#not everyone was born with plot armor so. wear a cup. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theartofbeinganeldar · 5 years ago

Text

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Prologue

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Prologue

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: So, this is my first fanfiction on tumblr, and I'd thought I'd try it since I have very little time for DeviantArt's chaos. It's much different from my Legolas x Reader on there. I added a small loving family to make the emotions relatable-- even if you don't have siblings, or have more than what I added, it's just fanfiction! Also, I tried to make my pronouns for said reader gender-nuetral so that everybody can enjoy it! The reason your character is so wild is for the sake of not fitting in to this world, yet you're used to it, so that later points in the plot can become more... Well, you'll see. And yes, I made Elves pansexual because I don't think they'd care much about gender or age at that point. LARPing plays a big role in the prologue, because your character is really into it for personal reasons. If this isn't your cup of tea, don't drink it. I hope you like it! Feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

You'd never been considered normal by anyone. You enjoyed LARP instead of reality. Your "job" was just staying at home and captioning videos all day every day you weren't LARPing instead of interacting with society at a normal job. Your home? A tiny studio apartment that only cost $450 a month without bills, and you did without cell phone, car, and electric for the sake of being your weird self. You hadn't been to college yet, despite the fact that everyone told you to go once your gap year was over, and it almost was. What would you even study? Acting was all that got you close to who you were, so, ok, guess that's fine, but nobody else thought of that as a career. Maybe you could write fiction-- you were good at that much.

You weren't always like this. There was a time when you were just a normal kid, living a normal life. But somewhere around ten, you started to change, and by sixteen you'd become who you were today. If the Old You could see the New You, you weren't sure if they'd think you were weird too, or if they'd stare up at you in awe.

Hopefully it was the latter, which made you feel good.

I mean, come on, were you born in the wrong timeframe or what?! That's what you thought, anyway. There's no way that this world was for you. The fact that nearly all people were heartless jackasses that enjoyed destroying the planet, the fact that everybody had to be the same or were considered freaks, prejudice and injustice were key factors of life and the rich got handed everything on a silver platter while the poor had to scavenge... Just, everything of this reality made you hate it. If only you'd been born five hundred years earlier, or, y'know, in Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings...

You'd really liked to have been born in Middle-Earth. You had so many books about it, you knew practically everything there was to know, even the confusing shit about Faramir being in the Fall of Gondolin. You'd practically memorized Elvish, and dwarvish, and you knew the whole six movies by heart, every line. And of course, like most Lord of the Rings fans, you had a massive crush on a certain Elvish princeling who was too pretty for his own good. In fact, Legolas was who inspired you to learn archery; maybe one day you'd be as good as he was.

Despite your wishes, you were stuck in reality, however much you hated it

. Even amongst your LARP groups, you were considered outlandish.

Everybody else had normal lives outside of their games, whereas you pretended this was your life. You didn't have any job aside from the small caption jobs you did when you weren't LARPing, no social life, nothing. The only people you had was your mother, brother, sister, and your only friend, [F/N]. They accepted you and your strange fantasies, even if they thought you'd one day regret acting in a way when you could've been beginning a normal life and being productive.

So excuse you if you decided to invite them to a LARP event and let them borrow some of your costumes. It wasn't the end of the world. But your LARP group apparently didn't get that memo.

"You invited your mom?!" A royal asshole sneered, yet you took satisfaction in the fact that his knight costume looked like it was made of cardboard painted silver, whereas your sci-fi Elf getup was actual leather and cloth. His name was Jacob Brent; you'd never really liked him. He'd always had it out for you because your costumes were so much more fabulous than his. Plus you may or may not have actually known swordplay and archery and dagger throwing and martial arts... Kinda. You were still in the process of learning kickboxing.

You cocked a sky blue-- yes, sky blue-- eyebrow to your equally bright blue hairline, spiked up in a short faux hawk. This was your first sci-fi Elf, and you'd wanted to go all out. A cocky grin split its way across your face. "Yeah, so? It doesn't effect you on any level, Tin Can."

He sniggered with his cronies. "I can't believe you don't have anyone else to come with you." He mimicked rubbing his eyes like he was four. "'Oh Mommy, I need somebody to come with me!'" His whole group burst into laughter.

You surprised them by joining in, actually appluading. "Oh, wow! Wonderful, just wonderful! Hey, should I tell Mindy that I seen you feeling up Roxie behind your fort last week?" He paled, and almost everybody in his group of crappy cosplay got 'o' faces. You put your hands on your hips. "Guess what, asshole, just 'cause I'm close with my family and you're not with yours doesn't make it a crime to hang out with them. It's my life, my decision, and I enjoy spending time with them." You hefted up a disappointingly fake spear, turning to walk away. "Oh, and by the way, your paint's chippin' off."

Reason for Hating Reality Number 6, 965: Immaturity levels are almost incomprehensibly high.

Your mom glared daggers at Jacob's Immaturity Harem. She'd always been a tough gal, always sticking up for you when you got bullied when you were younger, but now that you were an adult, she had to let you kick ass yourself; you were pretty good at it. "I don't like him." She stated casually, and you chuckled.

"'Course you don't. He looks like a cheesy robot costume you'd get from Wal-Mart with a too-big crotch protector that's not impressing anyone but himself, and he has the face of a roasting pig. Too tanned, too grubby, and always with something in his mouth."

She smiled slightly. "Has he always been giving you trouble?"

You swung your gear pack off of your shoulder, letting it yank itself down to earth. "Since the day he tried kissing my ass 'cause he didn't know me." [F/N] must've overheard that last sentence, because he burst into laughter when he approached with your brother, [B/N], and your sister, [S/N]. "You talking about Jacob?"

"Sure as hell."

You'd first met [F/N] a year ago, when you'd joined extra-curricular activites for your last year of high school. He thought your personality was incredibly brave, especially in this modern world, but even still... He was just a friend, not a best friend. You'd never had that luxury outside of your tiny family. You just didn't trust him after the life you'd had.

Unfortunately, it seems they didn't like the getups. "Do I have to wear this?" [B/N] asked dramatically, slumping over. He didn't look right in the pauldrons and leather breastplate.

"It's too heavy!" [S/N] complained.

You sighed theatrically. "My piteous children, deal with thy armor, for it must be worn despite thou complaints."

[B/N] pressed his palms together and bowed down. "Screweth thou, false companion."

You mimicked his bow. "Off to hell with thee."

"Hey! You guys! It's starting!" [F/N] cried, and ran off, his pack of weapons and magic bags trembling dangerously on his back. The rest of you followed more slowly, as you explained to your family how exactly LARPing worked. Battles weren't actually bloody, magic was just colored powder, you get points for a hit, and so on and so forth. [B/N] and [S/N] got it immediately, but your poor mom, who hadn't even ever played Skyrim, had no idea how the point system and leveling up worked. You had to explain it six times over before you'd reached the massive gathering of LARPing cosplayers. [F/N] returned to you as you reached it, carrying a map. "We were in Larsgyushter Prairie last, right?"

"Duh," You shrugged, at the same time [S/N] asked with a grimace, "Luckyestire Prairie?"

[F/N] inclined his head. "Well, I made some arrangements because your family joined us. We made for Glewnburg, where we picked up their characters, and then headed into the Elder Woods."

You took the map. "Sounds fair enough."

[S/N] frowned. "What exactly were you guys doing last time?"

[F/N] blushed; he must've liked her, which made you feel proud and like pummeling him all at once. "A quest to defeat a horde of wildebors in order to get a good amount of gold."

"How much?"

"Four hundred."

Your mom seemed confused. "Is that a lot?"

"For the land of Sisgremor," You retorted, "Not much. But it's enough for us. We hunt for food, and sleep in the woods. It's summertime, so we don't have much need for shelter unless it storms, and we know where to find caves. The coin is for some new bits of armor, and some weapon upgrades and a couple of magic books for [F/N]."

"Oh," Your mom said, and you took the lead, getting into your Elven character with a huge grin on your face.

"Come, my children! We must meet the bors by midday!" You ran off, but you didn't miss the looks over half of the LARP community gave you.

~le time skip~

The one thing you didn't like about LARPing was the enemies. They weren't believable and were crappily dressed, at least in your community. They were crappy actors and their dying acts were unrealistic. Unless they were orcs that had good makeup skills and good cosplay, they weren't worth fighting, but you had an imagination to kick them up a notch.

As always, the wildebors were just some guys in black outfits decorated with needles, and wearing pig masks with an underbite bearing tusks. Your imagination knocked them to eight-feet long beasts with bloodstained tusks, wild red eyes, and porcupine-like needles that shot out of their near-impenetrable hides if provoked.

You'd only fought these beasts once. They had three separate healthbars, each a different strength: eight hundred, four hundred, and one hundred. Your spear-- the only weapon you could afford after your bow snapped (Poor prop craftsmanship.), had a damage rate of ten health per hit, thirty if you could make a three-combo move (The highest combo move allowed.). [F/N]'s magic bombs, bolts of energy, and other magic stuff only varied from ten to fifty health damage per hit, except for his Fyrering, which was a once-a-day power that was ninety health damage, plus a three minute window of burning which took ten damage every thirty seconds.

The boars were also viscious; one hit from them took around fifty health, and at level nine, you and [F/N]'s health bars were only at two hundred and fifty, plus your armor rating of fifty and his of twenty. Your family, however, were only at level one, with a one hundred strength health bar each and armor ratings varying between ten and fifteen.

In short: that meant a hell of a lot of hits, very little openings, and there were always numbers to consider. There were six of them, and five of you. If you had your bow, this would be easy. You'd climb a tree, avoid their needles, and fire your twenty-five damage arrows relentlessly (With the thirty plus bonus from your actual bow.) while [F/N] pelted them with magic. You could take down two, maybe three that way before retreating, waiting for your strength to regenerate and your undamaged arrows to "respawn" before coming back for more battling (The arrows don't actually exist, for safety reasons. You had to wait for ten minutes before an approximated number of arrows, determined previously by the quest-giver, "reappeared" in your "inventory.").

But you had to think of a new plan. A brand new plan. You had three level one novices, two level nine intermediates, and six angry-as-hell wildebors that were level twenty. This was an impossible quest. You should never have accepted it knowing your family was coming.

You were hiding behind a huge oak, and glanced around it; for a split moment, you saw the crappy actors, but your mind quickly fixed that. Above and to your immediate right, [F/N] hid behind a mound of boulders up on a hill, and you'd positioned your family similarly. You just couldn't see them. [F/N]'s hand waving caught your attention. Frantically, he pointed above you. You whipped your head up, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. You gave him a look like WTF dude, and he rolled his eyes. He picked up a rock as an example and pointed back up into the branches, but still, you didn't see anything. He gestured again, almost forcefully, and this time, you seen it: brightnuts, a specialized kind of walnut bred specifically to explode into a bright white light on impact, with dangerous shrapnel and poisonous fumes that had one hundred and fifty health damage.

Of course, in reality, they were just blue and white beanbags hanging in nets rigged all over the branches, but you pretended they weren't.

But still, perfect.

You'd start calling out orders as soon as you started throwing them. [F/N] knew how to improvise to a plan already, but your family didn't. You propped your spear up on the tree, and started climbing, wincing when the bark scraped your palms; you were wearing what'd used to be white bridal gloves, but you'd tinkered with them to match your costume, sewing sky blue patterns into the gloves.

You personally didn't make a sound, but a couple of leaf-covered branches fell; luckily, wildebors were mostly deaf and blind, so you should make it to the top of the tree without any consequences.

You flashed [F/N] a triumphant smile when you reached the topmost branches, snatching a bag of brightnuts and holding them high above your head. He shot you a double thumbs-up, then made a wheel-like gesture to get you to move on. You stuck your tongue out at him, then readjusted yourself on the branch to get a good aim.

A few seconds of struggling against the knot, and you'd gotten the net open. With barely a minute of hesitation, you drew your arm back, and fired. Your aim was almost perfect. You hit one of the wildebors in the side, and you seen the actor as he started the most over-acted reaction you'd seen yet: a violent jump, then what sounded like a deranged "Guuuugh!" You rolled your eyes. So dramatic.

Either way, [F/N] whooped behind you. "Hit! A hit!"

Before you could give any orders whatsoever, [B/N] charged down the hill with his realistic-looking wooden battleaxe bellowing a war cry. You slumped over. "Aw, shit."

In the blink of an eye, [B/N] was officially dead but still pummeling the poor actors, your mom didn't know what to do, [F/N] didn't realize what was happening from behind his rock, and [S/N] was dodging air like a boss. You waited on the branch until the coach of the actors stood, took off his mask, and blew his whistle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You with the axe! You died already! Come on everybody, regroup, come on..." Your mom and [S/N] were laughing it off with a couple of the actors, but [B/N] was having a heated argument with the rest of them, and they were starting to shove each other around; he'd always been a sore loser. The coach separated them, and [F/N] called to you from below. "Guess we failed this quest, huh?"

You shrugged. "It's all good. There are other, less dangerous quests."

He perked up. "Yeah, so hurry up and get down here! We've gotta get back to Glewnburg!"

You tossed the beanbag you'd had in your hand back into the net. "Comin'." Unfortunately for you, you were a bit of a show-off. You stood, stretching your arms out for balance, walking quickly and carefully across the bough. A loud snap that echoed through the forest silenced everyone: your sudden movements had weakened the branch down the middle, where a split was slowly cracking open.

"Oh shit." Did I have to choose the top branch?

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as you fell. Your ribs exploded with pain as you slammed into a slightly lower branch full-force. Your ankle snapped. Your arms were whipped and bruised. Your head cracked painfully across the thick, unmoveable base of one branch, and white and yellow dots burst in your vision. Your sight started to fade, as did the pain, until you met the ground with a dull thud.

I should've went to college.

~time skip~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was, Hey, I woke up! I'm alive! which was immediately followed by, Holy fucking shit what the fucking hell did I break, then a much more painful thought of Why the fuck am I still in the goddamn forest?

And you were. You were laying on your side, in a couple of very small but still immensely terrifying pools of drying blood, one of which came from the corner of your mouth. Your entire body throbbed painfully. Every breath you took caused sharp, white-hot pains to spiderweb across your entire torso. Your ankle was burning up, and you couldn't move it or your left arm. Your head felt like you'd been hit by a truck. A truck made of solid wood...

Why were you still in the forest? You knew your mother well enough to know that she've panicked. She'd've screamed your name and ran to you and called 911 immediately. [F/N] would've done the same. In fact, there was no reason why they wouldn't have called for a medic. You fell from the equivalent of a three-story building with poles sticking out of it.

By all accounts, you should be near death.

So why were you still in the forest, exactly where you'd fell?

With immense effort, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily and wincing against the pain. Your vision swam, and things were blurry. The trees were different; the tree where you'd fallen from was tall and branchless for most of the way up, and definitely not an oak. To boot, there weren't any nets full of beanbags, and your spear was gone. Behind you was a cliff with an outcropping of rock that looked similar-- but not the same-- to the one [F/N] had been behind. There were roots and underbrush and bushes and walls of thorny branches surrounding you, and in between the ground was filled of orange and gold fallen leaves; up in the canopy, which hadn't been as thick before, the leaves were all dressed for Fall. You stared at it in confusion. "What the hell?" Shit. Even that hurt.

Where were you? Why weren't you in an ambulance with the sirens blaring? You were pretty positive you'd broken quite a few bones, and from that fall, you couldn't not have internal bleeding. So where were you?

You waited, but no one came. When the sky started to darken and the pain began to worsen, you were forced to move, slowly getting up, inch by inch, until you'd managed to be in a sitting position. It felt like all the blood rushed from your head and torso, making you cold in the evening chill. You hugged your right arm to your chest, really wishing you'd've worn arm cuffs or something; your short, high-collared, sleeveless, sky-blue leather jacket over a thin white crop top and a black corset-style belt really weren't meant for chilly weather.

"Hello?" You called out. Your voice carried on, but you got no return call. Blood trickled down your chin from where your lips had rebusted; you were lucky you hadn't bit your tongue off or shattered teeth. "Hey! Help!" Still, nothing. "Hey!"

After a twenty-minute bout of screaming for help, you gave up. You were confused-- so, so, confused. Where were you and why were you here? Where was your family? Where was [F/N]? Where was the coach, and those shitty actors? Hell, where was the rest of the LARP group? You'd even be relieved if Jacob appeared out of nowhere.

The moon had risen by the time you’d made it to your feet. Your ankle wasn't as bad as it was earlier; you could put some weight on it now, even if it wasn't a lot. You must've only sprained it. You tried calling for help a few more times, but only the crickets replied.

Then, they went silent.

You frowned. In books and movies, that was usually a bad sign. What'd caused them to shut up so abruptly? Not aliens, you hoped, like in Signs.

A low growl from behind you-- behind you, dammit-- made your skin crawl. A chill ran down your spine. You turned, slowly, hoping you wouldn't aggravate the wolf or coywolf or whatever it was; it wasn't either of those.

It stood on top of the small cliff, and it was at least the size of a horse. A boar-like coat, dull brown, covered its entire body, spotted in places. Its head was broad and massive, bearing an underbite of fangs and small beady eyes. Drool fell from its jaws as it snarled at you. You were half tempted to try the "Nice doggie" before you seen the rider.

Damn, it was ugly as hell. Small, malformed, with dark green skin and a crooked nose. Greasy, thin hair hung from its wrinkled scalp. Nasty claws protruded from its wart-covered fingers and dug into the horn of some kind of saddle. It sneered with an evil grin, and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You didn't know what else to do; you took off running at full speed, ignoring the pains shooting up your leg from your sprained ankle. Branches and weeds whipped your skin, trailing blood. You glanced back once. The monster-- which you knew was an orc-- and the giant dog that you couldn't place the name of watched you for a couple of moments more before the orc gave a sharp order in a language you didn't understand, but it felt familiar. Two more of the giant dogs burst from the bushes on either side of the first, and they did give chase. Shit, were they what'd happened to your family? Some whackjob dressed as an orc riding a pitbull on steroids mauled everybody?!

You pushed yourself to run faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Each step jarred your aching body, but you couldn't stop. The dogs were enjoying the chase, keeping their strides slow enough to still be on your heels, but not close enough to get you yet. A new sound-- a river, maybe-- gave you hope, and you tried to move even faster, your lungs burning from the strain.

It was a river you'd heard, but it was down a steep hill filled of arching roots and thorny bushes. You didn't have time to stop; you barreled forward, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way, hurting your body even further. By the time you reached the pebbly shore (With all of the sharp edges of the rocks jabbing into you unnecessarily.), the dogs were halfway down, the orcs riding them laughing like hyenas.

You couldn't swim, but you'd rather take your chances with the river than with the giant pitbulls. You waded in, and were immediately swept off your feet by the strong current. It dragged you under, and you were bashed into some boulders, getting cut up badly. One slammed into your hip, nearly causing you to suck in. Another rammed into your already-broken ribs, and this time, you did scream, getting a huge gulp of water. A crimson cloud engulfed you as something long and sharp burst through your calf. You were pushed up against another boulder, and you grabbed on, hauling yourself out of the water and hanging on for dear life, hacking and coughing out the water that'd filled your lungs.

The dogs had chased you up the shoreline, and the orcs carried shortbows with arrows of dark wood. A glance down and, sure as fuck, they'd hit you with one in the calf, dammit. You looked ahead of you: rapids, a slow and drawn-out death. Ahead of you, probably a very painful death, but hopefully it'd go faster than drowning while being battered to a lifeless corpse.

I should've gone to college.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and braced yourself for the next arrow, but you were pretty much forced to open them again when you heard the sound of dogs yelping and orcs wailing. One of the dogs was dead, neck slashed open and pouring blood onto the rocks. It had landed on its rider, who struggled beneath its weight. The other dog had taken off, but its rider had an arrow jutting out of its face.

A troop of warriors, clad in forest-colored tunics of dark browns, greens, and grays had appeared in the second you'd closed your eyes. Every one of them had long, straight hair, braided away from their faces. Most had a quiver of arrows and a longbow, but some, like the one who'd killed the dog, had a curved longsword. Others still had long knives. Compared to the dark orcs, these people seemed to almost be made of light...

Oh shit.

Elves. These were Elves.You could see it clearly now, in the way they carried themselves: regal, majestic, every move perfectly balanced and smooth. Their ears were pointed, but not drastically like the ones from Zelda, and they were taller than most average men. You were in awe.

These were some damn good actors.

No, they couldn't be actors. That clicked, finally. Especially when you were able to see the one that'd killed the dog slice off the struggling orc's head cleanly and deftly before kicking it into the river. Thankfully, it didn't come near you.

Shit. These were real orcs, real giant bloodthirsty dogs, real Elves... This was all real. But how...?

You heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, much closer to you. You couldn't exactly whip around in your current state, but you still moved as fast as you could. Another Elf, standing on the flat rocks halfway across the river, no less than thirty feet away. How the hell did he get there?!

After the initial shock passed, you realized there was an arrow nocked in the bow. You'd already felt one once in the last ten minutes, you didn't need to feel it again, so you stayed still. He watched you with eyes so blue you could see them from where you were. He was illuminated from the side by the moon, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair was somewhere between platinum and very light blonde, and a quiver of orange-feathered arrows hung over two identical sheaths for ivory-handled long knives. His bow was almost as gorgeous as he was: dark wood engraved with golden leaf designs. His tunic was dark green, and you admired his fancy Elven belts and buckles and bracers for a second before your eyes were drawn back to his face, the profile of which was almost... Dished, in a way, like an Arabian horse's. Your eyes locked, and you felt as if you'd seen him somewhere before...

An Elf on the shoreline spoke, breaking the trance. You couldn't understand what exactly he said; you could've swore you knew some Elvish...

The Elf staring you down watched you for a minute longer, then jerked his bow toward you in gesture, shouting an order to one of his comrades. His voice sounded so familiar... It was on the tip of your brain... It was deep and soft and gentle and commanding all at once. You couldn't explain it. Two Elves followed his order, nimbly leaping from tiny rock to tiny rock to get to where he was, then past him, coming to you. Their weapons were sheathed, so you hoped they were going to help you instead of kicking you into the water or something.

Carefully, noticing how banged up you were, they grabbed you underneath of the arms and lifted you onto the flat rocks the blue-eyed Elf stood on, still ready to fire, and stepped back as you coughed up some water in a delayed reaction to nearly drowning.

When you finished, your eyes felt like they wanted to close on their own. You felt too tired, too weak, too pained... Despite that, you sat up, shivering in the chilly evening air. "Th-thank you..." With a start, you realized they might not even understand English.

"Who are you?" The blue-eyed Elf demanded. "Answer me quickly; do not think we cannot throw you back to the river."

Shit. Pressure. Suddenly you forgot your name for a split second. "I-I'm [Y/N]."

"What are you doing in these lands?"

"I was chased," You looked pointedly at the dog and orc.

The Elf watched you for a minute, judging you... He signaled. "Throw them back into the river." Suddenly, you were being dragged.

Aw, fuck. You struggled against the Elf's strong grips. "W-wait! I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was playing a game with my family and I fell out of a tree! All of a sudden I'm being chased by giant dogs and being manhandled by a couple of Elvish pri--!" You were cut off by a bought of coughing that wracked your body so hard that you doubled in on yourself, pulling the Elves down with you. Your eyes widened when blood trickled out of your mouth, leaving crimson droplets on the rocks. Shit.

The blue-eyed Elf ordered something in their tongue, and the two dragging you halted on a dime. He finally decided to lower his bow a little, inspecting you. "Are there more of you?"

You shook your head; you were getting dizzy, and your vision was blacking out. "I-I don't know... I was alone when I woke up."

The Elves conversed in their own language for a few minutes, and the blue-eyed Elf finally came to the conclusion that you weren't much of a threat in your current state. He looked to the Elves on the shoreline, and gestured at one of the ones holding you, who then scooped you up bridal style, but like you were the ugliest bride he'd ever seen. "Und win'doheim!" Shouted the blue-eyed Elf, obviously the one in charge, and lead the progression back to the forest.

I should never have gotten out of bed today...

Despite the crazy situation, you managed to doze off a few times on the Elf that carried you, until a coughing fit or pain would wake you up. A fever spiked up as you crossed a bridge, and you were half out of it as you entered some kind of woody building surrounded by trees and rivers that you couldn't comprehend very well in your feverish state. You were panting and wheezing, and couldn't see straight. It all seemed so surreal, like you were viewing this from somebody else's perspective. This had to be a dream... A very vivid, very painful dream...

The last thing you remembered was Elvish chanting, golden and white lights surrounding you, and the silhouettes of the Elves. Your pain faded, and you fell into a forced sleep.

When you woke up, a breath of relief whooshed out of your lungs. It was a dream! It was all a dream! It was night, and your nighlight had gone out, but your hall light was still on. You turned over to see what time it was, but your nightstand was gone. So was your window, and shelves and desk and computer and all of your things. Your bed was different. Your relief dissipated to terror.

Fuck. It wasn't a dream.

You were in a small room. An orange-hued light came through the low doorway, and the dark walls were ridged, as if carved from the earth itself. You felt the remains of your injuries from earlier-- or days ago, you couldn't tell how much time had passed-- as throbbing remains. Your clothes were still ripped and bloodstained, and as you stood up, it felt like you were just coming off of the flu.

Wobbly, you staggered over to the doorway, hoping to find somebody that definitely wasn't an orc or Elf.

You slammed face-first into elaborately crafted iron bars.

Outside of them, fully-armored Elves patrolled on small ledges beside the spiraling rows upon rows of cells like yours. This was a dungeon.

...Well shit.

Tag List: @tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @taurlel @hauntedsiriel

135 notes · View notes

lokidokiliteratureclub · 6 years ago

Text

Don’t Touch Me

Loki X Reader

Warnings: Angsty, cursing, refers back to the more graphic scenes in Infinity War.

A/N I realize that the plot of Thor: Ragnarok would have been at least a bit different if Loki had been a friend of the Avengers, but the fact is that Odin still would have died so Hela would have still been unleashed, and the story might be more or less the same. Either way, he would have still ended up where he was in the end credit scene- if you know what I mean. So just.. for the sake of the story.. just go with it. Anyway, enjoy!

Prompt: While so many others were born with mutations that gave them wondrous, blessed gifts, you seem to have been stuck with a curse. Some have referred to it as a form of clairvoyance- as a seeing of the future. At its core, that’s true. But deeper down... it’s much worse than that.

There was no reason why Loki Laufeyson should not know about your feelings for him. No. Good. Reason.

It was irrefutable how obvious your crush on him was. When you spoke, your face reddened- your heart rate quickened- you lost the ability to speak with full sentences. He was just so... breathtaking. So... beautiful. And even if he was ugly as a headless cow-chicken-blobfish-donkey hybrid, he would still manage to captivate you with the way he spoke, or the intensity to which he did things, or the books he recommended you read, whether they were from earth or Asgard.

And, unlike many others, he didn’t ask about the gloves, or the long sleeves, or the way you flinched away from human touch. He didn’t pry at your past, even though everyone in the tower knew his. He didn’t even bother you about the cautious glances the Avengers and other SHIELD Agents gave you around the clock.

What was not to like about him? Other than- you know- the whole evil dictator thing, or the fact that he could be a whiny bitch about his brother. He was basically irresistible.

“Y/N, may I ask why you’re still pouring coffee even though it has spilled over your hand?”

Oh, that’s right. You were pouring searing hot liquid into the contents of your cup while day-dreaming about the man right in front of you.

“Shit!” You cursed, rather loudly, drawing back your hand and ripping the silk, coffee-stained, burning hot glove from your left hand. You shook your arm uselessly back and forth as if waving your hand through the air would cool it down, ignoring the arched eyebrow Loki was giving you from a few feet away.

“Perhaps,” he mused, grabbing a washcloth and wiping the counter down, “if you actually slept instead of relying on coffee for sustenance, you wouldn’t continuously ruin everything all the time.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so goddamn beautiful, I’d be able to disagree with that statement,” you murmured sourly under your breath, through gritted teeth. When you realized you had said that out loud, you reddened thoroughly.

Loki seemed to hear, too, because his hand paused mid-wipe and his lips thinned out into a smirk. “What was that?”

“I said that perhaps if you didn’t force me to read all these fucking books I’d have more time to sleep,” you said quickly, turning away from him and grabbing your glove off the counter. “Nerd.”

“First of all, I do not force you to read anything, I simply recommend the literature which I find more intriguing. And second,” he grabbed hold of your wrist as you were leaving, effectively spinning you around, “that’s not what you said, Y/N.”

That was the first time in your life you saw Loki Laufeyson make a mistake.

All it took was the tip of his finger grazing your hand to throw you forward, launching your head into the future like a stone plummetting after skipping across flat water. You screwed your eyes shut and held your breath, knowing what was coming next and dreading it all the same, your entire body beginning to shake at just the idea of what you were about to see.

You opened your eyes, and you were on a spaceship.

The ship was decimated- bodies lie strewn across the floor and piled up near the walls. Children and adults alike clung to each other, motionless and unbreathing on the floor, each person dressed in what appeared to be traditional Asgardian clothing. At the center of it all was a small clearing, where a group of heavily-armored beings stood, all surrounding, in one way or another, a purple colored Titan who you did not know the name of who wore a hefty gauntlet with two bright stones in it. Across from him was Thor, Loki’s brother, bound with pieces of metal to a spot on the ground. He looked pained. For a short, horrifying moment, you thought you were going to have to watch him die too.

You lifted a trembling hand to your mouth to stifle a sob, and tried to even out your breaths.

The huge Titan-man turned to his allies or minions or whoever they were, and spoke, “There are two more stones on Earth. Find them, and bring them to me.”

“Father,” one of them said, bowing their head, “we will not fail you.”

“If I may intergect-” spoke the all too familiar voice from behind you, causing you to spin around and stagger backwards, your eyes clouding up but unable to close. “If you’re going to earth, you may need a guide. I do have a bit of experience in that arena.”

You saw the betrayal flaring in Thor’s eyes. You felt it, too. You didn’t want to believe that Loki would give up Earth to some douche like this, but it was happening right in front of your eyes, so what else was there to believe?

You shrunk backward.

“If you consider failure experience,” the Titan said, unimpressed.

“I consider experience experience,” said Loki, that insufferably persuasive smirk plastured on his face. “Almighty Thanos,” he spoke, slowly and clearly, taking a few steps forward as he spoke, “I, Loki, prince of Asgard-” then he paused, and his eyes fell to the ground to the right of him, before raising upwards to look at Thor, “Odinson,”

Thor looked like he might break in half.

“The rightful king of Jotunheim,” he continued, his head snapping back in the Titan- Thanos’ direction, “God of Mischief,”

That’s when a dagger appeared in his hand, and you realized exactly what was about to happen.

“No, no-” You said out loud, uselessly, pleading with all of my being for this to stop. “Loki!”

“Do herby pledge to you my undying fidelity.”

On that, he bowed his head, took a few shallow, deep breaths, and then swung sharply for Thanos’ neck. But Thanos had raised his gauntlet, and a strange, blue light trapped Loki’s arm in the middle of the movement, preventing the assassinatoin he was hoping for.

“Undying,” he echoed, almost amused. “You should choose your words more carefully.”

They he grabbed Loki by the neck, lifted him, and started to tighten his grip.

This time, you couldn’t mask the scream. It ripped through you like an earthquake, and you dropped down to your knees, wishing desperately for the ability to look away, but coming up dreadfully empty. Loki squirmed and fought against Thanos, but it was all in vain. Thanos even gave Thor a sideways glance to make sure that he was paying complete attention.

You barely heard Loki’s words, and you certainly couldn’t see him speak through the flod of tears that escaped your eyes. But very faintly, almost like a whisper, you heard Loki’s last words.

“You will never be a god,” he hissed through his teeth.

And then his neck snapped, Thanos threw him to the ground in front of Thor, and it was over. You didn’t hear a thing after that. You barely even saw the purple light explode across the ship, throwing you back into reality like a cold bucket of water.

You stumbled harshly backward from Loki, and fell to the floor, shaking madly.

You just saw him die.

“Y/N- are you-”

“Don’t touch me!” you yelled, your affections for him taken over by fear. He froze in his place, taken aback, before very slowly picking your glove up off the floor and offering it out to you. You didn’t respond at first, but then very slowly reached a trembling hand up to take it.

It fell silent.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently after the period of silence, not moving any closer to you. “Do I need to get Sta-”

“I’ve never told you about why I wear gloves all the time,” you said quietly. ““It’s because whenever I touch someone for the first time I see how they will die.”

He was silent once again, and then he took a set on the ground right in front of you, looking down. You tried to look at him normally- tried desperately to grasp onto the shard of light he normally offered you, but all you could see were the bloodshot eyes- the popping veins- the clawing hands that you saw in the vision. It was like a shab to the chest. You swallowed back another round of harsh tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, not daring to look at you either. “I didn’t mean to cause you any harm, Y/N.”

“I- I know. I just, you, this, we, Loki, I care a lot about you,” you stammered, stressed out and not really in the mood to keep secrets, even your own. “I, like, a lot. Too much. And sometimes, sometimes I want to punch you in the face and other times I want to shove you up against a wall and kiss you, and it’s awful, because even if I had the confidence to do those things, I never could. And this is why. Because- even though I could just touch you once, get it over with and never have to worry about it again, this is what I’d see! I’d see-”

I’d see your neck get snapped by some guy with a gauntlet, surrounded by bodies, your brother forced to watch.

You broke off mid-sentence and brought your knees to your chest, shrinking down into yourself and sobbing into your knees. Seconds later, Loki scooted to your side, placing an arm around your shoulders. “Y/N, darling, it’s alright,” he cooed, gently caressing your arm. “Look at me.”

You peeked out from between your knees, leaning slightly into his touch, his blue-green eyes paralysing.

“You never have to hide your feelings from me, Y/N. Never. You can always talk about these things,” he very cautiously brought a hand up to the side of your face, brushing away one of your tears with his thumb. “We can always find a way to work things out, alright? And I don’t know what you saw in your vision or whatnot, but I can assure you that we‘ll have time before then.”

“We?” You cracked, trying to soak in the feeling of his skin on yours, knowing you probably wouldn’t he able to touch many other people in your lifetime ever again.

An then he did something you didn’t expect. He cupped the other side of your face, leaned forward, and kissed you. Soft and slow. Relaxing a little bit when you dropped your shoulders and leaned into him. You brought one hand to his jaw and fit your palm against it, wrapping the other arm around the back of his neck, until you were both fully entangled in the kiss. You could hear him panting slightly as you pulled away, eyes locked on eachother from the minute they opened.

“We,” he repeated, not lifting a finger from your skin. “at least, unless you have a better idea as to what to do with the time.”

#loki x reader fluff #tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson #loki #marvel #loki odinson #lokixreader #loki/reader #loki x reader #loki angst #loki x reader angst #loki fluff #i'm so sorry

43 notes · View notes

fanficsofmine · 6 years ago

Text

Equivalent Exchange - Chapter 2

Plot: Amara’s best friend, Kim Junmyeon and her boyfriend, Jeon Wonwoo, despised each other. She always assumed that it was because Junmyeon had become a very skilled Alchemist, and Wonwoo had always seemed against that… but is there more behind this feud that she wasn’t ready to learn?Characters: Kim Junmyeon, Amara Archemides (OC), Jeon Wonwoo

Word Count: 2,591

A/N: Almost smut? But not?

Chapter 1

When Junmyeon arrived at Amara’s house again, it was dark outside. He didn’t even bother knocking, but threw the front door open. He heard Amara yell, “in the study!” from down the hallway, and followed her voice. He walked in to see her standing in the middle of the room, holding a little book. She handed it to him without a word. Her eyes were wide. The moment Junmyeon saw the cover of the book, he gasped.

"This is--" He clamped his mouth shut before he could spill anything dire. Amara stared at him expectantly. She'd called him for answers anyway. “May I?” he asked softly, not wanting to invade her boundaries. She nodded and he opened the cover of the book. In a hand written script on the inside cover it said: “Property of Edward A. Archimedes - The Air Alchemist.”

“Amara, your father was a State Alchemist?”

The question hit her like a wall of bricks. She had lived with an alchemist all along? How had she not known? Surely there had to have been signs. Anything that should have alerted her to what was going on in her own home.

“It looks like he started this about six years before you were born." He flipped through the first few pages, recognizing words and recipes. He pursed his lips together, and said, "Amara… If you read this, you might find out things about your dad that you don’t want to know.” She reached for it without hesitation, but did not open it. Instead Amara looked up at Junmyeon.

“Why did you answer when I called?”

He looked at her, confused. “What does that have to do with anything right now?”

“It just… it's important.” Amara set the journal down and looked back at him. She asked again, “why did you answer when I called?”

Junmyeon stepped up to her. “You’re my best friend, dummy. I’ll always answer when you call.” He was close enough to her that he reached out and cupped her cheek. He rubbed his thumb over a streak in her makeup where she had been crying earlier. His other hand rested on her other cheek and he used it to lift her face up to look at him.

“And because Wonwoo is right,” he whispered, “I’m so in love with you it’s crazy. I will never not answer when you call.” With those words, he finally kissed her. Years of yearning poured out into this one moment and he kissed her with everything that he had.

Amara kissed him back. Her hands flew around his neck and she pulled him closer. His hands wrapped around her waist, embracing her fully. She pulls him backward until her legs landed against her father’s desk, and Junmyeon wasted no time in lifting her and setting her on the desk. He used his body to spread her thighs apart and stood in between them. This was hardly the time nor the place for this, but he was not about to let a moment pass where he could finally physically show her what she meant to him.

He leaned down and placed aggressive kisses along her neck line and ripped the shirt she was wearing open, buttons popping everywhere along the floor.

“You owe me a new shirt.” She teased him between moans.

“I’ll make you a new one.” He nipped back.

“Alchemy can’t be that resourceful or everyone would be out of jobs.” Junmyeon stopped reaching for the button on her jeans.

“Are we going to talk about alchemy’s effects on the economy or are you going to let me make you cum?”

His blunt words only fueled her want for him more. Amara pretended to zip her lips closed as she leaned back and let him remove her pants from her body. He took his shirt and jeans off quickly before stopping to admire her. There she sat, in nothing more than her bra and panties. Junmyeon ran his fingers over the skin at her chest. She was as soft and beautiful as he had always imagined. His hand moved to rest on her chin as he pulled her closer for a softer, more sensual kiss.

“Please?” Amara finally whispered against his lips. Junmyeon was happy to oblige. He went to take off her underwear, but something caught his attention. It was a red mark peeking over the top of the fabric at her hip bone.

“You have a tattoo?” He didn’t remember her ever mentioning that she had gotten one, and that would have definitely been something that he remembered.

“Oh, that. I dunno. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. I used to tell my dad I had a funny ‘lizard eating his tail stamp’ and he would laugh and tell me I was crazy.” Amara shrugged, pulling Junmyeon's face in close again. But this time, he resisted.

“Lizard eating his tail.” He repeated the words and his heart stopped as he did. He quickly moved the fabric over, and his worst fears were confirmed. “An Ouroboros.” he gasped. Leaving Amara confused, horny, and mostly naked, he scrambled for the journal on the other end of the desk and flipped to the first page.

“January 24, 1984.

Elise told me today that she wishes to have a child. I have been so busy these days that I had not even considered the thought of a family. The longer I thought about it, however, the longer I loved the idea of a little one running around. Who knows? Maybe one day, I would be able to teach him or her alchemy! What fun that would be!”

Junmyeon flipped a few more pages until something jumped out at him.

“September 9, 1988.

Elise can’t conceive. Four years of trying and we have recently found out that her body is incapable of creating life. She is so devastated. I’m not sure what to do anymore. I’m heartbroken, although I cannot even begin to comprehend the hurt that she is experiencing.”

I have to find a solution. I have to find a way to give her a child of her own.

I’m so desperate to help her. I even considered the ultimate taboo. Although, with the legend of the Elric Brothers still being the warning against it, I’m honestly too afraid to even attempt human transmutation. I don’t know if that story is real or not, but if it is, the horrors are too drastic to try.”

“Who are the Elric Brothers?” Amara made him jump, forgetting that she was there.

“Uhh, they're...uhh." He sputtered, half distracted by her still naked body, and the fact that she was...she was...

"They’re supposedly two of the strongest alchemists to ever live. The story goes that they attempted to bring their mother back to life as kids. One lost his arm, and the other lost his body completely. His brother bonded his soul to a suit of armor until they were able to exchange their power for his body back.” Junmyeon glanced at Amara, a new hesitation in his eyes that she had never seen before. “They fought through hell and high water to get his body back. They fought against the first ever recorded Homunculi.” He watched her face for a reaction, but received none other than confusion.

“What the hell is a ‘Homunculi?’” She asked, and Junmyeon sighed.

“They’re fake humans, essentially.”

“Okay. So? Why exactly are you not kissing me? Why did my birthmark make you lose your god damn mind?”

“Just please," He begged, knowing that he could possibly be giving up everything he ever wanted with her, "give me a minute to prove myself wrong.”

“January 11, 1989.

I have obtained the help of a neighbor boy as an apprentice. The boy was in his yard, and he was showing some amazing alchemy for only being three years old. I promised to train him in return for his assistance and silence. A little boy watched me create fire with my hands. He was willing to agree to anything. “

“February 19, 1989.

I have figured it out. It’s happened. I have figured out how to create a Philosopher's Stone. Although I refuse to write it down in hopes that, should anybody find this journal. Whether it be my apprentice or my future, (hopeful) child, I can’t have anybody knowing any of the dark secrets behind it. Along with the means necessary to create a stone, I have also obtained the knowledge that, one day, I will have a child. I will. I will make Elise happy.”

“June 1, 1989.

I have taken the first step toward creating the stone. It was difficult. I can only hope that the end will justify the means to get there.”

“Dammit.” Junmyeon whispered. He closed the book and pressed it against his head. He looked at Amara who looked beyond lost. He knew that she didn't know what any of this meant, and that made it even worse. His heart shattered the more that he read. “The way to create a Philosopher’s Stone remains unknown to almost the entire alchemic community. It would give someone too much power. They've been known to be the heart of the Homunculi, and gives them life and abilities when they aren’t even actual people. They look like us. They breathe like us. But they're not human.”

“Okay? And?" She sighed, knowing there was no was he was going to make her cum now.

“To create a Philosopher's Stone, Amara, you have to--” Junmyeon hesitated and took a deep breath, “you have to kill people. You have to kill a lot of people.” For a tense moment, they just looked at each other; her figuring she should put on a shirt, and he not daring to even breath. Amara wanted to ask more questions, but, instead said,

“Keep reading.” Junmyeon nodded, flipping several pages forward.

“December 21, 1989.

I think that it’s time. My apprentice, though just a young child, has been working so hard to understand alchemy. His powers are years beyond his age, and I genuinely believe that he will be able to help me complete this task. We are on the verge of success. I can feel it. Soon, we will hold a beautiful baby in our arms.”

“March 7, 1990.

She’s here. She is really, genuinely here. A heart of stone, but a smile so beautiful.

I gave it all up. I surrendered my alchemy over so that she could become and grow like a normal baby. She will experience a full life. She’ll take first steps and she will speak first words. My beautiful daughter will make her mother so happy.

I will never tell her who or what she really is. I can’t. Although the sacrifice to create her would show her just how fully loved and wanted she really was, I don’t know that she could ever really live knowing she was a homunculus. She never needs to know. I can not wait to present her to my wife. This beautiful, stunning, baby girl.

My Amara.”

Junmyeon’s heart sank.

Amara’s would have too, had her's been real. There were no words exchanged. They sat and stared at each other for a very, very long time. What were they supposed to do with this information?

As the shock wore thin, the doubt set in, and Amara snatch the book from Junmyeon's hands, tearing it open to read the words.

"This is some kind of stupid joke." She muttered as she flipped through the pages. Detailed accounts of her creation, her natal charts, and records. "No, no, no, no...I had a mother!" She angrily shook the book at Junmyeon, like she was trying to convince him, like he wasn't looking at her in horror.

"No, Amara...you didn't." He whispered.

"This is just some stupid--" She started to yell again, but he caught the book in her hand.

"Some stupid what? If it's a prank, who pulled it? If it's a lie, why would your father have written it? God this is all my fault..." He ran his fingers through his hair angrily.

"How is this your fault!" She snapped, and even when she was looking for every reason not to believe...it would never be his fault.

"If you hadn't caught me using alchemy, you never would have known what the book was. You could have lived in peace." He stood and started to pace the length of the study in his boxers. The truth was sinking in the longer the refused to look at her. Her world was falling apart all over again.

"...lived?" She whispered, and his eyes whipped to hers. Amara wasn’t real. Well, she was. But she wasn’t. She'd never lived. “I’m not real.”

There was a sound of clapping from the doorway, and both Amara and Junmyeon jumped at the sight of Wonwoo standing there, applauding softly.

“I wondered if I would find you two fucking when I saw Junmyeon’s car in the driveway,” he started, “but this is even better."

"Wonwoo...this...isn't what it looks like--" Amara tried to form a sentence, but his eyes were too menacing for her to think of a decent lie. He scoffed at her attempt and pushed off the door. "It's not? Are you sure? Because it looks like a state alchemist in training finding out the love of his life is the exact thing he dedicated his life to destroying." Junmyeon’s brow furrowed as he tried to piece together everything Wonwoo was saying.

“Wait. How the hell do you know what a Homunculus is?”

“I’m kind of glad that all of this is out in the open,” Wonwoo said, ignoring Junmyeon's question. “It was exhausting having to hide the truth.” He snapped his fingers, and the top layer of skin on Amara's hands began to burn away. She cried out when, under the skin that she was convinced was real, there were two thick black transmutation circles tattooed on her flesh.

Her world started to spin as she stared at them, with a kind of detached confusion. Those weren't her hands, were they? This wasn't her reality was it? None of this seemed real! All of this was too much. Wonwoo was an alchemist?

“I learned alchemy under your father, Amara. He took me in when my own deadbeat dad was too busy being piss drunk on the couch. He was actually the first soul that we took to create yours. Funny how the circle of life works, isn’t it?

“Anyway- when your dad died, he left you to me. He couldn’t stand to imagine his creation be left alone without somebody to care for. He had given me everything. It only seemed fair that I take you in and that I abide by his wishes. He didn’t want you to know about Alchemy, so I hid it. It’s why it was such a big deal when Junmyeon here started his. I was afraid that it would trigger something inside of you that would activate your powers. The good news is that it seems as though yours won’t show up since it’s been so long without them.”

Wonwoo rolled up his sleeves and sighed. “Now, though, I have to kill Junmyeon for knowing too much. It’s going to get messy, Amara. Go to our room so that you don’t have to watch this. I’ll come upstairs and we can talk about where we go from here.”

Sneering, Amara stepped in front of Junmyeon. “I won’t let you kill him.”

#exosnet #exo #fma au #fullmetal alchemist #junmyeon #Kim Junmyeon #suho #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfics #kpop fan fiction #kpop fan fic #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo fanfics #exo fan fiction #exo fan fic

9 notes · View notes