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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

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The King’s precious gem...

For the sweet @marilynmonroefanfics

Hope you will enjoy this story!

"Here comes King consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

"This social climber? Don't even talk to me about this little nobody!"

"Quiet! If King Thranduil hears you, he will make you pay! The last one who dared disrespect his husband ended up in jail for almost 20 years. Luckily for him, (Y/N) pardoned him. Besides, the people loved him!"

(Y/N) did not care about those gossips on his trail: he knew he deserved his place next to the king. What a long way since he was only a healer!

The young elf can heal since his younger days. Noticed for his gifts, he succeeded in working at the royal court. However, he did not expect to be the friend and confidant of Prince Legolas.

The two young men fought together against the Orcs or any enemy of their kingdom.

One day, (Y/N) managed to save the life of Legolas when the latter fell ill. Worried about his son's safety, King Thranduil hired the best healers of his kingdom to treat him. Only (Y/N) managed to heal the young prince.

Grateful, the monarch allowed him to stay in the court. Then, he started to get interested in this young healer who can play with a knife and medicine. The elf king always found an excuse to spend more time with (Y/N).

Slowly, a romance blossomed between them, much to the surprise of Legolas.

When the court heard about this affair, it was a shock for many of the royal counselors. Indeed, they took a very dim view of this young commoner. However, the people immediately loved (Y/N) and accepted him as their new king consort.

Since this day, (Y/N) was allowed to sit next to The King. And today, he felt his presence would be helpful for his husband, as the latter was about to greet a delegation of dwarves. This delegation was led by Thorin Oakenshield, the grandson of Thror, King of Erebor. It sounds like his beloved husband would need his help.

It is necessary to say that between Thranduil and the Erebor royal family, there was a feud that lasted for years.

As he arrived in the throne room, a servant announced:

"His Majesty King Consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

Slightly smiling, the young man saw Thranduil sitting on his throne.

The monarch talked with a guard:

"Let those dwarves coming here. However, be careful with this Thorin Oaekenshield: I fear he might be like his grandfather..."

"All the guards will be vigilant, Your Majesty!" stated the armored man as he saluted his king before leaving the room.

Thranduil turned his hand and gently gestured to his husband:

"Come here, my love."

"This is what I intended to do, my adored." (Y/N) smiled as he sat on his throne.

Thranduil reached (Y/N)'s hand and held it.

"I am glad that you find some time for me."

"Well, I know this meeting is capital for you. Besides, I would like you to avoid a new feud between our people and the dwarves of Erebor."

The elf king sighed.

"What can I say? You cannot trust dwarves. Especially those who come from under the mountains."

"Who knows? Maybe Thorin would be different..."

Thranduil scoffed.

"I wish I was optimistic like you, my sunflower."

"Let see..."

Suddenly, a guard shouted:

"Thorin Oakenshield and his delegation are here, Your Majesties. Gandalf the Grey is here too!"

"What this wizard is doing here?" grumbled Thranduil.

"We'll see in time..."

Shortly after, the company of Thorin Oakenshield arrived in the throne room. Among the dwarves, (Y/N) noticed a hobbit, which surprised him.

But, much to his delight, he noticed the presence of Gandalf.

"Dear Gandalf, what a pleasure to see you!"

The old wizard politely bowed with a smile:

"The pleasure is reciprocated, King (Y/N)."

As for Thranduil and Thorin, they stared stonily at each other. The Durin dynasty and the Elf King always had difficult contacts. All the story with Smaug did not improve it, and even if Thorin finally regain his throne, he never forgave Thranduil for giving up on his people when they needed help.

"Greetings, o delegation of Erebor. I hope the journey was not too arduous," said Thranduil with a cold tone.

"It went well, Your Majesty," politely said Balin with a respectful bow.

"It is a pleasure finally meeting the brave company of Thorin Oakenshield. The same company who dared fight Smaug The Terrible and gained back their kingdom," added (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

All the dwarves giggled with a blush on their faces. They all heard about King (Y/N) of Mirkwood, known as "The Gentle King" by all realms. Even Dwalin, who could not stand elves, was not able to resist.

The two kings started to negotiate new treaties between their respective kingdoms. Unfortunately, as they were both stubborn, they did not agree on anything.

"WHAT? YOU WANT US TO SELL OUR METAL? THAT IS DAYLIGHT ROBBERY!" yelled Thorin.

"It is ABSOLUTELY out of the question that my people would low the price of our wooden crafts," replied Thranduil with anger.

As for the other dwarves, they stayed silent while watching their sovereign sparring verbally with The Elvenking.

Meanwhile, Gandalf talked with (Y/N).

"I expected that they would fight. I hope you're not annoyed, dear (Y/N)."

"Not really, my dear wizard: I am not surprised by their behavior. They never got along, and I am afraid it will not change."

Suddenly, (Y/N) noticed Bilbo slowly coming towards him. Gandalf exclaimed:

"Ah, I forgot! I should introduce you to our dear Hobbit! Master Baggins, this is King (Y/N) of Mirkwood. King (Y/N), I would like to introduce Bilbo Baggins to you. Without his talents, this quest would have failed."

Intimidated, the Hobbit awkwardly bowed:

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Baggins."

Catching his breath, Bilbo replied:

"I have to say, Your Majesty: when I told all the inhabitants of Hobbiton that I would meet you, they all ask me to check if you were as handsome and benevolent as the songs said..."

The King consort asked, amused:

"And do I meet your expectations, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo brightly blushed before replying:

"The truth is, O (Y/N), the songs did not have enough words to praise your handsomeness and kindness."

"That is very kind of you, Mister Baggins."

Fidgeting his fingers, the Hobbit:

"May I ask you something, O generous monarch?"

"What is it, Mister Baggins?"

"Well... The people of Hobbiton want to have proof that I met you. And I would like to know if you could provide me some evidence."

The King consort smiled:

"Did they ask for something in particular?"

"Not really."

"Then, I think I can help you," replied (Y/N) as he cut one of his dark locks.

Then, he put in a golden pendant, engraved with his portrait, before handing it to Bilbo Baggins.

"When you will come back home, tell your people that it is the present from the King consort of Mirkwood to the bravest Hobbit."

The Hobbit stared with amazement at this gift.

He stammered:

"Your Majesty... I have no words to tell you how grateful I am!"

"There is no need, Master Baggins: your actions speak louder than your words."

(Y/N) did not notice that Fili was looking at him with adoring eyes.

Indeed, the nephew of Thorin swore he never met such a handsome man in all realms. It such a shame this perfect elf married Thranduil.

He came towards (Y/N) and politely said:

"I am pleased to meet you, King (Y/N)."

"The pleasure is mine, Prince Fili."

The young Dwarf prince felt his heart skipping a beat: this voice! It was like hearing millions of birds singing in harmony.

Clearing his throat, he asked:

"Your Majesty, may I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

To the surprise of all the people gathered in the room, Fili asked:

"Are you aware that your handsomeness is the most deadly weapon of all realms?"

All stopped talking - or yelling - and looked at the scene with surprise on their faces.

As for (Y/N), he was astonished by this question.

"Well, I am not aware that I am dangerous to this point. Could you tell why?"

Smirking, Fili declaimed:

"Like a battering ram,

Your smile makes the walls around my heart crumbling down.

Like a sharpened sword,

Your eyes destroyed the shield that protects my mind.

Like an arrow,

Your voice pierced me to the core.

And like a defeated army,

I surrender to the love I feel for you."

"WHAT?" exclaimed (Y/N).

"How dare you, you filthy dwarf!" yelled Thranduil.

"Do not use that tone with my nephew!" scolded Thorin.

Unaware of the upcoming threat, Fili pursued his declaration:

"It is the truth! You're so handsome, kind, wise, and pure. You deserve better than those arrogant elves!"

"Fili, shut up!" gritted Kili.

Feeling the anger boiling in the eyes of the Elvenking, Gandalf tried to calm the situation.

"Your Majesty, please forgive this young dwarf. He lets the ardor of youth speaking louder than his reason," he said while giving a slight slap on Fili's head.

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: not only he had to deal with the short-tempered dwarf king, but he had to handle his carefree prince.

As for Dwalin, he inwardly chuckled: he despised Thranduil, and seeing Fili courting the King consort of Mirkwood amused him.

Meanwhile, Fili claimed his love for (Y/N):

"Come to Erebor, o blossoming orchid. I would make you the happiest prince of all realms."

"Listen, Fili: your gentleness towards me is moving. But, in case you are not aware, I am married and happy!"

"And I would let no one, and especially NO DWARF, courting my spouse!" fumed Thranduil.

When he heard that, Fili had a deadpan expression on his face and declared:

"Then, I know what I have to do..."

"What do you mean?" asked Balin, sweating with dread.

"Why I fear he might say something stupid?" muttered Bilbo.

They were not out of the woods!

"I, Fili, son of Dis, grandson of Thrain, solemnly demand the hand of (Y/N) of Mirkwood as my husband!"

"WHAT?" yelled the dwarves.

"Oh no!" groaned Kili as he facepalmed.

As for Gandalf, he feared that Thranduil would be mad. And it was the case!

"Stay away from my husband, you idiot!"

Thorin snickered, which angered the elf king.

"May I know what causes your hilarity, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"At least, it proves that my nephew has good taste. And perhaps (Y/N) will appreciate our beautiful kingdom, far from your bunches of hypocrites!" replied the latter.

"What do you mean?"

"Either you are deaf, or blind... or stupid. But I find it hard not to notice that your royal boot-lickers are not happy to see a consort that is not from royal lineage!"

"Please, can we go back to the negotiations?" pleaded Balin.

"Not until this idiot stops courting my husband!" yelled Thranduil.

"Oh, shut up, you pointed-ears princess: nobody asked for your opinion!" growled Bombur.

"Guys, stop it!" begged Bilbo.

"Besides, Fili: it is not possible to marry (Y/N)!" explained Kili.

"And why?"

"First of all, he is already married! Secondly, he is an elf from the woods. He does not belong to the mines, neither the mountain!"

"Ah, I did not think about this... Ah, I have a plan! I shall create a beautiful garden on one of the mountain plateaus!"

"Oh, so you can plant something else than a vegetable patch?" said Thranduil with irony.

"You want to fight?" screamed Oin.

All this argument created chaos that gets on the nerves of the wizard.

"CALM DOWN, ALL OF YOU!" ordered Gandalf in a booming voice.

All immediately stood silent, terrified by the charisma of Gandalf.

Once the silence fell on the room, the wizard said:

"I did not try to stop a war for enduring your silly bickerings!"

"But..." protested Thorin.

"DO NOT DARE CONTRADICTING ME!"

As for (Y/N), he decided to put an end to this mess.

He turned to Fili and declared in a soft voice:

"Fili, I would like you to listen to me carefully!"

The latter nodded, afraid of the answer.

"I am all ears, (Y/N)."

"Fili of Erebor, I appreciate your compliments towards me because I feel they were sincere and pure. But for once and all, I am already married to the man I love more than my own life.

I am aware that I am just a gold digger, a social climber for many royal counselors. A little nobody that does not deserves to wear the crown of Mirkwood. But do I care? No.

Because all the elven people love me, Legolas helped me, and my husband would never let me go. It is more than enough for me..."

Fili sighed.

"And to say I was thrilled to introduce you to Mum. I am sure she would love you!"

"I have no doubt. But I belong to Mirkwood and his king, against all odds."

"Besides, I am sure that Mother would surely want you alive and not beheaded by a MAD ELF KING because you try to steal him his husband, you jackass!" replied Kili, fed up with his brother's shenanigans.

"Anyway, we sorted this story, and there is nothing to worry about!" wisely said Gandalf.

"I hope so..." coldly stated Thranduil.

A few hours later, the dwarves and the Elvenking managed to find some common ground. Then, Thorin and his company went back to their kingdom, followed by Gandalf and Bilbo.

As he nearly walked out of the door, Fili shouted to (Y/N):

"Dear (Y/N), if one day you come to Erebor, I promise I will show you the garden I create for you. I keep my words!"

"I can't wait to see it, dear Fili!" smirked the king consort of Mirkwood.

Once the delegation left, Thranduil sighed and said:

"Finally, they're gone! I swear to the moon that those dwarves would kill me!"

"Well, you managed to survive. Speaking of surviving, I am surprised that you did not kill Fili on the spot!"

"My dear daffodil, you have no idea how much I wanted to cut off his head!"

Amused by this fit of jealousy, (Y/N) asked:

"But you know I would never leave you, right?"

The Elvenking gently smiled and held the hand of his husband.

"No doubt about you shall ever cross my mind, dear.I know you will never leave me."

He gently kissed (Y/N)'s hand before the pair exited the room.

On their way, the king asked:

"Now, my waterlily, could you tell me the names of my royal counselors who disrespected you? I think I might need to have a little conversation with them..."

"I assure you, Thranduil, there is no need..."

Thranduil gently shushed his consort by putting his finger on (Y/N)'s lips.

"I have to do it, my love. After all, no one dares to be rude towards the King's precious gem without suffering consequences!"

Slightly blushing, (Y/N) smiled at this compliment.

And as they went to the dining room, (Y/N) felt like something new arrived in Mirkwood. He believed that one day, the court would not look at him as (Y/N) the little nobody with a crown, but as (Y/N) of Mirkwood, the king consort of this kingdom and the King's precious gem.

Long live the kings...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story and I can’t wait to see future requests!

See you soon and take care! 😘🥰😍

#requests #the hobbit #thranduil #fili #lee pace #ben barnes #dean o'gorman

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tortie-tales · 3 years

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Farkas x Reader

"Farkas is coming too?!" I yelled, ecstatic. Farkas already looked tired.

It had been weeks of various errands. Sharpening Vilkas' sword, bringing Aela her shield, helping cook meals, settling disputes in the city, and driving out wild animals. It was all worth it, now that I got to do something incredible like retrieve a fragment of an ancient artifact.

Kodlak chuckled at my enthusiasm.

"Alright, new blood, let's head out," Farkas said before walking off. I squealed, and followed after him, not wanting to lose him.

On the way to the Dustman's Cairn, I pestered Farkas with various questions.

"Am I going to be doing all the fighting? Are you taking notes on my actions or how well I fight? Are there going to be a lot of enemies? Are you as excited as I am? Are we there yet?" Each question came immediately after the last, not giving him time to answer.

Farkas stopped walking and turned around. He looked annoyed. "Look, I'm mostly here to make sure you don't die. Instead of asking me a bunch of questions, focus on the task at hand," he said, silently begging for me to shut up. I nodded and continued walking.

When we arrived, Farkas continued to follow me throughout the area, killing any draugr that got away from me.

This is nice, I thought to myself, just two buddies, hanging side by side, fighting draugr. We should do this more often.

"Farkas," I whispered, "we should do this more often, it would be fun." I turned around and smiled at him. He sighed and smiled as well. "Sure, (y/n), sounds good."

We got to an area with a sealed door.

"Farkas, I see a lever! That should open the door!" I ran over to it and pulled it, trapping myself inside the small room.

Oh no.

I tried to pull the lever back, but it was stuck.

"Good going, new blood. Stay put, I'll find a way to get you out." Farkas walked away, leaving me by myself.

No! Now he'll think I can't handle myself!

I used all of my weight to try and pull the handle back, but I just ended up falling on my butt. I sighed, frustrated. I stood up and froze when I heard voices.

I turned around and saw a few men surrounding Farkas. They were talking, but I wasn't listening. All I could think about was how Farkas was about to die and it was my fault.

I started going at the bars of the cage, desperate to get out. The spacing between the bars was too thin for me to squeeze out, and they were somehow deflecting the magic I threw at them. I was trapped, and there was no way for me to help Farkas.

I stared, shocked.

I have to do something.

I started yelling. "Hey! You guys smell like horse ass!" A man looked in my direction and glared at me.

"When we're finished with you, we'll go for your girlfriend next," he said, laughing.

I crinkled my nose. "What was that? I don't understand idiot," I yelled again, trying to buy some time for me to figure something out.

Farkas knelt to the ground and dropped his sword.

Is he giving up already?

Then he shifted into a werewolf. I stood there, stunned, and watched him rip the guy who threatened me apart. He then chased after the other two into the other room.

The bars slid up, freeing me from the room. I slowly walked out, unsure if Farkas would be human or not. He walked in, not making eye contact.

"Sorry you had to see that," he looked down, ashamed, "I hope you aren't too scared of me." He laughed nervously and glanced up to take in my reaction.

I ran up to him and hugged him. "I thought you were going to die! I was so scared," I said, barely holding back tears.

"You're not scared of me?" I felt him wrap his arms around me and hug me back, tightly.

"Are you kidding me? I think it's so cool that you're a werewolf!" I tried to back up but Farkas didn't let me go. I laughed slightly and wiped my eyes before hugging him again. "Is everyone in the companions a werewolf?"

"No, just those who are in the circle." He let go and put his hand on my shoulder. "We still have to retrieve that fragment. Let's go."

"Ok." I ran off in front of him, determined to show him that I was more than just a new-blood.

~~~~~~

"So, Farkas, we're both alive, and we have the fragment. How did I do?" We were halfway back to Jorrvaskr before I had asked. I couldn't bear to wait any longer.

"You'll see when we get back." Farkas continued walking, refusing to answer.

"Oh come on! Just a hint! Please?" I begged, desperate to know.

"No."

"Fine, be that way," I huffed.

We arrived at the front doors. I went to walk in, but Farkas continued to walk around to the back.

"Oh, are we going around back? Or is that just a you thing?" I asked, confused.

Farkas said nothing, simply waving me forward. I shrugged and followed him.

I saw the other members of the Circle standing there, in a circle. I almost laughed at the irony. Farkas grabbed my hand, making me blush. He led me to an empty spot, let go, and went and stood by Vilkas.

Everyone stared at me. I felt like they were staring into my soul and judging my every action. Just in case they were reading my mind, I thought of good things I had done in the past.

I'm so nervous. Are they going to murder me?

I looked up at Farkas, who met my eyes. I tried to read his expression, to tell if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but he had a good poker face.

I really hope we can become good friends one day. Maybe something more.

"Brothers and sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold."

Wait.. what?

It clicked and I smiled.

They're accepting me! I'm going to have a family!

Kodlak looked me in the eyes. "This warrior has endured, challenged, and has shown true valor. Who will speak for them?"

Oh..

My happiness fell, replaced by a wave of sadness. No one would speak for me, since none of them truly knew me. I looked at the ground.

"I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us."

I looked up, shocked.

Farkas?! I don't understand, I almost got him killed..

"Would you raise your shield in their defense?" Kodlak asked. All eyes were on Farkas now.

Farkas looked at Kodlak, determined. "I would stand at their back, that the world might never overtake us."

"And would you raise your sword in their honor?"

I started to tear up a little.

"It stands ready to meet the blood of their foes."

"And would you raise a mug in their name?" Kodlak had a twinkle in his eye.

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in their stories."

Kodlak turned to me and smiled. "Then the judgement of this Circle is complete. Their heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."

"It shall be so." Aela, Skjor and Vilkas confirmed, nodding their heads.

The group disbanded, leaving Farkas and I behind. Aela smacked my shoulder. "Congrats, kid." She continued walking away.

"Farkas-" I walked over to him "-thank you for saying those things. It means a lot."

Farkas smiled and hugged me. "Anytime, (y/n)."

#i know #FINALLY something OTHER than marcurio #lmao #farkas #farkas x reader #skyrim #skyrim oneshot #skyrim x reader #skyrim fanfiction #elder scrolls v #elder scrolls

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

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Kingslayer AU: Chapter 11

The big one! This literally took weeks to complete. I wanted it to be done.

We are inching ever closer to the end of this arc. Two more chapters I think.

This one is much longer than the recent ones, but don’t worry. That theme most likely won’t continue.

Warnings: // non-explicit blood, violence, and injury, Major Character Death(s) \\

Scar called upon all of his allies on an exceptionally cold evening, a wicked blizzard was blowing through the server as Scott walked hand in hand with Jimmy through the white-out. Even the desert wasn’t spared from the stirring storm.

A broken line of lights were ascending up Monopoly Mountain, all headed to the same meeting.

When everyone had arrived, warm drinks were passed around. Cleo, Bdubs, Tango, Scott, Jimmy, Grian, and the resident Enderman were huddled in the living area.

Scott was biting his nails, so to speak. He was pretty sure he knew what they were there for; and he was not excited. He sat next to Jimmy and begged that the Red Desert wasn’t going to start a war with Dogwarts. It was going to happen sooner or later, everyone knew that, but Scott felt an ounce of selfishness.

Things were going so well.

He was starting to feel like he was on the wrong side of history. Sitting in that room, Scott had been to Dogwarts after Grain and Scar had tried to burn Skiz’s banner. He was in the room when they started talking about war; and here he was again. In a room talking about war.

He was there for quiet conversations about nonstop threats from Scar and Grian, how they were going to protect themselves, and questioning why it had to be them.

Pizza was dead. The air was unstable, everyone could feel it.

Scar began talking about a plan to trap the Sand Castle. Grian was confident that their new bunker would protect them well enough and had even started moving their things out. Dogwarts was to be baited into the castle where Scar would be waiting for them, to pull the trigger and blow the entire building to smithereens with the Red Army inside.

The thought of it made Scott’s insides turn. He’d already jeopardized his entire mission by falling for Dogwarts, becoming their friend when he was supposed to hate them, he kicked up the dirt when he suggested that Etho’s house was flammable, another slip up and the house of cards he’d built could be pulled down around him.

The whole meeting Scott just sat on the couch feeling sick. Too cowardly to say it was wrong. When he knew it was wrong. Like always, he let someone else steer his life for him. Scott watched as everyone agreed and started leaving. A feeling of distance fell upon him as he walked back home, Jimmy in the lead this time.

Tomorrow. He only had until tomorrow to decide whose side he was on. Scott stared at the ceiling in bed, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing a second of sleep when his pager started beeping. Already knowing who it was, Scott quietly left the house once more.

Dogwarts was eerily silent on top, but a quiet conversation emitted from the living quarters. Every member was sat around the room conversing with each other about their plan of attack. Tango shot him a glance when he entered the room, his eyes went wide and he excused himself from his conversation with Joel.

“Scott?” He whispered scoldingly when he was close enough, shoving the other to the most empty side of the room.

“I can’t do this Tango, I’m telling them,” Scott whispered.

“What? No, no, no, you can’t back out now! My god- Scott how could you even come here?” Tango hissed through his teeth.

“This is wrong! You know it’s wrong! I can’t just stand by anymore, I can’t do this to them,” Scott tried to keep his composure. He pleaded.

“And what about the others? What about you? Us?” Tango asked, his face was pale.

Scott closed his eyes, he’d done everything in his power to give as little information as he could about the Red Desert Alliance to Dogwarts. He wanted to protect people, of course, but he knew there was no escaping the war. Even if he didn’t say anything tonight. Something would happen tomorrow.

His friends were wrong, he’d grown enough to see that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drowning out the lump in his throat and turning away from Tango, who yanked his sleeve in a last ditch effort. It was too late.

Scott strode over to Ren, tapping him on the shoulder. The Red King looked down, dismissing Etho and addressing Scott.

“Hey dude,” he greeted.

Scott’s hands shook as he formulated his admission, “The Red Desert is going to war with you tomorrow,” he said. Plain and simple.

The horrific shock on Tango and Impulse’s faces could easily be read as concern for the Red Army.

Scott felt like he shrunk to the size of an atom as everyone took turns looking at each other. Ren brought a steady hand to his chin, resting it on his knuckles in thought. The lights glared pure white off his glasses.

He walked to the table in the middle of the room and gazed upon the map, leaning over it to ponder. Scott fell back against the wall, his heart was pounding in his ears. He wasn’t even paying attention when Ren started firing off about their plan of action.

He wasn’t listening when Tango yelled at him on the way home. All he could think about was what the hell he was going to do now.

The jig was certainly going to be up tomorrow. Someone was going to be accused of spying, and when one of them went down, so would the rest.

What would Jimmy think of him? Should he just come clean? Admit to joining the Red Army on accident and let him figure out how he felt about it?

It didn’t matter. Scott had three hours to rest his eyes, and spend possibly the last peaceful night he would ever have with his husband.

The morning was spent mostly in silence. Scott gathered his weapons and stocked his arsenal with potions. He stared at the wall and went over the situation in his head. Preparing goodbyes, apology speeches, everything he could think of that might go wrong.

“Hey,” Jimmy came up behind him, taking a fire resistant potion out of his hand, “I was scared you were gonna drop it if you floated away any further,” he sat down on the workbench.

“Are you scared?” he asked, taking Scott’s hand and interlocking their fingers.

Scott closed his eyes, leaning his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. He nodded his head, not in the mood to lie.

“So am I,” Jimmy confessed, “just promise me something?” he tucked Scott’s stray hairs behind his ears.

“No goodbyes,” he said. As if he was swearing it into existence.

Scott nodded, doing his best to smile optimistically. He held out his pinkie finger in a gesture of promise. Jimmy hooked his own pinkie around it and shook it a bit, leaning forwards to touch foreheads with the other before leaving to get his armor.

They left at dawn and shivered all the way to the Red Desert. It was exceptionally cold that morning. Like the weather was also fighting in their war. A small group of people was gathered at the bottom of Monopoly Mountain. Most of them were sat sharpening their weapons and counting their arrows. Scott spotted Tango and shot him the most apologetic look he could manage before excusing himself to talk to him.

“Tango,” Scott started.

“You know they’re going to be here any second,” Tango said, “so why don’t you tell us about the plan like you did for them?”

Scott was making his mind up about what he should say when an arrow shot into the sand near his feet. He looked up, scanning the tree line.

It was too late.

Everyone gathered on the sand snapped to attention, drawing their weapons and forming a group opposite to the Red Army. Scar was shaking his head, asking himself how this could happen. Scott walked wearily to the frontlines, his free hand was taken by Jimmy.

Everyone in the Red Desert looked at each other, then Scar raised his bow, and that was it.

Scott was jumped by Impulse. Better him than anyone else, even if his blows were a bit harder due to bitterness. They went back and forth stealing glances at the rest of the battle where a few mounds had been constructed to hide behind.

Impulse kicked Scott onto his back and kneeled on his stomach, taking his air. He leaned in, sparing nervous glances to their surroundings.

“I hope you got your fill of righteousness,” he hissed.

Scott gasped for air, “this was going to happen whether I had a part in it or not,” he said.

“How could you?!” Impulse shouted, but whatever else he was going to say was stolen when Bdubs rushed him from the side, throwing both of them off of Scott and into their own cloud of dust.

Scott breathed in a lung full of dust and rolled over, stumbling to his feet and spinning around to gauge the battle. It was a blur. His mind flew to looking for Jimmy. Someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind a shield, where a stray arrow plunged into the wood.

“Where is Grian?” Tango shook Scott’s arm, sweat was rolling down his face through a coat of brown dust.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen him since..” Scott froze.

Tango seemed to read the pallid expression on his face and nodded encouragingly.

Scott didn’t finish his sentence. He threw himself to his feet and sprinted across the battlefield, towards the border of the desert. A series of blueprints he’d seen all those weeks ago flashed through his head as he ran. Dodging arrows and slamming into his fellow server mates.

Finally, he rounded a barricade and saw what he was hoping not to see. A few hundred yards away, Scar was taking Ren and Martyn in battle. Inching ever closer to a disarmingly empty plot of land. Scott knew that if you weren’t aware, you’d barely be able to see the tiny windows sticking out of the sand.

“Scar!” he called out.

Nobody heard him.

Even if they did, there was no time.

The ground under his feet rumbled, causing him to drop his weapon before a flash of pure light pierced the air. He heard screams for a moment, but they were quickly drowned out by a wall of fire ejecting itself from the ground. Scott was knocked off his feet and launched through the air.

He hit the ground with a painful thud, but he didn’t come to a stop until he’d bounced head over heels a few feet further.

Scott’s nose was pressed into the ground as he rolled around in pain. He pushed himself to his knees with shaking arms.

In front of him was a gigantic, jagged crater carved into the ground. Smoke and fire billowed from its crude maw. Scott coughed and tried to wave away the suffocating ash to no avail. It permeated his eyes and throat.

Scott realized he had been rendered deaf for the moment, and partially blind for that matter. He struggled to his feet and outstretched his arms for balance, falling over twice before his purchase returned to him.

Someone grabbed his arms from behind and spun him around, touching his face and holding him up steadily.

“I can’t hear!” Scott shouted, pointing to his ears in case whoever it was didn’t understand him.

“Can’t see you,” he pointed at his eyes and then at where he assumed the person was.

The person took his hand and formed it into a fist, then interlocked their pinkie with his own.

“Jimmy?” Scott asked, he rubbed his eyes but his hands were taken away. Jimmy positioned his face gently and he felt water in his eyes, washing away the charred debris.

His vision returned to him as the stinging in his eyes subsided. Not so much the same for his hearing, but that was okay. Jimmy hugged him close and looked him over one more time, before tracing the word “stay” on Scott’s palm.

Scott nodded, watching the other go off into the smoke. Probably to help people.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. Through the black smoke came a figure. Scott recognized it as Scar. He was climbing out of the crater. His movements looked painful, he was dragging something behind him.

It became apparent when he hoisted the object over the edge of the crater that Scar was dragging a limp Grian behind him. He laid the other out on the sand, hovering over him with concern etched on his face.

Scott crawled over, shouting to see if Scar could hear him. He pointed at his ears and shook his head. Scott wished he knew human sign language.

Scar turned his attention back to attempting to wake Grian, who wasn’t moving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Sensing that Scar was beginning to get very upset, Scott told him to sit back.

First he tried patting Grian on the chest, tapping his forehead, then observing him for any sign of breathing. His lips weren’t blue yet, he was still alive. Scott took his fist and pressed it deeply into Grian’s sternum, then firmly rubbed up and down.

Grian didn’t move at first, then his eyes flew open under his cracked glasses. His arms shot up to cover his chest and he cursed profusely at how he’d been woken up. He’d probably have a bruise for a while.

Scott motioned for him to calm down and breathe. Count to ten and back, and so on. Grian followed his instructions, wiping the dirt from his face and off his probably useless glasses.

Once he was sure Grian and Scar were fine, he quietly excused himself. The dust has started to clear now and the silhouettes of Dogwarts and the Red Desert alike were milling around, nobody seemed to be fighting anymore. Presumably lost without their respective captains. Scott’s ears has started ringing, and behind the din he could hear the ghosts of people shouting.

Scott idly counted the people around him. Some were huddled over a hastily constructed furnace attempting to brew last minute healing potions. As he counted, he kept coming up short. He counted again, and again. Every time there were two people missing.

He turned back to the crater. Whose smoke had started dissipating into the sky. He knew who was missing, and as he stared into the gaping wound of the earth, a hand reached up to the sky. Then came down on the jagged cliff, pulling the rest of the body to the surface.

Ren fell in a heap at the edge of the hole. Breathing hard from his journey to the top. Scott didn’t know whether or not to offer him help. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found, probably crunched beneath the debris of the bunker and the rest of the desert, and he was covered in a layer of collateral grime. It painted his clothes black and made his yellow eyes stand out.

He pushed himself to his knees with a lot of trouble, scanning the destroyed battle field with a mirthful expression until his gaze fell on Scott. The way in which they locked eyes made Scott flinch, he was in big trouble.

His mind told him he needed to diffuse the situation, but he was still without most of his hearing. It would be even harder if Ren had also been deafened. A familiar “why me” rang through his head. The urge to just leave and call everything quits nagged at him.

Ren stood on shaking legs and made his way, as quick as he could manage, into Scott’s personal space, who backed away; but he yanked his arm.

He stared talking very fast. Scott saw his mouth move but barely any noise actually processed in his mind. Scott shouted as clearly as he could that he couldn’t hear. Throwing in a few sorry’s as he went.

Ren dragged his hands from the tips of his ears down his face in frustration, his fingertips left smudges on his cheeks and over his eyes. He began doing sign language, but Scott shook his head.

By now a small congregation of people had started observing the argument from a distance. All of them more privy to what Ren was mad about than Scott was. Heat rose to his face in embarrassment as he tried to talk over Ren, trying to explain himself. Ren had started yelling as if it would help, and the argument was getting visibly heated when Jimmy stepped in.

He pushed Ren back with force so that he stumbled. This seemed to cause a chain reaction. Ren shoved Jimmy back, and they went back and forth until Jimmy threw a punch.

Scott attempt to make them stop, he came between them and ordered them to calm down, but tensions were far too high for any de-escalating. His emotions were verging on a serious breakdown, frantically begging the fight to stop. To let him explain.

Nobody heard him. If they did, they didn’t care.

Ren had taken out his damaged axe and started swinging.

Jimmy kicked Ren in the stomach, the ladder fell on his back and Jimmy kicked him again.

“Jimmy stop it!” Scott shouted, and he could almost hear himself.

Jimmy looked up at him, still standing over the Red King. His eyes were furious.

Something passed quickly in Scott’s periphery, so he turned around.

Behind him, one foot still propping himself out of the crater, was Martyn. A freshly shot bow still aimed in front of him. His eyes were dark and angry as he stared right past Scott.

Scott turned back to Jimmy, whose eyes were fixed and frozen on Martyn. He staggered back, looking down at his chest where a poisoned arrow had pierced his battle-worn chest plate. His hand wrapped around the projectile, and as if he weren’t even thinking, he wrenched it from his flesh.

Jimmy’s expression read as shock. Right before his eyes rolled into his head and he fell like a load of bricks onto his knees, then his back. His fingers were still wrapped tightly around the arrow. Covered in a mixture of blood and sickly green poison.

He fell, and he stayed.

Scott didn’t have a second to process. Not even the thought to scream, reach out, or run came to him. A blanket of nauseating numbness draped itself around him. His mind left him as he stared helplessly. He watched as Jimmy’s lifeless body grew tendrils of thorny vines until it was consumed indefinitely. Only an arrow wrapped in rose vines remained. Light green flowers bloomed and waved in the wind.

And as if he were watching himself on a screen, Scott did something that he didn’t know he could do. That he had forgotten he could do.

A flash of light illuminated the livid grey sky.

Just as fast, Scott had approached Martyn, who didn’t have time to run. He didn’t have time to put his arms in front of his face as Scott’s hand curled into a fist.

He brought his knuckles down on the center of Martyn’s face, an audible crunch sounded out as he was knocked off his feet. A horrified expression painted itself on his face as he held his bleeding nose.

Scott raised his fist again, and as he did a string of dry lighting spread across the sky. He aimed again, and when his fist met Martyn’s face, a bolt of light shot down from the sky. It turned the world into a pure white canvas with an ear piercing roar.

In its wake was a blackened patch of burning sand. Scott and Martyn sat just as they had been before, but Martyn would not get up.

His body lay bruised and burnt, eyes closed tightly in pain. The rose vines claimed his remains quickly, wrapping around a pair of bloodied hands instead of an arrow this time.

Scott stayed bent over where his friend had been. Tears streamed down his face as the static disappeared from his ears. He ripped his arms out of the thorns which tore at his bandages. Blood permeated the wrappings, but he didn’t know how much was his.

He pushed himself away, kneeling in the grave he’d created.

“Major,” someone said, cold and angry.

A hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder, spinning him around forcefully. Scott had only a second to see that it was Ren, before he was hoisted up by the front of his shirt and thrown across creation. Landing hard on his ass for the second time that day. His shoulder made a nauseating POP, hanging limply and awkwardly at his side when he pushed himself up.

Ren placed his foot on his chest to keep him down.

Behind Ren, the greater alliance of Dogwarts had gathered. Confusion and betrayal was etched on their faces.

“Not a word, Major,” Ren said. Low and forced, his eyes were blown wide with something like fear.

Then he raised the handle of his broken axe over his head, the hilt made contact with Scott’s skull.

Lights out.

#me writing this was like no shawty don’t do that 😫#it’s almost midnight as i’m typing these tags pardon my unhingedness #kingslayer au #mcyt #mcytblr #3rd life smp #3rdlife #on god I really have to do all these characters tags #goodtimeswithscar #grian #scott smajor #solidarity gaming #impulsesv #tangotek #bdubbleo100 #zombie cleo

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inkformyblood · 3 years

Text

growing together

Day 02 Discovering Kinks for @dincobbweek

Summary: Din has been away from Cobb for too long, but he’ll keep to what he promised. A holocall leads to a new discovery for them both

Note: Trans!Cobb, NSFT, Lemon

“—so I think it’s going about as well as expected.” Cobb’s voice echoes from the comm unit set into the ship and Din can hear the laughter in his voice, destroying the edges of his words. He could picture the man’s grin, lopsided to expose the target of his cheek as if asking for it to be kissed.

Din knows he should respond, but the words slip through his fingers, his thoughts scattered and stumbling over each other. He nods, the action rough and halting, despite knowing in some distant part of himself that Cobb couldn’t see him.

“You’ve not managed to hold onto a single thing I’ve said, have you darlin’?” Cobb’s words weren’t cruel, despite the teasing note wound through them, but Din still whines, the sound tearing from his throat. The other man laughs, smoky and it fills the clawed empty spaces in Din’s mind.

“Sorry,” Din manages, forcing the words out from behind the cage of his teeth, gritted to try and keep more of his pleas trapped inside his chest.

“Don’t apologise.” He can almost picture the short jab of Cobb’s hand, his fingers curling towards his palm with the pointer extends like a school teacher. “I’ve not been kind to you, leaving you in such a state while I ramble on.”

The other man’s words sharpen then stretch, his accent becoming more pronounced the longer he spoke, and Din’s hips twitch, the motion pulling a gasp from him, sparks pooling in his belly.

“Are you wearing it for me?”

“Yes,” Din gasps, and his hips roll again. He feels his cock press against the unyielding curve of his codpiece, the pressure building like a wave that threatened to drown him before it ebbs once more, cut off by the ring locked around his base. The noise that tears from his throat is high and gasping, trembling as badly as he is as he curls forward, his hands curled into claws on the armrests of the chair.

“You’re making such beautiful noises for me, darlin’.” Cobb shifts, fabric rustling down the comms before he stops, a pained gasp hissing into static. Din starts, sitting up straighter in his seat, his own want momentarily forgotten as worry replaces the heady warmth in his veins.

“I’m fine. Just knocked my ankle.” Cobb laughs and continues to adjust himself before a familiar sigh echoes through the comm link and Din’s head spins.

He knows that sound well, and the accompanying soft melodic scratch of rough hands over fabric. Cobb had reached down and began to rub himself through the fabric of his trousers, not yet pushing inside to run his fingers through his own slick and bare the pale pink flesh of his cunt to the world, but beginning to start banking his own pleasure.

“I wish I could be there with you.” Cobb sounds mournful but resigned, his breath hitching at random intervals as he spoke and the muscles in Din’s thighs lock and relax, urging him to move, to do something. “Gonna have to tell me what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Din tries to find the words again, but they’re lost in a hissing sea of static and the thunderous drumbeat of his heart in his ears. Worry spikes again, but Cobb seems to read his thoughts, soothing him with a low rumbling exhale.

“Where are you now? Have you got your armour on?”

“In the pilot’s chair.” Din shifts, the pool of heat in his belly reigniting with the slight movement and he bites back the urge to do it again. “Still got my beskar on.”

“Bounty go alright?”

Din nods, catches himself and replies. “Yes.” He pauses, catching the edge of his tongue between his teeth, the action hidden behind his helmet despite Cobb not being able to see him through the comms. “I wish you were here with me.”

Cobb croons, the sound reflexive and Din feels himself relax, the last sharp edge of tension from his mission ebbing from his shoulders. “I know, darlin’, I know. But I’m no good to anyone right now.”

Cobb’s frustration was clear, punctuated by a low groan bitten off as his fingers dig deeper into the warm swell around his entrance. Din knew his groans, his sighs, knew how to work Cobb’s body as well as one of his weapons, and he grew impossibly harder, pleasure coarsing through him even as the sensation was soured by the twist of remembered fear in his throat.

It had been an accident, a single misstep on scaffolding that was wrapped around one side of the building, but the sound of Cobb’s yell — cut off by the cracking thud as he hit the floor — would haunt Din. A broken ankle had been a lucky escape given what could have happened, but, as Din drew nearer, Cobb had been already trying to stand, one ankle bent at an angle that made bile rise in the Mandalorian’s throat, and flinched away from him.

Later, when Cobb’s ankle had been bound and his eyes were clear of the dark reflexive fear, he had spoke around the bone-deep dread all slaves held of being injured and killed because of it.

“You still with me, Din?”

“Yeah.” Din drags his thoughts back to the present, letting the pressure of his beskar against his shoulders ground him. “I want to continue.”

He waits, focusing on the low hiss of static over the comms, wondering what Cobb was doing at that moment. Was he sprawled over their bed, trousers discarded in preparation of the call, his underwear the same soft red as his scarf and beginning to darken beneath his fingers? Was he stretched over the plush chair Din carried through the wastes tied to the back of his speeder, one leg tucked beneath him as the other hung free, his hand disappearing into the hollow between his thighs?

“Okay. Can you take off your armour for me? And hands off your cock.”

Din hisses his agreement, his hands trembling against the fastenings of his armour as his fingers slip on the catches. Time seems to slow, the world narrowing down to the bite of the clasps as they slowly peel apart, exposing burning skin to the cold expanse of the cockpit. Shivers roll down his spine, across the nape of his neck and through his forearms, his skin pebbling, but he ignored the tremours, dragging an old towel from the copilot seat and placing it beneath him before sitting back down.

His cock seemed to pulse with every frantic beat of his heart, hanging heavy against one thigh and held by the silver ring wrapped around the base. Din’s fingers twitch towards it, aching to try and relieve some of the pressure building in his belly, but he curls his fingers away, dragging them through the scratchy stubble high on his cheeks.

“I’m ready.”

Cobb sighs and groans again, deliberately drawing it out until the sound was barely a whisper. “You’re being so good for me, keeping your hands to yourself while I’m already soaked.”

Din groans, his mouth watering. He wants to bury his face between Cobb’s thighs and lick the slick from him until he could drown in it. He wants to mouth along the harsh curve of Cobb’s thigh — all wiry muscle and the sharp jut of his tendons — until the other man is shaking with want and drags Din’s face back to his cunt. He wants to watch Cobb fall apart above and around him again and again and again.

“Got you that fruit you like,” Din gasps, revelling in full-throated purr his words elicit from Cobb. His hips twitch, his cock hardening once more now free from the confines of his armour. It rested against his thigh, hot and heavy, leaving tacky smears against his dark hairs.

“You’re so good to me.” Cobb cuts himself with a groan, low and full-throated, and Din can just make out the gentle wet sound as Cobb presses his fingers into himself, the crooked digits curling further to press into his heat. “Gonna have me as round as Arda if you get your way, and she’s having the twins.”

Din’s groan tears from his throat, surprising him with it’s intensity as heat burns through his stomach. He isn’t coming, the ring around his base stops that, but he can feel the wave rise within him, towering and unstoppable.

“Oh?” Cobb’s grin is clear in his voice before he continues, clearer and louder than before, the static buzz around his words missing. “You like that thought?”

Din nods helpless, his mouth falling open in a wet gasp. His nails bite into the arms of the chair as his hips roll, seeking any form of friction. It hadn’t been something he had considered before even if he was painfully aware of the Mandalorian stereotypes when it came to taking in foundlings. Now that Cobb had raised it, he couldn’t pull his thoughts away from burying himself inside Cobb and watching it take root, seeing his belly swell and knowing it was because of him.

“Don’t want to—”

Cobb cut him off, clicking his tongue in the same manner he used to settle the banthas. “If I was uncomfortable with it, love, I wouldn’t have brought it up. Okay? A baby in me isn’t going to make me any less of a man.

“I’m good with talking you over the edge with this, if you want to try?”

“Can we talk about it when I’m back?”

“Of course.”

Din settled back into his seat with a sigh, the new knowledge settling across his shoulders and only adding to the bite of pleasure in his chest. “‘M ready.”

The rustling of fabric echoed down the comm, before the familiar slick sound of fingers pressing into Cobb flowed forth.

“Doing such a good job keeping yourself ready and waiting for me.” Cobb’s words are broken and ragged. Din can picture him, his heels bracing against the bed as his hips press against his fingers, the slick running down his wrist. The tendons in his thighs would lock, the uneven muscle cut through by scar tissue, before he would settle after his peak, only to continue, until he was trembling and exhausted. He was beautiful normally, but when he was blissed out and liquid, he was even more stunning.

“What are you doing now?” Din’s voice was harsh, cutting through the air. He wanted to touch himself, but Cobb had him transfixed.

“Fucking myself on my fingers. It’s not enough. It’s not the same as you.” Cobb groans, the sound twisting through a familiar edge that Din knows means he’s close. “When you get back, I’m going to ride you until my ankle heals up. Touch yourself.”

Din is moving before Cobb’s words catch up to him, his fingers curling around his cock and he is lost, pleasure burning through him. He is aware, dimly, as if listening from a thousand miles away, that he is speaking, pleas and praise falling from his lips. His peak comes suddenly, crashing into him like a punch, but it is hollow, falling short from quelling the unstoppable fire in his belly. Cobb gasps as he comes, the sudden silence as his breath cuts off as loud as a shout.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Din trails his fingers down his sweat-soaked thigh, listening to Cobb breathe. He is still hard, the ring cutting off his orgasm once more. “I’ll be home soon.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

#dincobb #cobbdin #din djarin #cobb vanth #the mandalorian #lemon #nsft #trans cobb #my writing

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dnarez · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4 - The Book

Keigo woke up with the sun on his face, as he looked at the other side of the bed he noticed that (Y/n) wasn't on the bed anymore.

He sat up, now with the daylight coming in through the windows he could see how comfortable the small house really was, even if it wasn't so clean.

(this one was the closest from what I was imagining)

When he was about to get up the front door opened, and he smiled brightly when he saw his caretaker, but also his nee-san.

She looked at him and smiled back while coming closer. "Good morning baby bird, would you like some breakfast?"

Keigo eagerly nodded and raised his hands for her to pic him up.

She chuckled at his child action, since he was so serious when they arrived.

(Y/n) was happy that he was warming up to her so fast.

'He must have been starved for affection' she picked him up and went out of her small house. "Since you are okay with everything, but malnutrition, you can start your classes today, we will begin with the basics, how old are you baby bird? "

Keigo blushed at the new nickname "I am 5 years old"

"Do you know how to write or how to read?" (Y/n) set him down on the balcony, so she could cook without a problem.

"I kinda know how to read, but I don't know how to write"

"No can do baby bird! You need to be smart to be a hero, but don't worry, we have a long way to go"

He nodded and watches as she makes some pancakes and some waffles.

"Your mother went out to buy clothing, so it will be just the two of us"

Keigo nodded again.

"Since you have eaten so little food I decided that you now have to discover what you wanna eat, okay?"

"Okay!"

Y/n puts two plates in front of him. "This here are pancakes, they are really soft and fluffy" she points at the plate with pancakes "and those are waffles! Crispy and soft inside, both go well with jam, honey and fruits, you can pick one of them, and we go eat at the dinner table"

Keigo nods and thinks hard about which one he wants "c-can I have both?" He looked at her hopeful

"Of course! But that's too much food for you, would you be okay with sharing with me?" She takes the two plates and put them on the table.

"Yeah! No problem" He got on the chair in front of the plate and watched her putting half of the waffle with half of the pancakes.

"Tell me which one do you prefer, okay?" Y/n sat beside him and ate her food.

But when Keigo took a first bite of his the pancakes he was mesmerized, she chuckled at his reaction and keep watching him.

He then tried the waffles and nodded with a smile, Keigo points at the waffles and says "I like this one better!"

"Oh! Okay, from now on you can choose what you want for breakfast, but only for a bit, since you are anorexic, but when you get better you will start a healthy diet, but don't worry, everything will be super tasty" Y/n smiled and petted his hair

He nodded and got back to eating.

After they ate and cleaned the kitchen Y/n gave him on some new clothes, which he put it on, now they were ready to start studying.

On the same office Keigo had found the day before was the place where he would learn more.

"Please sit down, we will start with the basic" Y/n gave him a note book, a pencil, a sharpener and an eraser.

He sat down and took the pencil in hand.

After going through her clothes she put a children's book on his table.

"First we will do some reading since you already know how to do it, then we will do the ABC"

(I know it's kanji, katakana and hiragana for Japan, but since I don't know he will be learning English as his main language)

"Now, please read the story to me" she sat down on the floor next to his chair.

Keigo nodded and started reading "Once u-upon a t-t-t-..."

(if it's like this then it's the story they are reading.)

"time" she whispered to him

"Once upon a time! There. was. a. p-p-poor. girl" The image showed a girl with a dead body covered by a sheet and a small flower on top of it, besides her. "She. was. so. p-p-p-poor. that. she. co-coul-could-...."

"couldn't"

"couldn't. afford. her. mother's. fu-fu-fu.ne.ral, nee-chan what's a fu.ne.ral?"

"It's a ceremony that we do to mourn the loved ones that died. You are doing a good job" she pets him "keep going"

"H-her. mo-ther's. bo-dy. rot-ted. besss... besiiiiii- be-si-de. her, what is rotted?"

"You know when you eat an apple and after some time it gets all brown and icky?"

He nodded.

"What is happening to the apple, is that she is rotting, everything that is alive rotten when dead, you can take a break now, I will read it to you, here have some water" she took the book and gave him water bottled.

Keigo got down from the chair and sat on her lap, drinking the clear water happily.

"With only rain water to drink, it was hard to know when she was going to drink clean water again, the food that her mother had left on the fridge before dying was rotten, and even so, since she was hungry and had no other option, she ate it, even if the little girl knew that she would get sick, because even if she was sick, she still had a life to live, even if it wasn't a healthy life"

"Oh no! I never had to eat rotten stuff... she needs a hero!"

Y/n chuckled and nodded "Let's see what else happens"

"After all the food was gone, and her mother's body was stinking so bad that she gagged even staying inside the house, the little girl decided to no longer live there, she knew that outside wasn't as good as the inside, but at least she wouldn't be besides her rotten mother."

"Me and mom had to live in the streets too... I hope that someone helps her like they did to us..."

"You got this chance on your on Keigo, you made the commission look your way, you deserve being taken care of, and you deserve having a chance to become a hero. They didn't take in a random kid, they took in Takami Keigo, a future pro hero, this wasn't charity, you did this on your own"

He looked at her and looked back at the book thinking, but nodded showing that he understood.

"The nameless girl sat on the floor and waited for anyone to throughout any kind of food, passing day and night going through a lot of trashcans until a teen took notice of the small kid on the alleyway when he was walking home, the boy had shoulder length black hair, and black eyes, getting closer to the small girl he kneeled in front of her.

The nameless girl took a few steps back, afraid of being yelled at or punched again.

"Hi" said the boy, but the girl didn't answer, she was ready to run away at any second. "You look hungry, would you like some food?" the girl was famished, she hadn't found anything big to eat in 2 weeks, only eating small bits of what she found."

"He looks evil!" Keigo looked at the drawing of the teen.

She chuckled at that "He does, doesn't he?" Y/n smiled fondly at the drawing "but not everyone that look scary is evil"

"Like Endevour?"

She nodded "like Endevour, now back to the story"

"She knew not to trust strangers, so she keeps herself away from him, but nodded indicating that she indeed was hungry.

"Here, it's not much, but I think you will like it" the teen wanted to give her a curry bun, but she refused to get close to him, he sighed and put the wrapped bun on the floor "I have to go, but I hope to see you tomorrow" the black haired boy got up and went outside the alleyway not looking back.

When his steps couldn't be heard the girl got close to the bun, she cried while eating it, it was delicious."

Y/n closed the book "Now we will practice some writing"

"But we didn't finish it! I want to know if they are going to see each other again!" Keigo whined trying to convince her to keep reading.

"Since you only read a little I only read a little, when you can read better we will read more of it.

He sighed defeated, knowing that he couldn't change her opinion, but it only made him more determinated to be better at reading, to be able to read more, and know what happens to the nameless girl.

.....................................................................

Yoh, hope you are enjoying it <3

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“The New Queen” Negan x F!Reader

GIF CREDIT: https://gph.is/g/4be0J8L

REQUEST: From anonymous: “ Can you do a negan imagine where the reader was his real wife before the walkers came and after he starts getting more wives and kinda forgets the reader, she leaves in the middle of the night. Then maybe a year later negan finds out about another community and tries to take their stuff but he and the saviors get captured and they find out that the reader is the leader?” YUP.

Word Count: 3324

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “What The Water Gave Me” by Florence + The Machine

Note: Thank you for the prompt, just a short little stand alone one shot.

-----

This was the fourth night in a row that you slept alone.

Your hand found the empty space next to you, your nails clawing at the cool fabric. Negan was out once again, most likely with one of them. You knew the other wives were all a part of his tactic to keep his control over the Sanctuary. Just as his brazen actions were on the day you and your husband had stormed the factory and taken control in the first place.

You ignored the bloody bodies that littered the floor of the old building as he walked among his new followers. Occasionally he would look back at you with that damn smile of his and regardless of the things he did, it never failed to make you melt.

However, that was when you were considered his equal, his queen, the only woman for him.

Now, you didn’t know where you stood. Half the time you didn’t see Negan. Your husband was always with Simon or Dwight or Arat planning something horrible or looking for more communities to torture. You had overheard Dwight talking to someone about a new place.

Crouched in a dark corner you listened as Dwight recounted what had happened. They had killed all the men, even the boys. Your stomach twisted in on itself. Negan couldn’t have known about that, right? He had rules. Then again, everyone was Negan and his Saviors never did anything without his knowledge. Disgust turned to anger and it was then that you realized that something had to change if you were going to continue to be by Negan’s side.

As night turned to morning, the door to your bedroom finally opened. You stood by the window watching the Sanctuary wake up for the day, your back turned to him. “Long night?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the rising sun. Negan sighed, collapsing into a chair by the bed.

“You know me, doll, always workin’,” he said, leaning back. You turned to him and your stomach recoiled at the sight of his mussed shirt and tousled hair. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. “You’re doing it again,” Negan said.

“Doing what?” you asked, exasperated.

“Looking at me like I killed your childhood pet,” he said, rubbing a hand over his cheeks.

“I’m just tired, Negan,” you said. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“You gotta get out more, (Y/N),” he said, “Get some sun on your back again. Can’t have you going all distant on me, can I?” Negan got up and approached you, his fingers going under your chin to lift your face to his. He leaned in kissed your lips, but you felt nothing. When he pulled back you could smell perfume and you instantly recognized it as Frankie’s.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. Negan grinned at you and then turned to strip off his shirt and grab a new one. You watched as he went around your bedroom getting ready for the day. When he went to pick up that damn bat of his, you turned away again.

“Might be another long night, doll,” Negan said, “Don’t wait up!” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the room.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered to yourself, “I won’t.”

-------

That night you didn’t sleep.

You grabbed enough supplies to get you through at least a week out in the world as well as a couple of weapons you knew Negan kept hidden in the room. As you put everything in your backpack, you glanced down at your left hand. The diamond ring sat proudly on your finger just as it had since he had asked you to be his wife before the world turned to shit.

You twisted it off and placed it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. You then took out the knife he had gifted you on your first night at the Sanctuary. You stabbed the blade into the wood next to the ring. You couldn’t do it anymore. It was all too much. The blood, the women, the kneeling… he was no longer Negan. At least not the Negan you fell in love with.

Grabbing your bag, you snuck out of the room. You couldn’t help but laugh at the lack of security outside of your bedroom. You figured he probably had his men watching over the new wives now. The thought only made you move faster through the corridors of the factory.

You, of course, knew all the checkpoints throughout the place as you were the one to help establish them, especially the watch points. You had been a professor before everything had happened and your concentration was the history of warfare in past civilizations. You figured that was one of the only reasons Negan still kept you around.

Sneaking through the dark halls, you finally made it outside. The snipers on the North side were screwing around as usual so when you passed through their sights, no alarm was sounded. The wall of the Dead and their groans pierced through the night. Tossing your jacket over the top of the fence, you got over the barbed wire and hit the ground, the moans around you hiding the sound of your boots. You moved through the decaying bodies, taking out a few as you headed for the road at the edge of the Sanctuary.

Slipping over the final fence, you turned to look at the building that had once been your home but turned into your tomb. You were already imagining Negan’s reaction of finding you gone and your ring and knife on the table. You liked to think that maybe he would look for you or even cry in your absence, but knowing the new man he had become, he would probably just go and comfort himself with one of his new whores. He might even get a new one to replace you.

Taking one last look, you headed North in hopes of finding a new beginning and prayed you’d never see your husband again.

-----

2 YEARS LATER

A knock at the door to your office had you looking up from the weapon you were sharpening.

“Come in,” you called. The door pushed open and your second-in-command, Ari, stood in the threshold. “What is it? You have that look on your face.”

“What look?” she asked.

“The look that says shit is about to hit the fan,” you offered. Ari chuckled.

“Got some news, boss. Looks like some kind of caravan is moving along the Southern border,” Ari told you.

“Hostile?” you asked.

“Possibly. They have some pretty big armored trucks and Danny already took out two scouts.”

“Dead?” Ari nodded.

“They had weapons, wouldn’t say who they were,” Ari said, “He didn’t want to take any chances.”

“No, that’s good,” you said, “I don’t want to take any chances either. Not after what happened with the Rangers.” Ari nodded in agreement. When the group who called themselves the Rangers had attacked the Parthenon, the community you now controlled, you swore that nobody would be coming into your land unless you gave the green light.

“Orders?” Ari asked. You looked down at the blade on the table before you, the matching one was already slung over your shoulder.

“If they come to the gates,” You look at Ari with a small devious smile, “take them.”

The caravan indeed arrived at the gates of the Parthenon not long after their scouts were killed. Ari radioed to you and you met them at the front. Your people passed you, nodding respectfully at the woman they called “Athena”. You didn’t like the nickname, but you never corrected them except when it came to your inner circle. It also gave you the illusion of anonymity when it came to your enemies.

After escaping the Sanctuary, you had walked for days. When the water had run dry and you were close to starving, you had found the Parthenon. You named it that due to the old greek columns that stood at the front of the old plaza. Survivors were already there, fighting to stay alive. They had offered you food and a place to sleep. It was there that you met Ari, Danny, and a few others. They had already begun to fortify the area with fences, but you challenged them to think bigger and so you got to work.

Two years later and the Parthenon was fortified, armed, and a flourishing community that elected you as the leader. Nobody went hungry, nobody was forced to stay or go, and nobody kneeled. The original Parthenon in Greece was the temple of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war strategy. You figured it was a sign, as did Ari, which is where your flamboyant nickname arose.

At this moment, however, it came in handy. Ari stood at the watch post above the steel gates that sat between the largest columns. The roar of the trucks stopped before your front door and Ari, trained her gun down on the caravan. “You have one chance at turning around assholes!” Ari yelled down to the anonymous people at your gates.

“Oh come on! We’re here to make friends, Darlin’!” The world rocked beneath your feet at the voice. It had been two years, but you would never forget his voice. Not his, not ever. You grabbed your walkie immediately.

“Take them now, Ari! Right now!” you yelled. Ari wasted no time in giving the signal. Your people, the warriors you had trained, came out of their hiding spots both inside the walls and outside. Shouts of surprise echoed across the group. Gunshots went off and curses were thrown, but soon, everything settled. Ari looked to you as you approached the front gates.

“More blood will be spilled if you try anything in the presence of Athena,” Danny warned who was on the opposite side of Ari.

“Who the fuck is Athena?” Your teeth gritted as he spoke again, fueling your rage and the sadness that pooled in your chest. You looked to Maxon and Conrad who were the sentries at the gate.

“Open it,” you ordered. They nodded and took a handle each. Ari and Danny dropped down from their posts and flanked either side of you as the gates were pulled open. Before you were around twenty men and women. Each one had two of yours behind them, guns pressed to their heads as they kneeled before you. A man to the left was the first to recognize you.

“Holy hell,” he said and you turned to look at him with a small smile.

“Hello Simon,” you greeted the Savior. Arat was next to him who looked at you in complete shock. You then turned to the man of the hour. Negan kneeled before you as you approached him. He stared at you as if he was seeing a ghost. In front of him lay that damn bat and you could see that it had a lot more bloodstains on it since the last time you had seen the wretched thing.

Stopping in front of him, you leaned down and picked up Lucille. He didn’t say a thing as you held her. You turned the bat over in your hands before swinging it up onto your shoulder and smiling at him for the first time. “(Y/N)?” he gasped.

“Hi, honey.”

-----

It took five of your men to bring Negan into the holding cell.

Once he snapped out of his daze, he became angry again. He struggled against your enforcers as you led them into the jail. It was a small building on the edge of the community that you rarely used anymore. It was usually only used as a Drunk Tank for when Danny went on a run and brought back some whiskey or when you caught him with his moonshine business. The latter wasn’t all that bad as you still had a few jars stashed under your bed.

Your men hauled Negan into the cell and held him down while Danny attached the chains, securing him. Ari approached you as you stood in the corner of the small cage, watching him. “His men and women are being held in the stables, we have their weapons.”

“Check the trucks, take everything,” you ordered. Ari furrowed her brow. You weren’t plunderers, but these were no normal hostiles. “Trust me.” Ari nodded and then ordered everyone out to start raiding the Savior trucks. As soon as the cell door banged behind you, you stepped from the shadows.

You slowly circled Negan like a shark after prey. Lucille was still on your shoulder, the bat named for his first wife, the one he left for you. “I forgot how heavy she was,” you said as you came around to face him again. You swung Lucille around, testing out a few strikes. “You always made it look so easy.”

“(Y/N)...” he began.

“No!” you shouted, slamming Lucille against the bars behind you. “You don’t talk, you listen.” He glared at you, fighting his restraints. “You never stopped, did you? You’re still scaring people into submission and killing them when they defy you. All because you want their shit,” you said, stepping closer to him. “And to think I thought you would change in the years after I left. Tell me, Negan, how are your whores?”

“I thought you were dead,” he said and you stepped back, placing Lucille on the ground, leaning on the end of it.

“No, but I have a feeling I would be if I stayed in that place,” you said. “When did you notice I was gone? The next day? Or was it one of your sheep that discovered my absence?”

“You mean how we slaughtered people so you could play king to a bunch of idiots that feared you? No, Negan, we didn’t do anything. I just followed you like a scared little girl, but I think we both know I couldn’t do that forever.”

“I found the ring in the morning,” he told you. “Why did you leave after everything we went through?”

“So you left because you were scared?” he asked. You laughed, shaking your head.

“No, I left because I was sick of being just another one of your toys. You changed Negan and not for the better. You started this whole...empire and left me in the dust. Did you ever think about what would happen when you started taking other women to bed? Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised, I was the one who you screwed while still married to Lucille.” The mention of his ex-wife made his eyes flare in anger. “We both know that no matter how much I loved you, you were not a good man.”

“So you became Athena,” he sneered. You shrugged and started to pace again, Lucille dragging behind you.

“I didn’t pick the nickname, but yeah, I guess I did. You did tell me I needed to get out more,” you joked. Looking back over at him, there seemed to be something on his mind besides this impromptu reunion. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Negan?” you asked.

“Why would you care?” he asked. You shrugged.

“Call me curious.” he thought about it for a moment before leaning back, the chains on his legs rattling.

“Dwighty boy snuck out with his wife and sister-in-law,” Negan said. You let out a laugh.

“Ah, so the little bird finally left the nest?” You sighed, “I can’t say I’m surprised, he hated you. I’m surprised he didn’t do it sooner.”

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, his voice rising.

“You did!” You hollered, throwing the bat down and crossing over to him, getting in his face. “You became a monster, Negan! The man I loved, the man I married, the one I promised to always stand by became something out of a nightmare. You left me behind when you took the Sanctuary and you never looked back. I was lucky if I got five minutes with you on a good day and that was only if your wives weren’t in the mood for your bullshit. You wanna know why I left? It’s because you left me first!” You pushed him back, taking a few steps back.

“So this is all my fault? You were too unhappy and instead of coming to me, you take off in the middle of the night and I have to spend my resources and time looking for you!”

“Like you actually cared! You had the rest of them! You had your fucking kingdom and I was sick of waiting for the guillotine to come down on my head because you were bored of me, Negan!”

“Is that was you honestly think of me?” he asked, shocked. “(Y/N), I left Lucille for you! I made sure you survived when the world went to shit! I took the Sanctuary for you!”

“I never asked you to!” you screamed. “I never asked you to become a killer, a looter, a king! I just wanted you, Negan! I thought we would be taking on this world together just as we did with everything else. But I guess you had different plans and apparently I wasn’t a part of them.”

“Goddammit, you are still so fucking clueless!” he yelled.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Oh, please enlighten me then,” you challenged.

“I never cared about them, the others,” he said, “Hell, they were always just for show, to keep their families in line. Yeah, I may have given in to a few temptations here and there, but shit woman, I didn’t love them. I didn’t even like them! You are who I love! Did you ever notice that you were never under heavy watch? That nobody followed you or got in your face? That’s because I trusted you, I saw you as an equal, not just my wife.”

“You had a shit way of showing it,” you spat back.

“Please, (Y/N), I love you and I…” he trailed off.

“What?”

“I got rid of them, the other women,” he said, “I let them go after you left.” You crossed your arms.

“Why?”

“Because what was the point? Not like I gave a shit about anyone but you. You were all I had left and then you… Jesus, how do I make it up to you?” You laughed, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“You think all this,” you gestured around you, “is some kind of reconciliation discussion? That we were going to kiss and make up? You really don’t think I haven’t been keeping up with what you and your Saviors have been up to?”

“So what? Are you going to kill me?”

“No, Negan, I’m not going to kill you,” you said softly as you leaned towards him, placing your hands on his thighs. “You’re my guest and will continue to be until I decide otherwise.” Negan looked in your eyes, your breath mingling with his.

“You can’t keep me here. What about my men?” Negan asked. You smiled.

“Well according to them and you, they’re all Negan. They stay too,” you said, grinning wider as he sneered. “Cheer up, Doll,” you said, giving him the old nickname he used to call you, “nobody is going to die. People are a resource, remember?”

“What happened to you?” he asked again quietly. You leaned closer, placing your lips at his ear.

“I stopped taking shit lying down,” you whispered to him. Leaning back, you looked him over again. “You came here to place me and my people under your boot, but it looks like your my bitch now.”

“(Y/N), please,” he rasped out.

“Face it, baby, you lost,” you said with a sweet smile. “Now,” you said, picking up Lucille and placing her back on your shoulder. “Are you going to kneel for your new Queen?”

Note: What? Ya’ll didn’t think she’d go back to him, did you?

#the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead imagine #twd imagines #twd #negan imagine #reader x negan #badass reader #reader insert #negan x you #walkerwords #au #negans wife

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Two New AUs (Loud House & Amphibia)

Today I am rolling out two new AUs for all you folks looking for something to help fill the hole in your lives that only inspiration can! ...That was too over the top and I apologize for it. First off, my Loud House AU, Ring Me Up!

Did somebody call for a hero!? I had an idea for DC Crossover with The Loud House, and I was hoping to share it with everyone. Has anyone heard of the H-Dial? Not to worry for those who haven't, as I will explain! The H-Dial, also called the Hero Dial, is a device that allows someone to tap into a location known as the Hero-Verse, a dimension where every possible superhero that ever was, is, or will be, no matter how improbable, is connected. By dialing HERO, the wielder of the H-Dial can turn into any hero throughout the Multi-Verse! But it's totally random, so you can get either something totally amazing, or incredibly bizarre, and the second is far more likely unfortunately. Enter Lincoln Loud, a seemingly ordinary boy with a less than ordinary family who find the H-Dial. The version he finds is a bit different, as it is an experimental proof-of-concept with an unusual nature; rather than turn the wielder into a hero, it turns someone close to the wielder into one instead! To use it, Lincoln enters HERO into the Dial, and then presses a number. 1: The Determined, heroes with nothing special to them, with either very weak powers or none at all, they became heroes due to the hard work they put in and nothing less. The avatar of this number is Lori. 2: The Gentle, heroes whose greatest strength isn't their powers, but rather their compassion and connection with others, they will reach out to save anyone, even a villain. The avatar of this number is Leni. 3: The Gifted, heroes who were lost in life, without purpose or direction, until something or someone not only inspired them to be more, but gave them the ability to do it. The avatar of this number is Luna. 4: The Manic, heroes who don't always fit in to society, filled with boundless energy, and a though process that is absolutely unique. The avatar of this number is Luan. 5: The Mighty, heroes of strength and prowess, the ferocity within them can never be restrained, whether for good or ill, they invariably have powers that either let them hit, or be hit, harder and longer. The avatar of this number is Lynn. 6: The Tired, heroes who are not accepted by society, defined by the suffering they have endured, they constantly walk the border between the light and the dark. The avatar of this number is Lucy. 7: The Wild, heroes of nature, they aren't afraid to get rough and tumble, and thrive off of what most civilized folks struggle with. The avatar of this number is Lana. 8: The Elegent, heroes who have it all, grace, beauty, power, they constantly battle the temptation to do bad with all that they have, as beneath their beauty lies something twisted. The avatar of this number is Lola. 9: The Brilliant, heroes defined by their minds, who dedicated themselves to using their gifts not just to benefit mankind in the long-term, but the here-and-now as well. The avatar of this number is Lisa. 0: The Future, heroes who embody all the hopes and dreams of a brighter tomorrow, who have walked to the abyss and seen not horror, but unrealized potential and beauty. The avatar of this number is Lily. What do you all think? The above AU requires no hard knowledge of DC Comics, as the only element from DC is the H-Dial, one of the most obscure relics of power in all of DCU Publishing History!

The next AU is for Amphibia, and is what I like to call, Alone Together. Note: This is meant to be a Superhero Reconstruction AU, in which the idea is to breakdown the premise and uplifting notions of comic books heroes, and then build them back up. Here we GO!!! Also, the name of the AU is Gifted Calamities.

Long ago, the Outer Rulers were, well, bored. They had existed for so long, experienced so much, that they struggled to find anything to break the monotony of their immortal existence; it would not be wrong to say that they had been driven mad from boredom!! Yet, soon, they came across a world, just starting to fill with life, and thought of an idea. They had experienced so much, why not make something instead? Falling to the world, which had only just started developing its civilizations, they came upon its people, the humans. With mischief and intrigue within whatever counted for them as hearts, they blessed upon the simple race three gifts: Wisdom, Strength, and Heart. With the seeds of their entertainment planted, the Outer Rulers vanished, eager to see what fruits would bloom under the labor of their unknowing pawns.

As humanity found the Three Gifts, they were enthralled; with Wisdom, no knowledge was beyond their understanding, with Strength, no feat was too daring to accomplish, and with Heart, no soul was beyond salvation. But as with all power, there came those who coveted it for themselves and themselves alone; the Order of the Hungry Beast. This ancient brotherhood found the power as enthralling as their brethren, yet where the others saw beauty, they saw only their most depraved wants and whims come to life. With Wisdom, no scheme could fail, with Strength, no nation could not be conquered, and with Heart, no soul could not fall under their sway. As the Order grew in influence, they encroached upon the Gifts, drawing them deeper and deeper into their clutches. Yet, one day, a young nomad, gifted in the ways of Heart, came upon them in the dead of night, as they schemed to kill the village that held the Gifts and seize them for themselves. Horrified, the nomad, roared in alarm, her furious shriek rousing the village to action. Coming in droves, the humble village, tasked for all these years with guarding the Three Gifts, stormed outward, horrified to see that the members of the Order, those they called brother, sister, mother, father, son, and daughter, were plotting against them.

A great clash rocked the land as the Order of the Beast and the Villagers, headed by the young Nomad, battled to decide once and for all how the power of the Gifts would be used; would they be gifts of wonder, bringing humanity closer together, or gifts of strife, driving humanity against one another in eternal darkness? As more and more members of each side fell, the Nomad looked on in sorrow; for every one of the Order who were taken, three or more of the villagers were lost. It was a battle of attrition, one that they were losing! What could be done? Yet, over the din and cacophony of battle, the Nomad could here two fierce cheers; the young inventress, barred from the conflict due to a broken leg, and the chief guard’s apprentice, who volunteered to protect the children, both yelling to the heavens: “Don’t give up. You haven’t lost. You can still win. We believe you will win, so win!” As the Nomad, heard them cheer, her heart filling with joy and resolve, something... sparked.

Just as the feeling came, it quelled at the sight of two soldiers from the Order rushed the cheering onlookers, hell-bent on silencing their voices that bolstered the hearts and resolve of the Villagers. As her heart filled with dread at the no doubt bloody sight to come, the Nomad reached out, screams of warning resting on her lips, only to fall silent as the two cheering onlookers sprung into action; the injured inventor pulled a peculiar apparatus, and launched a bolt of sharpened wood into the soldier nearest to her, and apprentice guard sprung into action, crashing down onto the hapless enemy with a fierce grin. Both turned to the Nomad, seemingly seeing her across the carnage and chaos of the battle field, and nodded. As the spark once more burned into her heart, the Nomad turned to the oncoming hoard of Soldiers and said this: “You may rage and struggle, lash out and torment with your cruelty and selfishness all you like. But you will never win. Not because we are stronger than you, that we are more than you, but because, unlike you, we have not forgotten the first Gift humanity ever had. The Gift of HOPE!” With a roar, hearts filled with the Hope burning through the Nomad’s cry, the Villagers, resolve honed into an unstoppable force, leapt into the final clash.

It was over. The Villagers had one. With the final rally of the Nomad, they pulled together the strength to break and scatter the cowardly Order. Yet, in the end, the victory was bitter-sweet. The Nomad, a kind stranger who none knew the name of, had fallen in battle, the corpse of the Order’s leader cooling beneath her. The apprentice guard, so full of life and fire that drew all into her orbit, died standing, guarding the door to the children held within, the corpses of all who tried to cross the threshold piled around her, unwavering in her duty even in her death. The inventor, heedless of her injuries, had lured a platoon that had broken into the Hold into her workshop, and collapsed it all around them, a defiant smile beaming across her face. As the Villagers took stock of the ones who had given so much for them, a noble stranger who could’ve left them to their fate, an absent-minded inventor who constantly worried the village with her studies sacrificed her prized inventions, that which she held more sacred than even her own life, to fell the enemy, and the young guard who went above and beyond her duty for those she loved, they knew what must be done. Taking the Three Gifts and the bodies of their three heroes, the Villagers committed all to fire, both to honor those who gave them their future, and to keep the Gifts from EVER falling into the hands of the Order and their selfish crusade. The Gifts were destroyed, the heroes bodies lost. All they had to do was pick up the pieces.

Thousands of years have passed, and a new era has dawned. The Gifts have returned, as has the order. The only question is: what happens now?

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

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What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.12

a/n: it begins >:)

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi @oikawalmart-hq @extrasugafree @bbykiyoomi @apricotjihyo @awings @simpformiya @sayakaaaaaa @colorseeingchick @demursv1ogs @chrisrue15 @beanst0ck @something-that-idk (i have no idea why i can’t tag some of you :( huhu )

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 13

Time flew by so fast in this dimension. Now that you were well adjusted and loving the new life here, it had not dawned on you that 7 months had already passed. Things were moving smoothly and pleasantly.

“Here you go.” Akaashi handed you a snack bar. The two of you (well maybe three if Bokuto is included) were practically inseparable. The team had finally managed to pin the both of you down and confirm that you two were indeed dating. “Did you sleep well?”

Walking to school was still a thing both of you did. Except this time, fingers were intertwined and barely any distance between the both of you. The only time you two let go was when the school gates were near. Still, walking down the hallways, Akaashi made sure to always brush his fingers with yours.

“I did!” You pulled him in to kiss his cheek. The small smile he gave you still made your stomach butterflies flutter. “I did have a weird dream last night. You and Bokuto-san switched personalities. Seeing you do his ‘HEY HEY HEY’ was just so wrong on all levels.”

“Is there a quirk that can do that?”

At this point in time, you barely relied on your quirk. The feeling of accomplishing things without it’s aid was much more satisfying. Of course, Akaashi still reaped its healing benefits and took note of how his stamina had improved.

“High chances. If we can have a washing machine as a pro-hero, then there’s bound to be a quirk swapping quirk.”

“A washing machine?” He brushed his thumb on the corner of your lip to wipe off a crumb. “Even now, your world still surprises me.”

“It’s great if you hear it.” Leaning on his shoulder, you tightened your hold on his hand. “Living in it is a completely different story. It’s been, what, 7 months since I arrived here and I am more than content with not having to rely on my quirk.”

“What about your combat skills? Shouldn’t you still be sharpening them?”

“I wish I could.” That was true, though. “I’m pretty much useless at 30%. Even if I wanted to lift boulders or shit, I have to maintain at least 40%. The difference is small but the output is huge. I don’t get my quirk’s logic.”

“Well, it’s still early.” The gates were now in sight but he refused to let go of your hand. “I’m pretty sure you can work on your quirk. The others won’t arrive within 30 minutes.”

“It’s been 5 months and you’re still curious to see how I fight?” You giggled.

“Yes.” He nodded. “If my girlfriend trained to be a hero, I’d love to see how you move.”

“Well, you made that sound sexy~” You nudged his elbow. “Think we can have a little action before we head to the gym?”

“It’s 6:30am, (y/n). It’s too early for that.” He teased. Yet his steps were a little faster than before. “But, I guess I can’t oppose the idea.”

The next thing you knew, your back hit the wall as Akaashi hungrily kissed you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers found themselves coming through his hair. Pinning you even more, Akaashi’s hand undid your ribbon and unbuttoned the first two. Letting go of your lips, he trailed kisses from your cheek down to the crook of your neck.

As he was softly sucking on your skin, you loosened his tie and undid the two buttons as well. Tugging his hair, you were face to face with him again. Lust filled eyes staring back into yours. Leaning in, you gently kissed his lips before returning the favor. Activating your quirk, Akaashi felt his feet leave the ground. Knowing what you were about to do, he could feel you turning the both of you around.

Skillfully placing the both of you on the floor, Akaashi leaned on the wall as his hands began to roam higher and higher up your skirt. Having you straddle him this early in the morning was rather pleasant in all aspects. Tilting his head a bit, he gave you much easier access and felt you sucking on his skin a little harsher this time.

“Make sure it’s hidden under the collar.” He managed to whisper. Hickeys were a common thing to have both your bodies. He smirked at how your only response was a nod.

Caressing your cheek, he admired the way your face glowed even more. Pulling you in softly for another kiss, he felt his stomach fluttering when you smiled.

“We should probably head to the lockers now.”

“Fine.”

“We can continue this in my room later.” He whispered before kissing you deeply.

“Counting the hours~”

Moments later, you were now pumping air into some volleyballs. Morning practice for today would only take an hour so there was plenty of time to freshen up before the homeroom. Now that the gym was packed with your boys, you rolled out the volleyball cart and positioned it beside the net.

Everyone was now used to having you as a ball girl. In fact, some of them even tried to challenge you by purposely hitting the ball too hard or too low. With your hero training, it was nothing but a walk in the park. You did notice, however, that your body began to sweat a bit more. The after effects of not using your quirk for a long time was showing.

Nothing bad happens, though. Just panting and sweating.

“Aghkaashe!” Bokuto yelled. “Can you and (y/n)-chan help with my math later?”

“I don’t mind. What about you, (y/n)?”

“Sure thing~” You approached your two favorite boys. “Bokuto-senpai, how well did you do on your previous quiz?”

The captain’s golden eyes sparkled.

“HAHAHA! Thanks to you both, I managed to get a 32/50! Whatdya think?!” He punched the air and grinned widely. When the both of you applauded he began to jump up and down while shouting his trademark.

“Calm down, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi tried to stop him from jumping up and down. His friend obeyed and gave a cheeky thumbs up.

“God, I love you both so much~” You giggled at their exchange.

“But you love Ahkaashi more, don’t you (y/n)-chan?” Bokuto added as he shouldered Akaashi. This time, his deadpan face was holding a soft smile.

“Of course!”

When Konoha’s alarm sounded, each of you began to clean up and prepare for the rest of the day. With how often you did it, it had now become second nature to you. Yukie and Kaori even admitted that you adapted much faster than they had anticipated. Once all of you were now freshened up, the gym was locked once more and each player looked forward for the after school practice.

“Exams are approaching.” Akaashi said as he let you step into the classroom first. “Have you prepared your notes?”

“I did. But, you do remember that the subjects you have here are way too easy for me, right?” Placing your bag on your desk, you took a seat and faced Akaashi. “Shall we study in your room or mine?”

“we can take turns.” Now that he was seated, he fished out one of his notebooks and placed it on his desk. Not that it was needed, it merely became one of his habits. Watching as you dragged your chair closer to him, he offered you a pen and flipped the notebook open.

“So, what do you want me to draw?” This had become one of your recent traditions. Before the start of homeroom, Akaashi noticed how you liked to doodle on his notebooks. Deciding that a special one was needed, he took the liberty of buying a blank journal for you to fill with whatever it is you saw fit.

“Hmm, I recall you saying that you designed your own hero costume.” He saw how your eyes lit up. “May i see what it looked like?”

Starting the sketch, you began to draw a figure and dressed it with your costume.

“So, my costume isn’t flashy unlike the others.” You explained. “A quirk like mine doesn’t really need a lot of support items so I went with mobility and comfort. I decided that simplicity was key. Just the normal jacket, shirt, pants, and boots. The only support item I had were my gloves.”

Sketching your gloves, Akaashi couldn’t help but adore just how focused you were. Tucking in a loose strand of hair, he felt the butterflies in his stomach churning once again as the corners of your mouth formed a smile and your cheeks turning a faint hue of pink.

“What do your gloves do?” They looked like standard fingerless gloves.

“The material was specifically designed to aid in manipulating my quirk. It concentrates the energy I release and wraps around my hand. Sorta like a human torch~” It was a bit difficult to explain how it worked knowing you didn’t listen to the man who gave you the item. As long as it aided you, it was fine.

“What were Todoroki-kun’s support items?”

“Shoto’s support items were mostly temperature regulators. Wristbands and a big one he wears like a backpack to help even him out.” You drew his support items rather well.

“Can you try to sketch Todorki-kun’s face?” Letting you draw your friends was something he wasn’t so comfortable with. Not for that reason of course. He merely assumed that it would be a sensitive topic knowing the circumstances of how you arrived in his world. When you giggled, he tilted his head.

“About time you asked~” Beginning to draw your childhood friend, you continued. “I honestly wouldn’t mind drawing my friends for you, ya know? There’s no way I can introduce you to them so sketching them would be the best alternative.”

“I’m sorry.” He held on to your free hand. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfy.”

“You never make me uncomfy. Keiji~”

It was a quick sketch of half and half but a good one. He squinted his eye when he took note of the scar. He had heard of Tokoyami and Mina, but this one merely showed a boy about his age with a nasty burn on his face.

“Shoto’s got one helluva back story.” Your thumb began to brush Akaashi’s knuckles. “That scar was given to him by his mum when he was around 5 or 6 years old. It’s sad but he grew to accept it and is now healing.”

“You were engaged before, right?”

“For a while, yeah.” You handed him back the pen and closed the sketchpad. The bell had now rung and right on time, the teacher entered the room. Just as she was relaying a message, you were rummaging in your bag for a notebook.

“Please introduce yourselves~” The teacher said.

“Bakugo Katsuki”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

- - - - -

a/n: sooo... what yall gonna do now? :’)

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi keiji #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x bnha

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springday-aus · 4 years

Text

SVT’s Wonwoo: Daytime Scares

—

Fic Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus

Moodboard Link: created by Admin Grandpa

Main Characters: Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Jeon Wonwoo

Other Characters: OCs [Ae Jae, Mi Jeong, Yoojin, and Minjae], Chaeyoung (BlackPink), Yongsun (Mamamoo), Seventeen [Seungkwan and Mingyu]

Genre: fluff, romance, comedy, college!Wonwoo

Type: one-shot writing piece

Word Count: approx. 11.6k

Plot Summary: Wonwoo is nothing more than an attractive stranger in your ethics class. You have no relation with him whatsoever, but that changes when you suddenly have a nightmare that he tries to kill you. That’s a whole level of psychoanalyzing you would rather not dive into. But now things get weirder when he’s starting to talk to you.

→ Based on the AU prompt: “I had a dream that you tried to kill me and now I’m scared of you”

Sleepovers typically mean movies, gossip, and face masks. It’s a fun time to be with your friends and it’s good for lowering stress after midterms. The only level of stress here is would be finding a movie to watch—which probably should have been selected beforehand. But, in your defense, it was hard enough to schedule this hang-out; who has the time to actually schedule the activities?

So, right now, you lay comfortably on the carpeted floor of Ae Jae’s studio apartment with Mi Jeong. You two are on your phones, trying to find a movie to watch. Meanwhile, Yoojin scrolls through her laptop—connected to the projector—browsing through her Netflix account.

“What about Hustlers?” Minjae asks.

“I could really use some J.Lo right now,” you say with wiggling eyebrows.

“Ugh, we can all use a little more J.Lo,” Mi Jeong says.

“That movie is too recent,” Yoojin says. “We can’t find that on a streaming site.”

“Hello?” Ae Jae says. “Have you heard of Dailymotion?”

“Do you want me to just pull up one of those illegal websites?” Minjae asks.

Yoojin turns around to face her. “Ma’am, that’s called pirating.”

“Exactly.”

Mi Jeong laughs at them. Yoojin gives her a pointed look, but you all know it’s no bad intentions.

You set your phone down and sit up from your previous position. “Might as well. We can probably browse through the other movies and figure out some other options to choose from.”

“What I’m hearing is,” Ae Jae says, “is that we don’t have to pay to watch these new movies.”

Yoojin rolls her eyes and moves out of the way of her laptop. “I guess we have nothing to lose.”

“No fear of the viruses?” you ask.

“Potato, potato,” Minjae says.

Yoojin shrugs. “Fire away, Minjae.”

You watch her practically jump over from her previous spot to the TV to type in one of her illegal sites, which you may or may not have frequently used—thanks to her. You can only laugh at her antics.

It’s nice to be with your friends again. It’s been a while since you had properly sent time with them. With the assignments and overlapping work schedules, you’ve all kind of distanced yourselves from one another and, with midterms coming up, things were just piling higher. After midterms week finished, when things calmed down, you and your friends aligned your schedules to catch up with one another.

But who knew it would take nearly two hours to figure out what to watch? Granted, one of the flaws within your friend group is the fact that most of your friends (you included) are incredibly indecisive.

As Minjae moves from one page to the next, everyone else silently scans the movies presented in front of them.

“The live-action Lion King is out,” Mi Jeong says. “That could be an option.”

“Hm,” you say. “I’m pretty sure it’s just the same as the original one.”

“It is,” Minjae says. “But we can just put it on a list of things we could watch. We can still look.”

“Let’s just do that,” Yoojin says.

About ten movie pages (and a list of six possible movies to watch) in, Minjae gets into the horror movie section. You tense up from the movie covers—each one making your stomach twist in apprehension. The one thing each one of your friends know is that you get easily scared, which means you dodge horror movies like the plague.

“Oh, what about It: Chapter 2?” Ae Jae asks.

You start to whine, realizing where this is going. “Nooo.”

You’re ignored.

“I still haven’t watched the first one,” Minjae says.

“What?” “That was literally everywhere.” “How did you manage to miss one of the biggest horror movies?”

Minjae shrugs off the questions. “I just never got to it.”

“It’s a good movie,” Mi Jeong says. “Right, (Y/N)?”

You scowl at her. “No, it’s not.”

Yoojin snorts. “You probably didn’t even watch it.”

“Yeah.”

“Since (Y/N) and I haven’t watched it,” Minjae says. “Should we just watch it?”

“NOOO—”

Everyone ignores you.

“Since it’s kind of old,” Ae Jae says. “They’ll probably have it in higher quality.”

“NOOOO—”

“You’re probably right,” Yoojin says. “Oh, 1080hd. That’s fancy.”

“GUYS. IS ANYONE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME?”

“I found it!”

You let out a long sigh, kissing a month’s worth of sleep away. You mumble under your breath. “Guess no one cares about my well being and health.”

You move yourself to properly lay between Mi Jeong and Minjae, throwing another pillow down. All three of you are on the carpeted floor with too many pillows to count. Ae Jae moved herself and now, she lies on her bed with Yoojin. A blanket is placed on your head and shoulders, ready for cover whenever Pennywise’s face appears on the screen.

You’ve never wished for poorer eyesight until now. You will never understand the trolls that found this clown attractive. A shudder runs down your spine, seeing his face flash in the lightning from the sewer. You quickly pull the blanket over your head to erase the image.

You feel a couple of tugs.

Mi Jeong’s pulling on it. “Jesus Christ, it’s just a clown!”

“John Wayne Gacy was just a clown too and he turned out as a murderer. This one just happens to be supernatural!”

Minjae starts to tug down the blanket as well. “Be apart of the friend group!”

“NO!”

A pillow is flung towards you, in courtesy of Yoojin, who yells down at all of you. “Be quiet!”

“I want new friends.”

It’s 3am—you’ve all moved on from It and onto some generic cartoon movie. You were the main advocate for another movie, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrific images Pennywise provided. Mi Jeong and Minjae are both asleep on each side of you—both with pore strips still attached on their noses. Yoojin snores lightly from Ae Jae’s bed, whereas Ae Jae is up with her elbow propping up her head.

“Hey,” she says.

“What?”

“You up?” She gives you a teasing smile.

You roll your eyes at her. “This is your fault. Of course, I’m up.”

“What? You really can’t sleep because of the movie?”

You stare at her, but refuse to actually move. “Believe it or not, terrifying images of a killer clown that’s telling me I’ll float isn’t a good sleeping mechanism.”

She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again, once the words come to her. “They help Mi Jeong sleep.”

“She’s got a different way of thinking.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” Ae Jae says. “Do you just want a melatonin instead?”

You’ve got nothing to lose. “Sure.”

She manages to get up, without waking up Yoojin, and walks over to the bathroom. She opens the cabinet, looks through it, and pulls out her melatonin gummies. She pops the lid open, walks towards you, and hands it over. “Take two and you should be asleep in thirty minutes.”

“Thanks.” You take a couple, as she advises, and hand the jar back to her. You slowly chew on them, keeping your eyes on the screen in front of you. The images start to pass like a blur and you can’t retain what you’ve just watched.

About twenty minutes later, your eyelids start to droop, feeling the melatonin kick in. You begin to feel a bit tired, so you fully close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

You find yourself in a sewer, blindly moving through a lightless tunnel—with no clue as to how you ended up there. It’s dark, you note to yourself, and it smells foul. The muddy water splashes with each step and it rises as you go through, practically filling your boots. There’s a mist as well, blocking nearly half of your sight of the tunnel. You try to squint through the fog, trying to make out what’s ahead.

You’re able to see a small light at the end. As if you had no control over your body, you run towards it—but it never gets any bigger. You can feel your heartbeat pounding against your chest as your legs keep you running.

But then you slip.

You swear you had felt a pull on your leg, but you couldn’t tell due to the murkiness of the water. You end up on your hands, your lower half is soaked, still in the water—you can’t even make out your reflection. You look closer at it, trying to see what could be underneath it. Suddenly, a hand pushes your head down.

The dirty water fills up your nose and you struggle to escape from this person’s hold on you. As you’re submerged, you hear it. The familiar voice, but you can’t pinpoint where you’ve heard it.

“Can you float?”

You freeze, hearing those words.

The hand lets go and you resurface, taking in a deep breath of much needed air. You look up at your tormentor, who looks down at you with a smirk. His teeth are sharpened, shining with the little light of the tunnel. His eyes are dark and long eyelashes curl on top of his eyelids. Raven-black bangs stick to his forehead—from sweat or water—you couldn’t tell. You look up a bit further, spotting the deviled horns on his head.

You put it together.

It’s Wonwoo. But, what’s he doing here?

He tilts his head at you, pitying you as if you were a lost kitten. His lips fully curl from a smirk to a sinister smile. He lowers his head closer to you.

“Can you float?” he asks.

You don’t have the words to answer him; you don’t think you can find any.

He asks again. “Can you float?”

Before you say anything, he shoves your head underneath once more.

It’s been two weeks since the sleepover (and the last time you had proper sleep). Classes have started up again, but you’re already tired. It isn’t even from the goddamned workload (which you are definitely not doing). Since the sleepover, you’ve had the same recurring nightmare over and over. Same place, same face.

Right now, you sit at a table in the dining hall with a single coffee mug that’s already empty. You wait for your friends to arrive at the table, tapping away at your phone, trying to make yourself busy.

“What’s up,” Chaeyoung says. She takes the seat in front of you and sets her plate on the table. She spots the sad coffee mug and looks between it and you, before asking. “Is that all you’re getting?”

You set your phone down. “No, I also had a bowl of ice cream earlier.”

“(Y/N), it’s noon.”

“Sugar means energy.”

She lets out a sigh—not surprised, just disappointed. You would think after knowing you for so long, she would get used to your horrible eating habits. She is your meal buddy after all. She takes a stab at her food. “So how was your mid-semester break?”

“I think we both know that break is a joke.”

“Still.”

“Well, I got to meet up with some of my old friends, spent some time with family—you know, all the good stuff.” You lean on the table with an elbow propped up and a hand underneath your chin. “How was yours?”

“Eh, I did the same thing. It was nice to chill for a bit, but then I remembered how many readings I have to do.”

You force a smile at her. “I haven’t done any of mine.”

She throws her head back with a laugh. You start laughing too, at yourself and at her.

Yongsun comes around to the table. She sets down another cup of coffee for you, which you previously asked for, and her own plate as she sits herself next to you. She looks between you and Chaeyoung. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing really,” you say. “Just talking about how oh-so productive we’ve been since break.”

She gives you a bitter look with regret evident on her face “That break is a joke. I got nothing done either.”

“Glad to know everyone is on the same track.” You take a sip of your coffee.

“No offense,” Chaeyoung says. “But you look really tired. Are you okay?”

Yongsun laughs, nearly choking on her food. “It’s the exams creeping up, that’s why her eye bags are a darker shade.”

Your eyebrows slightly rise. “Not wrong, but doesn’t mean I don’t feel attacked.”

“Are you having trouble sleeping again?” Chaeyoung asks.

Yongsun takes a closer look at you. “You know, now that she’s said something. She’s not wrong. Are you okay?”

You sigh and take another big sip of the coffee. “My friends made me watch It.”

“That’s all?” Chaeyoung asks.

“Kind of.” You set the coffee down and lay your head on the table. “I’ve just been having the same nightmares for a while now and I can’t sleep.”

“What do you see?” Yongsun asks.

“Why? Are you going to psycho-analyze them like you do with the others?” Chaeyoung asks.

“Absolutely.”

“Oh my god.”

“Now,” Yongsun says. She fully turns to you, pointing at you with her spoon. “What happens in your nightmares?”

You hesitate. “The nightmare overall…. it makes sense but there’s a piece that I can’t figure out.”

“What?” Chaeyoung asks. “You know what, just explain the entire dream and we’ll figure it out.”

You scratch the back of your ear, feeling a bit sheepish of the whole thing. “Do you guys know Jeon Wonwoo?”

There’s a silence, but you can practically see them racking their memory for him. You look between them, seeing if either one of them would know him. It’s ideal that they don’t, but if they do, they could probably picture it better.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” Yongsun mutters under her breath. She speaks louder the second time. “That name is so familiar but I can’t pinpoint where.”

Chaeyoung looks confused as well. “I get that. I feel like I know him too.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

You let out a long sigh. “Because my nightmares are essentially him just trying to kill me.” You don’t take notice of Yongsun’s frantic typing on her phone. “I don’t understand why it’s him specifically.”

Chaeyoung hums, nodding along to what you’re saying. “Maybe it’s just a random face from memory—you could have just seen his face and now it’s stuck. Is he ugly or something?”

“He’s in my ethics class,” you say. “And he’s definitely not ugly.”

“So he’s attractive and trying to murder you?”

“Mmhm, basically.”

“Is there a kink you aren’t sharing with us?”

“No, who wants to be murdered?”

“There’s lots of college kids who want to be murdered, (Y/N),” Yongsun says.

“Okay, fair point.”

“In other news though.” Yongsun pauses and sets her phone down for all three of you to see. “I found him and I can confirm that he is hot.”

You take a peek at the Facebook profile—the familiar face is in the little profile image and you shudder out of habit. You move away from the phone, feeling uncomfortable from his face. “Yup, that’s him.”

“Jesus,” Chaeyoung says. She grabs the phone and zooms in on the image. “This is the face you’re seeing? How can someone look like that?”

You grimace. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean?” Yongsun asks.

“I sit in the front, far away from him, so I don’t have to look at him anymore.”

“What do you think this means?” Chaeyoung asks.

“From my perspective,” Yongsun says. “Maybe you’re scared of how attractive he is.”

You and Chaeyoung squint at her, both not understanding. She continues. “This can mean a lot of things. I need the context.”

You try to recollect your dream memories. It isn’t hard, considering the fact that you’ve had the same nightmare for a couple of weeks. Although, there have been odd additions every once in a while. Just last night, you were on an empty road rather than a sewer. Sometimes there was the pile of children there and would start floating in front of you. Wonwoo stood in front of it, just staring at it, before turning his head to you to start shoving you into the water.

You shrink in your seat. You feel like throwing up.

“Well?” Yongsun asks. “Any details?”

You grimace again. “I would rather not share while we’re eating.”

Chaeyoung looks at you with a bit of worry in her eyes. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.” You drown the rest of your now-cold coffee down. “It’ll be fine. It’s not like Wonwoo’s a friend. How hard could it be to avoid him?”

Another restless week passes and you’re convinced your sleeping schedule will never bounce back. You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up somehow—it’s your third cup of coffee of the day and it’s done nothing for you.

It’s 11:20am and class is supposed to start in ten minutes. The class is already half full of students. Everyone else fiddles with their phones, or talks to others about weekend plans. You sit in your seat with a laptop out, fully blanking out, but attempting to stay awake. Granted, you can just ditch, but attendance counts and if your GPA is below 3.0, you can kiss that scholarship goodbye.

You groan from the thought of being in this class for an hour. You lay your head on the table, feeling the cold table pressed on your cheek, and closing your eyes for just a moment.

Suddenly, a chill comes over you and you feel more awake than ever. You open your eyes, only to see Wonwoo walk in. His backpack is slung over one shoulder; he wears a soft, black cardigan that’s tugged on his hands to form sweater paws. He has his hair down, tousling through his bangs with his long fingers. He looks like such a soft boy.

Despite his boyish looks, you felt your body physically react. Chills run up your spine and you felt the hairs on your arms raise. You feel more alert than you’ve been in weeks. You quickly sit up and straighten out your back at his presence. That’s right: you’re in ethics. You always forgot, until you came to class, see him and the nightmares become daytime horrors.

You let out a sigh. Somehow, you feel more exhausted than before, despite feeling more awake in Wonwoo’s presence. Once the professor arrives, she immediately starts her lecture. Frankly, you can’t even remember what she’s talking about. It all goes in one ear and out the other. You simply type away, your note page expanding as each minute passes.

An hour eventually passes and you let out a breath of relief.

“Alright class,” she says. “Remember for the next class, we will be working on our papers, so bring those laptops fully charged and be prepared for discussion.”

Everyone, including yourself, groans.

“We need to start preparing for the final and, from my previous feedback, I hear this is really helpful. So, prepare yourselves.” Your professor shuts off the monitor and starts to shut her books. “Now, get out.”

No one had to be told twice; everyone practically floods out of the room, ready to take a nap or eat, or whatever else college kids do. With the combination of your previous exhaustion and the lecture, you were moving slower than usual, not wanting to tire yourself out further. You could feel your body nearly shutting down again. You close your eyes once more as you rotate your neck around. Once again, you feel the chills creep up your back.

You follow your instincts and open your eyes, spotting Wonwoo from the corner of your eye. Unknowingly, you flinch, immediately looking away from him. He tries to smile in your direction on his way out, but you move your body away from him, trying to look preoccupied as you shove your books into your bag.

Once he leaves, you let out a long sigh you didn’t realize you held in. Resting your head on the table, you close your eyes—only to see the images of Wonwoo from your nightmares with devil horns. You sit back up, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake the sight of him out of your mind.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

“Paging Sleeping Beauty, are you awake?”

You slowly sit up from the library table, trying to keep your eyes awake as you lean on your hand. “Yes, sir. I am physically present.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“When am I ever okay?”

“Fair.” He sets down his books in front of you and takes a seat. “How much did you get done?”

“I just finished the draft and took a lil nap.”

“In a public space?”

“I didn’t get robbed. I’m fine.”

He blinks at you, shakes his head and tries to move on from the odd comment. “Anyways,” he says, pulling out his laptop. “I finished my essay earlier during class, so.”

“So it might be garbage?”

“Hell no.” He opens the laptop, mindlessly moving the mouse around. “I’m just saying, consider the conditions when you read this. I was in a highly stressed environment.”

Seungkwan and you have the same professor for ethics (just at different times), so it only made sense to work together for this paper. You two knew each other from a previous class and bonded over a mutual friend of yours, Soonyoung. Obviously, suffering is the only way to bond with other college students, hence your blossomed friendship with Seungkwan.

You rub your eyes, trying to keep yourself awake in front of his laptop. But, it doesn’t help and the words start to blur together. After the third sentence, you lean back and close your eyes in an attempt to regain your focus.

“Hey.” You feel his hand on your shoulder. “(Y/N), are you sure you’re okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You reopen your eyes, to see concern in Seungkwan’s eyes. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to answer. “I just haven’t been getting much sleep lately and there’s only so many sleeping pills a person can take.”

“Is it stress?”

“Not… not exactly.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning his chin on his hand. “Do tell, (Y/N). If not stress, is it a lover?”

You give him an unamused look at his teasing. “Ha ha. No.” You shift in your seat. “I’ve been having nightmares about this guy in my class.”

“Ooooh?”

“Stop it.”

He pouts. “Can you at least tell me who? I might know who it is.”

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a bit apprehensive. The problem is that he does know everyone. Apparently, everyone else seems to know Wonwoo, one way or another. He does have that reputation of looking like a moody emo bad boy. The fact that he’s good looking means he gets away with being creepy. But then again, he is polite to everyone—a very well mannered boy. You sigh, feeling the exhaustion hit all at once.

“I have a suspicion that you know who it is,” you say. You let out another sigh. “It’s Wonwoo.”

His eyes sparkle with interest. “Jeon? Jeon Wonwoo??”

You let out another sigh and place your head in your arms, muffling the groans you make. “Jesus, of course you know him.”

He makes a face. “Why?” Before you can answer him, he leans closer to you. “What’d he do?”

You can feel yourself inwardly cringing before the words even come out. You feel embarrassed about making a big deal about this small thing. “He’s done nothing to me. He’s just scary.”

“Wonwoo is one of the least scary people I know.” He moves away, looking off into the distance as if to collect his thoughts. “Minghao… He’s on that list, but Wonwoo? He’s like a scared cat…” At this point, he’s just mumbling to himself.

You look up, resting your head on your folded arms. “Earth to Seungkwan?”

“Right, back to you.” He pauses. “So these nightmares, are they that bad that you’re losing this much sleep?”

You nod.

“Wow, is he that scary to you?”

“Well, considering in the dream that he’s trying to murder me… I would say he’s pretty scary.”

“Okay, but what’d you think about him before?”

“Before what?”

“Like, before you started dreaming about his face and death.”

You blink, staring at him for a bit, lost in thought. You haven’t really thought about Wonwoo without the devil horns, but then again, you don’t really talk to him. It’s a required class, so there’s a lot of people in this lecture hall. Also, it’s a lecture hall, it’s not like people have a chance to interact with one another. The only reason why you’ve heard of him is because of your mutual friends. You admit though, he is attractive.

But you couldn’t let Seungkwan know that. He would never let it go and he’s friends with Wonwoo. Who knows what he’d do with this information.

“I was neutral about him,” you say. “Since I don’t really know much about him.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even find him attractive?”

You grumble as you begin to sit up. “Can we not talk about this and go back to suffering?”

“Ugh.” He throws his head back in a dramatic fashion. “I wanted the tea though.”

“This ain’t a tea shop honey, so I’m not giving you any.” You put your attention back to his laptop. “Let me just go over this draft and you can trash mine.”

You push your laptop towards him with the draft of your paper open.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Fine, but I want details later.”

“Boba break?”

“Boba break.”

Your professor sets down her books on the podium. “Alright class, please pull out your drafts. Your classroom partners are already assigned on the classroom page. If you can’t find it, it’s also on the projector.”

Your eyes don’t move away from your computer screen. The list of peer review partners has been pulled up and you scroll through it to find yours. You can only stare once you spot it.

(Y/N) and Wonwoo

This can’t be right.

You look from your screen to the projector. Your names are clear on the screen.

(Y/N) and Wonwoo

Someone clears their throat, snapping you out of your inner panic. “You’re (Y/N), right?”

To your right, Wonwoo stands with his messenger bag, a couple of textbooks in his hands, and a polite smile on his face. You can only nod, feeling the chills run up your back. He takes the empty spot next to you and sets down his things. Having him sit so close to you… it’s even scarier than you even imagined.

He glances at you with a small smile. Ugh, he is handsome. You’ll give him that.

As he turns his head, you get a closer look at his profile. In an instant, you see the devil-horned image of him flash. You shudder, turning away and wordlessly setting your laptop closer to him.

You manage to speak up, but it gets quieter as you talk. “Here’s my draft. You should be able to make comments… suggestions or something…”

He gives another smile (although you don’t see it) and hands you his laptop. “I have my draft on here too. I’m sorry, but it’s still a bit messy.”

His voice is so soft, despite his cold features. You take another glance at him to take his laptop. Your hands brush against his and you try to ignore the goosebumps that raise on your arms—whether it’s from fear, you can’t tell.

For a while, it’s quiet. Everyone is working on peer-editing their partner’s drafts, including you and Wonwoo. You both read through one another’s drafts. Ugh, he’s such a good writer. This was supposed to be a rough draft, but he makes it look like the final draft. This thesis makes sense; the support from the text is present; the counter-argument is made and redirected back to the thesis. Meanwhile, your draft probably looks even more half-assed than you originally intended for it to be.

You go through the document again to try to give some feedback on his draft, despite how hard it is to make something up. By the end, you only manage to give him three comments. Turns out, you had finished earlier than you’d thought. You look around, seeing everyone still working and interacting with their partners, before looking over at him.

He stares intensely at your screen, still scrolling through the hot mess you call a rough draft. Every couple of seconds, he types a comment and you feel yourself flinch at how hard he presses on the keyboard. You knew it wasn’t the best, but there’s no way for it to be the most awful thing you’ve written. You hadn’t even realized you’ve been staring until he turns his body towards you.

You lightly flinch at the sudden eye contact and, unconsciously, inch away from him. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he sets your laptop next to you.

“I wrote a couple of recommendations as to how you could expand on your argument further. I think you have a solid thesis and the evidence you provide from the texts are very strong. I didn’t know what else I could add, so I did the best I could to add some comments to help. You don’t have to use them, but they were just some ideas I thought you could use.”

He gives you another smile and you couldn’t help to feel a bit touched. Typically, people half ass these types of assignments. To see that he actually put effort into it and even added in ideas you can use...

You push his laptop further away from you and he immediately scrolls through it, before you can get a word in. That’s probably why the word vomit began and you haphazardly try to explain things, without even looking at him in the eye.

“I couldn’t really add in as much as you did. I thought it was really well thought out and made some really good points. I just made a couple of comments on word choice, grammar, and how it all connects. You’re a really good writer so you don’t have to really pay attention to these things. They really don’t make a big difference or anything. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you anything particularly helpful…”

You trail off from your nervous rambling, glancing up at him to take in his reaction. He looks rather sheepish; his hand rubs the back of his neck and light blush dusts his cheeks.

“It’s really nothing… I’m not that good…”

This vision of Wonwoo is definitely a 180 from your nightmares. The stoic and heartless image of Wonwoo with devil horns flashes once again. But then, you take another look at him. All you see a shy boy, flushed from a couple of compliments from a classmate he doesn’t even talk to—well, at least, until now.

You both sit there for a bit in silence, fiddling with your laptops in an attempt to work on your drafted papers. From what you can read, he put a lot of thought into his recommendations. After about five minutes, as the conversation around you begins to stir up again, he turns his body to you.

“Are the comments okay?” He pauses. “Were they able to help you?”

You hum and give a small nod. “I think with your suggestions this paper will be a bit easier to write.. I’m sorry for not being able to help you much with yours.”

He speaks in a small voice that you almost don’t hear. “You did help though…”

You give him a sheepish smile. “Not really. I gained more from this than you were able to… it’s unfair, sorry...”

“You shouldn’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, you tried your best.”

You let out a light laugh. “Did I though? I’m sure you’ve gotten more helpful feedback from other people.”

“Well, most people here don’t really care about this since this doesn’t ‘count for points.’”

“You’ve got a point.”

“Alright,” your professor says. “Considering how much you’re all talking, I’m assuming you’re done exchanging your drafts. If you’re done, you can leave. Consider it a reward for finishing early.”

You start to pack your things, as does Wonwoo. The both of you remain silent for a while, but, as you get up to leave, he speaks up with a soft voice.

“Did you want to work together on this paper later sometime?”

Before you can answer, he continues. “I just meant, like… I know you and Seungkwan work together and I was wondering if I could join you two or something. You don’t have to! I was just curious since Seungkwan and I work on it together too and I just thought it would be good if we all meet up.. together or something…”

“Oh…” Frankly, you didn’t even know they were working on the essay together too. No wonder Seungkwan’s draft was so good—that son of a bitch. On one hand, you already know Seungkwan is most likely to agree. On the other hand, you are still unsure you’re mentally prepared to willingly spend more time with him.

He’s nice, but you’re apprehensive as to how your brain is going to interrupt this. Who knows what your unconscious can unload? What if he transforms into a demon in your next dream? What if he turns into one of those gross monster-sized spiders and eats you whole?

Another chill runs down your spine, but you fake an unbothered smile. “I’ll talk to Seungkwan.”

He smiles back; it’s small, but genuine.

You sit at the library, tapping your fingers on the table as you wait anxiously for the boys’ arrival. You flip your phone over again, to check the time and any new text notifications from Seungkwan. You were starting to regret all your life’s decisions. Okay, maybe that’s too dramatic—even for you. But, you are regretting your decision of joining Seungkwan and Wonwoo’s study session.

To be honest, when you said you would talk to Seungkwan, that was 100% a lie. So, when you get a text from Seungkwan… you are more than shocked to find that he has oh-so graciously arranged the study session for you. That also meant getting a couple of pokes from him.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. As if he knew someone was talking shit, he enters the library and easily spots you in your usual corner. He drops his backpack onto the table and sits himself across from you, pulling out his laptop and textbooks.

“Sorry,” he says. “I had a couple of questions for my professor and…. I forgot how much that man likes to talk.”

“Hm, sounds like someone I know.”

“Ha ha, very funny (Y/N).” He opens his laptop and starts to skim through his books, but, eventually, he gets bored and looks back at you.

You feel his eyes on you and look up from your own laptop. “What?”

“From our last conversation, you said you were scared of Wonwoo.” Save it for Seungkwan to be blunt rather than beating around the bush.

“I didn’t say that—”

“It was implied.”

Your lips purse, finding yourself at a loss of words. “What about it?” you mumble, shrinking into your seat.

“Soooo,” Seungkwan says. “Why did you agree to the study group?”

You frown, squinting at him. “I’m sorry, but who decided to put us all into a group chat???” Your frown becomes a pout. “You can’t just put me in a group chat, ask about a meeting time, and think I’m going to be the asshole who says ‘oh no, I can’t make it.’ Then have you point out that I’m not doing anything.”

He shines a bright smile at you, ignoring your negative tone. “You wouldn’t have joined so otherwise.”

“Ha! So it was a ruse!”

“Of course it was.” He leans back to his seat. “You were so scared of him—look at you now, you’re making plans with him.”

“You made the plans.”

He waves a finger at you, “Semantics.”

You can only roll your eyes at him and type away, trying to sort out and prioritize on your latest assignments. “Why do you care so much about what I think about him?”

He blinks and you swear, for a second, he seems to have run out of words. You raise an eyebrow at his silence.

“Well... “ He stammers. “I—I just... just want all of my friends… to—to get along and be… friends.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you hum along, but you don’t believe a single thing he says. “It’s all the subconscious. I never had a problem with him in the first place.”

“Problem with who?”

You both turn around to see Wonwoo and another boy standing next to you two. From the unfamiliar voice, you can assume it was said by Mingyu—the other participating victim in the groupchat Seungkwan made.

“No one,” Seungkwan says. “Problem with no one—right, (Y/N)?”

You can only stare wide-eyed as you glance between them. “Yes, what he said.”

Mingyu laughs. “Uhm, okay.”

They both seat themselves at the table with you and Seungkwan—Wonwoo on one side and Mingyu on the other. They both give you a friendly smile and start to pull out their materials. You can only smile back awkwardly, typing away at your laptop.

“No offense,” Mingyu says. “I’m glad to be here, but I’m confused why I’m here.”

“It’s a study group and you’re our friend,” Seungkwan says.

“We’re not in the same class.”

“Moral support.”

“For what?”

He glances at you, which makes you narrow your eyes at him. He turns his attention back to Mingyu. “For things.”

Mingyu raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Wonwoo says. “Shall we get started?”

“What should we start on?” you ask.

“I was thinking maybe the essay since that’s due the soonest,” Seungkwan says.

You all nod along, even Mingyu.

“So, I’m not involved either way,” Mingyu says. “This is fine, I totally don’t feel left out.”

Seungkwan shrugs. “You can do other assignments too.”

Mingyu pouts and his silent sulking is ignored.

You and Wonwoo chuckle at their antics. “Sorry buddy,” he says. “This plan wasn’t scheduled well.”

“Hey!”

Wonwoo ignores Seungkwan and turns to you. “Were you able to work on the essay?”

You shift in your seat, feeling awkward from suddenly being in his direct line of vision. “Yeah, I did—it’s coming along. Thanks again, by the way.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m glad I could help,” he says. “Did you want me to look at it?”

Your eyes widen, meeting Seungkwan’s, who makes a face. To be honest, you haven’t worked on it since you opened it during class and you’re too embarrassed to say you’ve been procrastinating. It’s due in two days and who says you can’t write an essay in one night (who isn’t a professor).

“Are you having trouble concentrating again?” Seungkwan asks. Before you can answer, he interjects himself. “Is this because you’re still having sleeping problems? Dude, just keep popping those pills.”

The other two’s attention have been turned to you. You inwardly groan from the eyes and try to focus on Seungkwan—but your body responds for you with a grimace. “Can you not say it like that? It’s melatonin and they’re technically vitamins.”

“Hmmm, sure.”

“You have sleeping problems?” Mingyu asks.

You sheepishly rub the back of your neck. “Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal though.”

Seungkwan snorts. “Sure it isn’t. It’s not like you were nearly falling asleep when editing my essay just a couple of days ago.”

You smile. “I bought you boba though.”

“But can I really be bribed?”

“Of course not,” you say. “Because no one can afford your high maintenance.”

Seungkwan’s jaw drops from your bluntness, but there’s a small smile in it. Mingyu doubles over in laughter and Wonwoo tries to hold his in—the smile on his face gives it away, causing you to laugh as well.

Seungkwan quickly straightens up in defense. “This is what I get for trying to be nice.”

You give him another teasing smile.

“Okay, okay,” Mingyu says. “How bad is this sleeping problem?”

“It’s..” You click your tongue, recalling as to how bad your sleep schedule has been since these nightmares began. “It’s really bad, dude.”

“You know,” he says, turning his body towards you. “There are foods good for sleep.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, one time I made this banana almond parfait.”

“Oooh, sounds fancy—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Seungkwan says. “But I doubt that’s going to help (Y/N)’s situation.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo asks.

You’d almost forgotten he was there for a second.

“It’s a subconscious thing.”

Wait a second.

“So it’s psychological problems?” Mingyu asks. He props his chin into his hands. “Do tell.”

You stifle a laugh.

Wonwoo is the one who speaks for you. “Mingyu, you just met her and you already want to open up her psyche?”

“What’s a better way to get to know someone?”

“Anything else, bro.”

Mingyu’s lips purse, then form into a pout. “Booooooooo.”

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s just move on. We actually have to work on this essay.”

“Boooooo!”

“Shut up, Seungkwan.”

“I don’t care what anyone else says,” Chaeyoung says. “Lizard people are real.”

Yongsun nods along, digging her spoon further into her ice cream. “I’d buy into it. Matthew McConaughey has a lizard smile.”

You can only sigh in disappointment and put your head in your hands. “Why am I friends with you people?”

Your comment is ignored and Chaeyoung continues to talk. “Controversial statement: Shawn Mendez? Lizard person.”

“Oh my God, he kind of does.” Yongsun shows her screen to the both of you. “He has the same lizard smile as Matthew.”

As the two continue to converse other celebrities with lizard qualities, you sit at the other side of the booth, playing with your food. Dining hall food isn’t great, but it is free. What’s the point of these dinners, if you’re just going to want to throw it back up from these types of conversations?

A couple of weeks ago, y’all had a whole conversation as to how Ted Bundy got away from his crimes for such a long time (to be honest, he wasn’t even really attractive so….). Then, last week, y’all talked about white boy names—the looks you got from people with those names were absolutely hilarious. Side note: you don’t give a solid shit to anyone named Todd (what Todd have you met that WASN’T an asshole?).

By now, you’ve just learned to sit back and let these topics just… happen. At some point, these conversations are going to bite you in the ass.

“(Y/N)?”

You look up from your plate.

“I thought that was you,” Mingyu says with a smile.

You return it with one of yours. “Hey, Mingyu, right?”

“Yeah! I’m Seungkwan’s friend—although, I’m more known for being Wonwoo’s.” He pauses, before mumbling to himself. “And Jungkook’s…”

“Wonwoo?” Chaeyoung asks.

“Jeon Wonwoo?” Yongsun adds.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “You know him?”

“We’ve heard of him,” Yongsun says, nudging your rib. You smack her elbow away.

Chaeyoung scoots herself over. “If you want, you can sit with us.”

“Sure,” he says. “I have class in an hour, so I have time.” He sits himself next to her and looks between you and the other girls. “So, what are we talking about?”

Yongsun swallows her ice cream, pointing her spoon at him. “Lizard people.”

You push her spoon out of the way. “Can we please move away from this subject?”

“They! Are! Here!” Chaeyoung bangs her fists on the table, along each syllable.

You put your head back into your hands. “Oh my God. You need to stay off the internet.”

“Lizard people…” Mingyu says slowly. “What is this exactly?”

You look up, eyes wide and warning. “You do not want to ask her that.”

“So, there are theories that some people roam around Earth—”

“And, so it begins.”

Chaeyoung ignores you. “—as lizards. They are living amongst us and planning to overthrow the human race.”

“We’ve possibly identified a couple of them,” Yongsun says. “Hear us out. Matthew McConaughey and Shawn Mendez. Thoughts?”

“You do not have to answer them, by the way,” you say to him.

As if Mingyu was possessed by someone else, he nods along as he listens. “I could definitely see that. They have weird face structures.”

Your jaw drops from his participation in your weird dinner discussions. Your respect for him as a person has dropped. “Dude, don’t encourage them!”

Chaeyoung points at him, as if he isn’t present. “I like him better than that Wonwoo guy.”

“Ditto,” Yongsun says.

“I thought you guys didn’t know him?” Mingyu asks. His head tilts to the side—for a second, he looks like a puppy.

“We don’t,” Yongsun says. She slurps up the remaining ice cream melting from her bowl. “(Y/N) mentioned him and we looked him up—he’s just as hot as (Y/N) said.”

Your cheeks flush and you flick some of your water in her direction. “That’s not what I said!”

Her lips purse in response and she continues to slurp from her bowl. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung gives you a look, which you refuse to acknowledge.

On the other hand, Mingyu’s attention has been turned to you in interest. His eyebrow raises and you start to squirm.

“So,” he says with a twirl of his fork. “What have you said about Wonwoo?”

You’d honestly thought this conversation was behind you, especially since you had dodged away from the topic during your study group a couple of days ago. The difference between Seungkwan and these two is that these two have very little regard for your opinion. While they are your friends, they are also very invasive and you are very sure that they will ignore your protests. It’s almost as if they had heard your thoughts—they answer the question for you.

“She said he’s attractive,” Chaeyoung says.

“Technically,” Yongsun says. “She said he wasn’t ugly and I think she also said he murders her.”

Mingyu turns to you with surprise.

Just when you thought you had died before, you were sure that you have died now and were stuck in your customized purgatory hell.

“That,” you say into your hands. “Was not what I said.”

Yongsun squints at you. “Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you defining your death kink with those weird dreams.”

You stare at her for a while before deciding on what to say. “Are you on crack? I was sure that your crackhead energy was drained last week during your history exam.”

“How dare you? I am completely sober.”

“Debatable.”

You both turn back to the other two at the table, where Chaeyoung continues to eat and Mingyu stares off with confusion evident in his features.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But what’s the piece I’m missing?”

“I’ll give you a short version,” Chaeyoung says. “You see, (Y/N) has been dreaming about Wonwoo murdering her and we think it’s a loo—hey!” She grabs a napkin to wipe her, now, wet hair.

You give her a bright, fake smile as she playfully glares at you and the glass of water you’ve flicked on her. Yongsun chuckles at your antics and turns to Mingyu. “Either way, it’s 100% repression.”

“Repression of what exactly?” you ask.

“Attraction,” Yongsun points out.

You flick some more water at her, ignoring her yelps. You turn your attention to Mingyu. “Ignore them and everything they’ve said because it isn’t true.”

“Lies!” Chaeyoung says. “Yongsun’s right. It’s probably repression because Wonwoo is definitely hot—stop throwing water at me!”

You ignore her once again, flicking more water from your glass. “I did not say he was hot. I just admitted that he wasn’t ugly!”

As you continue to attack your friends with your water, Mingyu stays silent, but makes note from the conversation. Oh, how things will become more interesting….

You continue to type on your laptop, wrapping the conclusion paragraph with one last sentence. You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” you mutter under your breath. This god forbidden essay is done and you can easily turn it in. You look up from your screen, where Wonwoo continues to type on his.

His glasses sit on the edge of his nose and his eyes are narrowed, as if to physically focus on the words. You have to admit: the glasses suit him and his oversized sweater. While he has worn them every once in a while, this is one of the rare times you’ve seen him this close up. He looks like a soft boy molded from a John Green book.

You look a glance around and, seeing how he’s gathered the attention of a few people, you can tell you aren’t the only one who’s noticed. To be fair, if it wasn’t for your nightmares, you would be a lot more attracted to him.

Admittedly, it has been nice to spend this time with him—you managed to reduce some of those nightmares and get a bit more sleep. You might even admit that he’s a friend more than just a classmate now.

Speaking of friends, Seungkwan and Mingyu are pretty late. It’s been 20 minutes of just you and Wonwoo. You don’t mind, but you all made a plan to meet here (since the essay is due tonight).

“Are you done with your essay already?”

Wonwoo’s voice snaps you out of your inner ramblings. You look towards his direction, freezing from the sudden eye contact. “Huh?”

He clears his throat. “Are you... done? With the essay?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s probably bad, but it’s done.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Let me see.” He gestures to your laptop.

“Compared to your English major ass?” You pull the laptop closer to you. “No.”

“(Y/N),” he says with a sigh. “I’m sure it’s not even bad.” He gets ahold of the top of your laptop, lightly tugging it away from your grasp. You can only pout as the device is taken away from your hold and he begins to read. You place your chin into your hands, watching Wonwoo’s eyes dance from sentence to sentence.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring until he makes eye contact with you and sets your laptop back near you. If he noticed, he doesn’t say anything about it.

Wonwoo adjusts his glasses, pushing them closer to the bridge of his nose. When his face comes to view, there’s a small smile. “I told you your essay was fine. In fact, you could probably turn it in right now.”

Your lips purse, considering the idea, even though you were already planning to. Originally, you wanted Seungkwan to check it too—especially since he saw the real rough draft of it, which was a blank document.

“I kind of wanted to wait for Seungkwan,” you say. “Since we all agreed to do it together.”

He nods along with your words. “It makes sense.” He looks at you with a head tilt, thinking aloud. “Where is Seungkwan?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you say with a small laugh. “Is Mingyu coming?”

He checks his phone, wrinkling his nose as he squints at the screen and scrolls through his messages. “Honestly, I have no idea—last time I checked, he was supposed to.”

“Yeah, I ran into him yesterday and I assumed he was coming too.”

“Oh yeah,” Wonwoo says. “How was the lunch?”

“It was actually pretty funny beca—” You stop. You didn’t mention anything about lunch… so, how did he know about that? Your eyes narrow at him. “Did Mingyu tell you already?”

“Uh.” Wonwoo’s eyes shift. “Kind of?” He hunches a bit more over his own laptop, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Mingyu basically tells me everything.”

Mingyu basically tells me everything.

Oh, no.

You try to recall exactly as to the different topics during that one hour lunch with him. He was almost late to his class, since he was in a heavy debate with Yongsun and Chaeyoung as to whether or not Perry the Platypus cosplayers are considered furries…

It was a conversation that you had to be there for, in order for the context to be understood.

There was also the topic of whether Twilight should be watched for ironic purposes and/or the cinematic value of it. There was also discussion about what was the weakest element—which Yongsun was debating on the side of water.

You were getting off track; curse your friends for having such bizarre conversations. That line shouldn’t have triggered you, but for some reason, it feels off—as if there was something you were forgetting. You look at Wonwoo, who’s sitting across from you with flushed cheeks.

Wait a second.

She said he’s attractive.

Death kink with those weird dreams.

(Y/N) has been dreaming about Wonwoo murdering her.

Just when you thought things were just starting to become normal-ish between you two.

Your face flushes as you remember all the things your friends said… which were most likely echoed to Wonwoo through Mingyu (seeing how much blush is present on his face).

There’s only one thing you can say. “I can explain.”

He lets out a little, breathless laugh—but it sounds more like an uncomfortable one.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear.”

He pushes his glasses up once more. “You—you don’t have to.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I should explain myself. It’s not supposed to sound as bad as they made it out to be and it’s not even your fault. I don’t even know why my subconscious chose your face out of anyone else’s. Yongsun said it’s repression, but you probably already know that and—” You sigh. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s not really your fault.”

“Yeah, but I guess, it’s just in general.” Your fingers glaze over the keyboard, absentmindedly toying with the keys. “Over break, I watched a horror movie with my friends and then I started getting nightmares. Again, I don’t know why your face was there, but… it just was.”

“I’m not mad,” Wonwoo says. “And it’s not your fault—you don’t have to apologize.”

There’s a small silence, which is just you and Wonwoo looking at one another with wide eyes, unsure as to what happens next.

“I will say,” Wonwoo says with a small voice. “I’m a bit flattered.”

“That I dream of you murdering me?”

“No.” He lets out a small laugh. “That your subconscious ‘chose my face.’”

You chuckle rather sheepishly when he took the words from your previous rambling. “Yeah… Seungkwan suggested that it was just a face that was most memorable.” You let out a long sigh. “And Yongsun likes to psychoanalyze into things.”

“So, do you… think my face… is attractive?”

You look up at him from your keyboard, only to see him dodging your eyes. His Adam's apple moves as he swallows. On the table, you can see that his hands are curled underneath the sweater paws, moving as he fiddles with his fingers. You can feel yourself shrinking into your seat, shyness overpowering you.

“Well….” you say. “You are… attractive…” You say the last part quieter than you intended, but Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours once the words are said.

His face turns a shade darker and he smiles a bit wider than before. “Even.. Even if I was part of a nightmare?”

You nod, but look off to the side to shake off the embarrassment.

“I think you’re attractive too.”

Your head turns to him, but his concentration is back to his laptop. While he can act like he didn’t say anything all he wants, the redness of his ears give his emotions away. You press your lips to repress your smile.

A bag being thrown into the table interrupts your moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” Seungkwan says, clearly out of breath. “This ladder here wanted to stop by Starbucks and there was a line.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Mingyu yells.

“It’s Starbucks! You should have known!”

“You couldn’t have sent a text?” you ask.

“My phone died,” he says with a pout. “Speaking of which, do you have a charger??”

You can only sigh in disappointment, but rummage through your bag nevertheless. “You’re lucky I brought this one.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know, I know. Now sit down and shut up, people are looking.”

When you open your eyes, you’re running—from what, you are unsure of. This tunnel is nearly pitch black dark. A part of you is calm, but the other is panicking. Probably due to previous experiences you’ve had in this subconscious. You continue to run, refusing to look back at whatever remains behind you, but you can hear its footsteps echoing.

Your shoes are soaked and continue to splash against the muddy waters, as you continue to run. It stays dark for so long, but then it gets lighter, as if the sun poured itself into the tunnel. The footsteps stop. Whatever’s behind you diminishes.

But you can’t stop running towards the light, which burns closer and closer. The light embraces you, shining brightly and bouncing along your surroundings. You try to shield your eyes from the sun, only to be greeted by shimmers. Your vision starts to clear, enough for you to identify your surroundings.

You’re at the park. But what for?

You stand in the grass, surrounded by trees and rose bushes. The flowers are just in bloom, blossoming towards you, as if you were the sun itself. The skies are clear of clouds and the sun shines down, but it isn’t beating. Butterflies flutter and graze above the ground, but they don’t get close enough to you. The birds are chirping lightly, sounding like a song’s melody. The air is fresh and the aura is soothing.

As you walk through, you start to soak in the aroma. To the side, you notice a small hill with, no doubt, the best view. A picnic blanket is laid out, along with plates and other objects.

Someone else is also there.

It’s a familiar figure, but you can’t make out who it is from the distance.

You call out. “Hello?”

The figure turns and there Wonwoo sits. He has his glasses intact, but, instead of the casual wear, he’s a bit more dressed up—his white button-up showcases his nicely built chest and his slacks reveals how long his legs are.

He smiles at you, white pearls sparkling and eyes shining—you feel as if it’s almost like the buds have bloomed as well. For a moment, you think you’re stuck in a picture.

And then the wind blows, brushing his hair against his forehead.

“Are you coming, (Y/N)?”

---

Your eyes shoot open. The warmness in your chest is gone and is replaced by the coldness of your sheets. You shift under the covers and attempt to sit up.

The grogginess stays, but one thing remains in your mind—what was that and why did the dream change?

It’s 11:15am once again and you sit at your unofficial reserved spot. Your head lies on the desk, awaiting for the other students and your professor to arrive at the lecture hall. Tiredness continues to overpower you as your eyes consistently flutter to shut and reopen.

A knock on the table interrupts your attempted naptime. You look up to see Wonwoo’s face above yours. He gives you a small smile as he sets his bag on the seat next to yours. From his presence, you sit yourself up and rub your eyes, in an attempt to wake yourself.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

You can feel yourself internally curling from his close proximity. “Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He lets out a small, airy laugh. With a shake of his head, he jokes. “Still getting nightmares about me murdering you?”

A blush creeps up to your face. “Ha… Not really,” you say. It’s not like it’s a lie, but it’s not exactly the truth. You unconsciously move yourself a bit further from him as you recall the image of him surrounded by roses. “It’s probably just insomnia—bad sleeping habits most likely piled up.”

He nods, humming along as you speak. He rummages through his bag, pulling out his laptop and notebook. His side profile is illuminated through the sunshine that’s reflected on the window. He looks like he’s sparkling…

You quickly turn away as soon as he moves his head towards your direction. God, you were starting to stare a lot more than usual. You shake your head as you try to refocus on what you were doing.

What were you doing?

Closing your eyes, you try to regain your train of thought—only for you to lose it immediately after. You eventually decide to pull out your laptop and open up your lecture notes. On another tab, you see the essay that you’ve already turned in.

“Oh,” you say. You turn back to Wonwoo, “I almost forgot, did your essay turn out okay?”

“Yeah, it took a little bit of editing but I turned it in on time.”

“I’m sure it turned out great,” you say. “You’re definitely getting an A.” He gives you another shy smile and his cheeks start to blush. You shift into your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. “You’re really smart anyways,” you mumble.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say. “Nothing at all.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re getting an A too,” he says. “It was really well put together. At least, from what I remember.”

“Ehh.” You shrug your shoulders. “We’ll see.”

“Give yourself more credit, (Y/N),” he says in a softer tone. “You’re really smart and it’s okay for you to brag.” He turns his attention back to his laptop. His red ears have made a return.

On the other hand, you position yourself in your seat to straighten up and hide your smile. You take the opportunity to glance around, noticing the other students who’ve entered the lecture hall. Others are starting to enter as well.

You check the time on your laptop and it looks like it’s time for class to begin. Your professor arrives as well and sets up her materials.

“Open up your textbooks and turn to page 304. We’ll start with the four categories of ethical theories.”

Without turning from your laptop screen, your hand hovers over the textbook in your bag, but Wonwoo’s whisper interrupts your movement.

“Did you forget your book? I’ll share mine with you.”

You should probably say no, but your hand speaks for you, moving away from the bag. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

He gives another smile, leaning closer as he scoots the book towards you. Your professor continues to lecture, going over the slide’s content, but you can’t concentrate—not when Wonwoo’s this close. He smells like fresh laundry, the kind that you want to wrap yourself in before the warmth is gone. When you look at him, the sparkles return, along with the image of him from your dreams.

“Hold up,” Seungkwan says. “Yongsun thought that water is the weakest element? It’s clearly fire.”

“That’s what I said!” Mingyu yells. He sighs in disappointment from the recollection of the conversation and moves his strawberry milkshake to the side. “Fire is just a stupid element that can be destroyed by water AND all living things need water in order to survive. There are so many benefits to water and—” He stops himself with another sigh and takes a long sip of his milkshake.

Next to him, you shake your head with a small laugh. Taking a fry from your plate for a bite, you can only observe and let the conversation take its course. While your focus remains on the other two, your eyes glance over towards Wonwoo, who sits in front of you.

“I think earth is debatable,” Wonwoo says. “But, I feel like fire is the weakest due to the fact that it’s more destructive rather than productive.”

While the essay was already due, Seungkwan invited you to dinner at a nearby diner. You figured that it’d be nice to not eat dining hall food for once, so you agreed. But when you got there, you didn’t expect Mingyu and Wonwoo to already be there—hence your current position in front of Wonwoo, next to Mingyu, in a booth, while they’re arguing about the strongest element.

You blame Yongsun and Chaeyoung for this chaos; if they hadn’t pulled him into this conversation, he wouldn’t have brought it up now—which also dragged Seungkwan and Wonwoo into the discourse.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say. You continue to gnaw away at your fries, even when all three of their eyes land on you. Typically you’d refuse to engage in these conversations, but you refuse to let them walk around without an argument.

Seungkwan clears his throat, as if he was asking you to elaborate. Meanwhile, Mingyu continues to sip on his shake and Wonwoo has an eyebrow raised.

You let out a sigh from the eyes and toss the half-bitten french fry back to your plate before speaking. “You can argue that fire is the weakest, but we cook with fire and that’s what allowed our society to thrive because we started to have less time devoted to farming.”

Seungkwan and Mingyu’s jaws slightly drop from your point, while Wonwoo smiles.

“We can technically live without fire,” Seungkwan says. “We can go back to farming and let the animals thrive.”

“First of all, cold temperatures are a thing and fire provides warmth. Secondly, did you not hear me? Cooking gave us more time to further develop society, so, without it, we would figuratively and literally be unable to live.”

“She’s got a point,” Wonwoo says.

“Thank you.”

Seungkwan’s mouth moves, but no words find their way out.

“Wow, I left Boo Seungkwan speechless,” you say, as you begin to finish off your fries. “You’re welcome.”

Mingyu looks on impressively. “Niceeee.”

“That’s a very hard feat,” Wonwoo says. “I’ll give you points for that.”

Seungkwan has suddenly regained interest from Wonwoo’s words. He leans his chin on his hand, moving uncomfortably closer to Wonwoo, who attempts to swat him away. “When did you two get along so well?”

“We have class together,” you say with narrowed eyes.

“And I sit right next to her,” Wonwoo adds.

Mingyu smiles slyly. “Since when did that happen?”

You miss the way he looks over to Seungkwan. Wonwoo blinks at the question and you suddenly have developed more interest towards the salt on the fries.

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here,” Seungkwan says.

“You invited me,” you say. “But okay.”

“I know that,” he says with a huff. “But it just feels like a moment we shouldn’t be in.”

You roll your eyes in response, but the smile on your face shows no malice. Wonwoo remains quiet—scratching his neck, feeling the heat creep up to his face.

“So, are you dating yet?” Mingyu asks as he glances between you two.

“Oh my God,” Wonwoo mutters. He lays his face onto the table with a thud and you almost choke from Mingyu’s directiveness.

Mingyu goes on, ignoring both of your reactions. “You both like each other right? Well, at least, I know Wonwoo does.”

“DUDE!”

“Oops.” Mingyu’s lips pull back. He turns to Seungkwan. “Should we leave now?”

“Please don’t,” Wonwoo whispers.

Your jaw drops as you watch Seungkwan nod, smiling at you like nothing’s happened. Seungkwan and Mingyu side out of their side of the booth, but. before they leave, Mingyu drops one hand on each of your shoulders. “Don’t worry about the check. Consider it a present from your cupids.”

“You owe me one, (Y/N)!” Seungkwan shouts from the door. They both head towards the door, giving both of you little waves with their fingers.

Both you and Wonwoo sit in silence, not knowing what to say to the other. But, in all fairness, Wonwoo owes you the explanation.

You swallow, suddenly feeling your throat dry up. “If it makes you feel better…”

He looks up at you from the table.

“I like you too.”

A smile grows on his face and he starts to sit up slowly. “Really?”

“What can I say?” Your smile mirrors his. “My subconscious chose you before I could.”

He lets out a chuckle, readjusting his glasses and fiddling with his fingers, before settling them on the diner table. They’re free from the usual sweater paws and tap against the bright countertop.

“Just to be clear,” he says. “You aren’t scared of me?”

“Well, I was before,” you pause. “But that was before we even really talked or hung out. And now….”

“What about now?”

You blush, remembering the roses, the sparkling, the picnic—it all sounds so… nice. You couldn’t think of the words and Wonwoo could sense that.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

A sigh of relief escapes you. “Maybe next time then.”

His smile grows. “So, there’s a next time?”

You nod, feeling the butterflies in your stomach and your heart pounds in your chest. His hand moves towards you, closer and with caution—so yours meets his halfway. When your fingers intertwine, he looks from your hands to you with sparkling eyes and you can feel the warmth return to your chest.

This.

This is what feels right.

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idreamtofthereaper · 4 years

Text

Go to Sleep (FreddyKrueger!Dino)

Spooktober 2020 Masterlist

Words: 1413

note: feel free to use or save the image, though I would appreciate if you will mention me or give credit when you’re going to use it :)

“No! No! I’m just dreaming, this is all a dream!”

“If I am your dream, I wonder what your nightmares look like.” Before the sharp razor hands even made contact with you, you jerk away and in the process, hit your head on the bus’ window, wincing in pain and causing a chorus of laughter from those who saw.

“You really need to start working on your body clock, you were asleep for almost all of our classes earlier.” Vernon said, rubbing your head slightly after you rub your eyes, stretching a bit as you noticed your stop is nearing.

“I can’t I’ve been getting nightmares.” You answered simply, fixing your stuff and making sure everything is in your bag before standing up, Vernon following your actions as he lived close by.

“Yn, they’re just nightmares. Nothing can happen to you, they’re not real”

Your mother works at night and your dad is working abroad, causing most of your nights being spent alone. But with Vernon just living close by, your mother has practically entrusted you to the Chwe’s, which would always welcome you open arms if you need anything.

Vernon would also often come and pay a visit. There are times where he won’t, but he basically lives at your living room at this point that your mother even cleared out an entire cupboard for Vernon’s stuff.

Especially not that it’s Friday, both of you would use this time to unwind and watch movies or play games. However, there are also times where one of you would just vent to each other when the week was THAT tiring.

“I’ll be running a little late, I’ll pick up my cousin.” Vernon’s text read, one hand clutching the towel wrapped around your body while the other was on the phone. You first went to your room and sat down on the bed, before replying.

“Sure, I’ll pick the movie this time around. Will your cousin be joining us?” You sent the message, remembering how he mentioned if it’s okay to bring a plus one on Friday night events.

Before you could even stand up, Vernon replied. “Yep it’s that one. We’ll bring snacks, be there in 30 minutes.”

After getting dressed and doing all of your nightly routine, you made your way downstairs to the living room and open the tv, putting it on the news channel for a background noise, deciding to do some assignments to pass time for a while.

You weren’t listening to the tv but a specific report caught your attention. With you sitting on the carpet and inclined to the table, your head perked up at the report.

“A body of an unidentified teenager was found gruesomely stabbed in their own home. Neighbors reported seeing the body at the front door of the victim’s house. Suspecting the victim to be drunk, the neighbor approached the teenager and to his horror, the insides of the victim was revealed. Police has no leads and the questioning for witnesses is still on going.”

“That’s bad.” You mumbled under your breath, feeling shivers on your skin. Making you more alert with your surroundings.

You were about to stand up and check the doors when the photo of the house was revealed, the yellow police tape surrounding the area as multiple people were at the lawn. But that’s not what made your bones jump out your skin-

It was your house.

Not only that, but the information with the dates, it meant that the murder hasn’t even happened yet- the news was for tomorrow night, the murder is just about to happen.

“So, does knowing about your death make you feel more at ease?” You never turned your head faster than before, seeing the figure that plagues your nights sitting on the couch behind you, smirking to himself as he sharpened his razor sharp hands.

His head turns to you, making your flinch in an instant before starting to scoot back, the figure standing up as he stalked you, toyed with you. “Don’t you get a little bit tired now, yn? Just give up running and I promise I won’t have to talk your insides out.”

You screamed as his hands raises, but you moved just in time. You crawled towards the table and grab the book, managing to hit him behind the knees making the figure kneel down and when he did, you hit the back of his head using the same book.

You ran towards the front door and to your surprise, it didn’t led to outside, but your kitchen. But hearing the figure making unsatisfied grunts, you went in and closed the door behind you.

Turning around, you walked to the kitchen which eventually lead to your living room. Seeing how you were trapped in your own house made you breath heavily, knees shaking as you start backing up away slowly, before hitting yourself to someone.

You spun around and found the smirking behind you, using his hands to grab your waist and tap your cheek with it while your scrambled away from it. “Stop fighting me off yn.” He said teasingly.

Now that he was holding you close, you could see his face clearly. His face was littered with scabs, scars and open wounds that reveals the insides of his skin, though it obviously doesn’t bother him.

“Fuck you, fuck you, go die in a ditch. I won’t let you have your way with me.” You said with gritted teeth, hitting his head with yours which made his hold loose and his body went down.

If you’re really going to die tonight, you would rather die in your hands.

You grabbed his hands and stretched it out, letting out a strong yell before using it to slit your throat.

“HEY! WAKE UP!” You were screaming when you woke up, your head immediately going to the tv screen in front of you and it shows how the news channel wasn’t there anymore and was showing a reality tv show.

You turn around and yelled as the face in front of you revealed the figure you were running away from just seconds ago. You took the pillow beside you and used it to hit his head with it, sending him down to the couch as he groan.

You were about to do it again when Vernon came from the kitchen panting, water and towel on his hands. “Yn! What are you doing?”

“It was him! It was him! He’s trying to kill me!” You yelled towards him, pointing at the guy in front of you who was still groaning, Vernon not being able to move from his spot for being in shock.

You were about to hit the guy again but Vernon came rushing, standing behind the guy and catching the pillow before it landed on him again. “No! Yn stop it, that’s my cousin!” You stopped your tracks, eyes widening as the guy scooted back.

“What?”

“That’s Lee Chan, Dino! We just got here and we found you shaking while you were sleeping.” Vernon said, helping his cousin up.

You eyed Dino from head to toe, more like glared really and you didn’t even tried to hide it. They watched you as you pinched yourself, even pulling your hair a bit. You saw Vernon mumble something along the lines of ‘sleep deprived’ to Dino who nodded at his words.

Finally, you stood up, though still with precaution. And when you finally collected your calm, you put your hand out. “I’m sorry, I’m yn. I promise I don’t usually welcome people like that.”

Dino just chuckled at this before lending his hand out, a smirk on his lips when he leaned close enough for Vernon not to see. “It’s okay, I’m here now.”

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen oneshots #seventeen oneshot #seventeen imagine #seventeen lee chan #seventeen dino #svt #svt imagines #svt oneshot #svt oneshots #dino imagines #dino oneshots #dino oneshot #dino imagine #seventeen angst #svt angst #lee chan imagines #lee chan oneshots

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ingridsama · 4 years

Text

Little Red Riot (Part Two)

Crimson eyes glared down on the wooden floor of the hut as breakfast was being served to them at the dining table. Two pairs of eyes had been staring at him for a long time that he started unconsciously fidgeting in his seat. Last night, he almost died. He and his friends joined in hunting the werewolf that had been rampaging among their village as their own definition of fun.

But Kirishima didn't know how dangerous that task actually was until he was staring at the beast's face-- frozen in horror at what might happen to him if he made a wrong move.

"Please eat up, Kirishima-kun," a feminine voice brought him back to reality and he met kind green eyes that belonged to Midoriya's mother, Inko.

"Y-yes... thank you for the meal," he answered before he froze upon meeting a pair of bright red ones that had been staring at him the whole time.

Kirishima willed himself to look away as he reached for his chopsticks to start digging in on his breakfast when the slamming of the front door had him jump from his seat in fright.

Looking back, Kirishima saw a teen with just the same age as his, standing by the door and glaring at him-- he had white-red-colored hair that was equally parted in the middle and heterochromatic eyes of silver and blue.

The stranger held gazes with Kirishima for a moment before he looks away and stomped towards Midoriya's now empty room and slammed the door behind him.

"Half-and-half sure is mad as hell," the blonde werewolf said as he smirked, ignoring the glares Midoriya was giving him.

"I'm going to talk to him," Midoriya said before excusing himself and entered his room where the stranger went.

"Who was that?" Kirishima asked, turning to Inko who was washing up the utensils she used to prepare breakfast.

"That's Shouto," Inko said with a smile. "He and Katsuki, here, are staying with us,"

"S-so he's... a werewolf too?"

Inko hesitated but nodded to confirm what Kirishima said.

"He's upset because we're letting you live," Katsuki answered. "He hates humans... especially hunters like you,"

"I'm not a hunter," Kirishima said in defense. "I just volunteered to go with the hunt. Besides, I'm particularly not a fan of werewolves either so I guess the feeling is mutual,"

Katsuki didn't reply back and Kirishima took it as a sign to start eating his breakfast-- trying hard to ignore the tensed and awkward air that filled the dining table as he shared his breakfast with the werewolf that almost killed him.

"Ain't spicy enough," he heard Katsuki grumble after taking in his first spoonful of breakfast and made to reach for the condiments at the middle of the table when he winced and pulled his hand back.

Kirishima's eyes widened as he realized that Katsuki's left arm was bandaged and a blotch of red had stained it.

"Fuck," Katsuki cursed silently, hissing in pain as he cradled his arm.

"Language!" Inko hissed from the kitchen.

"S-sorry," the werewolf grumbled.

"D-did I... Did I do that?" Kirishima asked.

Somewhere during the commotion that happened last night, Kirishima could vaguely remember how his body automatically moved on its own out of adrenaline and fear that he had almost shot Midoriya-- if the blonde werewolf didn't come to the rescue in the way and pushed the greenhead out of harm's way.

"Of course, you're the only one here capable of hurting us with that gun of yours, hunter," A voice retorted even before Katsuki could reply and Kirishima looked back to see Midoriya and Shouto coming out of the room.

The half-and-half eyes were cold and full of hatred when they met Kirishima's and the scar on his left eye added to the hostile aura the werewolf was emitting.

"Shou... I told you it was an accident, didn't I?" Midoriya said gently with a smile, rubbing soothing circles on the back of Shouto's hand that relaxed the latter.

"Yeah, I wouldn't die with a bullet grazing my arm, half-and-half," Katsuki agreed, throwing Kirishima a wink before looking back at Shouto. "So no need to get worried about your brother,"

Shouto rolled his eyes. "My concern has been for Izuku only," he answered. "That hunter would've killed him last night if you had been too late in pushing Izuku out of the way so..."

Shouto abruptly stopped himself and Katsuki's smirk grew. "So... what? Keep going half-and-half, you're almost there," he said.

Shouto growled before looking away, scrunching up his nose that made Midoriya smile.

"Katsuki-kun, are you done eating? I need to change your bandages," Inko said. "Izuku, Shouto-kun, please go ahead and eat your breakfast before it gets cold,"

"U-um..." Kirishima called as Katsuki stood up from his seat. "I-if this means anything, I-I'm... I'm sorry, for... for shooting you, or... for not shooting you, I... it was an accident,"

"Well, I wouldn't say that it's alright since it really did hurt like hell," Katsuki answered, scratching his nape.

"Kacchan, you're way out of character today," Midoriya said.

"Did almost endangering your life changed you?" Shouto followed.

"SHUT UP, BASTARDS!" Katsuki yelled.

"And he's back," Midoriya muttered under his breath, shaking his head in amusement.

"M-Midoriya," Kirishima called. "T-thank you... for the meal a-and for last night, but... I have to get back to the village,"

"What are you talking about?" Shouto said.

"S-Shouto..." Midoriya made an attempt to stop him.

"E-eh?" Kirishima answered in confusion.

"You didn't tell him?" Shouto asked, turning to Midoriya.

"I-I was about to," Midoriya said.

"Tell me what?" Kirishima asked, dread filling him up as his mind went haywire-- was his friends killed? Or did they declare him dead already? Are they going to kill him after all? Who wouldn't, though; he knew too much already for Midoriya to let him go.

"U-uh... Kirishima-kun," Midoriya said, "It's not that we don't... trust you, but... you've seen Katsuki and Shouto already s-so we thought t-that... that letting you go back to the village isn't s-safe for... us, so--"

"Unfortunately for you-- and inconveniently for us as well-- you'll be staying here for a while," Shouto finished what Midoriya had trouble starting.

Kirishima met Midoriya's eyes as his mind processed what the greenhead just said before finally uttering his answer. "... what?"

***

Plop!

Goes the sound of the water as another stone dived down the pond as Kirishima threw stones at the innocent body of water to relieve the anger he was feeling.

Midoriya had just broken the news to him this morning-- with Kirishima seeing and knowing who the werewolves were and who was protecting them, they couldn't let Kirishima go back to the village. The redhead had tried negotiating but it just ended up with Kirishima lashing out at Midoriya when the greenhead stood his ground and shook his head no in letting him go.

Kirishima threw another and bigger stone down the pond with unintentional strength that caused some water to splash back at Kirishima-- coincidentally hitting him square in the face.

With his tension rising up, he grabbed a bigger stone and threw hard on the pond with a loud curse.

"Damn," A voice behind him caused Kirishima to jump back and turn sharply-- only to see the blonde werewolf looking at him with an amused smile on his face. "What did water ever do to you?"

Kirishima looked away, annoyed. "Leave me alone," he grumbled as he turned back to the pond-- frowning at his wavy reflection on the water.

"Inko-san told me to come and fetch you since I don't think Deku would be able to persuade you to come inside,"

"Well you won't be able to persuade me either, so leave me alone," Kirishima snapped.

The redhead turned his head back to the pond, fist clenched tight in frustration-- frustration that he couldn't escape back to the village and Katsuki still wasn't leaving him alone as the blonde stood there with his arms crossed, giving no indication that he was leaving anytime soon.

Giving out a demoralized grunt, Kirishima snapped at the werewolf once more. "I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE, DAMN IT!" he yelled. "Isn't already good enough for you that I can't escape here?! Why do you have to tail at me like some dog?! Go away! "

"Kirishima-kun? Everything okay?" Midoriya entered the scene with worry in his eyes and Kirishima started to see red.

"Absolutely!" Kirishima yelled angrily. "Everything is fine! I can't go home after encountering your monsters for pets, but it's totally fine!"

Kirishima knew he had hit a nerve when Katsuki's eyes darkened but he didn't care-- he was angry and he wanted them to know that.

"K-Kirishima-kun, please calm down," Midoriya said as he took a step closer. "I-I know you're upset about this, but--"

"I'm not upset, Midoriya! I'm furious! Why can't I go home? Why are you keeping me captive here?! I'm not going to tell anyone about you or them... I just... I just want to go home!"

"Please understand," Midoriya said, growing frustrated as well, as he walked closer. "We're just being careful, I--"

Midoriya was cut-off when a hard punch got in contact with cheeks as Kirishima gave him a right hook-- causing the greenhead to stagger back.

Wide green eyes met wide crimson ones as Kirishima also got stunned by his actions.

"M-Midoriya..." Kirishima drew his fist back and tried to help the greenhead up. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't know what came over me, I--"

Both sensed another presence nearby and Midoriya turned his head to meet heterochromatic eyes that were radiating violent anger.

"S-Shouto..." Midoriya mumbled and Kirishima sensed the greenhead's fear.

"M-Midoriya?" Kirishima asked as he glanced at the latter and at Shouto.

"You hurt Izuku," Shouto growled as his teeth started sharpening into fangs and his eyes seemed to glow.

"Run," Midoriya muttered.

"W-what?"

"Run, Kirishima-kun!" Midoriya pushed the redhead away just in time for Shouto to transform in his wolf form-- hackles raised as his eyes locked dangerously on Kirishima who had fallen on the ground, frozen in fear.

"Shouto, please! Listen to me!" Midoriya pleaded as he scrambled back to his feet to try and get Shouto to calm down.

But the half-and-half hybrid was blinded by his outrage and leaped over Midoriya-- claws out as he targeted Kirishima who only had time to close his eyes and welcome death.

Another growl permeated the scene followed by a yelp that had Kirishima open his eyes in shock to see a blonde werewolf standing in between him and Shouto.

Kirishima's breath was caught up in his chest as he looked up at the same bright red eyes that belonged to Katsuki as the werewolf glanced at him before giving out a warning bark at his comrade-- warning him to back off.

"Get up!" Midoriya's exclamation jolted Kirishima back to reality as the greenhead pulled Kirishima up to his feet and got him away just in time for Shouto to charge at Katsuki-- both werewolves snapping at each other and fight for dominance.

"Izuku! What's going on?!" Inko asked as she ran towards them and watched the hybrids fight-- horror in her eyes.

"Mom, please get Kirishima-kun out of here... Please," Midoriya said as he pushed Kirishima to Inko. "I need to stop them before they get hurt,"

But before any of them could say another word, a yelp erupted from the fight and Midoriya turned to see Shouto lying unconsciously on the ground-- Katsuki standing next to him and let out a sad whine as he nudged Shouto's paw.

Inko gasped and Kirishima's eyes widened before the scene.

"No..." Midoriya whispered as his body willed itself to run to both hybrids as they transformed back to their human forms.

Katsuki's knees buckled from exhaustion as his eyes fluttered close but Midoriya caught him on time and laid him next to Shouto who's eyes were fluttering open.

"Izu...ku," Shouto mumbled.

"I-I'm sorry..." Katsuki whispered as Midoriya knelt in between them.

"Shut up, your wounds aren't that bad. You're not dying!" Midoriya said as he got out some bandages he always kept with him and started treating their wounds.

Inko was by his side and covering up Katsuki and Shouto with blankets as Kirishima just stood there-- stunned that a werewolf he had known to be dangerous just saved his life.

"You'll both be fine, okay?" Inko said with a smile as she and Midoriya started patching up the wounds they got from the fight.

"M-Midoriya..." Kirishima called but Midoriya didn't give a sign that he heard him at all-- either that or he was ignoring Kirishima. Even Inko couldn't look up to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I..." Kirishima stuttered and looked down on the wounds on the hybrids' bodies-- wounds that he caused. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Midoriya's actions paused as he took a deep breath and answered. "You've already done enough, Kirishima-kun..."

"Look, I'm sorry... I--"

"If you want to go back to the village so bad, then you're free to go..." Midoriya cut him off. "With what you did, you proved that humans like us can be more of a monster than them... So, please... just go before you cause another injury,"

Kirishima looked at Inko for help, but she had looked away sadly. Then he looked at Katsuki and saw his wounds.

"I'm sorry..." Kirishima whispered before he turned and ran away from the scene-- leaving with a heavy heart.

~ TO BE CONTINUED ~

#kiribaku #bakugou x kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #bakugou katsuki #werewolf #little red riding hood #tododeku #bnha headcanons #kiribaku fanfic

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kayr0ss · 4 years

Text

Elder Scrolls Academia: A Series of Stories

Book One: The Dragonborn’s Fire and the Lady of Ice

[Diakko, SkyrimAU LMAO, action, adventure, cute goofy fluff, and romance, and dorkiness]

Summary: Diana was unprecedented in her talent for magic, even from her home town of Daggerfall among Breton nobility. But to sharpen her skill to its most lethal, she'd have to train where the cold bit the hardest--Skyrim. Now, the College of Winterhold's foremost student is crossing the threshold from apprentice to full-fledged mage, but her arch-mage mentor had tasked her with one last act to prove herself: Guiding the Dragonborn.

Except, the Dragonborn was hardly what she expected them to be.

[A gift to PyroTato]

---

“Hey, you.”

She blinked through her bleary vision. The first thing she felt was the harsh bite of the cold. Next was the sound of horseshoes clicking against what must have been mud and stone, followed by a view of she could only describe as… white.

“You’re finally awake.”

It wasn’t just white. There were hues of gray and blue, but it was all just merged back into an endless expanse of… white.

She was jolted upwards by a bump in the road—ah, I’m on a carriage—and she tried to right herself but seems she’s been restrained by the wrists. She should have been more panicked, but it wasn’t like this was anything new. Something about her foreign features and red eyes made her an easy target for picking; what’s worse than a foreigner is Skyrim? A foreigner whose origin was a mystery. But she supposed others still had it worse, she was at the very least, as far as she could tell, from the blood of man.

She looked over to the space beside the carriage driver (an Imperial solider, looking still wet behind the ears) to find a locked chest of what must have been their belongings. It looked standard—nothing too hard to pick—made of wood like all the others, and hinges that would give if she pulled hard enough. It was secured onto the cart with two straps of thick leather. Her red eyes scanned the perimeter of the cart of for a sharp object she could use, but her observation was cut short by the thick voice of the Nord who had woken her.

“You were trying to cross the border, right?” He said. His eyes were deep-set, and the dirty blonde of his hair and beard was styled in the proud norther tradition. “Walked right into that Imperial ambush. Same as us and that thief over there.”

She mulled over the words quietly, still a bit too disoriented to engage. She was hungry, and much too focused on trying to flee. The rest of the men had fallen into conversation, with the thief bemoaning his luck while the Nords seemed to take captivity with dignity. She blinked up at the mention of Ulfric Stormclock—apparently he was the sulking large fellow to her right.

And—oh—they were going to be executed?

No thank you, she tested the strength of her bindings. She’d like to live to eat another sweetroll.

The solider called out that they were arriving soon, and that this was a small town called Helgen. Their reception was less than spectacular and a little mixed—some came out to watch like bored spectators, others screamed, “murder!”, and a handful of parents rushed to drag their children back home; hopefully sparing them the trauma of heads casually lopped off in the name of the Emperor. It was a pity. It seemed like a quiet town with people who weren’t nearly as aggressive as farther up north. There weren’t too many buildings, although all of them were imposing with their stone walls and high beams. Not to mention the Imperial fort at the center, which didn’t look tolerant of any kind of trouble.

And she was trouble in every way that counted.

But also so, so hungry!

They were ushered out of the cart with no small amount of roughhousing, thrown into the ground and yelled-at to fall in line and present themselves to a young officer holding a list. There were several soliders on standby, with a woman donning the helmet of a senior Imperial officer barking out orders for the block to be readied. There rattling of chains mixed in with some commotion—the thief had tried to escape.

Mistake.

He fell limp on the ground, not given a second thought after the arrow sniped him square in the back, through where the heart must have been. She gave a low whistle and looked over at the archer, thoroughly impressed.

“You.” The young soldier called, and suddenly she was shoved forward—closer to that damned execution block—and asked to present herself. “Who are… you?”

She stared back at him, red eyes determined and stomach grumbling persistently.

“You don’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen on the continent.”

That was probably because as far as the stories have said, she wasn’t. She had to live through a rough life of never belonging with anyone for it—and so she sized him up and for the first time, spoke her name:

“Atsuko Kagari. Who is seriously very hungry.”

---

The mage took a deep, chilling breath. Her blues eyes were fixated on the flute glass of water that sat at the center of her desk. She was tucked away in her study, happy to wait out the winter storm with some semblance of warmth within the tower. But it was always cold in Winterhold, and by now it didn’t bother her one bit.

Slowly, the water began frosting over, solidifying under the sheer force of her will and the careful turning of her hands and fingers.

Gentle movements—no fancy gestures. The water froze and slowly crystalized upwards and towards the center into a haphazard cylinder, but then it twisted into itself, the ice moving in shards forming a frozen whirlpool that began to splinter along the top—branching out it as though it were alive, taking the shape of the dead tree in the middle of Whiterun that she had seen while coming to visit Farengar for advice.

It was a near-perfect replica.

She sat back, satisfied with her work. Shooting out a crass bolt of ice was easy. But this? This was control—and with the way the branches had curved in all the right places, the control was absolute.

Back in High Rock, among the Bretons of high society, she was Lady Diana Cavendish of Daggerfall, whose noble house held property in the Duchy of Cumberland where they grew the most potent plants for medicine.

Her person was synonymous with her name and where she had come from. Even on the years of her life spent travelling between Wayrest and Daggerfall for study, she had been measured by the weight of her name and not her magic.

But she excelled quite handsomely at both. It served her well—Bretons were made of diplomacy and trade in one hand, and magic in the other.

But it wasn’t real enough for her.

Not anymore—not in a country where the most a mage could be was the advisor of a king in court, or a glorified cannon on the battlefield.

She left the warm rolling hills of High Rock for the unforgiving cold in the far, far North.

---

Atsuko was just contemplating the effectivity of rolling out of the way of the very big sword meant to take her head when a giant dragon had swooped in and rudely interrupted her untimely demise.

Alright. Perhaps it wasn’t all that rude.

She knew to take an opportunity when it was handed to her, and she bolted straight for the fort where all the soldiers were taking cover.

It was chaos. Utter chaos. There was a roaring overhead that her blood seemed to recognize, but Shor’s bones, she wasn’t going to take the chance and look. The young officer was yelling instructions to protect the citizenry. The ground was shaking! Stone toppled over as the buildings gave in to the monstrous black claws that swatted them away like brittle clay pots.

But the worst of it all was the fire.

The air was scalding even when a few feet away from the plumes of hellish flame raining down from the dragon’s maw. She cursed her luck, wondering if she really escaped death a moment ago only to die as pile of ashes in the next.

“These goddamned bindings!” She hissed, her breath shaky while she pressed her back against the wall. A shadow shaped like wings blocked out the dreary sunlight and she closed her eyes—praying to every single one of the nine, Azura, and anyone who would listen in between.

There was a guttural rumbling coming up from above and—no. She still wasn’t going to look.

Staying close to the wall was a good idea. The dragon shot down a pillar of fire hotter than anything she’d ever felt burning down the buildings opposite her hiding spot. Just because she was expecting it doesn’t mean she was prepared—her hands shot up to cover her face, and though the heat was overbearing; her skin didn’t burn.

It was over, and the dragon flew back up to douse another part of town in an inferno.

“Foreigner!” A loud, clear voice called out. It was—it was the young officer? He held a dagger, beckoning her to hold out her arms. She thought he’d finish the job that the executioner and the dragon seemed to have left undone, but to her surprise he cut the bindings off and dragged her into the fort though a small entrance at the back.

“Follow me if you want live.” He commanded.

They barged into the relative safety of the fort—Atsuko saw the chest of their belongings from the corner of her eyes. She scrambled towards it, eager to retrieve the only belonging she had carried through the years, but the young officer held out his arm in front of it before she could reach it.

“I’ll unlock it.” He reassured. “Take what’s yours—there should also be some armor along the racks.”

“Why are you helping me?” Atsuko looked over warily, helping herself to the now-opened chest. The axes and shields didn’t interest her, neither did the potions, but—ah. There it is.

“Two can survive the dungeons and the caverns down below better than one.” He looked over towards her. “My name’s Hadvar. I think I—” His eyes widened at the sight of the old, worn sword that she held near her.

This reaction was nothing new, and she’s had her fair share of fending off thugs who thought it was theirs for the taking. They had another thing coming. She knew how to use this, at the very least. The blade was curved and slender, a stark contrast to the heavy, wide swords of Skyrim. The grip was wrapped in dark leather, crisscrossed with finely-embroidered cloth of a deep red, making a pattern of diamonds. The guard was simple, and so was the pommel, and the worn blade itself was dotted with seven, in-laid stars. It seemed the sheath was missing—Atsuko would later scavenge for cloth to wrap it with.

“That’s an Akaviri blade.” Hadvar looked in poorly-concealed surprise. “Where did you truly come from?”

Atsuko rolled her eyes—feeling annoyed despite the threat of a rampaging dragon outside. “I’ve asked myself that question more times that you can ever imagine.”

Atsuko had woken up in the house of a blacksmith in Riverwood. With a bit of a headache, she sat down with her head in her palms trying to remember it all. She was hungry. Oh, and about to get executed. The—dragon? Hadvar was leading her through the caverns.

He brought her to his uncle and aunt, and they were kind enough to open their home to her and feed her. They only favor they asked in return was for her to ask Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun for help.

Of course she’d help! She crossed her arms at how tentatively they asked. Did these wonderful people really think she’d turn them down after feeding her the best venison stew her taste buds had ever been graced with?

And so she found herself hiking to the capital of Whiterun Hold. Addvar fashioned her a scabbard out of wood and leather, and her sword hung snugly across her back. The travel was easy, save for the pestering of some wolves, and soon she found herself past Honningbrew Meadery, just about to cross the bridge that led to the slope coming up towards Whiterun Stables.

For the second time in a few days—the world around her was suddenly shaking.

There were… voices. Wailing. Calling. Pounding into her eardrums and her head so strongly that she had lost her balance and nearly fell over. She caught herself on the wooden railing of the bridge that ran over a small stream. Her breathing became erratic, and she clawed at her chest, feeling her knees give in.

Dohvakiin!

Her eyes snapped up, looking around for its source. Her soul felt like it knew that voice but—how?

And why did it sound like a call into battle?

---

She was summed for a meeting by no less than her mentor, the arch-mage, herself.

"Did you hear it?"

Holbrooke looked out from atop the bannisters of the College of Winterhold. Her hands were folded neatly at her back, holding her staff across it, while the wind whipped at their cloaks; cold and merciless from the Sea of Ghosts. The view was always white. One could barely see through the thickness of snow and slat, which would have cut deep into Diana's bones if she hadn't learned the art of befriending the cold from the moment she could cast a spell.

"Somehow." She replied curtly. It was an honest answer; she didn't so much as hear than she felt it.

"The Greybeards call." The arch-mage looked towards her. "The Dragonborn has been summoned."

Diana nodded silently. She looked out into the Horizon, across the dying town at the base of their castle, towards the peaks which she knew was the Throat of the World. It was barely visible on most days, but it seemed the howling winds and frost would reign themselves in to make way for a pronouncement which struck fear as much as it did hope: there is a god amongst men in Skyrim.

It was no longer a legend.

"Did you hear?" Holbrooke began. "Or did you feel?"

Diana turned sharply towards her mentor.

"Because the rest of us could hear, but I reckon you're a little bit different."

"I'm not quite sure I understand—"

"Lady Cavendish of Daggerfall," Holbrooke looked up to her with a burning intensity. "Within the bounds of Skyrim, you will be Diana of the Frost—A proper mage. A proper master. But first—"

The smaller woman stomped the base of her staff into the cold, icy stone of the castle. The action was weak in its physicality, but the waves of magic it had sent cackled like lightning.

Diana's foot inched back a little to keep herself steady against the pulse.

"—you will seek out the Dragonborn and guide them."

---

The arch-mage had sent out word of their search for the Dragonborn of legend, and many responded with cynicism or outright disinterest. Thankfully, there was still brotherhood amongst the College’s alumna and they had agreed to keep their search a secret.

Farengar was the first to respond with any promise. The magical letter he sent was a rather enthusiastic one—of no surprise to Diana. He always spoke… so much.

She rode gracefully on her steed, intent to make up for the few days she spent fixing her affairs with the College before riding out towards Winterhold. It would take more than a half-a-day on horseback, and she had started early, hoping to arrive in the afternoon for some rest before presenting herself to the Jarl, and in turn, her colleague. The icy crags of Winterhold slowly melted away the closer she got to the Pale, and the sight of mud and greenery was more welcome than she thought it would be.

Wolves stalked the roads, but they were a nuisance at best. It was the frost trolls she had to watch out for—her area of expertise in magic was painfully ineffective against them, but she could hold her own if push came to shove. Ice wasn’t the only thing she knew how to weaponize.

She pulled on her hood, her breathing coming out in puffs of thick, misty vapor while she took a moment of respite. She’d been going at it for a few hours now. The land was beginning to turn into an expanse of green and yellow—she was at the border of Whiterun Hold. She could see spires at the top of a walled city on a mountain. Dragonsreach was clearly within view. It reminded her a little bit of High Rock, and riding through Rivenspire and Glenumbra when her mother visited for political affairs.

She bit at her lip, pulling on the reins of her horse as it began to whinny and buck. She didn’t actually know what guiding the Dragonborn meant. How did one guide a human with the soul of a dragon? What wisdom could you impart the mortal incarnation of no less than Akatosh himself?

She had studied many things in the world—more than just magic. She’s seen statue upon statue and endless sketches of Tiber Septim. The conqueror—always standing coldly in stone, uncompromising in his just crusade to unify all nations of Tamriel.

Diana was never one to doubt herself but—what guidance can a mage possibly impart on someone with such power?

She surveyed the land ahead of her, noting there wasn’t much left to cover. Something caught her eye.

It was smoke. And… fire?

She prodded her horse forward and into an urgent gallop, riding straight into the fray of what looked a small skirmish happening on the outskirts of the city walls, near the watch towers.

She was a little bit closer now but then—she gasped. It took everything in her power not to choke up and pull her horse into a full stop as a large, reptilian figure shot upwards from the ground with the beating of wide, leathery wings.

It was horrifying.

Her throat had constricted into tightness—but she grit her teeth and rode on. The closer she came, the more horrible the scene had become. Nameless guards had been gobbled into the drake’s hungry mouth, their helmets falling off and into the dirt, disappearing in a cloud of dust where once a whole man was standing. It looked like the fighting had been going on for some time. She whipped her rains, pressing her feet into the sides of her horse to push him onwards—faster. She could hear their voices now. Screams. There was a dark-elf woman who seemed to be in-command, along with a handful of what must have been the Jarl’s elite guard.

There was also a… a woman with brown hair, whipping around ferociously in tattered imperial leather armor. It looked like it was too large for her, but she wore it masterfully. She was brandishing a curved sword that looked vaguely familiar—but the dragon’s claw was coming down onto her fast and Diana was too far away to stop it and—

“Look out!”

She yelled, the exertion making her lungs burn. The woman was cued in by her shout and had rolled to the side, taking the opportunity of the dragon sinking its claw into the ground to land a clean slice at the underside of its arm.

It roared. That made it angry.

She hopped off her horse now—throwing self-preservation away with reckless abandon. She vaulted into a run, her hands growing cold, ice at her fingertips buzzing with power and anticipation. A cold shot of death waiting to be unleashed.

When the dragon pulled itself upwards to fly back into the air, Diana sent a sharp bolt of ice towards the exposed underside of its torso. Reptiles tended to have soft hides on the underside—and if memory served, dragons were reptiles all the same, albeit overpowered.

All it managed was a small gash, but the creature staggered, losing the momentum it needed to take to the skies. An arrow from the dark-elf general got it straight in the eye. There was hack from a solider at one of its hindlegs. It reared, smoke billowing from its nostrils, and Diana eyes widened—the next thing that would come was fire!

And it was going straight for the brown-haired woman.

On instinct, she reached out, a wall of ice encasing the stranger protectively. It would give her enough time dodge out of harm’s way but—

“By the eight divines, what are you doing?!” Diana yelled. She wasn’t moving at all! She was standing there, biding her time behind the wall of ice while flames engulfed her at every other direction. The dragon was getting frustrated, inching by nearer, and by the gods Diana was good but she wasn’t that good—not yet. That wall was going to melt very soon—it was already starting—but the woman kept steady while the it began to give way. Her left hand was splayed between herself and the dragon and—she had flames.

Flames of her own.

There was a pause where Diana caught a glimpse of red eyes.

Who is she?

The woman made the slightest opening with what she recognized as the gesture for the fireball spell, but how could it—? Against a dragon?

It seemed like it was more of a distraction than it was a hit for damage—it soared through the plume and straight into the dragon’s mouth. In the split second that the fire sputtered out, she lunged forward with her sword, stabbing it straight through the dragon’s throat, gruesomely forcing the sword down, and down, and down to cut an incision all the way through.

The strangled yelping didn’t last very long—the creature soon after collapsed on top of the woman.

Diana’s instinct was to hold the dragon’s body upright with pillars of ice lest it crush the woman completely. She was already falling unconscious. Diana strode forward, noticing that the armor was singed, but she was otherwise unburnt. She was covered in sweat, her breathing was ragged and uneven.

Her hand glowed in the warm light of restoration, holding it flush against the woman’s forehead.

She pulled her gently away from the giant carcass as the soldiers began to gather around them.

“I don’t believe it.” One of them muttered.

She couldn’t either, to be honest. That was a dragon. A full, proper dragon.

And she was alive.

Then the woman began to… glow.

“What’s going on?” Diana muttered to herself, eyebrows knit in confusion at the sight she was seeing. The dragon—it was also glowing. There was something similar to a link in-between them and—

“She’s…”

Diana’s stared in utter disbelief.

“…the Dragonborn.”

---

She’s the Dragonborn.

Diana told herself for the tenth time that evening, watching the woman (Atsuko with remarkable recovery) gouge herself with her third platter of sweetrolls within fifteen minutes of waking up from unconsciousness.

“You’re going to give yourself a stomachache.” The mage carefully offered.

She had frosted butter at the edge of her lip, and those red eyes were round and… charming.

There was no sign of authority.

Not even of ferocity.

She wouldn’t believe this was the same woman from that fight if she hadn’t brought her back into Dragonsreach herself.

“Nah!” Atsuko mumbled through a mouthful of food. A servant came by with a platter of roasted deer—Atsuko’s eyes glazed over. “I can like… eat. A lot. I love food.”

“I’ve noticed.” Diana said evenly.

“So who’re you supposed to be?” Atsuko said absent-mindedly, reaching for the platter which was next-in-line for devouring.

“I’m Diana Cavendish, from the College of Winterhold.”

“Oh.” Atusko blinked. “Okay, awesome.”

Awesome? Diana blinked. She shook her head, clearing her throat and speaking with every ounce of professionalism the life of diplomacy and schooling offered: “Dragonborn—”

“Akko.” She waved her hand.

“—you and I are… going to be stuck together, for a little while.”

fin

A/N: Pyro - we did it buddy. We did it. This is for you. And all your memes.

Hey guys - no one asked, but I'm writing it anyway, if only because of how much fun and joy this AU has given me. This first chapter is as serious as it gets, unfortunately, because this is gonna be a one-shot dump of SkyrimAU Diakko where they kind of goof around like dorks, except they're overpowered, and sometimes Akko sneezes but shouts 'FUS!' by accident and Diana has to clean it up. The format I'm looking for is each chapter is a separate story about their adventures, much like the books scattered around in Skyrim (because I have no commitment and will focus on Appointments I'm sorry huhuuuhu). You could probably read them on their own - save for chapter 1 which is for context of the rest of the tales of the Dragonborn and her Ice Lady girlfriend.

But if you read it anyway - I hope y'all enjoy and if you wanna share headcanons, by all means, let's make it happen!

#Diakko #Dianakko #Diana Cavendish #Atsuko Kagari #LWA #Fluff #Romance #Skyrim AU #Actino #Adventure #Humor #Wlw #fanfic #LWA Diana #LWA Akko

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