try keeping up, doing your best to not trip or get caught on any stray roots. “Slow down, will you?”

Though your complaint is cut off by your own yelp as you stumble unexpectedly. You flail, pushing your arms out so you don’t faceplant into the ground. Instead, a hand grabs your elbow and you spin as your falling momentum gets realigned before you pivot, swinging directly into a warm body. You grab onto Yoongi, his other hand now holding your waist to keep you from falling backwards. Your hands had automatically reached out for support and now you’re clutching onto his shoulders as well.

Others would consider this a romantic pose, sweet, yet this feels. . .comfortable. “Why’re you really out here? Even if you’re a concerned citizen, people don’t usually just start getting involved themselves.”

For a minute this felt briefly comfortable. “To look for answers,” you say.

“Why not just let the people do their job?”

Of course you should just let the professionals handle it. But then they might find out a werewolf has been living in the forest, so close to civilization. A part of you wishes you could just tell him the real reason, but he probably won’t believe you. And even if he did, should you even be sharing secrets like this anyway? Despite that, the words are practically at your lips, on the verge of being spoken aloud. But instead you swallow them. “They could miss something and not know that it’s important.”

“And you would?”

“No, but I have a friend who might. They know their way around these woods too.”

“And you trust them?”

“Yes.” You say it so fast that it surprises even yourself.

The moment the word leaves your lips, you watch something shift within his eyes. It’s like a droplet of caramel hitting a pool of coffee and then spreading out, replacing the dark brown with a lighter shade.

You don’t even realize that your hands have moved until you feel the ends of his long hair grazing along your fingertips. They almost have a mind of their own, acting of their own accord as they reach up and get lost in his head of hair, feeling the soft strands. Flinching, you pull away and the sudden movement breaks the spell weaving you two together as you both let go.

Looking down at your feet, you find something metallic hidden between the blades of grass. You get closer, bending down to investigate the strange object and Yoongi crouches beside you as well. It’s a statue that’s about a foot long, depicting an angel with feathered wings open wide. In her left hand she holds a lantern while in her right is a staff with a crystalline orb attached at the top. Down at her feet are a bunch of flowers. Inspecting it closer, you see there’s writing engraved at the base that reads Radiance Everlasting.

“Radiance Everlasting?” You murmur the words aloud. It’s a pretty statue, but it’s odd that something this intricate would be all the way out here, seemingly in the middle of the woods. Surely someone wouldn’t forget to leave something like this behind.

Yoongi mutters under his breath and you think you catch the words, “damn nuisances.”

“Does this mean something to you?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I’m sure the department will have an idea,” is all he says before taking off his backpack and unzipping it. “We’ll send it in as evidence and see what they can find.”

“Wait, at least let me get a picture of it first,” you protest. Retrieving your phone, you snap a quick shot of it.

“Hang on, we don’t even know if it’s related to the case. You can’t just share it on your blog, I mean, your article,” he emphasizes with a pointed look much to your chagrin.

“I’m not going to say anything about it,” is your quick reassurance. “But I can at least do some research of my own.”

Rifling through his backpack, he pulls out a purple bandana. Using the cloth, he picks up the strange artifact and places it inside a plastic bag. It’s then that you manage to catch a glimpse of what’s inside. “Going camping later?” You presume, noticing the extra pair of clothes.

“I’m not planning on it, those are just extra in case I need to crash somewhere else for the night,” is his response, zipping the bag before standing upright. He’s already walking while you stare at his back before following after him.

Curiosity has different common scenarios running through your mind, yet you can’t help but press further. “Don’t you live nearby?”

“Yeah, but sometimes I stay for a few days at a friend’s place.”

As you continue walking, your eyes wander across the trees and ground, looking for any sign of something out of the ordinary. You see a set of pawprints, a wolf’s pawprints to be exact. Although it doesn’t seem like they’re from your wolf unless he was running around here recently on four legs. Reaching for your phone, you snap some more pictures of the tracks.

“Taking more pictures for your blog, I guess,” Yoongi wonders, hearing the shutter click as he looks back at you with a smirk. But the grin fades when he takes note of the prints though he doesn’t comment on them.

“You know,” you say, turning back to face him, “I’d sure love to see this supposed blog you think I have. At this point, even I’m wondering if it actually exists.”

“So the research is for stories then,” he presumes. “Or is it art?”

“Neither.”

He looks at you expectantly, waiting. “You said once that the research is for fun. Which kind of fun?”

Oh, if only he knew. “Werewolves and all sorts of supernatural creatures interest me. I like learning about them even if they might not be real. Gives me a better understanding of them, you know?”

The sideways look he gives is indiscernible, an expression you can’t quite pinpoint. It almost seems like painful longing or desperation. Or you’re just misinterpreting things. “Yes, actually I can understand.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, you eventually ask, “So then what’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your interest, the thing you know or want to know everything about, even if it’s not for work or considered worth your time?”

He blinks, incredulous. “Are you asking me what my hobbies are?”

“Yes. Though would you consider researching supernatural creatures a hobby?” Under your circumstances, it almost feels like a case study of sorts. It makes you wonder how Wolfy would take it knowing that he’s been your main subject. He’d probably flick his tail against your back like he tends to do.

“Not all hobbies have to be skills which you perfect over time, Y/N,” Yoongi says, drawing you from your internal musings. “You learning about fantasy creatures is still knowledge you gain.”

“Even if I can’t apply it to “reality”?” You snort, doing air quotes at the end.

He stops walking, staring at you directly. “Is that what you believe?” He murmurs, his voice gentle.

“No,” is your immediate answer and you stumble over your words as you attempt to explain when he quirks a brow. “It’s more so just my parents would consider it a waste of time. Not that they’d try discouraging me, they just wouldn’t understand the purpose or use of it. They’re very,” you struggle to find the right word, “technical, analytical, take your pick.”

“So I assume they’re not too fond of the arts then.”

You wince, pursing your lips. “Well, no, they understand the concept of creativity and inspiration. It’s just, they see things from a realistic perspective. Why spend all your time learning about creatures that don’t exist when you could be learning about actual wolves instead?”

“Regardless of what they think, you’re doing something you enjoy. Even if it means sneaking around through a crime scene and interviewing traumatized victims,” he jokes, and you lightly smack his arm in retaliation.

“You make me sound like some suspect that’s inserting themselves into the investigation.”

He rubs the spot where you hit him, still smiling. “Clearly you’re not because you’re terrible at it. I’m kidding,” he laughs when you playfully scowl at him. “You just got unlucky by running into us.”

“Got that right. Your friend sure is proficient with his words.”

“Namjoon? Yeah, he’s been with the agency for a while and he’s an experienced communications liaison.”

“Honestly,” you mutter as he states what you already guessed. “He’s certainly good at dodging questions like someone else I happen to know.”

Your implication is met with him rolling his eyes as he shakes his head. “I’m not dodging questions. Going back to your earlier one,” he shrugs, “I guess my hobby is cooking though I don’t always have time. Like right now for instance,” he indicates to the sunlight that’s slowly descending below the trees and it’s then that you notice how the sky is a glowing orange rather than the clear blue it once was. “We should probably head back. It’ll be dark soon,” he recommends.

“Well, if you ever need a taste tester I don’t mind volunteering,” you offer, feeling your face immediately grow warm beneath his gaze, the faint amber of his eyes returning. “I mean, it’s the least I can do since you always try my various coffee flavors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi says with a fond smile.

Both of you begin heading back towards the main trail and it surprisingly doesn’t take long as you’re soon arriving at the parking lot. “Will you be out searching tomorrow too?”

“No, most of the evidence has already been logged. We just came out to do one last thorough check. And good thing too,” he notes, nodding to you, “because we could’ve missed that statue. Thanks for the help.”

You shrug. “All in a day’s work.” Stepping across the uneven gravel, you make your way back towards your bike. “So how’d all of you get here?” You wonder, motioning to the empty space where not a single car is in sight.

“Jimin and Namjoon took Joon’s scooter,” he motions to where you just barely see a lilac colored moped parked near the tree line, “and I walked.”

“Wait, is that his personal vehicle? Because I like it and kind of want it now. And why’re you always walking around everywhere?”

“Yeah, it’s his. Let’s just say a scooter is more his speed. And he really enjoys it, so good luck getting him to give it up. As for your other question, I just prefer walking compared to vehicles in general. It’s just easier. Why does it matter?”

“Because that’s a lot of walking to do, not to mention more time to get everywhere. I know this is a small town, but this area is still a ways out.”

“There’s a lot of different trails that I use for shortcuts.”

“You know what? I’ll take your word for it. See you tomorrow hopefully.”

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll probably stop by the coffee shop for a bit. Have a good night.”

You tell him the same and he watches you get on your bike, standing in the middle of the lot while you ride away.

~*~

Like most days, the shop is bustling with people coming in and out for hot drinks and to warm up before going back out into the chilly weather. And true to his word, the next day Yoongi is there that afternoon wearing his hoodie as always.

“Just your usual black coffee?” You ask, and he nods.

The bell chimes again. More groups of customers stepping inside while a few exit with their food and drinks.

“Okay, for here, right?” You turn towards him, already holding the porcelain mug in your hands.

As he opens his mouth to respond, his eyes go wide, brown bleeding into a glowing scarlet and it’s like he’s looking through you at something else. His hands tense, sharp nails digging into the counter, creating jagged lines in the worn wood.

From behind him, you see two customers in line with one looking around the shop while the other raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. You hadn’t paid them any mind, yet now you can’t help but notice the one watching Yoongi as the bulging muscles of his arms seem to flex with every move. How often does he work out?

“To go, please.” You barely hear Yoongi mumble, his voice low and practically unheard amidst the loud sounds of blenders and people talking. He releases a shaky breath as he hunches over and rests his palms on the counter.

“Okay. You alright?” You ask, concerned by his odd demeanor.

Yoongi’s still for a minute as though processing your words. “Yeah, fine.” He takes a breath, inhaling deeply and the crimson soon fades away, melding into liquid caramel instead. He sniffles and wipes a finger across his nose.

“Hey, I can help with the next one while you help him,” Elanor mutters from behind, causing you to jump slightly.

Both you and Yoongi move to the side as Elanor takes over at the register.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah.” His attempt to reassure you isn’t exactly convincing. “Just got a headache all of a sudden.”

“I think I have some painkillers in my bag if you need some,” you tell him, pouring his coffee into a recycled cup before handing it to him.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll probably head home and take a nap. See you later,” he says, quickly taking his drink and immediately leaving before you can so much as wave goodbye.

Later that night, you realize that Wolfy isn’t here today either. Strange. Maybe he has other things to do. As you continue down the path, you hear a low rumble in the distance. Your feet slow to a stop so you can listen more.

Straining your ears, it takes a minute before you hear a bark out in the distant forest. You head off the trail and begin going towards the general direction of the sound. There’s a good chance this isn’t Wolfy as he’s definitely not the only canine out here. But what if it is?

Without the light from the lampposts, seeing is difficult and you have to resort to using your phone’s flashlight so you can watch your step. Intuition is smacking your curiosity within you, reminding you of what happened the last time you went exploring in the woods at night. Yeah, you were almost eaten alive but you were led astray by a will o’ the wisp. And you got to meet Wolfy as a result.

A cawing crow startles you and you nearly stumble into a tree as a result. Looking up, you raise your light high and find the blackbird staring down at you from a leafless branch. Wasn’t there a crow Halloween night too? It caws again before taking flight, swooping right over your head and you duck away.

By the time you look up, you see it heading back the direction you came. You think. Just to confirm, and actually be on the safe (smart) side, you check the GPS on your phone to ensure you know how to get back to civilization.

From not too far away, you hear a louder bark that’s followed by a growl. Shutting your light off, you continue walking closer. There’s a break in the trees as the forest grows thinner and you hide behind a bush before cautiously peeking over the bramble.

In a small clearing are two men and one very pissed-off werewolf. What once was a grassy field now resembles a battlefield as destroyed trees are scattered across with trunks splintered and branches snapped. Both men’s clothes and hair are slightly disheveled, but otherwise they remain in one piece, and it’s then that you recognize the one with big muscles from the coffee shop earlier today. The werewolf, on the other hand, has a few thin open wounds across its arms and upper torso. All the noises you’ve been hearing must’ve been from their fighting. A brawl you’ve just idiotically walked in on.

Another growl sounds from the lupine that reverberates the ground beneath you. Though the moonlight doesn’t help much, you can tell it’s not Wolfy, the body being more lithe and fur being a lighter shade than his. Its lips peel back, showcasing sharp fangs as it snaps its jaws in warning. The taunt has the two men adjusting their stances, leaning down into crouches as they prepare to lunge while you can only watch in muted horror, unsure of what to do.

You flinch in anticipation, preparing for the brutal fight to restart, until a loud cawing sounds from behind. Slowly looking over your shoulder, you see the black bird sitting nonchalantly in the branches of the tree, quizzically staring back at you. It cries again and you wave your arm in a pathetic attempt to try and silence it.

Instead, it does a nosedive, buzzing you in the process and lets out another caw. You hiss for it to pipe down, but it simply squawks in return. Nearly getting a face full of feathers, you duck low but trip into the bush, the branches breaking your fall with a loud cascading crunch as you fall forward and hit the ground.

Lifting your head, you ease up and see the men and werewolf staring directly at you. Crap. You fumble with the half-dented bush and get to your feet. None of them have moved, but even if you run now, you’re not sure that it’ll make much difference. Maybe you could lose the guys, but not a freaking werewolf.

When the one guy you’ve never seen before takes a step towards you, the wolf growls before lunging at him. The coffee shop guy actually tackles the werewolf, forcing it to the ground. Both begin fighting, the guy avoiding a near bite to the arm as they both try getting to their feet and gaining the upper hand. While they’re duking it out, the first guy shoots forward, suddenly appearing directly in front of you.

How the hell did he move so fast? Dread pools within your stomach upon realizing that they’re not human either.

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” the man murmurs softly, his eyes flaring bright ruby red before he utters a word you can’t understand.

Your body stills, rushing thoughts going quiet as your fear evaporates. It’s not that you feel calm, just…quiet. Like your emotions have been sedated with a dose of tranquility. What’s wrong with you? You try forcing yourself to move, but even internally you feel lethargic, and your limbs won’t cooperate.

“Relax and listen to my words,” the man says, his command instantly filling you with ease. “You will forget us and what you saw here. You’re going to turn around and go home once I—”

Before he can finish, he’s slammed by something dark and massive, causing you to break free from whatever spell or magic he cast as you fall to your knees. You see the large werewolf loom above the man, keeping itself in between you two. It growls in warning while the guy merely stares up at it in return, shifting his weight as he adjusts his stance.

A blurred figure appears from the trees before a third werewolf joins everyone. Sparing a quick glance at the wolf next to you, it heads towards the other one still engaged with coffee shop guy before joining in on the fight.

Since they’re all preoccupied, you finally take the opportunity to run back into the woods. Your feet dash across the forest floor, shoving tree limbs and shrubs aside as you head in what you hope is the right direction of the main trail. Flapping bird wings sound from above and you look up to find the same crow flying in the air. It lets out another caw, gliding in between the trees as it stares down at you.

For all you know it could be leading you to more trouble, yet you don’t have time to think about it before something eventually tries coming after you. So you follow after the bird and thankfully soon notice the shining lamps from the path. Pushing yourself faster, you race towards the lightened area and emerge from the forest only to crash straight into someone.

The person grunts from the impact but manages to keep from falling over completely as they stumble back a few steps. “What the hell? Y/N?” They ask, and you immediately recognize the voice. You pull away and find Yoongi standing before you, straightening his shirt to get rid of the rumpled creases where your face once was a second ago.

“Yoongi? What’re you doing out here?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder into the dark wilderness but find nothing chasing after you. Maybe those guys and the werewolves will keep each other distracted until you both can get far enough away.

That hopeful thought is struck down as a loud howl pierces the night sky. Your eyes widen as you look to Yoongi, wracking your brain for an excuse or casual response only for him to beat you to it. “We should get out of here,” he suggests, and you agree, not even hesitating to trek down the path with him, intent on going straight home.

“Maybe you should head home too. I can manage the rest of the way,” you say, but he shakes his head, keeping his hand against the small of your back.

“Just walk, Y/N,” he tells you, his voice tight.

The two of you walk in silence, only your quickened footsteps sounding against the dirt as you stay within the dim glow of the guiding path lights. You resist the urge to look back, afraid of seeing what could be lurking in the shadows while Yoongi’s eyes flicker in every direction, checking either side of the forest for anything drawing near. A snapping branch can be heard from the right and Yoongi immediately slows his pace, keeping his position standing just in front of you.

Another twig snaps from behind and you both whirl to find a guy standing on the trail, another one you haven’t met before. The bangs of his brown hair hang just above his eyes and overall he seems like an ordinary guy, down to the band t-shirt, skinny jeans, and converse. “Oh sorry,” he apologizes, giving a bashful smile as he rubs the side of his arm, “didn’t mean to startle you. Just out enjoying the view. Nice night for a walk, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Yoongi answers, his words clipped. “Enjoy your walk.” He silently urges you towards the way home and you begin taking a few steps in that direction, afraid of turning your back on the guy.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where QualiTea Treats & Trees is, would you? I’m supposed to meet my friend near there later,” he suddenly asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your mouth nearly opens to automatically answer, but you stop yourself short, afraid of giving this stranger the location of Jin and Hobi’s tearoom.

“It’s in the town square, you can’t miss it. So why don’t you and your friend go run along,” Yoongi suggests, turning to face the patch of trees to the left.

When you follow his gaze, you think you catch a silhouette hidden amongst the shadows, but it’s hard to tell exactly where. A shiver wracks your spine. The guy also looks in the same direction before sighing and jerking his head to side. From the woods, out walks another guy with striking blue hair that’s partially tied in the back. Dots of freckles form along his cheeks, and with the colorful hair, it gives him an air of etherealness. Even you can’t help but become enchanted. He goes to stand by his friend, both relaxed while you and Yoongi are anything but.

Your eyes meet blue hair’s and you watch as they faintly begin glowing red, muting whatever thoughts you once had. “Don’t look into their eyes,” you vaguely register Yoongi mutter beside you and you immediately look away, keeping your focus on the ground. You think you hear blue hair guy let out an exasperated sigh.

Multiple growls accompanied by short, rapid barks sound off somewhere nearby in the woods. They’re slowly coming closer.

“Someone should get those wolves on a leash, they sure are noisy tonight,” the first guy comments while blue hair snorts, barely hiding his smile.

“Take it up with the locals,” Yoongi says.

“Why? Surely someone with your credentials can easily take care of it.”

Beside you Yoongi tenses, but doesn’t say anything, instead glaring hard at the mystery men. While you’re beyond confused by what he means, you try diffusing the situation before things escalate here too. “Look we don’t want any trouble,” you start, grabbing a hold of Yoongi’s arm, tugging it lightly. His hard gaze doesn’t break from the guy’s, but he allows himself to be pulled back.

The first guy clears his throat. “I know, we don’t either. So if your friend could come with us, we can get this all sorted out.”

“We’re not going with you.”

“Oh, no she doesn’t. You do though. I mean we don’t want to cause a scene, right?”

“I’m not leaving her alone.”

The guy motions to blue hair next to him. “Felix can make sure she gets to where she needs to be. Won’t you feel better knowing she’ll be away from all the commotion?”

Yoongi flexes his fingers, taking a breath to steady himself. “As if I’d take your word for it. Just let us go and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

“Sorry, but we can’t let you do that, man.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Felix whispers something to the other guy who thinks for a second before nodding. “So how’d you earn her trust? Did you just become friends by chance or you two know each other through school or work?” He asks.

“That’s none of your business.”

“How’d she take the news?” The guy smiles. “Or having you been sharing trademark secrets?”

“Neither. She’s smart.”

Such a strange line of questioning, one where you’re seemingly the only one completely lost in the conversation. “What does he mean?” You quietly ask yet the other two can somehow hear.

The guy with dark hair raises a brow in surprise. “Oh, she doesn’t know. Are you ashamed or afraid she’ll run away screaming?”

“It doesn’t matter. I haven’t broken any rules,” Yoongi calmly responds though a slight tremor begins coursing through his body every few seconds.

“Maybe or maybe not. Either way, you or one of your friends certainly have.”

“We haven’t done anything wrong,” you insist, despite not knowing everything. It doesn’t matter so long as you two can get away from whoever these people are.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants you to think. Don’t you wonder why he’s always in or around the woods all the time?” He catches the surprise register across your face, his mouth turning up in a small smile. “So you have. Has he been agitated or more stressed by any chance lately?”

“That’s enough,” Yoongi quietly orders.

“I agree. Now if you’ll just come with us, we’ll make sure she gets home safe. Clearly, she’ll be better protected with us than you.”

Yoongi leans closer to you so he can whisper in your ear. “Run,” he urges, “I’ll make sure they don’t follow after you.”

Before you can answer, he strides towards them and it’s as if they’re expecting it because the first guy suddenly throws a punch which is blocked by Yoongi. The two begin fighting and dodging each other’s moves, almost like a dance in which neither is led by unfiltered anger. Instead, they’re poised, focused on feinting away before either can land a hit. And then their speed increases, moving faster and faster until your eyes can barely keep up.

Felix, who’s been watching like you up to this point, then springs into action and immediately lands a harsh kick on Yoongi that causes him to stumble though he doesn’t fall. His movements are graceful yet dangerous as he joins in, more hits and kicks successfully knocking into Yoongi.

And you’re just standing there. Using your pepper spray won’t work in this case, not when you could potentially hurt Yoongi. Even if you tried getting in the middle, you’ll end up getting hit or miss your target because all three of them are moving so fast that they’re almost beginning to blur.

From the forest, a loud hiss sounds from the undergrowth that draws your attention away. The air around you seems to pick up, forcing the thinner trees to bend in submission as another strange, unearthly, noise comes from close by.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, knowing your voice is lost to the wind as he continues fighting with the other men. The rustling in the trees grows louder, shuddering the branches as something makes its way closer in this direction, moving fast. Inhumanely fast. “Yoongi.” The hair all across your body is standing upright as dread fills you, natural instincts sensing an impending doom.

There’s a flash of white before something launches itself at you and you barely have time to react as you duck aside. Only you’re not quick enough as the thing hits you hard, knocking you to the rough ground. “Yoongi!” You scream, looking up in terror at the humanoid figure with sharp fangs and bottomless black eyes. It’s completely bare and hairless with patches of silver scales forming all across its skin. The figure screeches and you flinch, raising your arm to protect your face when there’s a stinging gash cutting into your flesh.

Even though it doesn’t cut deep, it still burns like hell and you cry out, both in pain and absolute horror when the creature leans in for a bite, saliva dripping from its mouth. Managing a solid punch, you turn and see that Yoongi and the other men have stopped fighting, shock etched across their faces.

But what catches you off guard is the glowing crimson that’s coming from Yoongi’s eyes. Fury engulfs whatever surprise is left and in the next instant he roars, his body contorting before there’s suddenly a brown wolf standing on hind legs, one you’ve become rather familiar with recently.

“Wolfy,” you breathe, the nickname lost in the sound of chaos.

The werewolf launches himself at you, tackling the creature with ease and the uplifted weight leaves you feeling exposed, vulnerable. Scrambling backwards, you kick at the ground, your legs feeling like lead but you keep going until you find yourself backed into the trunk of another tree once more. Yet there’s not much to see, only blurs of brown and white can be distinguished as bodies wrestle with each other.

Deep growls and shrilling shrieks fill the air, blood spraying every so often. The two strange guys watch, with Felix stepping closer, seemingly looking for an opportunity to jump into the fight. That is, until another figure suddenly appears beside them. As he tells them something, more and more guys keep appearing, showing up in an instant.

Your head feels like it’s about to overload just as yet another figure materializes next to the others and then they move in a blur before instantly kneeling beside you. Chan, the guy from the library, carefully grips your face within his chilled hands and forces you to meet his scarlet eyes. “I’m sorry. Sleep,” he commands, the word instantly forcing darkness to consume you as you fall in an unconscious heap.

— — —

<— Previous | | Next —>

A/N: The next chapter is finally complete! I wasn’t expecting it to take this long, but I’m at least happy with it so thank you for being patient with me. As always, feedback is most appreciated and I love hearing your thoughts. Thank you for taking the time to read my stories. Much love!

#yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #wolf!au #fanfic #my writing #Caramel Eyes Mocha Paws

19 notes · View notes