#he's taking a step away from his toxic patron who told him what sort of chaos and joy he should be having

[quasieli]

Don't mind me, I'm just being emo thinking about Sparks taking Steris's advice to have faith and follows it up by taking a level in Paladin 🥺🥺🥺

[lillianofliterature]

LOTR preferences || 2/?

main masterlist | imagines/preferences masterlist

DO NOT REPOST.

if gifs not sourced, they were found on google, lmk if they’re yours! I couldn’t make out the url on the elrond one or I would have linked it!

I wrote these sort of in an imagine style to make it more immersive since the prompt for this one is dialogue based. 

some are longer than others (by a lot, oops) and some phrases or descriptors may have been repeated a few times, but there’s so many characters and I only have one brain and I didn’t feel like reading through all of them again to make them all perfectly unique. it’s been a long road writing these xD 

elvish translations: melamin = my beloved/my love, melda = beloved/dear/sweet

tw: slight gore mentioned in aragorn’s

(more below the cut-off)

their first ‘i love you’ (confession)

aragorn | word count: 647

Aragorn was always quiet about his feelings and often times reserved, being an introverted person. Those three words came when he could no longer withstand the pressure of not telling you how he truly felt. The risk of your eyes wandering to find another had crossed his mind more than once and the possibility of something happening before he had had the chance to overcome his nerves was overwhelming. And one day, as he was in the midst of this inner turmoil, you slit your hand open while sharpening the blade of your sword against a whirling  grindstone. 

He had been nearby, working with the string of his bow, when your cry of pain pierced the air. The sword rattled to the ground as you stood and pressed your hand against the palm of the other in your best effort to quench the rush of blood. Without a second’s hesitation, he came to your aid and whisked you into the smithy shop where there was a store of medical supplies for such an incident.

In his panic, he chastised you.

“Why aren’t you wearing the guard I gave you? I explicitly told you not to use the grindstone without it!”

Tears burned in your eyes as he poured a stout smelling liquid over the wound. “I took it off because it was chafing my wrist when I pushed against the blade,” you said.

“It would have prevented this, (Y/n). Look at what you’ve done to yourself!”

“Aragorn, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to happen!” 

“You must obey my instruction when I give it to you. I do not speak just to hear my own voice.” 

There was a tense pause in your urgent conversation as he rinsed your hand in a basin of cool water and examined the wound up close with gentleness. His relief was audible as he realized the cut was much smaller than the loss of blood had let on. With a slower pace, he began bandaging your hand with linens.

His voice softer, he spoke again. “I tell you these things to protect you, (Y/n), not to patronize you.” 

“I know,” you sniffled.

He could see that his chastisement had startled you as much as the wound itself. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but he needed you to know how serious this could have been, how badly you could have injured yourself.

“I apologize for my harshness,” - he caught your gaze with his own as he continued - “But I need you to take care of yourself. Especially when I offer you the means to do so.”

He knotted the linen and tugged at the cloth with his teeth before snipping it short with a pair of shears lying nearby. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent a wave of chills across your skin. When he glanced up at you, he saw a twinge of embarrassment in your expression.

“I always end up doing something reckless or clumsy, no matter how much I try to better myself,” you muttered. Avoiding his gaze, you stared at your wrapped hand as he released it from his grasp. 

The next words that left your mouth caught him off guard. 

“Why do you bother with me, Aragorn?”

He swallowed. 

His eyes drifted downward to your bandaged hand. Carefully, he took it in both of his and cradled it between his palms. Your breath caught in your throat, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. Of course, there was none. When his eyes flickered up to meet yours, there was something glimmering in his eyes. Something quiet and untamed. Tender. 

“I care for you, (Y/n). I care for you very deeply. So deeply, in fact, that I think there is no better word for it than love,” he confessed, gently tracing his thumb over your knuckles. “I love you, melamin.”

boromir | word count: 952

Boromir had never been one to display much emotion. He had been taught from a young age that a man was not a creature of sentiment or expressive feeling, so he was not well versed in the commitment of making himself vulnerable. It wasn‘t until he began to see how this pattern of detachment and stalwart solemnness began to affect your relationship that he worked harder to make larger strides in undoing the toxic misogyny his father had engrained in him since boyhood.

You of course knew that Boromir had an emotional side; a softer, sweeter disposition he bore around his younger brother and even around you on occasion – before he subconsciously corrected himself. He had begun to notice that whenever he puffed his chest or resumed that “manly” behavior, you pulled away from him. You grew quieter, you sought solitude, you became annoyed more easily.  His arrogance, you knew, often acted as a wall of self-preservation. But you were tired of being on the other side of that wall, waiting to be let in.

It was after an argument between the two of you that he realized this wall of his was going to have to come down. Even though he had been defensive at first, he soon realized his refusal to be wrong, his hesitance at expressing emotion, his worry about becoming vulnerable – it wasn’t worth the risk of losing you.

You had since shown him that emotion wasn’t a weakness, it was a strength. He knew you understood where his hesitance and his way of thinking brimmed from, you always made the effort to understand. You weren’t asking him to change – you were asking him to grow. 

To allow himself to be Boromir.  Fully, completely, without restraint.

This was his moment, so to speak, in which he knew he was ready to give you everything. His pride had been holding him back for so long under his father’s approval – it was finally time for him to trust you and allow himself the comforts of self-expression.

He was ready to say it first. He was ready to be the one to get vulnerable first.

On the evening he decided to take his first big step into that growth, Minas Tirith basked in the white hue of moonlight. He sat beside you quietly, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. Twirling in between your fingers was a pale blossom from the White Tree that he had plucked for you. Patiently, you waited. You could tell by his calm demeanor and open countenance that something had shifted within him since your last talk – his shoulders were relaxed as he walked, he had let himself stroll along slowly beside you instead of marching quickly like a soldier. He seemed relieved. At peace.

“I have something I must ask of you, my dear,” he began.

Your attentive gaze gave him permittance to continue.

“Your forgiveness,” – his hand covered yours as his voice softened – “I want to apologize for my arrogance throughout our courtship thus far. It was not my intention to hurt you with my attachment to my own pride.”

You leaned forward to interrupt him, but he held up his hand to stop you. You hadn’t wanted him to apologize – you didn’t blame him for a learned behavior he had had no choice in being raised into. But evidently, Boromir felt in necessary to express his remorse. Shutting him down was the last thing you wanted to do, especially if this was what he felt was right. You decided to listen.

“I never knew that I would find someone who would open me up like you have. I never even knew there was such a possibility for me to learn to allow myself to feel as you have. You know I was never allowed to show weakness as a child, or what my father perceived as weakness,” he glanced down at your intertwined hands as he swallowed over his next words, “I was not even allowed to cry. It was not the way of a soldier, or a steward’s son.”

When his eyes lifted to meet yours again, you could see the glistening of his tears in the moonlight. You tightened your grip on his hand, covering it with your other.

He seemed comforted by this as he continued. “But I am able to do so now, to allow myself to feel and become vulnerable. I owe you my thanks for that, (Y/n). If it weren't for you, I fear I never would have allowed myself to grow, to become a better man. A stronger man.”

He leaned forward suddenly, his peaceful expression shifting into excitement. “I love you, (Y/n), with a passion that even the fires of Mordor could not compare. And I thought that I would have to swallow my emotions to be the man you wanted, but instead you had given me freedom I have never been offered before.”

“Oh, Boromir,” you murmured. The image of his smiling face blurred as your own tears gathered and spilled over your cheeks. Your eyes fell to the blossom in your hands and the promise it held of everything to come – of what you already had, here, in his company.

His thumb gently tugged at your cheek as he wiped your tears. When you softened to his touch, he cradled the curve of your jaw in his hand. You leaned into him, covering his hand with your own.

This is all you had ever wanted.

For Boromir to be free, for his heart to be opened, for him to accept your love.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, pressing your lips to the palm of his hand that caressed your face.

faramir | word count: 522

The complete opposite of his brother, Faramir had little to no trouble in connecting to his more emotional side. In fact, he was always eager to shower others in kindness and compassion. It had long been the thing his father hated most about him – Faramir was weak in Denethor’s eyes. Luckily, Faramir’s gift for sentiment could not be so easily squelched. It was what you loved most about him.

Faramir adored you all the more for your acceptance of his openness and empathetic abilities. He never had to filter himself around you or attempt to not be “too much”. He was expressive, kind, and vulnerable. He wasn’t afraid to cry, he wasn’t hesitant in displaying his softer side. He was just Faramir, the way Faramir was supposed to be. And in your eyes, he was perfect.

Those words of declaration, those three tender notes of sweet promise, when they finally came, did not necessarily come as a surprise. He had always been upfront with his feelings towards you – and respectful - with his affection and doting words of affirmation. Shy, but honest. But that did not mean they meant any less when you heard them spoken for the first time.

Faramir, though he had long known that he loved you, had not planned the moment he would confess to you. He knew the right moment would happen along, and happen along it did.

One fine afternoon in the sunlit halls of the library halls, your laughter echoed with an unkempt ferocity that made his heart melt. Evidently, the way he had attempted in retelling his brother’s joke was far funnier than the actual content of it. You had laid your hand upon his shoulder as you doubled over in a chortling fever of amusement. In seconds, his embarrassment had been assuaged your beautifully wild laugh that in turn encouraged his own to spill forth.

There you both stood under the setting beams of the warm sun that filtered into the halls, leaning into each other for support as you felt your sides begin to ache. His gentle hands gripped your forearms as you gasped for breath between cheerful bouts of laughter. He had been able to calm his jovial fit much sooner as his admiring gaze fell almost blissfully solemn. 

He couldn’t look away from your lips that were split into a wide smile, unconcerned whether your laugh was ladylike or if your posture was stiff. Those little crinkles in the corners of your glimmering (e/c) eyes were like the fine details of a painting. Oh, how deeply he had fallen for you.

When you finally began to catch your breath and your laughter had quieted enough for a lower octave to be heard, the words slipped effortlessly between his smiling lips with a soft chuckle. “I love you.”

Your boisterous laughter faded into breathy vowels as you asked, “What did you say?”

“I love you,” he repeated.

His smile didn’t waver. He was so sure, so sincere.

You could only smile up at him graciously, a light laugh of merriness flowing through you.

How perfect this moment was, how blissfully perfect.

eomer | word count: 413

It happened one the eve before a long patrol - that could result in battle  - that he and his men were preparing for. Eomer, knowing he could promise himself a certain outcome, did not want to leave you waiting until he returned to say all that he needed to. He wanted to be sure he left no loose ends fraying in his absence.  He wasn’t one to leave things to chance.

As he walked out to the stables to prepare his supplies and brush out his steed, you followed along with him, eager to spend every minute you had left together before his departure. There were inquiries and concerns exchanged while he filled Firefoot’s bale with oats and cleaned his shoes of any muck. When he was reassured that you and Eowyn would care for each other in his absence, he felt one last thing needed to be said.

His hands wove through Firefoot’s mane as he considered his next words, soothing the horse’s nervous anticipation. The lull in conversation reminded of you how close dawn truly was. He would be gone soon and you would be left to worry and pray for his safe return. Busying yourself with tasks that would seem miniscule in comparison.

He patted the broad neck of his steed before wiping his hands clean and stepping nearer to you. “There’s something I think you should be aware of before I go,” he began. 

His tone made you worry.

“I think we are both aware of our feelings for each other since our courtship began,” he took your hands in his as he paused for breath, “It’s no surprise to you that I feel passionately for you. I don’t think it would be news for you to hear these words, but I would feel better having spoken them before I take my leave.”

You waited on baited breath. Was he truly going to say it after all this time?

“I love you, (Y/n), with every inch of my being, and I plan to act on that knowledge when I return.”

Yes, you already knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. But to hear those words spoken aloud after the years you had pined for each other and in the months you had courted, it was the last bit of resolve you needed to face the world while he was away. And evidently it was the last bit of peace he needed to carry himself forward. 

eowyn | word count: 312

Eowyn had long been sure of her love for you, but had lacked the courage to admit it. of course, she had no qualms with being the first to say it – of course a woman could say it first just as easily as a man and with just as much meaning. But when would the right time occur? How could she be sure you felt the same? That she would not be left with a gaping pang of regret?

But Eowyn, against all of her worries, knew the moment when it came.

And of course, her bravery shown through.

Her confession did not happen under the moonlit stars or in the halls of her uncle, nor even in the walls of her homeland. It happened in the uncomfortable, sweaty musk of battle as arrows pierced hide and swords battered shields. It happened as an enemy blade came bearing down on your armor as you lie defenseless in the wreckage, your weapon thrown own of reach.

You had accepted your death just as the thudding of boots came nearer and the Uruk’s bloodthirsty gaze drifted upwards, its blade halted. The beast stepped over your impaired body and poised the tip of its blade toward the approaching figure with a twisted smirk – and it was then that the sharp twang of her blade meeting the Uruk’s pierced the air. She parried quickly, shoving the beast back into a stumble. She stood over you, wielding her shield and blade with grace and courage enough for a hundred men – or perhaps a thousand.

“You will not harm the one I love!” she shouted.

Your heart raced in the frenzy chaos of the moment – both from adrenaline and from the realization that Eowyn, the great lady warrior, the bravest heart you had ever met, had confessed her love for you while protecting you with her own life.

elrond | word count: 928

Elrond was extremely mindful of his feelings and how he attached himself to others. He was quiet, reserved, and did not care for taking unwise chances – especially when it came to feelings such a love. He had given much thought to the subject and took his time in considering what his feelings might be – if it was simply the fleeting sensation of infatuation, a connected sensation of friendship, or truly the sensation of love itself.

When he found his every thought resolved itself back to you and nearly everything he saw or read prompted him to share it with you, he knew that he had fallen in love. And thus, it soon came time to be honest with you about his earnest feelings for you. It was time to finally say it.

During a private dinner with him, Elrond had prepared his words carefully. As he dotted the corners of his mouth with a red satin cloth, he cleared his throat. But before he could speak, your voice incidentally interrupted him.

“Elrond, do you think I’m a witless human?”

The words he had almost spoken caught in his throat. He lifted his gaze to yours across the table, studying the remorseful expression that had overcome the smile you had worn only minutes ago. He had felt that something about you was off that evening; your spirit seemed dampened like the fallen leaves of autumn when drenched with the harvest’s cool rain.

“Of course not. Why would you ever think that?”

He watched as you toyed with a piece of warm pastry, poking at the flakey crust distractedly. “I suppose I- I…I worry that I am unworthy of your company. You are a great lord and I am nothing but a wanderer who happened upon your halls years ago. There are many who are still uncertain of me, many who would rather I leave your courts and make my home elsewhere.”

“Anyone who say such things about you must be the witless creature, (Y/n), not you,” he reassured.

Your eyes met his. There was an urgency to your tone, an urgency that taunted him unintentionally. “I am dull and plain, milord. I do not belong in your world of elegance and majesty. I am like the dust of the earth and you- you are like stardust.”

Still silence fell as Elrond processed your words. You had returned to formalities, which you seldom did unless the situation called for it. This time, in the comfort of your shared solitude, it was not expected of you. Where had this all come from? Had someone chastised you? Spoken ill of your character?

He rose slowly from his chair and made his way to you. You kept your eyes on your plate, suddenly overwhelmed by a bashful sense of embarrassment. Every step he drew nearer, your pulse quickened.

The warmth of his hand stilled the nervous fidgeting of yours.

As near as he was to you now, knelt by your chair, you wondered if he could see the tears burning in your eyes. You blinked, dissolving the blurry liquid from your vision. You held your breath very still, only taking shallow breaths –you feared anything deeper would encourage more emotions to present themselves.

When his other hand swept your hair from your face, your breath caught in your throat. “You are the furthest thing from dull, melda. Do not compare yourself to the dust that is trampled by the feet of beasts – you are far more precious than even the light of the stars. You are worth far more than you give yourself credit for.”

The soft touch of his finger pulled your chin towards him, warranting your gaze to meet his. “I have spent these last two months considering how I might tell you this, and I find that is more perfect a time than ever,” he paused only to admire your eyes and the loveliness that reflected in them, “I am in love with you, (Y/n), and I fall more in love with you each day that passes.”

Your (e/c) widened and you felt your chest tighten – how could this be possible? How could he, the great elven lord of Rivendell, think of you as anything more than a wanderer? No matter how much you doubted yourself, you knew you could trust his words, despite the shock they invoked. He was never one to speak with haste or make himself vulnerable to anyone apart from his children. You were stunned to silence, waiting for him to take it back.  But he never did.

In fact, his brows drew together in an expression of absoluteness and he spoke again in a calmer, more pronounced tone. He took one of your hands in his and pressed it to his heart. “You are the most marvelous creature that has ever walked into my life. I am the one who has been graced by your presence. You have enriched my life when before it was simple and lonely…you are stardust, melamin, not me.”

Your sorrowful tears turned to joy as they poured from your eyes and spilled over your flushed cheeks. When you leaned forward to embrace him, he opened his arms to accept your human display of affection. A little too enthusiastic, it might have been – you wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling yourself to the ground where he knelt.

His chuckle reverberated against your body and you found yourself wondering how you had ever doubted your belonging here with him – there was no other place in Middle-Earth that could hold your heart.

arwen | word count: 420

Arwen had known from the moment she had met you that something was meant to last between the two of you. Call it instinct, desire, or elven wisdom – whatever it might’ve been, she felt it clearly much like her father’s visions. Although she hadn’t been sure if it was the bonds of friendship or kindred spirits for some time, until her connection to you was proven by your shared desire to be near each other whenever you could.

She confessed to you on the morning of your departure with part of her father’s guard to oversee the treaties between your peoples. There was much riding upon the success of your deliverance and the treaties themselves – there was much hanging in the air, stiffening the backs of many anxious elves that mounted their steeds alongside you. Just as you finished loading your saddle, her voice carried across the yard of the stables and met your ears, drawing your attention towards you.

“I thought you were supposed to be with the farewell party at the gates?” You inquired. The smile her presence brought onto your lips warmed her heart.

“I am,” she drew near until she was within arm’s reach of you, “I came to say goodbye personally. I have something to tell you before you go.”

“Oh? What is it, my lady?”

“I want to offer you this,” – she took your hand in hers and discreetly place something within the grasp of your fingers, folding them back over it – “If you would but promise to take great care of it.”

Opening the palm of your hand, you found the cool glint of the Evenstar glistening back at you. To say that you were stunned was an understatement – surely this was not what it seemed to be. Was she offering her heart to you?

“Arwen, are- are you asking…?”

“I am offering you my heart with this jewel, that you may carry me with you while we are parted.”

You searched her eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but you found none. She knew what she was doing, placing this jewel in your care. She was offering you her love, her fidelity, her loyalty. Herself.

“But this must mean that-“

“That I love you,” she murmured, taking a step closer. She curled your fingers around the Evenstar again, this time enclosing her hands around yours. Her eyes flickered down as she placed a soft kiss to your knuckles, sealing her promise. “And I will be waiting for you when you return home.”

legolas | word count: 259

It came in during one of the many nights that you sat close by him during the Feast of Starlight in his father’s halls. When he had seen your ceremonial gown laced with silver ribbon and your hair flowing free of any braids or decorum, he felt as though every thought and feeling he had harbored for you in his heart had been sealed by that moment. The need to confess his feelings came on so strongly that he could hardly speak throughout the feast, knowing the next words that passed through his lips would be ones of affirmation and promise. 

It happened in the basking glow of moonlight, just after you pointed out the constellations that glimmered brightly above you. He had placed his hand over yours gently, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. 

You glanced at him as his fingers enclosed around yours. His glimmering blue eyes narrowed down at your delicate hand, not yet meeting your inquiring gaze. His brows dipped together as though he were working very hard at thinking of what to say. 

“Legolas?”

He swallowed back his nerves before looking up to say, “(Y/n), you have been like my very own star, illuminating every part of my being with your passion. I think it must be time that I tell you just how much I care for you,” - his other hand came to cup the hand he held, encasing it in the warmth of his touch - “I love you, (Y/n), with a fire that burns brighter than the sun itself.”

galadriel | word count: 207

The lady Galadriel, even in her vast grace and eloquence, could not find the words to say all that she felt for you. In the dusk of a summer evening over a private supper, she handed you a carefully folded letter that had been sealed with silver thread. You took it gingerly, looking up at her with curious eyes before unfolding its contents and delving into her written speech.

In it she had poured everything - from the moment she had met you to the very minute she had realized how her heart was binding itself to yours with the slow cadence of the changing seasons. She expressed that though her life had spanned a great millennium, you had brought a youthful curve to her smile, a liveliness she had not known for some time. At the very end of her confession that had been penned with her delicate penmanship were the concluding words of affection. She was in love with you. 

When you looked up at her, the letter quivering in your hands, she glanced away momentarily before saying, “Every word I wrote is but the truth I feel in my heart,” her smile was as dignified as ever, “and I cannot deny it any longer.”

haldir | word count: 365

He will have thought about it for a very long time and have every word prepared to the syllable. The setting was carefully planned, the way he spoke and carried himself was rehearsed - for declaring your lifelong love for someone was no lighthearted matter. It could determine the course of his existence, as well as yours. Haldir wanted nothing less of himself than utter perfection, knowing well that you were worth every bit of his effort (and so much more). 

So there he waited in the beauty of the Lothlorien moon glow for your arrival. He had your favorite delicacies made in the kitchens by the skilled elves in the upper palace. There were pastries filled with tart berries and lathered with warm crème, a centuries-aged mulled wine, and votives shimmering in the grass. All to tell you that he loved you - to declare his heart as yours.

But all of that changed when you arrived suddenly and rushed up the slope to meet him. Unexpectedly, you took him in your arms and held him there without warning. There was a quiver to your body that he felt against his skin. He returned the gesture without hesitation.

“Melda, what is it that troubles you?” 

You spouted off about how horrible your day had been and how glad you were to have had this meeting with him, how it had kept you going throughout the gradual disappointments that had taken place since that morning. You went on to tell him how much he meant to you - all without explicitly saying ‘i love you’, but somehow he knew that had been what you meant. 

Without thinking, he said it over you shoulder in a whisper just loud enough to be heard by your human ears. It hadn’t been the way he had carefully planned out, but somehow it had been sweeter this way than any other way he could have imagined. It was natural, pure, and made his heart full. 

“I love you too, Haldir,” you murmured in return. He permitted himself to succumb to your human expression of affection completely as he tightened his embrace and gently nestled his chin over your shoulder. 

gimli | word count: 346

The saying “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” must have applied to dwarves as well. For one night as you and the other members of your Fellowship bedded down for a meal and a few hours’ rest, the savory flavor you managed to infuse in the meager ingredients you rationed had done just that to Gimli, son of Gloin. It had been only a brief moment between handing him his own helping and sitting down next to him with your own that the words of adoration escaped his mouth.

“My love be yours, lass! This brew is delicious!” He had proclaimed, his voice rising higher above the hushed sounds of delight as the others enjoyed your cooking. Then his own words registered in his hungry mind - as they did to the rest of the group.

The spoon halted in his mouth as he froze stiff under the several inquiring looks from around the fire. Legolas’ expression was contorted in such a confused way, Gimli would have make a jab at the elf had he not been the object of attention himself. He hadn’t thought it possible for the dwarf to harbor feelings - well, positive ones, at least.

Your smile drove the dwarf’s cheeks into a reddening fit. “Your what be mine?” 

“Uh, ah,” he swallowed quickly and slurped in another mouthful of broth, “I dedn’t say anythin’.”

“Oh, I think you did, Gimli,” Aragorn chimed in with a wide grin on his face.

“I think he might ‘a said he loved her!” One of the hobbits proclaimed, encouraging a roar of laughter around the fire. 

Gimli muttered something over his bowl of stew that he cradled close to his beard. You smiled at him, knowing he was too embarrassed to even offer a rebuttal. It may not have been outright or plainly spoken, but you could see through the hard-pressed and unfeeling exterior he always wore that there was something soft not too far below the surface. You were happy to hold the affections of a certain red-haired, axe-wielding dwarf. 

frodo baggins | word count: 612

Frodo loved nothing more than a peaceful day spent in the flickering shade of the forests and crossing through little creeks and rivers - especially if you were with him. He often invited you to tag along with him on his adventures to find a good reading spot or explore some hidden oasis of the Shire he had yet to discover. He always wanted to be with you. 

On one such day, Frodo couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every thought turned and found its way back to you. Each time he tried to concentrate on the book he cradled in his hands, his eyes wandered readily to find your peaceful face indulged in your own little world, just content to have his company without the need for conversation. 

He adjusted himself where he sat in the forked trunk of a comfortable tree and tried one last time to immerse himself in the paragraphs printed on the yellowed pages of his book. It was no use.

Minutes passed and Frodo couldn’t try any longer. His eyes settled on the texture of your (h/c) hair that you had left down that day with no braids or ribbons tying portions of it back. The midday sun that filtered through the canopy of trees sent waves of gold across those soft tendrils he loved tucking behind your ear. You sat primly at the base of the tree, weaving the stems of flowers together. 

Quietly, he admired the contour of your nose, the curve of your cheeks, the delicate shape of your lips and the pink tongue that poked out every now and then as you tried to concentrate on your pleats. A dreamy smile took over his quaint expression. The contented sigh that passed between his lips pulled your gaze up to meet his.

His sweet smile encouraged your own to make an appearance. Both of your hearts fluttered. “What’s that look for?” 

“I was just admiring how beautiful you are with sunlight in your hair,” he said. His voice was sugary and tender. It reminded you of the rich pastries his uncle offered you each time you came for a meal. So delicately ruch with sweetness that it sat in your belly and warmed, mixing perfectly with the twang of a hot berry tea. Frodo was like that - the perfect mix of everything natural and sweet. Pure.

Your blush overtook your expression and your averted your gaze bashfully. As your thoughts rushed with anticipation, wondering what was to come next, if anything. Perhaps he would say something else or return to his book, you couldn’t be sure. 

There was the definitive sound his book snapping shut and the scuffle of his feet as he hopped down from the tree. You teased him with a glance when he sat next to you and tucked his legs underneath him, turning your fingers around the stems of budding dandelions. His eyes studied your face for a moment longer before he wandered down to follow the steady work of your hands.

“What are you making?”

“I’m weaving a bookmark for you,” you answered. “After it dries, you can take it out and use it for other books.”

There was that fluttering in his heart again. 

“You’re marvelous,” he whispered. 

A short chuckle escaped you and your eyes widened with a mix of shock and curiosity. “I’m just weaving flowers, Frodo. It’s nothing special.”

His hand covered yours. Your fingers stilled.

“Of course it is. Anything you do becomes special.”

“Frodo, I-...”

“I love you, (Y/n).”

“You- you what?”

He traced his finger along your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear like he always did. “I love you.”

samwise gamgee | word count: 1,084

Sam had planned every minute of his confession. He would invite you to supper, cook every bit of it himself, and put it all in a picnic basket to be eaten in the quaint garden of his home. He had rehearsed his words over and over again, both to Frodo and the looking glass that hung by the front door.

When you arrived that evening, it was obvious that something was turning in that head of his (he was never any good at being discrete), but you didn’t let on as if you suspected anything. You figured that if Sam had planned something special, he would enjoy the surprise on your face better than the curious questions that would deflate his excitement. With a basket in tow, he led you back out the front door and onto the stone steps of his beautifully gardened walkway.

You paused to admire the lilies and tall-reaching sunflowers as he bickered with the key in the lock. Unfortunately, both of you were too distracted to notice the picnic basket slipping from his grasp. Before either of you could react, the beautifully packed picnic had tumbled out onto the dusty stones around your feet. 

A loaf of bread that had been carefully wrapped in parchment seemed unscathed, as did the little pot of warm stew that had been tied shut with a thick ribbon over the lid. The jars of honey and jam clinked as they rolled into each other, a packed cheese board tumbled out and into the grass, and a lovely golden pie feel top-first onto the porch step with a splat.

Your first instinct was to clasp your hands over your mouth and stare idly at the unfortunate mess. Your eyes flicked to Sam, who stood with his back to you and his hand still on the key that stuck out of the door. His shoulders sank and an audible sigh of remorse left his lips.

“Oh, blast it!” he exclaimed under his breath, bending over to turn the basket right-side up.

Poor Sam.

“Oh, Sam! I’m so sorry!” You stepped forward out of your daze and tucked the jars in your arms. You picked up the stew that had only barely spilled a few drops when it tipped, careful not to knock the lid off anymore. When you set them down by the basket, you noticed the pie that had been smashed had splattered onto Sam’s feet and trousers. Helplessly, he tried to shake the gooey tart off, but to no avail.

“Let me go inside and get some towels,” you offered. Scooting between him and the doorpost – and narrowly avoiding the pie yourself – you took the key from his fingers and twisted it back, opening his front door wide open and quickly heading for the bathroom.

When you came back, damp towel in hand, Sam was slumped by the grass, picking up the cheese and berries that had hopped out like little frogs. You sighed at the sight of it, knowing he had most likely prepared and cooked every bit of this meal himself. You couldn’t help but notice that he looked rather defeated.

Approaching him, you could hear him muttering under breath, things like, “Samwise, you blundering fool” and “now the night’s all ruined because of your clumsiness”. Gently, you placed your hand on his shoulder and bent over to capture his attention. He stood and looked at you, a frown drooping his eyebrows together. It was enough to make your heart break right then and there.

“Here, leave that to me and let’s get you cleaned up.”

Taking his hand, you led him to the little bench by the potted tomatoes and gestured for him to sit. He sat down with a groan and reached for the towel, which you pulled out of reach. “It’s alright, Sam, I can clean it off.”

“You don’t have to do that, (Y/n),” he interjected. There was an embarrassed twinge in his tone.

“I know I don’t, but I want to help. You went to all this trouble to give me a lovely evening out and I want to do what I can to help make it happen still,” you reassured. You knelt by his feet and began wiping the crème and berries from his trousers, letting the water soak in and draw the hue out.

“Oh,” he sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand, “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

You glanced up at him curiously, quirking a brow. “Sam, it’s alright. It’s just one date – we can always try again and next time I’ll lock the door for you. Or I can carry the basket, although I can’t promise I won’t be the one to drop it.” Your snickering didn’t seem to assuage his deflated excitement.

“No, tonight was-…I was going to- to-...”

You leaned back on your haunches, your hands still. He was going to what?

“Sam?”

His silent anxiousness worried you. Tenderly, you placed a hand on his knee and bent forward to try and catch his gaze again. Bashfully, his eyes darted up, but they did not meet yours. Instead he focused on your hand that settled on his knee and found himself smiling softly, despite the tears that had welled in his eyes.

Following his gaze, you realized what you had done – the heat rose in your cheeks and you began to pull away, but his hand stopped you. With a sweet touch, he wove his together with yours and looked up at you. Your pulse quickened  - you had never seen that look before, in his eyes. The one where they shimmered almost like stars and his smile tipped to the side. He looked almost blissful.

“I had planned on telling you I love you. I had everything planned, including baking your favorite pie with little hearts woven into the crust. I wanted tonight to be special, so you would remember it when we’re old and grey and start forgetting what we ate for second breakfast.”

Sam watched as your smile grew, shrank into shock, and then grew again. When you sprang forward and enveloped him, it took a moment for him to register your sudden warmth pressed against him. But when he did, he happily returned the gesture and wrapped his arms under yours, tucking his chin over your shoulder. He could smell the sweet scent of lavender wafting from your beautiful hair.

“Sam, I’ll never forget this night for as long as I live.”

merry brandybuck | word count: 409

With Meriadoc Brandybuck, nothing was ever subtle. The young hobbit had planned his confession like he might any other adventure or trip across the country. From morning until night, Merry had something in store for you to slowly build to the moment he was prepared to confess his truest feelings. 

It started with pulling you out your door at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise over Bywater Pool with a quaint breakfast in the square (which you forgave him for when he presented those deliciously warm muffins) and was then followed by a light frenzy of morning shopping from the markets that were selling sweet-tasting goods and homemade wares. He had seen the way you had eyed that little locket with the (f/c) jewel dangling from it and bought it when you weren’t looking, slipping it into his vest pocket. 

Not long after you had visited your friends in the Green Dragon Inn, there had been a lovely wagon-ride through the rich Green Hill countryside to reach the borders of the Shire, followed by a lunch under the trees of the forest in the curve of the hillside shadows. He watched fondly as you went about collecting flowers to braid into a crown for the two of you. After your meal had been finished (along with a day full of snacks and goodies he had brought along), he had led you on a hike the rest of the way to Tuckborough where the Great Willow sat patiently waiting for dusk. 

There, underneath the swaying loveliness of the weeping branches, he turned out his pocket and clasped the necklace around you from behind. 

A gasp escaped your surprised smile, “What is this?!” 

“I saw you eyeing it this morning when we were in the square,” he planted himself beside you, tucking your hair behind your shoulder, “And I thought you should have it.”

“Oh, Merry,” you looked down and marveled at its glimmering beauty, pressing your fingers to the chain, “You really shouldn’t have! This cost a few good silver pieces!”

There was pure adoration in his eyes when you looked at him, a look you hadn’t seen so fully expressed before. It was then, in the pause between phrases, that he said it all with just a look. You had never felt such butterflies before.

“No price could ever compare to the amount of my love for you, (Y/n).”

Oh, he was smooth. He was very smooth.

pippin took | word count: 430

Pippin mightn’t have been the most creative when it came to planning elaborate dates or settings in which to confess his innermost feelings with, but he was no less sincere. When the quick knock had come at your door one morning before you had even had the chance to devour your first meal of the day, you hadn’t expected to find him standing anxiously on the other side. 

He wore that same crooked smile that alighted his whole face and held tightly in his hands was a bouquet of wildflowers. By the looks of them, he must has run up the lane carrying them - some daisies had lost a few petals and you spotted the dirt-knotted roots hanging from his hands from where he had pulled them from the earth. It was messy and imperfect, but it was Pippin. 

There was something so endearing about his childlike naivety when it came to the “proper” way of presenting things, such as the mop of unkempt curls on his head, the bruised flowers in his clenched hands, and the wide-eyed energy he never went without. You loved every bit of it.

You certainly hadn’t expected him to suddenly become shy when he began to explain the bouquet he placed in your hands, his fingers lingering over yours a little longer than necessary. He was never one to be slow to speak.

“I-I, uh, I thought you might like these pretty flowers, y’know, because pretty things like other pretty things,” he smiled for a moment and bounced on his feet, until he seemed to register his own words and how they might be taken, “Uh, not- not that I see you as a ‘thing’ or...anything.”

“I know what you mean, Pip,” you smiled at him through the blossoms as you pressed them to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent. 

“I also came to- uh- to tell you about my feelings.”

“Your feelings?” 

“Ah, those,” he giggled and spared a glance at his feet, “I just meant that I have feelings for someone. For you, that is. I mean. And, uh, I wanted to come out and say it. Like that.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh, Pippin, that’s wonderful becau-”

“I love you, that is,” he concluded before adding a rushed, “You don’t have to say the same, of course. I was just putting it out there.”

You tucked in your widening smile and concealed your blush behind your daisies. “I do feel the same way. Would you like to come in for breakfast?”

You knew he never turned down a meal.

tags: @moony-artnstuff​  @wellfuckmyexistence​

[weaselbeaselpants]

Headcanons for the Butterfly family you’re free to steal cause I probably won’t do anything with them.

I mean, I’ll prolly still draw some of these but I don’t have time to write fan fiction anymore so go nuts.

Jushtin gave his itty bitty sister Solaria hair and fashion tips. He was the one who first taught her to shave her head. Skywyne was not happy.

Solaria found dresses super confining and stupid pink is stupid GET AWAY FROM ME WITH THAT DRESS MOM!!!!!

When she was young, Solaria made friends with one of the dungeon keepers, who was a monster. He was blamed by a cook of the castle for a crime he didn’t commit and to save face, Skywyne had him publicly executed. Solaria ended up witnessing said execution and didn’t know why her friend was being killed. She internalized it and convinced herself that her friend betrayed her to save her from the horrible reality of what her mom did.

Solaria didn’t have time to care about finding a husband, what with the war she was raging against the monsters and all. Alphonse the Worthy and her had a one-night fling and she tried best to break it off so that he wouldn’t get any ideas about their future.

Solaria wasn’t super attached during her pregnancy - she was more worried about the fact that she had to be taken into hiding and that her troops were left without a leader. Then Eclipsa was born and she ended up thinking she was the most beautiful thing in the whole world and sought to make Mewni monster free and perfect - just for her.

When Eclipsa wasn’t with her mother or trying to see Globgor, her Uncle Jushtin was usually giving her lessons on how to be fab.

Eclipsa got really into monster dating when it seemed as though Globgor had completely changed sides and she thought he didn’t like her anymore. Once they hooked back up, all of Eclipsa’s potential monster suitors mysteriously wanted nothing to do with her...

Septarians found Eclipsa’s attraction to them patronizing. The one or two that dated her did so because they wanted to get close enough to kill her, but luckily Globgor stopped them in time.

Alphonse the Worthy was hurt by Solaria keepin him at bay after their fling on the sea. He was sort of kind of not maybe in love with his queen and devoted to her ala Jorah and Daenerys from GoT.

Alphonse also wanted to be in his daughter’s life and didn’t like Eclipsa calling him by his name. At some point he discovered his daughter’s secret affair and promised to keep her and Globgor a secret - he knew what it was like “to love someone the world tells you you could never be with.”

Jushtin was very old but still around once Festivia was put on the throne. He tried not to hold any resentment towards her, but deep down he knew something wasn’t right.

When she was 7, Festivia wandered away from the magical High Commission and started a flash mob in a lowly town square. There she met a shy little girl with light purple hair. Festivia tried to get the girl to stop mulking and let her bad self out, but said little girl was lead away by her stern robot caretaker and Festi never saw her again.

Festivia defended her ‘deceased mother’ Eclipsa in the face of scrutiny. All the “queen of darkness” and “running off with a monster” stuff was CLEARLY just propaganda. She never read her mom’s chapter but was sure from other notes about her that Eclipsa was a good person who loved her very much.

The Prince of Musty Mountains was a hunchbacked dweep everyone made fun of for looking like a rat. Festivia, however, thought he was sexiest man alive. She thought her eldest daughter, Dirhhennia, was equally the most beautiful baby in the whole world.

Dirhhennia had no regrets about by abdicted from the throne. She and Chad ended up living long, gloomy, mopy, happy lives together away from the public and prodding eyes of her sister.

Crescenta’s songday song was used as the ‘base’ for all the princess’ song day songs after this point.

Crescenta and her mother disagreed a lot behind closed doors. Festivia thought her daughter was an ego-maniac who needed more respect for her family, especially her sister. Crescenta further angered her mother by calling her grandma* Eclipsa evil.

Like most things in her life, Crescenta overcompensated her sexuality. She loved Emily Kelpbottom dearly but was not keen on admitting she was gay or even publicly showing affection. When she knew she had to bare an heir, she randomly picked a suitor out of nowhere to have Rhina. Emily was not happy and she and Crescenta had a bitter falling out, with even Dirrhennia calling Crescenta out on her lack of care for the woman her sister suposedly loved. Emily eventually found love again in one of her delegates. Crescenta never loved another person and was heartbroken for the rest of her life for what she had done.

Festivia the Fun became Festivia the Forlorn in the latter half of her life. Something had happened to her that made her break all ties with the Magical High Commission and brought her to the ultimate dumps. Under Glossaryk’s advice, she ended up agreeing to never tell Crescenta about what she had learned as she knew the truth would destroy her daughter.

The other members of the magical high commission recall Hekapoo never being the same after Festivia cut all ties with her and passed away.

Crescenta was rather against her daughter using a spell to make herself fall in love with John Roachley, whom she didn’t approve of. She told Rhina not to deny her asexuality for the sake of the throne and have a child by magic instead. 

Rhina loved to visit Septarsis for it’s pretty gladiolas, unaware of how much she wasn’t wanted there.

John Roachley was a controlling, domineering, violent, condescending beast who did love Rhina in his own deeply toxic way. Rhina was afraid of him and John had no problem with his wife staying afraid, cause that meant he was in control and could keep her ‘happy’.

Rhina tried her best to get her baby Celena to socialize, but the girl always hid behind her momma’s dress when they went out.

Celena the Shy had horns and a second pair of eyes she hid under her hair. She didn’t really consider these one of her secrets though.

Mewberty for Celena was horrifying as every boy she’d ever had a crush on was in serious danger of being smothered by her new-found ‘confidence’, aka hormones. Rhina had to lock her away during her growth spurts.

Celena may or may not have had various children with other men. Like Solaria and Alphonse, she wasn’t married to Estrella’s father - though their fling was a lot more happy than theirs.

Estrella adored her mother’s creativity but was less interested in the important aspects of ruling or magic making.

It was Estrella who began the tradition of making murals for the queens.

Comet was always running through Eclipsa’s secret tunnels and passage ways as a little girl. The MHC was worried she was becoming like her ancestor but Estrella refused to hear it.

Comet dated Lazlo Marmelade as a teen and for a time worshiped the ground he walked on. She later learned that he was having extramarital affairs behind her back which is why they divorced. Lazlo doesn’t know Comet is dead and secretly misses Moon.

In her youth, Comet loved nothing more than getting away and staying away as much as possible. For a time she secretly hoped her sister Etheria would inherit the throne instead of her. After becoming a mother however, Comet matured a great deal and returned to Mewni to take up the responsibility even her mother wasn’t capable of doing - mending the wounds of the monster/mewman wars.

Because of Lazlo’s lady charming, Moon has a couple dozen half brothers and sisters wandering around that she doesn’t know about.

Comet and Moon were inseparable - a true mother/daughter team who did next to everything together, especially when Moon was young. A big part of this was how Lazlo Marmelade never stepped in to his daughter’s life again so Comet felt she had to be both Moon’s mother and father.

Moon hated the idea of songday as a kid, much in the same way Star did. She incorrectly remembers her songday song as something wonderful because her mother was happy with it and it was one of the last events her mother and her did together.

[zayashmaya]

Gods and Monsters - 10 - Because of You.

Tagora x Reader; SFW

You catch up with Lynera, and an outing with Tagora gets interrupted by Zebruh.

It was a mad world, we lived for fun And we got shit for free Had a face like an angel, but inside my heart was as black as a broke movie screen … But then I saw you standing there, like a millionaire Give me a number, call me before I get stupid Make me uncrazy like you did

Look at me now, I have everything You gave to me and my heart can sing I was a kid who could only drink Dance on tables, makin' deal with devils like a drunk beauty queen Fighting the fantasy, hooked on the scene, but you brought me to my knees And it's all … because ... of you

- Lana Del Rey

You weren’t quite ready to head home just yet. With the fire of determination burning in your soul, you hunted down Lynera — her craziness was exactly the sort of personality you wanted to bounce your new high off of. She was lurking in her hideout, focused on some sort of paperwork scattered across her desk. At your warm greeting, she instantly perked up, momentarily abandoning her work to excitedly buzz about your arrival and launching into a million rants about the other jades as you made yourself comfortable on her couch.

Dear, sweet Lynera. You let her run hot and cold with her monologuing so she got everything off her chest, because you owed her a lifetime of perfect friendship for not chasing after her when Lanque had told her off.

You hoped that bastard was fuming after your beautiful payback. Maybe you should have given him your Chittr handle, just to laugh at whatever angry insults he would have sent to you.

“So.” You began with an air of utter discreteness, checking your nails inconspicuously. “I heard you’ve been giving Lanque a hard time lately.”

Lynera had slipped back into looking over her papers before you spoke. She whirled around to face you, her pupils narrowed into thin slits and her cheeks tinted jade. “ - !!! who told you that !!!"

Oh boy. A flustered Lynera was a dangerous one. You plotted your next move carefully and hoped her knife was stashed far away somewhere. Or even disposed of, as you had recommended to her one time. “He told me,” you confessed. Lynera’s eyes widened. “He was keeping an eye on me earlier at the grub nursery and just started venting. And you know what?” You flashed her a thumbs up. “Keep up the good work.”

She blinked in astonishment before meekly fidgeting in her seat and glancing away. “ - i just couldnt let him get away with what he said to me you know.“

“It was pretty fucked up,” you said in agreement.

“ - !!! and !!! “ Her eyes lit up once more. “ - !!! i dont want him thinking that im a weak little pushover because im not !!! - !!! he has no idea who he messed with !!! - !!! that rude pathetic slut !!! “

You quietly regarded her. “Holding a grudge, are we?"

“ - !!! I — I … !!! “ Lynera bit her lip and flushed brighter than before. You furrowed your brows at her odd response. “ - im going to prove to him that im not a weakling who runs from fights and if he has a problem with how im treating him then he can come see me instead of gossiping.” She shook her head. “ - funny how hes doing exactly what he criticized me for.”

“ … it sounds like you want him to confront you again.”

“ - !!! you know what yes i do !!!” She squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest, hands clenched into fists. “ - !!! lanque probably thinks i cant take him on because i ran away last time but !!! - !!! i am stronger than he thinks and i want him to know that !!!”

“Lynera?” She calmed down momentarily and glanced at you. “Do you … Is this some sort of pitch flirting?”

Instead of the sort of vehement opposition you knew only she was capable of — volcanic outbursts and graceless flailing — Lynera merely deflated, hanging her head as her eyes swam with unshed tears. “ - … i just really hate him ok.”

Fuck. Of course she would take his challenge in stride. It was so difficult to keep up with what trolls consider platonic or not.

Guilt pierced through you as though Lynera had personally slid her knife deep into your chest. How could you have missed the signs? It’s not like Lynera was known for being subtle.

And then you remembered the sort of person Lanque was. Toxic, rotten, and completely in control of his vices. Lynera would not survive his manipulative scheming. You were anxious just thinking about how swiftly and efficiently he would break her down.

“Is he really someone you’d want to get involved with?” you asked.

“ - what why.” Lynera narrowed her eyes at you. Uh oh. “ - !!! why wouldnt i he is so hatable and and — !!!” She pushed up her glasses and rubbed away her tears. “ - maybe it could help me get over bronya i dont know.”

“Lyn, come here.”

She looked at you questioningly, and when you patted the open space beside you, she mustered up a weak smile and made her way over to you. You pulled her into a tight hug as soon as she sat down, and she squeaked in surprise, her hands hovering in the air before settling hesitantly around your waist.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” you spoke through her curly hair tickling your nose. “Hooking up with an asshole isn’t going to magically make your love for Bronya disappear. The challenge might be enticing, but you and I both know you deserve someone better.” You pulled back slightly and met her stare. “Only idiots fall for someone like Lanque. And you are not an idiot.”

Lynera sniffled, and this time, her smile was more genuine. She nodded and said, “ - maybe youre right."

“Just think on it, okay?”

“ - yes i will.”

“And will you think more on what I said before about throwing out these torture devices? You know Bronya would be horrified by the stuff in this room.”

She glanced at the iron maiden, panic blossoming on her face.

Oh, sweet Lynera. What were you going to do with her, you wondered fondly.

-

“You did what?!”

“You heard me.”

Tagora looked at you with beaming pride as he sipped his drink. “We’ll have to celebrate this, you know."

You giggled and waved dramatically around the cafe. “What do you think we’re here for?”

“No no, you deserve far more than a coffee for your sleazy efforts.” He placed a hand on top of yours. “I mean it, that was some top-notch payback. Clearly my influence is finally rubbing off on you.”

“Oh, Gor Gor.” You laced your fingers with his and smirked. “You should know by now that the student always surpasses the master.”

He eyed your connecting hands and blushed lightly, yet made no effort to pull away. Progress, you told yourself. “You wish," he teased. “This sort of talent is in my blood. Your intentions are ruled by something far more … concupiscent.”

“Mhm.” You took a gulp of your coffee. “What does that word mean?”

Tagora looked at you like he swallowed sour moobeast milk. This time, he retracted his hand, opting to rest his head against it. “Will you ever cease to amaze me?”

You smiled. “Never. And by the way, there’s been a new development that I may or may not need some advice on.”

“My counseling services don’t come cheap,” he snarked, and you lightly kicked him under the table, earning a disgruntled look as he wiped away the nonexistent dirt from his trouser pants.

”Anyway — pretending I did not just hear that — I realized that I might have stepped on some toes, so to speak.” Tagora quirked his head in question. “It looks like one of my friends is pitch for Lanque.”

“And why is that your problem?”

Damn, leave it to him to be so blunt. “Because she’s my friend, and I don’t want to accidentally get in between whatever fuckfest is brewing? But I also feel like I should. I don’t want her getting hurt by him.”

“What, do they have some sort of history?"

“I guess? She’s the friend who brought me to the hive party and got told off so harshly that she left in tears."

“Hah!” Tagora fell back against his chair in a fit of sharp laughter. “That’s gold. She couldn’t handle the heat then, and so what makes her think she can take him on now?”

You pursed your lips. “The girl has torture devices in her hideout, Gor Gor. Another very good reason for why I don’t want to cross her.”

He simply waved you off and snorted. “Please, like you haven’t survived worse. If you want my opinion, then I suggest you keep doing what you’re doing and let her wallow in her misery. With the stunt you pulled on him, I guarantee you have nothing to worry about. Or better yet, bulge block her, piss her off, and get with her instead.”

“That advice is the exact opposite of what I expected, and also makes no sense."

“What’s there to not understand? It’s a perfect set-up, a win-win situation if you play your cards right.” Tagora steepled his fingers and leaned forward, diabolical intent etched all over his face. “You either reveal your elicit escapades with the slutty bottom feeder and get on your pal’s bad side, or you continue this ongoing battle. It’s quite the beautiful situation, really. You have all the power here."

“This is really weird,” you admitted weakly. “You … want me to have an enemy? Wouldn’t you want me to be free from this drama and let Lanque deal with his own bullshit?”

“Uh, no? Why wouldn’t I want you to be in a kismesissitude? Especially when it’s off to such a passionate start.”

You tried several times to offer a rebuttal, but the words just couldn’t come out. “What do you mean kismesissitude?" you shrieked, earning a few glances from nearby patrons and a smarmy smile from Tagora. You blushed and toned down your outburst. “That is a relationship. What Lanque and I have is explicitly the opposite of a relationship. We — this is, i — it’s platonic hate!”

“Right. And it was also very platonic when you were slobbering all over his bulge."

“Tagora. Disgusting."

“Fine! Be in denial all you want. That’s how it starts, anyway.” He sighed and leaned back. “You owe me another drink for this headache.”

You mentally thanked him for switching the subject, because you were about to lose your mind from his ridiculous assertions. “Sure thing, just put it on your tab."

“You mean your tab.”

“Nah. I’m not exactly on a payroll here."

“Weren’t you the one who recently mentioned lavishing me in expensive chocolate and creating a pile of luxurious ablution robes? I think there was some serenading being offered as well."

“Yeah, but where do you think I’m gonna get the funds to do all of that?”

“You’re planning on wooing me with my own hard-earned money?”

You cheekily grinned and held up your drink for a toast. “Is it working so far?”

He rolled his eyes and lost the battle to return your smile, clinking his cup to yours. “I’ll decide once I see that pile.”

“Assuming that you won’t be the one to make it for me.”

“If you come back to my hive with me right now, I can guarantee a very comfortable pile made from a mountain of spreadsheets detailing your massive list of debts to me."

“And you say I lack a sense of romance — “

“ ♥ Did someone say romance?♥ ”

Oh no.

A hand settled over your shoulder, uncomfortably close to the bare skin of your neck. Tagora was staring above you with an expression of frozen civility, laced with an undercurrent of panic that only a highblood could evoke from him. And as Zebruh settled into a stool right in between you two, flashing you a toothy smile and over exaggerated wink, you wondered if Tagora would be able to take this monstrosity in stride.

“So nice of you to join us, Zebruh,” you weakly said, offering a half-assed smile.

He ignored your obvious discomfort, as usual. “Imagine my surprise when I noticed you while I was taking a stroll! ♠ Not that I was actively looking for you, though. ♠ ♣ That would be a very inappropriate thing to do, because it would seem like I’m trying to take control of your lowblood autonomy for my own selfish gain. ♣ “

“Um, w — well I am sort of on a da — “

Zebruh whirled around to face Tagora, who had noticeably straightened out as though someone had shoved a rod up his ass. He leaned in unnaturally close, forcing Tagora to inch back ever so slightly. “ ◆ Hello there, I don’t believe we’ve met! ◆ “ He held out a hand in greeting, and Tagora immediately met his handshake with vigor, as though spurred by an instinctual pull. Zebruh did not let go. “My name is Zebruh, although you’ve probably heard a lot about me already through our lovely mutual friend here. ♥ It’s so admirable to see a midblood of your stature forgoing commonplace laws to protect an alien! ♥ “

Then, and only then, did Zebruh withdraw his hold, grinning pleasantly all the while. Tagora looked absolutely murderous behind his customer service smile. “The law means everything to me — “ he forced out through gritted teeth, and before he could launch into a scathing attack, your foot darted out beneath the table to rub up against his lower leg. He met your heavy handed stare and seemed to catch the meaning behind the subtle shake of your head, because his breath escaped him like a deflated balloon as he loosened the tension in his frame and weaved his hands together in front of him. This time, his poker face was spot on. “ — and that is why I offer equal representation to all people, regardless of their blood color or species,” he finished off. “Oh, but where are my manners. I am Tagora Gorjek, legislacerator-in-training.”

Usually, Tagora finished off his introductions with the offer to call him by his nickname. He always told you that breaking the ice while networking was of utmost importance to him. The absence of such a peace offering was very telling, at least to you. And you could not be more proud, or more relieved. Zebruh would definitely have taken it the wrong way otherwise.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,“ Zebruh said, and turned to look at you with a contemplative expression. “ ♠ I didn’t know you had teals for friends. ♠ ◆ I hope you’re protecting yourself from exploitation, because they are a really ruthless bunch. ◆ “ He glanced at Tagora, the corner of his mouth curled up. “ ♣ Not that I blame you at all, of course; it’s just a teal’s nature, you know? ♣ “

Tagora sat in silence for a moment. You were starting to grow concerned before he smoothly replied, “I commend you for being so socially aware of my caste’s shortcomings. It is rare to meet an indigoblood who is capable of introspection.”

Zebruh nodded sagely. “I take this sort of stuff very seriously. ♣ Fighting for lowblood rights is an honor and privilege that very few can boast about, but I am willing to sacrifice my standing to protect the weak. ♣ “

You reluctantly patted his forearm that rested on the table in an effort to get his attention away from Tagora. It worked splendidly — Zebruh’s eyes lit up at the contact, and he scooched his stool a little closer to your side before throwing an arm around the back of your seat. “He’s really such a good friend to me, Gor Gor,” you forced out, discretely inching away from Zebruh until you sat at the edge of your chair. “Your drink is getting cold, by the way!”

Tagora brought the mug so rapidly to his face that he nearly smacked himself with it. You taught him this trick a while ago, to hide his expression if he was getting too riled up in the presence of someone who would cull him for his disobedience in an instant.

With that taken care of, you poked Zebruh’s side and said, “You don’t have to worry about Tagora. He treats me better than most!” His pleasant grin faded a little. “But not as much as you, of course.”

“ ♥ Your safety has always been my top priority, sweetheart. ♥ “ Tagora choked on his drink. “ ◆ If I don’t look out for you, then who else will? ◆ ♥ And considering how close you and I have gotten, I say this as someone who is as invested in developing our potential quadrant as you are. ♥ “

Tagora was openly glaring daggers at the back of Zebruh’s head. Your Gor Gor Panic Meter was lighting up with the intensity of the Alternian sun — you could sense a meltdown coming soon.

“That’s really so kind of you!” you squeaked. “But remember how we decided to just be friends? Very, very good platonic friends with no pale feelings whatsoever? Remember that, Zebruh?”

“I’m fairly certain her quadrants are being filled these days,” Tagora pipped up, his claws digging into his cup as his diplomatic grin took on a darker undertone.

“ ♠ Really? ♠ ” Zebruh glacially asked, retracting his arm from around your seat. “By who?”

“By me,” he replied with slight bite. “And various other individuals. Surely you must have heard, given that you are so close to her.”

Oh, your indigoblood friend did not appreciate that. “ ♣ Well that’s pretty damn presumptuous of you to say, considering you didn’t let her answer for herself! ♣ “ He shifted in his seat to face you and grasped your hands in a pleading gesture. “ ◆ My dearest companion of unspecified nature, please see this toxic situation for what it really is! ◆ ♥ You deserve to be treated like the queen you are, not silenced into submission. ♥ ”

You stared at him with a deadpan expression. “It’s really not that serious, dude.”

Zebruh sighed dramatically and shook his head. “ ◆ I can’t bear to see you beaten down like this and remain so unaware. ◆ Do you see what I mean about teals now?"

Tagora slammed his drink down on the table none too gently. “I’m terribly sorry for having given you such a poor impression of my character,” he hurriedly said. “And I wouldn’t dare presume that you are capable of ever being wrong about these things, but with all due respect, that is my moir — my associate you are speaking to, and I must politely request that you — th — that you unhand her.”

Oh my gods he almost called me his moirail and now he’s going to die after talking down to this crazy fucker —

You were frozen from an onslaught of emotions as Zebruh obliged Tagora’s demand in favor of leaning into his personal space. “You know, I’m sensing very strong hostility coming from you. ◆ I can vibe with that! ◆ ” He tugged on his bowtie and winked. “♠ If you wanted a formidable kismesis, you could have just said so. ♠ ”

Tagora looked like he was ready to faint on the spot from the suggestion. You have never seen him look so pale and scandalized. “Regrettably, I am entirely unavailable in that regard!"

“Oh. ♠ Then you’re just trying to piss me off. ♠ ” He folded his arms in an attempt to appear intimidating, yet his petulant expression made him look utterly pathetic instead. “I came all the way out here to see my best friend, so it’s kind of rude of you to lead me on with pitch flirting and leave me hanging like this!”

You needed to salvage this shitshow immediately. “Didn’t you say you were just passing by?“

Zebruh flushed indignantly. “W — well, whatever! ♣ You should be thankful that I’m even giving you the time of day — either of you! ♣ “ He pointed at you. “In fact, I’ve been nothing but kind and supportive to you, so I think you owe me for my efforts.”

Tagora sputtered in his haste to reply, but you cut him off with a sharp look. He inhaled deeply and slumped back against his chair, his eyes taking on a concerning shade of darkening yellow as he roughly carded his fingers through his hair. “What do you propose I owe you?” you asked lightly.

Zebruh’s eyes widened and he tilted his head in confusion, as though he did not expect you to be so agreeable. He tapped his chin thoughtfully until a smug look overcame him. “I’m feeling pretty hurt by all of this rude treatment. ◆ I wouldn’t mind a chance for you to join me back at my hive for a relaxing feels jam session to discuss how much this exchange has affected me. ◆ “

To you, the statement was utterly harmless — it’s not like you haven’t had a sit down with a friend to talk about personal issues before. But to Tagora, Zebruh may as well have thrown his drink in his face and pailed you right on the tabletop for all to see. His face was practically fluorescing teal, a stark contrast to the eerie orange glow of his eyes. And with the way his teeth were digging into his bottom lip to hold his outburst at bay, you suspected he was about to draw blood soon. Thank the gods Zebruh was turned away from him.

You shot out of your chair and slammed your hands down on the table. “We! We really need to get going, don’t we, Tagora?!” you exclaimed in a wavering voice. “We have to meet with Tyzias soon for your study session!” Zebruh frowned, and you hastily added, “I’m so sorry, we really lost track of time. To answer your earlier suggestion, I’ll have to say no to that, but I am very flattered by the offer! Why don’t you walk us out?”

Zebruh tisked, languidly getting up and stuffing a hand into his pocket. “Fiiine. ♠ It’s not like I was serious anyway. ♠ "

You expertly sidestepped his attempt to wrap an arm around your waist to guide you to the exit, quickly coming up to Tagora as he silently stood and watched the spectacle with no small amount of distaste coloring his sneer.

“We’re almost rid of him,” you whispered conspiratorially, ignoring his sour mood and looping your hand through the crux of his arm.

He nodded stiffly and kept you as far away from Zebruh as possible, situating himself between you two on your way out. You smiled secretly to yourself as you felt him press up against your side, presumably to keep himself away from Zebruh as well. Even in the throes of anger, Gor Gor was still a wimp around highbloods.

The crisp air filled your lungs with much-needed calmness once you stepped outside. Tagora radiated tense energy beside you, staring straight ahead as though in an effort to forget the situation he currently found himself in.

You put yourself between him and Zebruh this time, hoping he would have the chance to cool down while you handled the indigoblood. “Which way are you headed?” you innocently asked.

Zebruh pointed towards the downtown area, where the suburban streets quickly morphed into seedy-looking buildings lit up by neon advertisements. “I was on my way to a hot new club that opened up recently, before I so graciously decided to stop by and see you. ♥ I heard that the owner is a pragmatic rustblood, and I just have to meet him! ♥ ◆ Would you be interested in joining me? ◆ “ He eyed Tagora critically. “I’m sure your friend can get his homework done without you."

You heard a barely-restrained growl beside you as Tagora grasped your hand in his own with a vice-like grip. “I’m sorry, Zebruh, maybe next time,” you said with an apologetic smile, angling your body towards the opposite direction. “Text me all about it later though!”

He pouted and grumbled about not seeing you enough these days, but finally relented in the end, throwing a careless wave as he walked off. You wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t follow you, but Tagora jerked you forward and stormed towards an aimless direction.

“Tagora, slow down!” you huffed, tugging on his hand. “We’re in the clear. You don’t have to power walk us to another continent.”

“There is no place far enough away from that creature," he hissed, coming to a full stop and releasing his hold on you to stare down at his hands in livid contempt. "That disgustingly sweaty palm of his ruined my skin!” He curled them up into fists as they trembled, and his voice began to take on a hysteric edge. "And to add insult to injury, he had the fucking audacity to assume that I would break the law? Like you’re some kind of charity case to me!” he ended in a screech.

“Gor Gor, he’s gone now,” you said in a hushed whisper, hoping to quiet him down as you flushed at his outburst. To your surprise, passersby paid little to no attention to him, going about their day as though this was a normal scene. Considering the violent nature of trolls, you suspected that to be the case.

Tagora groaned and shook his head as he buried his fingers in his hair and pulled so tightly that you rapidly grew concerned for him. You gripped his shoulders and shushed him down, but he barely acknowledged you, throwing his head back as he stared wide-eyed up at the sky with a disturbing expression. “That fucking highblood thinks he can walk all over me,” he seethed, before cutting himself off with a high-pitched giggle. “And he can! He fucking can! Because I’m just a lowly ruthless teal who he feels the need to protect you from, while thinking I would spread my strut sticks for him!"

You balked at the crude statement. “Tagora, no — “

He sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly stilled. Your momentary hope of him finally calming down promptly evaporated as his eyes darkened to an alarming shade of red, his pupils narrowed into thin slits. You flinched when he finally looked at you. “That piece of shit lowlife just couldn’t leave you alone, could he?” he muttered in an eerily quiet tone. “And right in front of me, too. And I couldn’t do anything about it.” He broke off into another round of freaky giggles, no longer looking at you, but looking through you. “I may be just a weak teal, but I can still show him how gogdamn ruthless I can be, because when I sic the drones at him, he’ll be nothing but a pile of fucking ash by then!"

You stepped back as Tagora doubled over in a fit of vicious laughter. Yep, he was absolutely incomprehensible now.

It was your time to shine.

You have prepared for this moment for quite a while, considered all angles of approach and optimal spots for papping. The traditional seated frond hinge shooshpap was standard protocol, considering how squeamish he got whenever you dared to touch his face, but you have kept a killer technique hidden up your sleeve.

You had his lusus to thank for the bout of inspiration. Tagora had overworked himself into a frenzy one evening and ended up borderline passed out on the couch at his lusus’ behest, laying obediently as the ferret meticulously groomed his hair and dug his little paws into tense muscles. You had watched with curiosity, seated off to the side so as to not disturb their bonding moment. Just as you had prepared to slink away, the lusus lightly chittered at you to sit back down, and with a knowing look cast to you, he scritched at the nape of Tagora’s neck.

He had melted into absolute putty for the rest of the early morning. And if his lusus had bequeathed Tagora’s weak spot to you for a purpose, then you were obligated to carry out his wishes.

So while Tagora continued to rant and rave into the night sky, you sneaked up behind him and snuck your way under his long hair to touch the nape of his neck. Tagora froze instantly, like a prey caught in a predator’s grasp. You gave him no time to react, gently raking your nails along the exposed skin in a meandering pattern as you quietly shooshed him and petted his upper arm with your other hand.

Within a split second, all the tension in his frame melted away. His arms dropped to his sides and his head fell forward as he let out a deep sigh, giving you better access as you curled your hand around the back of his neck and stroked it with your thumb. You peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face, and you were stunned to see how relaxed he looked, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, and a substantial blush coloring his cheeks.

“Did you get it all out of your system?” you softly asked.

“Yes,” he meekly whispered.

“Will I need to resort to more shooshpaps in the near future?”

“No."

You sighed and released your hold on him, coming around to stand in front of him with folded arms. “You’re an absolute nutcase sometimes, Gor Gor.”

Tagora blinked at you, eyes finally settled back to their normal yellow hue. He huffed and looked away, still lightly blushing. “Well. I might have a bit of a problem regulating my temper. If you know a better way to deal with a lifetime of pent-up anger and humiliation brought on by the complexities of Alternian society, let me know.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to smoke a blunt once in a while.”

Tagora glared at you. “It would kill me, and I will kill you if you bring that shit anywhere near me. Bad enough that you come to my hive smelling like that garbage.”

You giggled and smiled impishly. “Looks like I won’t need to.” You wiggled your fingers. “My shooshpaps are an effective tranquilizer, apparently.”

He bit his lip. “How did you think of that move?”

Should you out his lusus as your partner in crime? Better not — you might get some more insight from the ferret at a later date. “I guess I just know you that well. It took a while to figure out your preferences, since you’re so weird about being touched.”

“So you’ve put a lot of thought into it … ?”

“Sure have,” you cheerily admitted, and Tagora’s blush reappeared with a vengeance. “Wow, that’s quite a reaction.”

You expected him to lash out at you in denial, and yet he simply shuffled in place as he rubbed his shoulder, his bang obscuring half of his face from your view. You cocked your head in confusion at his sudden silence —

And you were promptly pulled into a tight hug. Your heart thumped as you stood frozen in shock as he briefly nuzzled the side of your face before pulling away with lightning speed and settling his arms behind his back.

Tagora briefly cleared his throat before saying, “That was … a thank you. F — for caring, and … and doing that for me.”

You thickly swallowed and nodded, slowly succumbing to the realization of what your shooshpap had meant for your friendship. A while ago, you had done the same for Polypa. You recalled how strange her reaction had been, reminding you that she needed to remain professional as she fought back her flustered blushing. And the way she had melted into your touch …

It looked eerily like an orgasm, quickly followed by post-coital relaxation.

Gods, did you just …

“I, um, I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wringing your hands nervously.

He furrowed his brows. “For what?”

“For … you know, not warning you in advance? I’m just now realizing that I should have asked for your consent to do that. I never really considered how intimate a shooshpap was … “

Tagora’s eyes widened, and he softened his expression. “I don’t. I don’t mind."

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Of course not. It’s not like it w — wasn’t, ah, unwanted.” Tagora held out a hand for you. You shyly complied, and this time, his hold on you was tender as the two of you resumed your walk. “Anyway, aren’t you afraid of me when I get like that?”

You tittered. “What the heck is there to be afraid of? I know you would never hurt me. Besides, I’m pretty sure I can lift you with one arm.”

”Hilarious."

“Oh, and by the way, I figured out how I’ll fund your expensive taste.” Tagora quirked a brow, and you grinned sneakily. “I’ll be pilfering your swear jar. You owe it a hefty fee after your meltdown.”

He chuckled. “It’s still my money.”

“Not when I tell your lusus about your uncouth, boorish behavior.”

“So you know what those words mean, but not ‘concupiscent’?”

“I can only listen to Galekh for so long before my mental thesaurus gets filled up for the day.”

“Ugh.” Tagora rolled his eyes fondly, and you squeezed his hand without thought, simply basking in how happy he made you.

[quokkalatte]

Mixtape pt. 4 [M.YG]

Part 4

Category: One Shot series

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female!Reader

Summary: Living as an aspiring rap artist in Seoul, all you want to do is work on your music and try to get your name out there. Of course when you have someone as annoying and spiteful as Min Yoongi makes that extremely difficult. Until he decides to help you out.

Warnings: smut, language, some Namjoon action (which ofc is a warning cause oof), angry Yoongi, alcohol consumption, perhaps some angst but not really

Warnings for this chapter: Honestly none except slight mentions of sex

Author's Note:so sorry it took so long to get his out thank you for being patient ♡ this chapter is short. Like really short but I'll try to make the next one longer ~ Autumn

Tags; @notsolovelykarsyn @psychoticshawtyy

Cannot tag: @deesixx2801

[Message me to be added to the tag list so you can be notified for new updates]

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It was like clockwork, waking up again and feeling angry and bitter at myself. Making myself something to drink and brooding and contemplating telling Yoongi not to come, tell him I'm sick. Any excuse not to see him again.

I sat on the couch, staring at Yoongi's contact, chewing my lip. I pressed his contact and texted him.

Me: don't come today, I've come down with something

Jerk: OK

I sighed, putting my phone down, going to take a long shower and try and get over the pounding in my skull, drinking was never a good idea. I undressed, stepping into the shower and allowing the steaming water to pour down my body, my eyes closing in content. I lathered myself in soap and wrapped myself in a towel, ruffling my hair with another to dry it faster. A faint knock had me frowning, dropping the towel I was drying my hair with I quickly adjusted the one covering my body, making sure I was appropriately covered, I went to the door, checking the peep hole and nearly yelped in shock.

Yoongi stood outside the door, container in hand and two drinks in another. His blonde hair was tousled and he was peering down the hall at something, scratching at his neck for a moment, pushing the grey goodie he wore for better access. I let out a short gasp. I told him I was sick! What was he still doing here? I backed away, from the door, eyeing it like it was deadly or toxic.

"Open the door Y/n I know you aren't still asleep, you texted me 30 minutes ago" Yoongi's aggregated voice came from the other side of the door. I swallowed and glared

"I told you I was sick Yoongi"

"And? Just let me in please your druggy neighbor keeps peeking at me and it's unnerving" he says, the last part fading into a whisper. I groan, pulling the door open, and Yoongi steps in quickly. He freezes once he sees my attire. Color floods his pale cheeks, and I blush darkly. "Uh, did I interrupt something?"

"N-No I just got done showering. I wasn't expecting you to still come" I mumble, excusing myself to dress, leaving Yoongi in my living room. I quickly pulled on a hoodie and sweatpants. I found him peering around my desk, and I clear my throat, and he turns to me. "Finished?" He asked and I roll my eyes.

"I still don't know why you're here, I told you not to come"

"I was already on my way when I got your text, and it wouldn't be the first time I've been around you when you're ill" he prompts, walking over to my kitchen island and setting the box and drink tray down.

"Have you considered maybe I don't want to see you?"I snap, fed up with him already. Memories of last night kept swimming in a haze, the alcohol making it dim to remember everything, but I understood the jist of watching Yoongi stick his tongue down some girl's throat and going to bed with her.

"Have you worked on a song yet?"

He completely ignored my question, opening the box and the tempting smell of sushi wafted towards me. I folded my arms, and huff

"You didn't answer my question"

"You didn't answer mine" he smirks, plucking a sushi roll and plopping into his mouth. "I brought you some too come eat" he mumbles, his cheeks puffed as he chewed. I growl in frustration and take one. "Well?"

"Yes I've worked on the song" I grumble, remembering the furious drunk scribbling I did last night in anger. Yoongi swallowed, taking a drink from his cup and dusted his hands on his pants.

"Let's see then" he asks, and I walk over to my desk and snatch the papers and handed them to him. He raised his eyebrows at me, before scanning the angry lyrics. I knew what they were, those were the one thing I remember about last night. The lyrics spoke of harsh love, love that wasn't reciprocated and the pain of having to watch him move about and not do anything about it. I suddenly realized the inspiration of the song was reading it, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth formed the words. I grew nervous, wanting to know what was running through his head. He read through them twice before handing them back to me.

"They're very meaningful, full of emotion. I'd tweak the grammar a bit and take out a couple of repitions" he says, but his mouth moved as if he wanted to ask something else. His tone was guarded and he took another sushi roll and chewed it. I nod, returning the paper to the desk. The silence that followed was awkward. Yoongi wanted to ask something, I could see it in his eyes. It did nothing more than agitate my already hostile mood with him. He chewed the sushi in silence, eyeing me as I watched cars come and go out the window above my desk. It got to much.

"Just ask what you want to ask Yoongi" I sigh, turning to look at him. He seemed embarrassed that I had caught him, but as he eyed me, his nervousness quickly snapped and he spoke.

"Is the song about the guy you're with?" He asks, tone cold and judging.

"What guy?" I frown at him, halfly with exasperation

"The Panda Express guy" he said impatiently, like I was an idiot of some sort. My eyes widened and a blush rose on my cheeks.

"I'm not seeing the Panda Express guy Yoongi" I growl.

"Are you sure?" His tone mocking.

"Positive."

"Then what are the looks he gives you every time we go out after a session?"he accuses. I groan, this boy. He acts almost like he's jealous. Which couldn't be true considering the activities he had partaken in merely 12 or so hours ago.

"That's what they are Yoongi. Looks. He kept trying to ask me out but I turned him down. He thinks we have something special after we drunkenly kissed at a friends party over a year ago" I scoff. Yoongi squinted at me, trying to see if I was telling the truth.

"Jimin?" I groan, wanting to strangle him.

"Just a friend"

"You sure?" His tone was sharp "you seemed awful cozy last night"

"Dammit Yoongi I don't like Jimin! I don't like the Panda Express guy! I've never done more than kiss a guy so stop treating me like I'm some common whore" I yell, fists clenching in anger. Yoongi blinked, taken aback my my outburst. He looked guilty for a split second, and he eyed me. I blushed, realizing I had admitted my viginity to a guy who had probably taken many.

"You've never had sex?" He asks after a pause. I turn my eyes to the ground, not meeting his gaze

"No. Never found a guy I liked enough to do things with" I mumble. I didn't like the silence. That all that seemed to be happening were bouts of awkward and tension-filled silence. I just wish he'd speak. Yoongi was always bad with words, except when he was rapping. Then he could spit out words faster than I could comprehend.

"Neither have I" I was caught in my thoughts that I almost missed him saying it. I looked at him, and he looked back. This pissed me off. I balled my fists, walking over to him, and grabbed him by his hoodie. He yelped as I dragged him towards the door. The shock must have allowed me to do so, considering Yoongi was taller than me and more built. I shoved him towards the door.

"Get out" I snap. "I don't want you here again. If all you're going to do is patronize me and slut shame me and tell lies then I don't want you here. Ever" Yoongi sputtered at me

"What are you-"

"No!" I cut him off "you don't get to listen to me announce my intact viginity only for you to reply with you haven't had sex either" I growl, pointing my finger in his face.

"I havent-"

"Liar! You had your tongue down some poor girls throat just last night! I saw you so I dare you to deny it" I hiss. He swallowed cautiously.

"I won't deny it, but I didn't have sex with her" I snort and he glared at me. "it's true. I was going to, but I stopped. I always stop. I can't bring myself to do it" he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. I frown, not fully believing him. He always had girls at parties, every single time. He'd take a girl upstairs, and now he's trying to say he's never slept with them? I was doubtful.

"Why do you stop? They're pretty and eager" I ask

"Because I don't like them. I don't want to have sex with someone I don't care about. It needs to mean something." He says. I study him before replying. He seemed honest and genuine, I didn't see a trace of a lie on his features. My next question I knew would anger him, it was a touchy subject, but I couldn't deny my jealousy that wiggled it's way into my head.

"The girl in the song you wrote for, is she special?" I ask. Yoongi's gaze was intense, and I had to will myself not to look away. I stared into his brown eyes as he spoke.

"More than she could possibly know" he says, his voice low and calm. The air sparked with a new kind of tension, created from his words and gaze. It sent pickles of emotion up my spine and caused a round of goose bumps to grace my arms. The jealousy egged me on, I wanted to know more about this girl that apparently plagued his thoughts enough to have a song written for her. Did she know about the crush Yoongi was harboring so deeply for her? Maybe not, or they'd be together already.

I didn't realize how close Yoongi was to me. His face hovered inches away from mine. I could feel the exhaled breath fan across my face and the heat his skin put off warm the air between us. It chilled me, him being so close and my cheeks spread with warmth as I realized he hadn't broken eye contact. He licked his lips, and leaned forward just slightly, his breath setting me aflame.

The loud sound of a phone ringing caused us to jump. Yoongi stumbled back into the door and I turned to find the offending noise. Yoongi phone was vibrating and ringing nest to the food and drinks. I tried to still my rapid hear beating as Yoongi quickly walked over to it, picking it up and answering it.

"Hello?" His voice was higher pitched and his cheeks were flushed pink. Incomprehensible words came from the other side. Yoongi hummed "okay I'm in my way. Try to get him not to move it" he says and hangs up. He glanced at me "I need to go"

"What happened?" I ask, instantly worried. He wrinkled his nose

"Namjoon's roommate, Seokjin, got his hand caught in the sink. Reached down to grab something and it got stuck. I need to go help get it out while Namjoon panics unnecessarily" he says. I open my mouth to respond, to tell him I wanted to come, but he was already out the door with a quick slam and a rushing sound of clothing, leaving me alone and confused.

[otomeonfleek]

Request: Wait ft. Soryu Oh and Eisuke Ichinomiya

@bat-yo-us I want to request eisuke and soryu with mc who needed a surgery but doesn't want to tell them So she told them she will be with her friend for few days When she comes back she try to act normal despite the pain and ended up reopen the wound she is bleeding and in pain like hell ( to the point of dying?) how would they react to that situation And the fact that she didn't tell them And how they will take care of her afterward ^_^

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Ahh, apologies for the wait! I be on campus ~9 hours several times a week. 

This can be considered as a sequel of sorts to another request (by the same person yaay) called “Sick w/ Eisuke Ichinomiya”

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As you stare at the damp napkin stained with nasty freckles of red resting in your palm, the low tone of your doctor sounds faint. His face is grave and you picture how many times daily he has to deliver such news. You envision the smiles of young mothers, newly engaged persons, and emerging graduates as he then breaks them with the gravity of only a few words. 

This isn’t your first rodeo. You remember how the world shifted during the first round of news nearly a year and a half ago. With the several radiation treatments and counseling sessions since then, you had hoped that you’ve grown since then, but the stinging in your vision checks you. For the last few months, all of the medical specialists had praised you for healing so nicely and now this. 

“...It’s getting worse and we’ll need to perform surgery as soon as possible. Ms. (Y/L/N), do you understand?” His gangly digits push up at his spectacles and his amber irises carry a hint of pity. He knows how far you’ve come and recognizes how unsettling this news is. 

Exhaling softly, you flash a stiff smile. “How soon can we start?”

--------

The cozy dining area in your apartment suffocates you in its silence and you know he notices. With the poise of a respected and well-dressed mafia boss, he finely cuts into his beef steak and raises the fork to his thin lips. You try to avoid his gaze and mentally prepare yourself when he rests his cutlery down. 

His gray eyes pierce you as he quietly asks. “(Y/N), is something wrong?”

“I’m going out of town soon. I’ll be visiting some old friends in Kyoto.” You force your voice to flow smoothly along with the lie. 

His eyes flick and his mouth purses, “... What did the doctors say?” 

“You were there last time, weren’t you? They said I’ve been doing well.” Softly smiling, you reach out and rest your palm over his. Rubbing affectionate circle into the back of his hand, you continue, “Don’t you think a trip would do me some good?”

The typical stony expression of his melts and he chuckles, “You do deserve some time to yourself. Go have fun with your friends.” 

Before you can say another word, he asks, “Would you like me to come along?”

Suppressing an outright guffaw, you grab both of your plates and press a kiss against his cheek before sauntering towards the kitchen sink. “That won’t be necessary, Soryu.”

After your separation, you found Soryu becoming a comforting constant in your life. On a regular basis, he kept you company for weekly dinners, mundane errands, and scattered appointments. You found your heart growing fonder of the man, but together decided that you were not ready for another relationship. Just yet. 

With the hidden warmth of the man, he still remained at your side-waiting. He was a friend, confidant, and support that you were grateful to have. Although you knew he would prefer to know the truth of your condition, you could not do it. 

For months, he remained at your hospital bedside through the treatments and assisted you with the physical therapy. In spite of his silence, he had the most kind heart and you could not knowingly worry him again. If everything went according to plan with the surgery, you would return and avoid worrying him. 

--------------------------

Some time passed with the first few weeks post-surgery spent in one of Kyoto’s general hospitals. You had come all this way because of how the city hosted one of the nation’s best surgeons familiar with your needed procedure. Fortunately, the specialist’s reputation was true as you found yourself receiving positive reports from the physicians present. 

Finally cleared, you were returning home. No longer would you have to call Soryu with feigned memories of temple-hopping and exploring. 

Stepping off the train platform with your duffel bag hanging over your shoulder, you felt relief build inside at the familiar sights. You shivered and adjusted the collar of your neutral-toned trench coat, the loose-fitting shirt underneath brushing against the bandages at your waist. The flesh was still tender, but the doctors assured you that it was normal. 

Eager to rest in your own bed, you made towards the exit. Your steps faltered when your (e/c) irises recognized the same man you wanted to see. His towering height garbed in a midnight coat and slicked-back raven locks distinguished him from the crowd. Your heart fluttered at the bouquet of wine roses in his hand and the fond smile on his visage. Wanting nothing more than to jump into his arms, you began rushing through the sea of busy patrons.

Nearly reaching him, you found your figure jolting forward with a burning sensation bringing you to your knees. Your palms slammed against the cement as you caught yourself. Disturbed, your vision began to blur and you madly reached to clutch at your side. 

“(Y/N)!!!” His low baritone cut through the excited chattering around and the panicked expression gripping at his jaw upset you. 

At once, he dropped to his knees and his shaking hands began to look over you. “S-Soryu...I don’t feel too good.” You noted. 

When your hands raise, there’s an audible gasp and you recognize the familiar scarlet staining your palm. 

Clenching his jaw tightly, he carefully brushes your coat open and notes the blood seeping through your shirt. 

-----------------------------

When your eyes flutter open, you wince at a pounding sensation in your head. How long have you been asleep for? 

You try to sit up and instantly cry out in pain before deciding it’s not worth it. Clutching at your side, you feel the fresh layer of bandage and piece together that your sutures must have re-opened. Perhaps all the exertion from traveling disturbed it. 

Brushing your matted hair back, you glance around the dimly-lit hospital room and are momentarily stunned to see the infamous purple suit. 

“Do you enjoy putting yourself in danger?” Impressive as ever, his callous tone rings through the air without bothering to glance up from his smartphone. Tapping out a few sentences, he then pockets the device and walks toward your bedside. 

Sighing, you shoot him an exhausted smile. “Old habits die hard, I guess. How are you doing, Eisuke?” 

The lines from overworking mar his fair complexion and the sleepless bags underneath his eyes do not go unnoticed. 

“Better than you. Keep in mind though, it would be in everyone’s interests if you quit trying to die hard.” He crosses his arms with an unimpressed look, but you know better. The nervous gleam in his stare tells you everything along with how impossibly wrinkled his suit is. Last you heard, Eisuke had been preoccupied with business in the UK. You would not put it past him to have flown straight away after the news of your condition. 

Shaking your head, you reach out to him and he wordlessly puts his hand in your much smaller one. “Thanks for coming.” His touch stirs nostalgia and you push it back. 

Glancing away, he sighs. “Quit making me worried...You know I’ll come running every time.” 

Squeezing his hand, you feel a weight in your chest at the mutual understanding of how you will both keep a place in another’s heart. In spite of all the time apart and the toxic history you’ve shared, you still care for another. This knowledge both touches and pains you. 

Your throat tightens and you cup his much larger hand in both of your trembling ones. “Yes, I know...You don’t have to anymore though.” 

He clenches his jaw and his cold stare finally seems unsettled. 

“Eisuke, I think we’ll always love each other in our own ways. The thing is that we don’t belong to another anymore, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep running back.” 

Surprising you, a laugh lacking humor escapes him. “I know. Even then, I’ll still keep running back because that’s what friends do.” The kind expression he carries makes your chest flutter. For a moment, this is the man you fell in love with back then. 

The billionaire hotel magnate lightly retracts his hand and begins to make way for the door. He pauses at the brass of the knob and cranes his neck to glance over his shoulder at you, “Sor’s a lucky man. He’ll treat you right.” 

When the door opens, the man of the hour in his usual navy button-up is standing there sheepishly. “Eisuke...” 

Instead of saying anything, the lead of the bidders claps his hand on the shoulder of his most trusted friend before leaving you both. 

Snapping out of his stupor from seeing his childhood friend and your ex-lover, he strides across the room to carefully embrace you in your thin hospital gown. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he whispers against your hair. 

“...I’m sorry that I lied.” You try to savor the comforting caress of his touch and wince for any berating. 

He sighs. “You don’t have to pretend or hide with me. I want to be a man that you can count on.” Pulling back, he locks eyes with you to emphasize his genuine intentions. “Sick, miserable, stubborn, lonely-I’ll take it all if it means you trust me.” 

You find yourself biting your lip as your chest begins to bubble with sobs. He’s seen you with thinning hair, brittle bones, and full of hatred. This man has witnessed all hideous faces and vulnerabilities of you, but has never left your side. No, he stays and looks at you as if you are the most precious item in the room. “How can you still want me?” Your voice sounds so small. 

With a feather-like touch, he tilts your chin up with his lithe forefingers and simply smiles. His steel-like irises thin into fondness as he answers, “I just do and I’ll wait another hundred years to prove it to you.” The mafia boss keeps a steady gaze and murmurs, “There are so many other things I want to say, but I’ll wait until you’re ready.” 

[starryeyedkoo]

Behind those chocolate eyes - Chapter 8

(credits to @sweetopiaa for the header)

Genre: Vampire!Jungkook, Vampire!BTS, High School!AU, fluff, angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: mention of death, angst

Summary: When some new boys move to town and start at your uneventful high school, one of them catches your eye, but you can’t seem to figure out exactly why. Others think that you’ve caught his eye as well, but his distant personality says otherwise. You decide you want to know him, but the closer the two of you get the more you get the feeling that there’s something he’s not telling you.

Word Count: 4.5k

link to masterlist in bio!!

25 Years Ago

“So this must be the troublesome little brother I’ve heard so much about?” a beautiful young woman asked, standing in a room with seven boys, six of which were trapped in a state of shock, as the remaining boy had just returned home after a long time away. This boy just so happened to be the person to whom the woman was directing her question.

“Flattering to know I’m such an interesting topic of conversation around here,” he replied with an arrogant smirk. He waltzed around the room casually as if his return were nothing, but the six men’s faces overtaken with some sort of amazement seemed to prove otherwise. “Who’s this?” He nonchalantly gestured to the woman whom he was now becoming acquainted with as he questioned the other boys in the room.

“I don’t think you need to know that, Jungkook,” one of the six aggressively came back, stepping forward and in front of of the woman in question. Jungkook had been idly examining a figurine sat on one of the shelves in the living room he had been separated from for years now, but turned to face his brother with a raise of an eyebrow at his out-of-character outburst.

“Yoongi... What’s made you so uptight?” he asked as a joking grin appeared on his face. 

“Of course I would be uptight when you all of a sudden show up around here again after going wild all over the country for the past 20 years. What kind of reaction did you expect?” Yoongi retorted angrily, causing Seokjin to step forward to rest a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

“What are you doing back so suddenly, Jungkook?” Seokjin asks civilly.

Jungkook steps forward putting up an innocent front, “Is it so wrong for me to want to see my brothers again after so long?” His excuse seemed to earn an eye roll from Yoongi and a few suspicious glances from the others. “Why would you think there would be some sort of alternative intention?”

“We never said that’s what we thought,” Seokjin responded calmly, fulfilling his role as the oldest to keep peace. 

“That’s a relief because I think I’ll stick around here for a little while... If that’s alright with you, Yoongi,” he explained while sending a patronizing smirk the raven-haired male’s way. Yoongi only scowled in return.

Namjoon then finally spoke up and added in a warning tone, “Jungkook, if you’re here to terrorize the people of this town, then you better leave. We’ve made a home here and we don’t plan on being forced to leave because of your irresponsible actions.”

Jungkook gave a dramatic eye roll and chuckled. “Trust me, I know how to control myself.” Jungkook acknowledged the woman in the room once more as he gave her a pointed look and attempted to question once again with another one of his signature cocky smirks. “And you are?”

The woman finally spoke after quietly observing the interactions between brothers, finally seeing the true personality of the boy she had only heard troubling stories of. “Elizabeth.”

6 months later...

“You really messed up this time, Jungkook. You’re going to get all of us caught!” Namjoon scolded the youngest, even though it seemed to be in vain as he showed no sense of remorse. “We told you when you first showed up that we wouldn’t let you get us driven out of town, and you said you could control yourself, but look what you did!”

“Oh come on, it was just one girl, and she’ll be fine once she goes to the hospital. I didn’t drink enough of her blood to kill her.” Jungkook made excuses for himself. “Besides, I think she enjoyed it. I do have a way with women,” he added arrogantly with no intention of admitting his wrongdoing.

“Your days of using humans as your playthings are over,” Namjoon spat out with finality. At this time, a frequent visitor came through the door behind Jungkook as he began to retort.

“Isn’t that exactly what humans are though? Vampires were made to be superior to humans. It’s just how it works and I’m merely following the rules...” Jungkook attempted to joke, but earned no response in return as Namjoon simply shook his head in disappointment as he exited the room. There was a heavy silence until the voice behind him finally spoke up.

“There’s no way you actually think that’s true.”

Jungkook turned to face the person who had spoken to him with a cocked eyebrow. “Elizabeth!” Jungkook acknowledged her with feigned enthusiasm. “I’m sorry you think that, but that’s just how I am. I decided a long time ago I didn’t want to live the way my brothers were living with all their emotions and such. So I decided to stop caring. I don’t see the point in trying to hold back the power that comes with what I am.” He dramatically gestured with his hands and took a few steps toward Elizabeth as he explained his reasoning for his lifestyle.

“So that’s what Yoongi meant when he said you gave up your emotions.” She paused for a moment in thought as Jungkook gave a nod to confirm her thoughts. “You know,” she continued, “Yoongi is beginning to think you’re a lost cause. He thinks there’s no humanity left inside of you. But I think, somewhere deep down, you know what you’re doing is wrong.”

Jungkook scoffed as he looked away from Elizabeth causing a knowing smirk to grow on her face. “Yeah, right. I think Yoongi may be a bit closer to the truth than you are.” She raised an eyebrow at him as she noticed the previous confidence in his voice disappear for moment as he spoke. He hated the way she made him feel small as she looked at him like that, so he quickly continued with a scowl, but still avoided meeting her gaze. “What would you know anyway? You’re just a human.” He stepped closer to her, towering over her small frame and looked down at her in an attempt to make her feel inferior to him.

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, unaffected by Jungkook’s attempt to intimidate her. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working. I know that you can’t do anything as long as I’m wearing this necklace Yoongi gave me.” She pointed to the silver pendant hanging around her neck, Jungkook’s eyes following, and as he realized what it was, he stepped back a bit, not wanting to get too close to the toxic substance that protected her. Elizabeth smirked with newfound confidence in the protection given to her by Yoongi. “If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you do not feel the slightest hint of remorse for what you do to humans, then I will believe you.” 

Jungkook’s frown deepened as he gave all of his strength to attempt to meet her eyes and tell her that he didn’t care, but he found himself, for some reason, unable to speak the words.

Elizabeth sat in the lounge of the boys’ house like she did so often, spending time with the seven boys she had come to know and trust, despite what secrets they kept from the rest of the world. Yoongi was in the room with her, softly playing the piano, making up his own melodic tune as he went. They sat in a comfortable silence like they did so often. Elizabeth could never know, but Yoongi would forever cherish moments such as these where he could feel so serene, listening to her heartbeat and seeing her softly sway to each note played on his piano. He had always purposely kept his distance from humans for fear that what was happening to him at that very moment would occur. He had fallen completely and utterly in love with her, and he knew he finally had to tell her. 

Yoongi let his hands slide from the ivory keys as Elizabeth silently turned to him when the music had stopped. There was a short moment of silence until it was broken by Yoongi who finally spoke, “Thank you, Elizabeth.” She only looked at him questioningly before he continued. “For Jungkook. I don’t know how you did it, but... You saved him. He’s... himself again.”

Elizabeth shook her head slightly as she thought for a moment before correcting him, “He saved himself. I told you there was still the same boy as before inside of him somewhere.”

“But still... He never would have even tried to change his ways if it weren’t for you.” He gave a small smile of fondness, one which she returned until her phone began to ring. She quickly pulled it from her pocket and as she read the name displayed on the screen, she stood to walk outside of the room to get some space for her phone call. Yoongi thought this was suspicious, considering she knew full well that he could hear any conversation she had due to his superhuman qualities. 

He hadn’t intended to listen, but his curiosity from her strange behavior got the best of him. He couldn’t make out the words, but he heard a male voice greet her when she answered the call.

“Dinner? Tonight? I’m out right now so I’ll need some time to get ready... Just some friends... Of course... Okay, I’ll see you tonight... I love you... Goodbye.”

Yoongi’s world began to spin as he drew conclusions from her conversation. Dinner? With some man? Who could she possibly be going to dinner with? Jealousy overtook him and he saw red. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way because, after all, she wasn’t actually his, but he couldn’t help the anger that rose within him at whoever this man was that was trying to take her away from him. However, his rage turned to heartbreak as he recalled what she said last. She said she... loved him. But that was supposed to be me, he thought.

She came back into the room as she put her phone back into her pocket and gathered her coat to leave in a hurry. Acting through a feeling of betrayal, Yoongi quickly stood up, knocking over the piano bench in a huge clatter as he did, and questioned, unintentionally raising his voice, “Who was that?”

Elizabeth looked like a deer caught in headlights as she looked up to him. She answered, clueless of the pain Yoongi was enduring inside of him at the sudden news, and gave a small smile. “Oh... William, a coworker of mine... We’ve been seeing each other for a while... He wants to go out again tonight.”

Jungkook, who had come down after hearing the commotion, listened to Elizabeth speak and looked to Yoongi sadly as he knew how he truly felt. Yoongi managed to calm himself down a bit and quietly asked, “And you never told me about him?”

Elizabeth looks to him with empathy, but she still seemed to be confused, clearly not understanding the reasoning behind his reaction. “I’m sorry, Yoongi... I didn’t think you would want to know so badly.” Yoongi gave a cynical chuckle and shook his head as he turned away silently. “I should be going...” Elizabeth stated quietly, then she left through the front door without looking back.

Jungkook finally spoke up as Yoongi picked up his piano bench and slumped down onto it, slamming his hands onto the keys of the piano in frustration. “I’m sorry. I know you were planning to tell her how you really felt.”

“Why don’t we ever see you anymore?” Jimin asked with a small voice, one that also housed feelings of hurt due to her sudden disappearance from their lives.

A few of the boys had been out in the town, and they had finally seen Elizabeth after weeks of hearing nothing from her, and they were finally able to convince her to come back to their house with them. She looked frightened, but also guilty. “I can’t be around you anymore. It’s too dangerous. William found out what all of you are. I had to beg him not to try to kill you. He thinks you want to hurt me.”

“Well then tell him we would never!” Yoongi stepped forward and raised his voice as he became frustrated believing that the woman he loved no longer wanted to see him. He couldn’t believe that she would let something like that separate them, or worse, that she seemed to believe it. “I gave you that necklace in order to protect you, so tell him I would never try to hurt you!”

“I don’t know, Yoongi... I’m starting to think he’s right. All this vampire business may be too dangerous.”

“What kind of lies has he been filling your head with?” Yoongi screamed, tears pricking his eyes as he attempted to hold back any sign of his internal heartbreak. “Why would you listen to him?”

“Yoongi...” she spoke softly and hesitantly, finally revealing what had been weighing heavily on her shoulders ever since their argument began. “I have to listen to him. He’s going to be my husband soon.” Yoongi’s vision began to blur as he looked down to her left hand, and to his horror, found a diamond ring secured tightly around her fourth finger. He knew she was never his, but still, he felt betrayed. He lifted his eyes back up to meet her, and unable to hold back his feelings any longer, he finally let out all he had been hiding. He screamed, “How could you?” He finally let his guard down at his most vulnerable moment and tears spilled from his eyes. “I loved you, Elizabeth...”

Elizabeth looked at him, shocked. “I... never knew that, Yoongi.” She began to feel extremely guilty, but at the same time, she had to tell him what she truly thought. “If I’m being honest... There was a time when I thought about the possibility of us... because you really are special to me... but we never could have worked, Yoongi. We have to be realistic. There’s just no way a vampire can be with a human.” He finally gathered the strength to meet her eyes, but when he did, he was filled with disgust. She had always told him that she saw him no differently from anyone else, so was that all nothing but a lie? He could only scowl at her, holding himself back from saying something he would regret, then stormed away without another word.

Jungkook, who, along with his brothers, had been listening to the conversation from around the corner, watched as Elizabeth hurried out the front door, probably never to be seen again. And he was glad for that. He had trusted her like a sister. He had let his guard down in front of her. He let her change him when he didn’t want to be changed. And in the end, she had never been worthy of his trust. She had proven him to be right all along. Humans were pathetic. They used people and had no regard for others. They were no better than he had been before. And he once again despised them.

His brothers watched as something inside of him changed. On his face was a look all too familiar from the day he left them and his humanity behind so many years before. They called after him as he left his home at a superhuman speed, but they all knew that they had lost him to his old self once again.

16 years later...

Every so often, after having been in one place for too long, Jungkook would tend to just wander, not having any specific place to be or any tie to a certain place. At least, not anymore. The day was drawing to a close and he found himself nearing his old hometown, but he knew there was no way he was stepping within its limits.

He was walking along a lonely country road, watching as the sun began to set, tinting the sky with a pink-orange hue. He hadn’t found any desirable targets to satisfy his hunger recently, so he found himself to be starving. He heard in the distance what sounded like a car, but not one that was driving on the road. To be more precise, it sounded as if the car had collided with something, or taken a tumble. Hoping to find a meal at the source of this crash, he used his superhuman speed to bring himself to the origin of the sound. He arrived to find a car that had run off the side of the road and was resting on its top, wheels facing the sky. He smelled an overwhelming amount of blood and was unable to hold himself back, his feet instinctively bringing him closer to the overpowering scent.

He walked to the window of the driver side door and crouched to see the unfortunate human. When he met their eyes however, he was horrified because these eyes were familiar. Not only were they familiar, but they were eyes he had grown to know so well many years ago. “Elizabeth...” He found himself shaken and stumbling backwards a bit in shock.

Her eyes had been closed and she seemed to have been losing consciousness, but at his voice her eyes snapped open and she began to breath heavily. “Jungkook? Is that you?”

Jungkook hesitated to answer for a moment. He still had not forgiven Elizabeth for what she had done to him, to Yoongi, to all of them. He narrowed his eyes and began to pull back. He told himself he would never trust another human again. He definitely didn’t want to have anything to do with the human that had caused him to lose faith in the first place. Fear became evident in her eyes as she gave him a pleading look. It was obvious she had aged quite a bit since he had seen her last, but looking into her eyes, it looked as if it had been merely minutes. In a voice filled with pain, she pleaded Jungkook, “Please. Jungkook!” She let out a pained whimper. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m going to make it through this.” She glanced down to her abdomen. Jungkook’s eyes follwed her gaze to see where the scent of blood had come from. A large piece of glass from the shattered windows had stabbed her and she found it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Jungkook grimaced, trying his best to keep up the walls he had built for himself since the last time he had seen Elizabeth. He didn’t care, he told himself. He would merely walk away. “Jungkook, please, call an ambulance. Save my daughter.” She slowly turned her head toward the front passenger seat. He noticed for the first time the young girl sitting on the opposite side of Elizabeth, unconscious, but relatively unharmed. He stopped in his movements and could do nothing but stare.

It was as if seeing her face flipped a switch inside of him. Jungkook, without a second thought, took back all of his previous stubbornness as he reached for his cell phone to call for an ambulance. He spoke with the dispatcher to tell them that there had been a car accident and help was needed immediately. Jungkook’s fear grew as he saw Elizabeth slipping in and out of consciousness. When he hung up the phone and began to wait impatiently for an ambulance to arrive, Elizabeth reached weakly up to the necklace secured around her neck, and took it off. “Jungkook, please give this to my daughter. Her name is (y/n). I trust you’ll keep her safe...”

Jungkook felt conflict rise within him. How could she say she trusted him when she was the one to leave him behind in the first place? He told himself he would never trust another human after she did that, but now she was asking this of him. Defiance overtook him once again for a moment as a scowl grew on his face and he began to turn away. He didn’t have to do anything for her. He looked back to her once more. She had a pleading look on her face and she was short of breath. All of the time they had spent together, all she had helped him with, all she had done for him seemed to appear before his eyes in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t bring himself to leave her behind. His eyes drifted down to her blood once again, hunger gnawing at his entire being. For the first time in years, he was afraid of what he was, what he was capable of doing. A battle of morality ensued inside of him, but he finally put an end to it as he hesitantly reached out and took the necklace into his own hand. He held it at eye-level, closely inspecting it, then looked between it and the girl on the other side of the car for a while until he heard a fast-approaching siren.

He retreated to the cover of the forest off to the side of the road. He did not want to be there when the paramedics arrived. There would be too many questions. He silently watched as (y/n) and Elizabeth were carried away on gurneys to be transported by the truck. He already knew, however, that Elizabeth was gone. He could no longer hear her fighting heartbeat. He had to suppress tears that began to spill from his eyes at the thought of never seeing her again, someone who had meant so much to him in a major time in his immortal life. He glanced once more at (y/n)’s face as she was lifted into the back of the truck and immediately regretted not giving her the necklace he still held between his fingers. If he had just put it around her neck like he had been asked, he could have easily gotten it over with and he would be out of her life. 

Perhaps the reason he hesitated was because he didn’t want to disappear from her life just yet... He suddenly felt the unexplainable urge to stay by her, to watch over her, to keep her safe, as Elizabeth had asked of him. Then, he could finally fulfill her mother’s dying wish and give her the necklace.

He knew he was crazy. Why did he all of a sudden feel obligated to do anything for this girl? After seeing her face as she was taken away to the hospital, there was something about her that made her and exception. He had by no means forgiven humans. He still hated them with every fiber of his being, but for whatever reason, he held no hatred towards her.

He had been with her ever since. He had been there for every birthday since the day he first saw her, from her fourteenth to her seventeenth. He had witnessed her first love, her first heartbreak. Now she was approaching eighteen in the summer before her senior year of high school. He knew everything about her. She used to love bright colors, but now her favorite was black. She had a habit of playing with her fingers when she was nervous. She was passionate about music and dance. She was hard on herself when it came to things she thought were important. Most of all though, she didn’t know how beautiful she was. He had watched over her for all this time, and he had learned so much about her. She had become all he cared about, and his only purpose to keep himself from falling back into his old ways. The only problem was... she had no idea he was there. 

“I want to go to school.” Jungkook brought up the subject out of nowhere, receiving dumbfounded looks from his brothers in response. Jungkook had gone back to living with them after Elizabeth’s death, which they knew about, but Jungkook had never been able to tell them about his own involvement in it. His brothers began to laugh, knowing him well enough to know he would never voluntarily go back to school.

“What’s gotten into you?” Hoseok said as he mockingly pointed to the youngest while still finding his statement hilarious.

“Hey, I’m serious!” Jungkook pouted a bit at their disbelief. “School is probably a lot different from how it was last time I went like fifty years ago! I just thought I should give it another shot.” The boys continued to laugh and Jungkook was becoming upset, so he began to leave, hoping to bring it up another time.

“Hey, maybe he’s right. I guess it could be kind of fun... Mind if Taehyung and I join you?” Jimin stopped him from leaving and chimed in, excited at the thought of experiencing something new for the first time in years.

Taehyung’s head snapped in Jimin’s direction. “How did I get dragged into this?” he questioned, clearly annoyed.

“Just think about it! We don’t have to worry about college or anything after high school, so we could technically flunk all of our classes and it won’t matter. So why not?” Jungkook tried convincing Taehyung, much to the confusion of the older boys in the room.

“Why would you out of all people want to do this? What’s the catch?” Yoongi questioned suspiciously. Jungkook gave a dramatic facial expression of offense and began to retort, until he was interrupted.

“He’s right, Jungkook. This is so unlike you. There must be some sort of ulterior motive.” Namjoon squinted at Jungkook, trying his best to use his mind reading abilities, but after being around each other for so long, they had all learned how to dodge each other’s special powers over time.

Jimin then slyly smiled and added, “My guess is that it’s for that human girl he’s been stalking for a while now.” This earned a few knowing snickers, much to Jungkook’s astonishment.

He widened his eyes as he looked to Jimin. “How did you know about that?”

Jimin only shrugged and turned away from Jungkook’s glare. Namjoon raised an eyebrow and looked for further answers. “All of this for a girl? Who is she?”

Jungkook pursed his lips to keep himself from saying the wrong thing. This was the one question he wasn’t sure how to answer. He couldn’t say it was (y/n), Elizabeth’s daughter. He couldn’t admit that to them and certainly not in front Yoongi. No one ever spoke of Elizabeth around Yoongi. “She’s... just a girl... and I do not stalk her!” He finished with a pointed look to Jimin.

Jungkook felt doubtful stares focused on him, obviously not buying the whole ‘just a girl’ excuse, but his brothers nonetheless agreed he could go to school if he really wanted to. Jungkook couldn’t believe what he was doing. Not long ago, he vowed to never have anything to do with humans again besides using them as a food source, but now he found himself trying to be around them. He didn’t know how he would approach her or what she would think of him. The only thing he was certain of was that he needed to know (y/n).

[deepseawritings]

After re-reading that one piece I wrote almost a month ago, I decided I don’t completely hate it, so I’m posting it now. A piece of original fiction, written becasue I wanted to write something sort of spooky and based on the area I live in (aka: everything is a figment of my imagination, except for the places depicted). 

Disappeared

Crossing the quarantine line didn’t bring any change to the sights. It was still just pines and more pines at both sides, and the road kept winding further up the mountain. Sandra was glad she’d taken a Dramamine, this road had awful curves and bends and otherwise she’d be green around the gills.

“Has the boss briefed you? About…?” Her designated driver coughed uncomfortable, unable to finish the sentence. Must be a new guy, Sandra couldn’t recall his name.

“Yes, he has. In general lines.”

In fact he dragged her out of her deserved vacations, cashing in a favour from a year ago and promising her to get those days back, and more, whenever she wanted. She could have been sunbathing on Ibiza, yet she said yes. A disappearance case? Completely her specialty and it must be something huge for the freaking superintendent to be this unsettled. He’d practically begged to her. So here she was, still in civilian clothing and with her luggage in the back seat.

“So why the quarantine line and not the usual police tape?” She asked hoping to get some details. He hadn’t been much of a talker up to this point.

He mumbled about how the inspector would inform her of everything. She thought about informing him she was an inspector too, but he was nervous enough without her usual biting comments.

Sandra observed the narrow road, entranced by the looming pines on both sides. She’d heard this forest had burnt on many occasions, yet to her it looked dense like a jungle. So different from what she’d seen around Barcelona. The car passed by the husk of a house, full of graffiti and climbing vines, and then, at the behest of the robotic voice of the GPS, they took the road on the right. The only turn in this road so far. There was a faded sign with a name she didn’t read, in front of an unkempt vineyard patch. Not much further ahead a sizeable field broke the monotony of the flanking pines.

“You’ve arrived to Elm’s Field” announced the GPS. Her almost mute companion pulled up to the other two cars parked by the field. Two uniformed persons were talking to a man she recognized. Inspector Morales. He didn’t seem overly surprised to see her. On her part, Sandra was surprised to meet him here; she had secretly hoped to never see his bearded and condescending face again. He shook her hand like they hadn’t parted in bad terms the last time they spoke, and even looked mildly pleased to see her.

“Inspector Sandra Costa. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here.” If he was bitter about it, he was making a good job of hiding it. Strangely enough, he looked sincere.

“You already met Sergeant Garcia,” Morales gestured at her driver, then at the uniformed couple in front of him. “And they’re officers Paredes and Segarra, from the local police.”

The young woman smiled and waved at her, while the muscular guy shifted uneasy and scratched his arm under Sandra’s passing glance.

“Have you finished cordoning off the area?” Morales asked them.

“Yes sir,” Paredes nodded and her dark ponytail swayed like a whip. “Although it was a pain in the ass to cordon all the fucking mountain.”

Officer Segarra facepalmed and hissed “Laia!” between his teeth, and she replied with a mocking “Pol!”.

Sandra chuckled quietly and pretended to not notice Morales’ disapproving frown. She missed that camaraderie born after years of working with the same partner.  However, she’d come here to investigate a disappearance, and standing there would not help her solve the case any faster.

“Who’s the missing person?”

A sepulchral silence fell over them, all looking at her with varying degrees of nervousness and confusion.

Morales cleared his throat. “All of them.”

“What? What do you mean all of them?” Their faces told her louder than words that no, it wasn’t an elaborate prank. “How many people are we talking about?”

“The cordoned area includes two residential areas, a handful of farms and cottages, and an already abandoned village.” Officer Segarra ticked off fingers as he listed the places. “About a hundred people in total maybe.”

This was… catastrophic. No wonder the boss had sounded so worried when he called her. The press was going to have a field day with this, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the central government intervened soon.

“Corpses?”

“None so far,” officer Paredes informed.

Sandra licked her lips, thinking. “Has a terrorist operation been ruled out yet?”

“Terrorist cells leave bodies behind. Evidence.” Morales snapped at her. He was out of ideas and in charge, she realized. In other circumstances, she might pity him.

A soft rain started to lazily pour down, barely enough to wet the grass. Calabobos, her mother called it. Fitting, she felt a bit dumb right now. Was there even a crime if there were no victims to be found? Of course, the possibility of all these people packing up and leaving unnoticed was laughable, but a hundred people disappearing overnight was also ludicrous. And worrying. Mostly worrying.

“P-perhaps we should carry on with the programmed search, inspector Morales?”

A sensible suggestion, made by Sergeant Garcia of all people. Sandra had completely forgotten he was here, he occupied so little space he quickly became part of the background. Sandra got in the car with the local police officers, claiming she wanted to ask them some questions. It wasn’t a complete lie. Best of all, her new car companions wanted to talk to her too.

“Can you believe this has gone on for days without anyone noticing?” Officer Paredes commented from behind the wheel. “Some of these people have been missing for almost a week, apparently.”

That was– this was a mess and Sandra was regretting accepting the case. “Is this the first search done here, officer?”

“Apart from me and Pol cordoning off the whole mountain, you mean? And none of that officer thing please, just Laia and Pol.”

“Why a quarantine perimeter?”

Laia chuckled, a joyless sound to convey her opinion of that idea, so it was her companion who answered. “Cover story is that there’s been a toxic pesticide dump.”

As cover stories go, that one was neither particularly good nor bad. Wouldn’t hold for long, tough. Yet it was understandable Morales would be trying to keep the details from reaching anyone outside the investigation.

“Anything else?”

“There was a quick superficial search this morning on the other residential complex. Some of the farms in between too.” Laia had no problems telling her anything she asked about and Sandra loved her for that. Teamwork required freaking cooperation Garcia, goddammit.

The neighbourhood, if you could call it that, was a sparse collection of houses scattered around without a definite order. And people actually lived in this backwater place? The closest spot of civilization was eight kilometres away. Sandra looked intently at the houses from her back seat position. In this section all were clustered together at one side of the road, surrounded by trees and thick bushes, dormant and empty, waiting for owners who had vanished.

“My aunt used to own that house there, but only came in summer.” Pol pointed to a compact two story house. Despite the air of neglect wrapped around it, one could imagine it had been a pretty house back on its day.

The road forked and Laia kept on the main path, until they reached a curious building with a cement terrace and what looked like an old stage. There was a car and a moped parked in front of it. No signs of life around the premises, though. Morales’ car stopped, so they did the same.

“This is supposed to be the local bar.” Morales strode to the short flight of stairs before the door, and Garcia trotted after him.

Being closer to it, Sandra beat them to the punch. A petty victory, but enough to appease her competitive nature for now. She knocked on the metal door. The sound echoed on the presumably empty inside and nobody answered. She looked at the rest of the group, shrugged at Morales and pushed forcefully. The door opened without resistance, groaning dramatically with the movement.

She stepped into the room, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the half darkness. Nothing out of place at first glance. She paced carefully around, taking into the apparent normalcy of the room. In fact, it seemed like a patron had ordered a beer and was about to return. The glass bottle on the counter remained full to the brim. A single receipt was caught under the bottle, the paper still soggy. It disintegrated when Sandra tried to pick it up.

The door to the covered balcony was unlocked. The secluded space could be considered cozy, with its wooden tables and decorative plants, were it not for the message painted on the window’s glass.

IT’S AWAKEN

The ink used was of a suspicious brown-reddish colour, thick and clumpy. And undoubtedly scribbled by a human finger. Pol poked the substance with a pen he produced from his breast pocket.

“Not blood,” he determined. “It’s more like goo?

Nothing else of interest on the inside. Morales followed her outside, while the other three investigated the kitchen in depth. Sandra had taken a cursory look at it and knew the most interesting thing they could expect to find was a mouldy fridge. Too tidy in that dusty way of places nobody’s been in for a long time.

She lit a cigarette and walked in silence to the left of the bar’s premises. Morales dogged her steps, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. God, how she wished he would stop! She needed to process her ideas about the situation, and she though better while not being observed constantly.

It had stopped raining but a thick fog was rolling in. The child’s park was an eerie sight covered in mist and so empty that Sandra felt like an intruder. A cracking noise startled them, the rustle of something scurrying through the underbrush of the surrounding forest. Probably it was just a rabbit, or a fox, or any other critter. Animals didn’t give a damn about police cordons. Morales was avoiding her gaze now, pretending he didn’t jump at the sound like she did. Bullshit.

“What did you find during this morning’s search?” If he was surprised she knew about that, he didn’t show it.

“We just looked for survivors. Found nothing. The farms were empty too, even the cattle is gone,” he sighed, looking tired and years older than he truly was. “There’s also the candles found on the abandoned village, but I was told that’s normal.”

Well, she didn’t consider it completely normal. “Oh?”

“Hey inspectors, we’re done!” Laia shouted from the bar’s door.

Morales turned around and Sandra crushed the butt of the cigarette under her foot. Nothing to see here, might as well carry on.

Getting back into the cars Sandra once more chose to go with the local officers. Same as before, Laia drove following Garcia at a slow pace, while Pol and Sandra looked out of the windows for any signs of life. The road eventually bifurcated, and Morales gestured them to go straight forward while they took the right turn. Houses were more separated from each other now, and the ever thickening fog created the illusion of roofs and house fronts peeking up like forgotten islands in the sea of mist. It was a moment as good as any to satisfy her curiosity.

“What can you tell me about the abandoned village?”

“Place’s got bad fame because of an unsolved murder in the 90s,” Pol explained, his distaste of the whole ordeal dripping from his voice.

“You forgot the part about the rumours of a cult!” Laia wasn’t one to remain quiet, and bless her for bringing up the interesting details. Pol looked uncomfortable with it, scratching his arm and avoiding looking at her. “The place’s got a fame, you know? It attracts people wanting to commune with the spirits or some shit. And the trash they leave behind fuels the rumours of strange rituals happening there.”

Charming. Sadly, it was another dead end. Cults tended to leave behind either corpses, or pissed people who were scammed.

Ahead of them a tall building emerged from the fog, tall like a lighthouse. Curious to see a block like that after a parade of two story houses, especially when in front of it there was a small cottage with an even smaller fenced garden. And its door was wide open, swaying in the gentle but cold breeze.

Laia stopped the car in the middle of the road, alleging there was no traffic here, and went with Pol inside the house. Sandra stopped to look around, taking into the ruined building before her. Who in their sane mind would choose to live in front of that?

A sound came from within it, pebbles and debris crunching beneath someone’s feet and rolling around. Sandra got closer to the ruin, cell phone in hand to light the dark inside. Vines grew all over the walls and the trees here, smothering everything in a verdant carpet. She went in through a man sized hole in the wall. The bluish light of her phone hit the remnants of a reception counter, with a graffiti painted on the wall behind it. Welcome. A small noise to her right, deeper into the dark.

Her foot landed on something slippery, thick and squelching under her weight. The phone’s light revealed the same rust coloured substance used to paint the message on that window. A drop of it landed down as she was inspecting the puddle, heavy and loud in the resounding silence. Looking upward, Sandra saw a stain of the same substance on the cracked ceiling, slowly filtering down from the upper floor. The stairs were collapsed, though.

There was this prickling sensation in her scalp, as if she was being followed. She caught a quick movement out of the corner of her eye, but there was nothing when she swivelled around. God, she needed a smoke, this place was putting her imagination into overdrive. Better get out of here and join Laia and Pol on the house.

The fog hid both ends of the road and it felt like the car was in a bubble reality, separated from the rest of the world, which did not help much to ease her sudden nervousness.

The small garden surrounding the cabin was in disarray. The patch of flowers next to the gate had been stomped over and a garden rake lay broken in half, the wooden handle stuck on the ground like a defensive stake by the side of the gate.

The inside of the house was completely normal, though. The TV was on, cartoons still playing, with a lively green bowl full of popcorn on the floral couch. The only window, right behind the TV, was covered by a crocheted curtain; and the hearth’s shelf was dangerously full of family photos. Her mother would love the decor.

“Officers? Laia? Pol?” No answer.

Sandra went into the kitchen, looking around the cabin. Nothing. The twin bedrooms. Empty. In the bathroom she found another message, this time painted on the mirror with… it was either mud or shit. She hoped it was the former.

NO ESCAPE

A scraping noise outside caught her attention. Sandra ran to the door and stepped out into the fog. She spent a few seconds trying to puzzle why there was a tree next to the car. Then it moved, turning towards her, and screeched like a banshee.

An extreme feeling of wrong filled her as the tree-like thing started to fucking walk. Sandra bolted back into the house and closed the door, leaning against it as she tried to make sense of what she’d seen. If a stick bug grew to imitate a small tree, and had a disturbingly humanoid looking face, it still wouldn’t be close enough to that horrific thing out there.

A heavy impact rattled the door, nearly dislodging Sandra from her spot. Another thud, followed by a screech that made her wish to cover her ears and press her back against a wall until the chill in her spine went away.

Pushing against the door with one hand, she stretched her other arm to tug at the nearby telephone table and drag it closer, inch by painful inch. The next attack on the door threw her to the ground, nearly hitting her head on the same table she was moving. With one last push, Sandra shoved the auxiliary table in front of the entrance door. Then she stepped away to grab the bookcase next to the TV and bring it to her improvised barricade too. Then went the couch, bowl falling down and popcorn flying everywhere; and then the dining chairs to fill in the gaps. That was the only entrance big enough for that thing, and it wasn’t getting in, no matter how much it banged at the door. Not while Sandra could prevent it. The pounding went on and on, but the barricade held.

She stared vacantly ahead, desperately thinking about what to do, unaware she was digging her nails on her palms. Should she confront that thing? She was unarmed, she’d literally been about to go on a vacation so of course she wasn’t carrying her pistol! She could call for help, but who could help her and how much it would take them to arrive were unknown factors. But it was better than staying here and staring at the wall. She took out her phone with shaking hands. Out of range, fuck!

“Inspector Costa, open the door.”

The assault on the door had stopped. In fact, a disorienting silence had taken over.

“Open the door.”

It was officer Segarra’s voice, as if delivered from Heaven itself.

“Through the window!” Sandra retired the curtain and opened the window for him. It was a narrow fit, but it would work.

Hope is a dangerous feeling, more so when ruthlessly squashed. Pol pushed his head and torso through the open window, and Sandra felt the air leave her lungs. His face was covered in a greying, scaly layer, half fused with his clothes, rough looking and inhuman. Only his left eye remained untainted. Thin vine-like extrusions sprouted from his arm, from the same spot he’d scratched before when nervous.

He groaned, stuck in the reduced opening, shocking Sandra out of her horrified stupor. She might not have her pistol here, but she was full of fear induced recklessness. Sandra grabbed a fire poker from the hearth’s display, an ugly iron thing with a spike on the business end. She rammed it into his human eye. The unnatural, high pitched howl was most satisfying. The next step was to take it out and stab the parasitic growth on the arm. The skin was hard and rigid, but once it shattered the flesh underneath was sickeningly easy to abuse. The creature that once was officer Segarra jerked spasmodically and then withdrew from the window, leaving torn pieces of its bark-like skin stuck to the frame and a splash of rust coloured goo on the floor.

Alright, alright, she needed to barricade the windows too maybe, and -

Sound of static “…Inspector Costa, officers…”Static noise

The patrol car’s radio. The sound was slightly muffled, but in the sudden silence she could understand most of it. Garcia and Morales were investigating on their own, she forgot about them in her panic. And unlike her, they were armed.

“…Morales disappeared…”Static noise“…being followed by mutated…”

Shit. She had a bad feeling about this.

“…Please, I can’t- Inspector Morales? What… AHHHHH!”

The scream lasted a few agonizing seconds, and then static took over again, this time forever.

Sandra was utterly lost. Was it safe to assume everyone else was dead or worse? Honestly, she didn’t feel like going to investigate. The house was a mouse trap, but safe. Barricade the windows it was.

After about fifteen minutes Sandra had fortified the house and scoured it to the last corner in search of a weapon. Surprisingly, she found an axe in one of the cupboards. Countryside folks were weird. With its dulled edge it was of more use as blunt weapon, but heaps better than a fire poker.

She checked her phone again. Still out of range. The meagre light of day was quickly fading, at only six PM. Last time she looked through the window more of those creatures were converging around the house and the patrol car. One of them had a familiar black ponytail sticking out of its inhuman head, blue uniform almost completely assimilated under the bark skin growing all over the body. No matter who they were before, Sandra would chop them all to pieces if any of the creatures attempted to break in.

An infernal chorus of screeches rose, like wolves howling to the skies. Sandra fidgeted with the axe. If she made it through the night, the superintendent surely would send someone to investigate why nobody had reported yesterday. She only had to make it through the night.

The screeching stopped as abruptly as it began. The earth trembled, followed by the unmistakeable sounds of trees falling over. She had a terrible feeling about this. Something low and guttural rumbled outside the house, a distorted shadow passing over the window. Sandra held her breath, praying they would all go away, yet gripping the axe tightly.

A hit against the door shook the barricade and her bones. The door held, but it would not last forever. If pressed, she could still barricade herself on one of the rooms. And it wasn’t like those creatures would fit inside the house, never mind something larger. Right? The door rattled again, the hinges groaning under the strain.

She only had to make it through the night.