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xwing-baby · 4 years ago

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I Don’t Trust You (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

for @propertyofdindjarin - sorry its so late but i hope you enjoy this!!

Characters: Din Djarin x gn!reader (i dont think i used any gendered language in this but let me know if i did and ill change the tag)

Word Count: 8k (this really ran away with me lol)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, description of injury, canon level violence, little steamy (kissing, insinuated smut), threat of death, like one swear word, pre show! Din

Summary: The Mandalorian killed you two years ago, yet here you are alive and well on a different planet. The Mandalorian is called in to help you and your team of royal guards find a missing princess. Things go horribly wrong and you are left to journey home with your worst enemy...

A/N: shout out to the random radio 4 play that gave me the idea for the plot of this and to @propertyofdindjarin for the request for enemies to lovers! i’ve never done this trope before and im not sure if i really did it justice but i enjoyed writing it at least hahah i hope you like it too darling and thanks for requesting!

“The Master is calling in reinforcements from a bounty hunter for this mission,” The general in charge of your squad spoke as the team dressed.

“Who?”

“A Mandalorian,” The general answered.

“We don’t need a Mandalorian,” You spoke up bitterly, looking up as you finally pulled your boots on. The general sighed, used to your defiance and vocal hatred of The Mandalorian. He rolled his eyes at your attitude.

“We need all the help we can get on this,”

“I don’t need a Mandalorian,” You corrected yourself.

“I don’t care about your opinion. My word is final. And besides, there is nothing you can do he is arriving… now,”

A knock at the door turned everyone’s heads. The general nodded and it was opened to reveal the shining armour of the Mandalorian. You scowled as you watched the Mandalorian swan into the room, newly polished armour glinting in the light. You frowned and turned your attention away from him, just the sight of him made you exasperated.

You didn’t understand why The Master would want to bring him in, he was expensive and more importantly an asshole. All the hard work you and your team would put in on this mission would undoubtedly be overshadowed by him. He would be praised no end and paid a handsome fee while you would probably be berated for not meeting his standard and not get any reward for returning the princess.

It was the second attempt to get the Master’s daughter back from her kidnappers. The first time had been a complete failure and caused the gang to go into deeper hiding. It had taken weeks to locate her new location, there was no room for error this time. The princess had to be returned.

The Mandalorian had noticed you the moment he entered the room. He was surprised to see you alive at all, he’d assumed you were dead, having killed you two years prior. But here you were in a brand new system, alive and well. He didn’t say a word on the matter, he’d been paid for your bounty already, it wasn’t his fault you had miraculously survived.

You sat in silence, glaring at the Mandalorian across the room, while the General spoke about the plan for the mission. You grumbled and rolled your eyes when he made suggestions. The nerve of him. Coming here invited and not trusting your plan. The grumble earned you a sharp elbow in the ribs and a hiss to shut up.

With the plan set, you began the long trip out to the location. It was far, a days trip by speeder at least. Across plains, over mountains, through valleys and finally to the destination. A small building atop a large hill. It was strangely open, considering how long it had taken to find. The sun was going down by the time you arrived. You were apprehensive to approach so quickly, wanting to wait out but you had no power amongst this group, especially with the Mandalorian validating the plan there was no way you’d win. The group dismounted the speeders mere feet from the entrance, loaded their guns and went inside, barely stopping for a second once their feet touched the ground.

You however did not follow. Ordered to stay outside, they didn’t trust you. You were to keep watch, not that there was anything to watch for. Two years on the planet and you were still considered an outsider. Your reputation had not preceded you but it quickly caught up. Within two weeks of your arrival, whispers of your real name had floated across the galaxy until it landed into the mouth of the Master. You were allowed to stay, only if you joined the royal guard to put your skills to use.

The royal guard didn’t trust you, used you as a scapegoat on any occasion and sent you in many suicide missions purely because you were expendable. But as even the Mandalorian knew, you were very hard to kill. You came back every single time with nothing more than a scratch. Instead of your action gaining their trust it bred jealousy and mistrust.

You scuffed around the site, listening out for signs that the mission was complete or anyone was in trouble. The moon rose slowly into the sky, stars appeared with it giving you some entertainment as you tried to spot the constellations familiar to you. A twinge of anxiety cut your stomach, they should have been out long ago. You should have followed to help

Suddenly, a bone-breaking thunderous sound erupted from below and the ground began to shake. You were frozen to the spot until your spot began to fall away. The ground beneath you shook and collapsed inwards. You scrambled out the way, moving to where the ground was stable again. The building your squad had gone inside had collapsed, screams and cries of terror could be heard from inside. The building fell, then fell further. All you could do was watch in horror as where the building once stood, a crater appeared. Dust plumed from the wreck, filling your lungs and scratching your eyes. You coughed and spluttered, shielding your face from it.

Soon the dust settled and things became clearer. The devastation was all that was left. And the Mandalorian. Stood alone on the opposite side of the great crater, he looked down into the hole for a moment, thinking, before making his way around to where you were. He didn’t stop to talk to you as he passed, simply readjusting his vambrace and walking away. Disturbed by his lack of reaction it took you a moment to react, you watched him walk a few paces ahead before running after him.

“Hey!” You called after him, “Where are you going?”

“There’s no speeders. We’ll have to walk,” He said, not stopping.

“They’ll kill us if we return without the princess!” You protested.

“They’ll kill you when you don’t return with the girl,” Mando corrected you, “Unless you want to walk climb in there and search through rubble, the only thing to do is walk back,”

“It’ll take days! There’s no way you’d make it back to the city in one piece,”

“Who said I was going back there?”

“You have to finish the job,”

“The job is finished,”

“You arrogant son of a bitch,” You scoffed as he continued to walk away. He picked up his pace, “I told Illana that we didn’t need you,” You shouted angrily. Din didn’t reply, trying to block out your whinging. “You’re a waste of money, everyone knows Mandalorians don't work well in teams. There’s a reason you all got wiped out,” You snarled. That comment bristled Din. He knew you were only baiting for a fight, angry your squad had died and he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. It wasn’t advantageous for anyone, “What happened in there? You blow it up to make the job easier? You killed them all,”

Din ignored your questioning. He hadn’t killed them, he had barely made it out alive

“She was just a child and you killed her, for what? Tell me!”

He turned when he heard the load up of a blaster behind him. Your blaster, loaded and waiting in your hand was pointed at his back while he walked ahead. He whipped around just as fast, his blaster pointed at you too.

“Really?” He asked.

“Talk,”

“It was a trap,”

“Liar!” You shouted.

“The girl was tied to some kind of trap that blew up the mines below the building. I was not in the room when the extraction happened. I didn’t do anything,” He explained, you didn’t reply, grinding your teeth as you tried to get your head around it. “Why would I kill them? I needed her alive,”

You hated that he was making sense. There was no real logical reason for him to kill the princess. He needed her alive to get his payment just as you did. You glared at him, fingers twitching over your blaster.

“Keep walking,” You said sternly. You turned the safety back on to the blaster though never lowering it. Din lowered his weapon. “I’m not having you anywhere out of my sight. Can’t trust you as far as I could throw you,”

Din huffed in agreement and turned to continue walking. Your blaster wasn’t going to do anything more than scuff his armour, he didn’t worry about you attacking him from behind. If you’d wanted to kill him you would have tried by now. Whatever made this whole ordeal go faster was what he was going to do.

You walked across the grassy plain for hours in total silence. At least outwardly silent. In your mind, you were cursing his name in every language you knew to any deity you could think of. Cursing him, his stupid armour and his stupid helmet. You cursed the planet, you cursed the city, you cursed the entire universe for forcing you to be stuck with the one man you hated most. You wished you had followed the squad and died with them, it would be more pleasant than this. At least with the pace the Mandalorian kept, you were going to be back to the city in record time, this nightmare could end.

Soon the grass gave way to shrubs and weeds, trees that were rare before now crowded around you. You came to a path, well-trodden and open, surprisingly. If it was this clear it was only a good thing, you were on the right path back.

“Stop,” You ordered as the path forked out in two directions. Din had chosen one path already, a few paces ahead. He stopped and turned around to see what the problem was. You were facing the second path, motioning with your blaster to cross over. “There’s a shortcut,” You said, “That forest opens back up in the West of the city. If memory serves me correctly it’ll cut our journey in half,”

“I don’t trust you,” Din said warily.

“Never said you had to trust me. If you carry on that way it’ll take another three days to walk around a huge lake and a ravine. This way cuts that out and we’ll be back in the city in two days,”

You walked forward into the break of trees, turning back when you didn’t hear him follow. He hadn’t moved, still calculating the decision. “Not scared are you, Mando?” You taunted him. “We don’t have much sunlight. Move,”

For a moment Din contemplated shooting you right there. You were rude and arrogant, nobody would question your death at all if he did it. His hand hovered over his blaster, before finally deciding against it. He needed the payment and with you alive at the end of it he would have proof he didn’t slaughter the entire garrison.

He followed you into the forest, walking in front of you as before. The trees were so dense, a few minutes of walking cut out all light. Spotlights of dusty yellow light broke through the canopy providing enough light inside to see your footing directly in front of you but nothing more. Roots covered the floor, winding around your ankles trying to pull you in so your body could supply nutrients for the plants. Branches caught on the Mandalorian’s shoulders, snapping back into your face often when they released. You learnt quickly to keep a few more paces back to stop the attacks.

You had heard stories about these forests. Fables told to the children in the city warning them of the dangers of the expansive green land. Most of them you knew to be just stories, but like most legends in the universe, there was truth to some. That knowledge kept you alert as you continued the walk.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks. You nearly crashed into him, not looking where you were going you were met with metal.

“Keep walking,” You ordered. He didn’t move, turning his head to look up at the canopy. You frowned, growing impatient. “What?”

“Quiet,” He hissed. You paused as you heard another shuffle you had thought to be Din moving. It was above you, beside you and behind you. Then you heard it, a shrill echoing cry from above. A cry you had been told to fear since day one on this planet.

They descended from every side. Five or six strong and lean warriors armed with metal spears and knives swarmed you and Din before you even had time to run.

A flurry of metal and blaster bolts occurred. You were quick on the draw taking two warriors quickly before another knocked your gun from your hands. It was immediately lost to the undergrowth. Dodging one strike then another you grabbed hold of one of the warrior's weapons, forcing it back on them to push them back. Pull, push, slash. A splash of blood as the spear cut into his skin and another dead.

You had one left. Flipping a small knife in his hand, the warrior snarled at you before pouncing. Taking out your own, you threw yourself at the warrior. Each attempted strike on your part was blocked effortlessly. Your advance became a backwards pace as you were slowly overpowered. The knife scraped against your vambrace as you blocked yet another strike creating sparks.

The warrior growled something in a language you didn’t understand as you stepped backwards again, finding yourself cornered to a tree. You growled and surged forward again, catching a slice to his cheek and shoulder before being pinned to the bark.

You cried out as a sharp bite pierced your skin, the warrior slipping past your armour and plunging their blade into your side as your hands came up and used your knife to slice their throat. A spray of blood hit your face as they fell to the ground. You fell backwards leaning against the tree for support as your head went light, you watched Din take out the remaining warriors. One on their spear, another with his blaster. He was surrounded by bodies but looked like he’d barely broken a sweat. He surveyed his area before finally noticing you. The ambush had happened so fast he barely had time to spare a glance in your direction to see how you were.

You grimaced as he walked over. He didn’t come close, not helping you, just watching. He saw the leather strapped blade on the ground beside you and the body next to you. You hissed as you tried to push yourself up, even minimal effort was aggravating the wound.

Your hand let go of the injury, revealing the blood to Din. You wiped it on your pant leg, laughing dryly as you looked up at him. You could barely see him, eyes hazy, even speaking was an effort as your throat was stinging with the threat of vomit. Din lurched forward holding out his hand. “I don’t need your help,” You garbled, trying again. This time you were successful, only for a moment as your world spinning and went black for a moment., “Stars above,” you gasped, falling forward into the Mandalorian. He caught you quickly before you fell to the floor.

“Where are you hurt?” He asked urgently.

“Under there,” You slurred, waving your arm weakly at your side. Your eyes were dropping, skin pale. It was the end, killed by a forest warrior’s blade with the Mandalorian by your side. Not how you wanted to go.

You came too in the dark. You startled, immediately on guard. The sudden movement made you cry out as pain overtook your body.

“Don’t move,” Came a gruff reply. It was the Mandalorian. Ignoring his request, you slowly pushed yourself to sit up, wincing at the pain but you couldn’t just lay there.

You then realised your armour was gone, top feeling practically bare in your undershirt. A bandage was wrapped around your ribs, soaked in blood. He had saved you.

You looked at him across the fire, confused. You had expected him to leave you for dead. You certainly should have died. Either the gods were playing a horrific joke on you by drawing out this quest with your supposed enemy or he had cared for you. You wondered how long you’d been out for. Could have been a few hours, a few days. You doubted he would care for you for that long but evidently, the bounty hunter was full of surprises.

“You should have left me,” you finally spoke. Your voice was coarse and you coughed to clear your throat. “Why’d you do that?”

He shrugged. You frowned but decided not to press the matter. You preferred living over being dead.

“How long was I out?” You asked.

“A few hours,” He replied, “Nice to have you quiet for so long,”

“Where’s my armour?”

“Here,” He said, patting the pile of metal next to him. You watched him carefully now. You needed that back if you were going to make it and didn’t entirely trust he would give it back. Parts were beskar. You knew he would try and stake a claim to it despite the fact he knew where you’d gotten it from. He’d tried it before and that had ended with you at the bottom of a rocky gorge, “I’ll give it back in the morning. You need to rest and you can’t in that,”

“It’s very important to me,” You stated.

“I know,” He said.

“How do I know you won’t take it?”

“You’ll have to trust me,” Din said. You were not about to do that. You pushed yourself to stand up, grinding your teeth to not let out the sharp pain that was splitting through your side, “Sit down,” Din ordered.

“Give me-,” As you stood up your vision went blurry, you stumbled forward into the fire pit. Luckily the Mandalorian had quick reflexes and caught you before you fell into the flames

“I didn’t save your life for you to fall into a fire,” he scolded you, helping you back to the ground. Sit,”

You shoved his hands off you and shuffled away from him. “I’ll kill you if you take it,” you grumbled.

“You would try,” Din agreed. Both of you knew you would not be a threat. While the Mandalorian had managed to flush out most of the poison some of it remained in your system. Not deadly in dosage but enough to weaken you significantly. You wouldn’t be able to get real help until you returned to the city.

Silence fell over the camp again. You stared into the fire, watching it spit and spark. A physical manifestation of your rage and embarrassment. Not only were you weak and wounded, but you were also stuck with the one person you swore would get revenge on if you ever crossed paths again. Now the only revenge you could manage was maybe to scratch his armour. You had slaughtered people, entire towns had met their end through your hands. Now your life lay in the Mandalorians’s. You hated it.

You glared at him for what felt like hours. Neither of you was going to give in to sleep, too suspicious of the other to succumb to the vulnerability. The three moons travelled slowly overhead, animals scratching around the clearing of the forest none would dare to venture into the foreign light of the Mandalorian’s fire but you could feel a thousand eyes in the darkness watching you intently.

Suddenly he stood up. Suspicious you watched him walk the short distance to you. Without warning, he passed a silver packet of food to you and walked behind you. You looked dumbly at the packet and turned your head to see what he was doing. You had barely looked over your shoulder before his gloved hand came to the side of your face, pushing you away.

“Turn around and I’ll kill you,” Din warned you.

“Ok! Kriff, calm down I don’t want to look anyway,” You scoffed at him. Somehow, his insistence that you didn’t see his face only made the idea more enticing. You heard a scuff of metal and the sound of something heavy on the grass, his helmet was off.

You kept your head straight forward, moving only to look at what you were eating. It was very similar to eating next to a wild animal, any movement you made while he ate could be your last. You knew enough about Mandalorians to know it wasn’t him being territorial but to do with his ‘creed’. They could never remove their helmets, never show their faces to anyone except family. It didn’t seem like the Mandalorian behind you had any family, there was barely a caring bone in his body. Except he had saved your life, though that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else you thought.

Din wouldn’t usually risk eating like this with someone like you nearby. There was no privacy, no guarantee you wouldn’t turn and catch him but his hunger was overtaking his logic. It had been days since he’d eaten, he was the lowest on credits in his life the small amount he’d earn from this bounty was desperately needed. If he was going to be paid at all now.

He ate quickly, wolfing down the scraps he had found in your pack. It was bland and chalky but it was food, nutrients, and that was all that mattered. He had to survive until the next. Once he finished, he picked up his helmet and placed it back on his head. Safe inside his metal shell he stood up and walked to his previous spot on the other side of the fire.

He watched you while you ate. He took in the way your skin glowed in the firelight. Wisps of unruly hair caught the light giving you a halo over your head except there was nothing angelic about you. You knew murder and destruction just as well as he did. You’d killed many and cursed more to the haunting image of your destruction. You were one of a small few in the galaxy who had survived the Mandalorian.

There was something oddly satisfying at the fact you couldn’t get away now. You couldn’t do anything if he tried to kill you again now. All your power, all your strength, was in his hands. It was a dark feeling he wanted to avoid, he didn’t think about it too much. If he’d wanted to kill you he would have left you to die.

Once you finished your food you threw the packaging into the fire and settled back. You watched the Mandalorian pick through your pack, pulling out whatever he could find useful for the rest of the travel. You knew we wouldn't find much, the thing had only been packed for a two-day trip maximum. You ached from head to toe, tired and more hungry than the nutrients bar could stave off you longed for your bed. Soft and warm it was the only good thing in this place, the only thing that had kept you here for so long. Comfort was never something you had been given freely, you were going to hold onto this one for as long as you could.

Soon you couldn’t fight sleep any longer. You lay down next to the fire, watching the Mandalorian until you could no longer keep your eyes open.

—

The next day something had shifted in your dynamic. The fact he’d saved your life had changed things. You weren’t so angry at him. He was careful with you, helping you up from the ground and you didn’t miss the way his helmet stayed on you for longer than needed as you pulled your armour back on. He’d cleaned it too, wiping off the blood and dirt from the metal.

You walked mostly in silence, Din still in front of you. You may not hate him anymore but you didn’t entirely trust him yet. He was on neutral ground as far as you were concerned. He'd tried to kill you once, he’d saved you once, They cancelled each other out and now all was left as to gain any opinion either way about who this man was. Was he a killer or was he kind? His actions thus far, surprisingly, offered the latter. Despite that, your hand never left your blaster, though not drawn it was ready in its holster if he decided to turn on you.

Every time you hissed or groaned as you walked, he would stop, look at you and check you were okay before continuing. If it wasn’t for the cold nature of his helmet it would have been endearing.

You travelled together through forest and fields, over a small mountain and down a ravine. Your legs ached, back sore from carrying your pack but at least your stab wound had gone numb. Your pain receptors were so fried now your brain was trying to forget it all together so you could survive.

You flagged behind Mando, gritting your teeth and forcing yourself forward until you couldn’t take it anymore. You let out a small cry of defeat before calling for the Mandalorian to stop. You sat on a rock above a reed bed, leaning on it with one arm while the other pried your armour from your body. Din stopped walking as soon as he heard you.

“I need to rest for a bit,” You admitted, struggling with your straps. One-handed it was impossible to get them off but if you didn’t you couldn’t breathe. You pulled and tugged at the buckles until you were stopped by the Mandalorian’s gloved hand on yours.

“I’ll do it,” He said quietly. You moved your hand, turning a little to let him have better access to the buckles holding the metal to your body.

You didn’t say a word, knowing you couldn’t do it by yourself. His skilled fingers worked the buckles open and pulled the chest pieces away from your body. There was care in his touch, his fingers momentarily gracing over your exposed skin for a moment. The light touch sent shivers down your spine. You turned your head for fear of showing just how affected you were by his touch. You sighed in relief when the weight was gone and the strain on your muscles was decreased.

“Thank you,” You mumbled.

“We can set up camp here for the night,”

“It’s not even dark,” You protested, “Give me a few minutes we can keep walking. It’s not safe out in the open like this,”

“You’re in pain,”

“I’ll be in pain wherever we are,” You said, “There are caves just over there, it will be safer to stay there,”

“That’ll be two hours walk,”

“I can do it,”

“I’m tired too. We’re staying here,” He said, “You can bathe in the river, clean the wound again,”

“Mando-,” You protested.

He wasn’t listening anymore. He’d set down the weapons on his back and set to creating a fire. If it was going to be as cold as last night you were going to need one.

You were silently relieved. Your entire body was screaming for a break, the wound throbbing so much you could have thrown up. You needed to rest. You knew you weren’t far from the city now, it was on the other side of the pass, you could see ships land and take off in the distance, specks leaving white trails in the sky. You would be back by the next evening, you predicted. Only one day left free of consequences.

As the decision had been made to stay by the river for the night, you decided you could get out of your armour again. You sat up slowly, leaning to one side to avoid putting pressure on the wound on your side. You piled the pieces up next to the rock.

Din was still busy searching for suitable wood, a good distance away from you you decided it was safe to strip off and explore the water you could hear behind the reed bed. You pulled aside the plants, creating a path for yourself and revealing a beautiful stream. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the sunset colours above you.

You waded into the water, holding up your tunic so it didn’t get wet. The current wasn’t strong, stones were stable under your feet and you let yourself walk further into the river until it got to your hips. Creatures in the water scattered as your legs invaded their home. You pulled your tunic over your head, throwing the fabric back onto the riverbank, then untied the Mandalorians bandages leaving them with the tunic too. The cool water soothed your aching muscles, washing away the sweat and dry blood as it passed over your skin. You groaned at the heavenly feeling before dipping down under the surface, letting the world melt away in the stream.

Din returned to find you missing. He dropped the sticks he’d found and looked around for you. He hadn’t heard a struggle, he’d have seen someone if you’d been taken. He spotted your armour in a pile while you’d been lay, too neat to be stripped of you in a hurry you must have taken it off. None of his weapons missing either. Then he heard your voice from behind the tall reeds surrounding the lazy river, a pained groan. He was quick to action fearing you’d fallen and been hurt again. He barrelled through the reeds, nearly falling down the riverbank into the water until he saw you. Entirely naked, facing away from him, standing waist-deep in the cool water. Every scar, every bruise, every lump and bump was on view under the golden sun instantly transfixing Din.

He didn’t want to stare but he couldn’t bring his eyes away from the view. Drenched in golden light, your wet skin sparkled. His eyes fell slowly down your body, his own body was fighting between leaving you alone and joining you in the water. Your shadow cast on the opposite bank of reeds showed a broken image of everything you had hidden.

“Can you pass me my clothes when you’re done staring please Mando?” You spoke up suddenly, looking over your shoulder with a smirk on your lips. Din startled, snapping himself out of the trance he’d fallen into, nearly falling in the water. He coughed and spluttered, the sound coming out strangely through his vocoder, which made you laugh. He nodded, muttering something you couldn’t hear before disappearing back through the reeds to retrieve your clothes.

You were used to washing with no privacy. Being in the places you’d been, privacy was a luxury. You could ignore the lustful stares men gave but something about Din watching you set you on edge, it excited you. You couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell where he was looking but his vision bore like laser’s into your skin. You felt electric. He could have watched forever and you wouldn’t mind at all.

You dunked under the cold water, cleaning yourself and cooling off the heat of your body. You found your clothes laid out on the bank, where Din had been standing before. You smiled, dried off and dressed before re-emerging from the reeds.

The sun was going down now, barely a sliver above the horizon. Stars came out, colouring the night sky with constellations. The Mandalorian had a good fire going. A field rat hung over the flames cooking away.

“Sit close to the fire so you can dry off properly,” He said as you approached. You smiled and nodded, feeling brave enough to sit next to him rather than across as you had done the other night. He was opposed to your decision and didn’t move when you settled down next to him in the grass. “The wound looked like it's healing well,” He said after a moment of quiet.

“That’s all you were looking at?” You asked with a smirk.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” He apologised, a little ashamed at his voyeurism.

“I didn’t say I minded,” You smiled, sweet on the surface but the wicked fire in your eyes told him exactly what he wanted. He shivered under your gaze and moved quickly to get away from your scrutiny, turning his attention to stoking the fire again. You laughed to yourself and settled back onto your elbows to watch the stars.

This night was so different from the one before. You didn’t watch him so intently, trusting that he wouldn’t suddenly try to rob you or kill you. You were relaxed, as much as you could in the circumstances. Your earlier question of the character of the Mandalorian was slowly being answered. He was a mixture of good and kind, and cold and calculated. You couldn’t forget how viciously he had attacked you all those years ago, how bloody and raw those warriors had been left in the forest. But simultaneously you couldn’t forget his kindness in saving you, his care for your wellbeing as you walked today. How bashful he became when you confronted him about his peeping. You could hear the embarrassment in his voice. If he was a cold and heartless killer like you thought him to be, he would not take your teasing. He wouldn’t be embarrassed. No, this Mandalorian much like everyone else was complicated. Under that beskar somewhere lay a man, who unfortunately you were starting to like.

You couldn’t hate him. Not when he had found and cooked food for you to share. Din had pulled the field rat off the spit, opened it up and pulled out the cooked meat. He passed you half before collecting his own. You initially curled your lip at the charred remains in your lap but there was no other choice. It was that or starve.

Din opened his mouth to speak, to tell you to stay put as he sat behind you but was astounded at how quickly you’d turned your back on him giving him the privacy he needed. Metal hit the ground with a thud, you stayed perfectly still. Din noticed instantly, his chest becoming heavy as he saw your fear. You had been friendly all day, talking as if you were friends but the way you sat in front of him like caught prey reminded him that wasn’t the case.

You surprised him, it was rare for people to understand so quickly, let alone someone like you. Someone who hated him, had tried to kill him, usually, they’d mock him and refuse unless he threatened them, like he’d done to you last night. You didn’t say a word. You respected him.

So, he ate slower. Taking the time to enjoy his food, as much as you can enjoy slightly burnt field rat. He picked at the meat, pulling it apart with his fingers. His quiet groan of pleasure at the taste of his food made your ears prick and hair stand up on edge. You’d teased him for watching you in the river, but if he sat behind you and made sounds like that you were going to have to do something. Call it Stockholm syndrome, some kind of weird lapse of judgement due to the stress of your predicament but you found yourself liking the Mandalorian. He had tried to kill you before, he should terrify you, but the fact he was such a mystery, and a dangerous one at that, made him all the more enticing.

Din didn’t miss the way you’d pricked up at the noise he’d made. He didn’t mean to, it had just slipped from his lips. A new kind of hunger took over him as he finished his meal. He wanted you. The memory of you in the river cast over him. He wondered how soft your skin would feel, fresh from the mineral waters you’d bathed in. You smelt so fresh from where he was sitting, how much better would it be with his nose in your hair. He’d been hungry for days, but this hunger had gone unsolved for months, he could hardly remember the last time he’d held someone, kissed someone, fucked someone.

Without realising it Din had moved closer to you. His hands ghosted over your hair, wanting desperately to run his fingers through it. He wanted to touch you, to feel you. He leant over, just outside your peripheral vision and placed a kiss on your cheek. It was short, shorter as you startled at the sudden touch. Din retreated quickly, your sudden movement startling him too.

“What was that?” You asked sharply. Din frowned, instantly regretting his action. To his surprise, you didn’t make a move to look at him.

“Wh-what do you mean?” He stuttered, all confidence draining from his body.

“Kiss me properly if you’re going to kiss me,” you said confidently. A simple touch of his lips to your cheek had set you alight, you were startled but didn’t want him to stop.

Din grinned in the dark and surged forward to kiss you properly. The sharp scratch of stubble surprised you as he kissed you. His lips were soft as passion dripped into your mouth as your mouth opened to him in a gasp. The Mandalorian pulled you closer, turning you to face him properly. You hissed in pain when his hand brushed over your wound. He whispered an apology, moving down to your jaw. His nose brushed along your jaw taking in the clean and earthy scent of you.

His kiss travelled down your neck. The burn of his stumble on your soft skin made you sigh and open up to him more. Din could feel himself falling into you, your scent and taste, the noises that you were making just from his kisses were driving him insane. He could stop if he needed but he didn’t want to. He could trust you.

His hands stroked down your arms, taking your wrist into his grip. He continued his assault on your neck as he lifted it. He placed your hand over your eyes, holding your wrist tight to keep it in place. His warm hand over yours was oddly comforting.

“Move your hand and I stop, yes?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling you and sending a shiver up your spine, “I don’t want to kill you, but I will,”

“I understand,”

If there was any way you could have predicted the ending of your adventure with the Mandalorian there would be no way you could have predicted the events of the previous night.

He was good. Surprisingly good. You were a little shocked, having thought he was some celibate mercenary monk type character, but he knew what he was doing. If there weren’t stars above you, he’d made you see more. He was careful not to hurt you but didn’t hold out. Edges of your previous hatred for one another dipped in, adding so much to the event. You woke up sore in a completely different and entirely satisfying way.

You set out for the final stretch of the journey with a smile on your face. Your blaster was left alone in its holster and the Mandalorian walked beside you. You trusted him.

The final stretch was the most challenging. Through a rocky ravine, you had to climb over boulders and through tight passes. If you could have gone over you would, but the hundred-foot sheer cliff faces took that option away from you pretty fast. The Mandalorian walked slower to allow you to keep up, taking hold of your chest armour when the weight became too much to take anymore. You still couldn’t understand the reasoning behind his kindness but accepted it easily. He wouldn’t leave you more than ten foot behind, despite your insistence on leaving you to catch up on your own he refused and waited for you before enforcing a rest stop so you could catch your breath and continue. After hours of walking through the rocky pass, red stone finally gave way to green grass and blue sky once more.

You saw the city gates on the horizon and your heart began to ache. You had almost forgotten what you were walking back to. You had to tell the Master that his daughter was dead, that your entire team was burnt alive and you were the only survivor. You were dead for sure. Being the outsider anyway put you on rocky ground, this would be the final straw.

Din could sense your nervousness. Even if you didn’t express it verbally, he knew you were anxious to return. He thought you were brave for doing so, but you didn’t have a choice. If you ran you could never stay hidden from the Master. You were dead either way, at least if you brought yourself in you could argue your case.

Citizens lined the wall of the city, flags waving and cheering songs danced on the breeze as soon as you and the Mandalorian were spotted. You walked through the outlying villages with heads hung low as the people ran up to you expecting their princess in tow. When they saw the two of you alone their cries of joy turned to silence.

You reached the city gates and it seemed nobody had noticed, bells rang out and drums echoes from inside. Children waved from the wall, happy and excited to see you. The whispers started, turned into murmurs and soon the yells of praise and joy were spitting insults and exclamations of pain. People yelled out questions, what had happened to the princess, where was she, who’d killed the princess. Why hadn’t you saved her? Your heart sunk, you couldn’t lift your eyes from the ground as you and the Mandalorian were escorted to the palace.

Din always hated a failed mission, letting targets getaway in mistakes was what kept him up at night, but this was so much worse. He didn’t have any personal connection to the girl but the vitriol spat at you and him as you walked through was tough to take. He kept his head up, trying to think of a plan for what might happen next.

The news of your failure had spread fast, arriving at the Master’s feet before you did. You knelt at his throne, the Mandalorian standing beside you.

“What news do you bring?” The Master asked. He didn’t need your answer, he just wanted to watch you squirm.

“I am afraid we were unsuccessful Master. An accident occurred at the camp and we two are the only survivors of the event. There was no way of recovering your daughter, I apologise,” You said finally looking up at him. Your voice was calm, collected and confident. There was nothing you could do now, it didn’t matter whether you were visibly upset or not.

“Mandalorian? Do they speak the truth?”

“Yes. Charges were set in the mines beneath the location and set as soon as we arrived,” He elaborated.

“I appreciate the aide Mandalorian, however without a successful return of my daughter I cannot pay you,” The master said. Din nodded, having expected as much, “Guards arrest L/n,”

“I assure you we did everything we could to get your daughter, none of this was their fault,” Din insisted.

“You are dismissed, Mando,” The Master ordered. Din didn’t move, his blaster raised at the guards approaching, standing between you and them to protect you.

“Stop it,” You hissed at him, alarmed that he was putting his survival at risk for you.

“Put the blaster down, Mandalorian. You are far outnumbered here. I suggest you leave me while you still can unless you would like to join L/n in front of a firing squad,”

“It’s not worth it,” You whispered, as you pushed yourself to stand up. You gritted your teeth as pain shot through you. You both knew this was how it would end, there was no other way, “I accept my fate,” You spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear. Din didn’t accept it, he refused to. He had only just got you into his life, whatever the relationship was between you two he wasn’t going to let you die for something that wasn’t your fault.

You were surrounded inside the palace. Din’s defiance was only drawing more soldiers in. The chances of either you or Din coming out alive were drawing in. You knew the Mandalorian was worth more, something inside you told you he had a great destiny before him. While our crossed paths had arrived at a pleasant spot you would like to continue, if that was the final destination of your lives then you wouldn’t be the one pulling him to a halt with you.

You stepped into the Mandalorian’s vision, soldiers drawing closer, and you placed your hand over his blaster. You looked directly into his visor, staring directly into his eyes. You didn’t have to speak, he knew it was over. Slowly, Din lowered his weapon and stepped back. With his hands up he nodded to the Master who smiled smugly and gave you one last look. As soon as the Mandalorian walked away the guards were on you, hands roughly tugged behind your back and into harsh cuffs.

Din didn’t look back. Couldn’t. If he did he would do something he would regret. The Master’s voice echoed out of the Palace doors relaying your sentence. You were to be executed at sundown. Din pulled himself into a comfortable stoic calm, and indifference forced upon himself to allow him to carry on. He walked out of the city with nothing. Penniless, hungry and alone.

The Razor Crest provided some comfort as it always did. No matter what changed around his outside could always be corrected inside the silver confines of his ship. He had enough fuel to get him to the next populated planet, hopefully, he would find work there to get food. He settled into the cockpit, flicking through maps for a while to see where he could go. After a while, the exhaustion of not sleeping properly for three days caught up and Din fell asleep in the pilot seat.

“Oi! Mando! Open up!” Hard rock being thrown at the front of the Crest and the sound of your voice startled him awake. It was dark now, the moon high in the sky above him. Din’s heart sunk, it was just a dream. You were gone now.

He let himself wonder for a moment if he could have done more, knowing that probably wasn’t true. The galaxy had a way of making things work out the way they should no matter what he did. He settled back against his chair again, head resting on his chest when something slammed against the side of the ship and shouted for him again and he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

He did a double-take when he saw you at the door. Dishevelled and breathing heavily, you grinned up at him. “I thought you were dead,” He said.

“I will be if you don’t let me in in a minute,” You looked over your shoulder as speeder lights approached over the brim of the hill. Din had barely stepped aside before you barreled into the ship.

He stared at you in the low light of the hull. confused by the image you presented. Your armour was half missing, only your chest plates and one thigh plate remained and you were covered in blood. You were not only alive but you had fought well for it. Considering the state you had been in just hours before, barely able to stand up unaided, he was astonished.

“What? It’s not my blood if you’re worried about that,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand then wiping it on your pant leg. “Hurry up and get this ship in the sky. We need to go right now,”

A blaster shot ricochet off the side of the Crest, the sound of bikes coming closer, setting Din back into motion. He raced back up to the cockpit to set off. You followed quickly and watched as the Mandalorian set to getting the ship into the air while under attack. You jumped into the seat behind him, giddy with excitement as the weight of what you had just done inside the city walls had not yet settled in. You were high on adrenaline. The engines roared into life and suddenly the Mandalorian turned back to look at you.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” He said.

“I’m glad I’m not dead too,” you smiled, warmth spreading through your body at the sentiment, “now please can we go,” A shot hit the front window making you duck instinctively. “Go!”

happy may the fourth guys!! omg i missed writing din so much!!

tags: @beskar-falcon @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @this-cat-is-dea @dameronology @fandom-blackhole @artsymaddie

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its-me-im-coraline · 4 years ago

Text

Since we were younger // Thomas Raggi

words // 1441

warnings // fluff and angst

pairing // Thomas Raggi x F!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. i was planning on putting this photo on some headcannons so if you see it twice in my fics excuse me lol. I actually really fucking loved this trope omg, it came out pretty good! I'm also excited cause i keep writing more and more words as i go with writing fanfiction and yay im excited.

request // yes, here and here

summary // Reader is Victoria’s sister and the same age as Thomas. The two were in the same class in school, always around each other and even more as they grew older. Lots of angsty emotions and mutual pinning later Victoria invites her sister to the Maneskin house were all the secrets come out.

It all started at a young age. They met as kids, maybe around the age of six, never once thinking of each other as anything more than friends. They would play around, yell at each other, get hurt and take care of one another; and all over again went the cycle. The though of love was not in the picture yet, not that they would understand it.

As teenage years rolled around is when they first started seeing the symptoms of feelings in their behaviors. Y/N was the first to notice her feelings, understanding very quickly that she were simply fucked. It was a simple moment, one that under most circumstances would go unnoticed - but that’s how love is, it hits you like a lightning, no warning, no nothing.

It was a Sunday, she remembers that distinctively, it was after the band was all together and grouping us at the home studio to work on their music, inviting some friends over to help them relax after working all day. Victoria had obviously invited her little sister to tag along, knowing very well that even is she didn’t a very tall blonde skinny boy would. It was literally nothing out of th ordinary, Y/N was just sitting next to Thomas, feet dipped in the pool, the moon was up lighting up the space just enough for the two to see each other as they spoke about nothing and everything. The conversation started about foods continuing to games and movies and then fighting over movie characters and in that moment Y/N knew. She caught herself looking at the boy for a little too long, touching her leg to his as they sat too close on the pool side. She found herself longing to be held by him, but she kept it in. She knew that with their career taking off she had no chance to be with Thomas.

Victoria was the second person to figure out that either of the two teenagers had feelings for each other. Not few were the times she would catch her sister stealing glances at the band’s guitarist, or hugging him for longer than anyone else. She also was not blind and she could see how they held each other during those summer nights they spend by the pool, before and during the aforementioned visit. They clung onto each other for dear life, becoming pouty when either had to go for a few minutes. Originally she ignored it writing off as them just being… well, them - considering that that’s how they were together since they were children, until one day the younger girl confided in her when they were back at their own house.

“I think I really like him, Vic.”

“That’s amazing, Y/N! Oh my, that’s good news! Thomas is a good guy-”

“Yeah, but one that does not want me and would struggle to be with me now.”

“Why would he stru-”

“Vic, are you blind?! Do you not see your life right now? You are working like crazy, show here, show there… Dami already had a relationship and he’s struggling to keep up, let alone me with Thomas, on a new relationship,” she rambled, telling herself that this would be the only reason Thomas would not want to be with her; or at least she was trying to convince herself that she really cared about that reasoning.

Victoria said nothing after that, dropping the subject but never forgetting her sister’s thoughts. Instead she opted to observing the two younger teenagers. It was extremely obvious how they harbored feelings for each other, at least until Thomas got into a short-lived relationship.

Y/N was heartbroken, going back to her sister in hopes of calming her mind and tears. Being Thoma’s best friend came with all the complaining about ‘why doesn’t she show that she likes me’ until he asked her out and the ‘she is so amazing, last night this…’ type of conversations. She could not refuse him an outlet to rant, that’s what they did since they were kids, rant about the good and the bad, never judging each other. But this time Y/N could not take it. It all felt too much, feeling the pain of rejection and feeding her own head with insecurities day after day… she broke, in the arms of Victoria.

The third people to figure it out were both Ethan and Damiano. They happened to be sitting next to each other as Thomas stormed in the living room, fuming from his anger, his face being red, ready to burst.

“What’s gotten your knickers in a twist, buddy?” Asked Damiano, always in good spirit but truly surprised at his friends expression.

Thomas looked like he could not possibly get any angrier but that was proven wrong as Damiano finished his question. He slowly turned his head to face him, giving him a glare before huffing and looking at the floor. “She’s dating him.” He spit out the last word as if venom, pointing at a photo on his phone.

It was a photo of Victoria’s sister, sitting on the lap of a boy they both knew in school. Y/N sent it to Thomas while letting him know of her current flirt. She never believed it would become very serious, so she did not think to much of this conversation. Truth be told, she knew Thom was in a relationship which is the reason she looked into dating other people. She kept thinking how she should not stay like that, wallowing in the pain he was so oblivious towards, but her mind would not drift far away.

“Didn’t you go to school with him?” Asked Ethan, more to Damiano than Thomas, knowing the latter was to livid to respond.

“Yes. He’s a year older than them, His name’s Ignazio,” he responded, turning back to the youngest of the three. “So what exactly is your problem. You have a girlfriend.”

Thomas huffed, again, at Damiano’s words, looking down, being truly unaware as to why he even bothered. “He -agh… He just is not good enough for her. I just care for my best friends, you wouldn’t understand.” He pulled his phone out of Ethan’s hands, storming of the room.

At that the two remaining boys shared a knowing look, understanding very well that if Thomas did not figure out his feelings soon, the two would have problems.

The last person to understand was Thomas. It was the latest time the band had gotten to the studio home with their friends. It was right after eurovision, Thomas’ relationship was long broken at that point, Y/N’s as well. This time around the two were sitting at the steps of the patio, cigarette held between trembling hands, as the chilly night took over them. She looked so cold, so vulnerable, so fucked out after spending all day by the pool, swimming and sunbathing. Oh, to be the sun looking down at her, touching her beautiful face with the hot rays. Thomas was infatuated, taken aback by just how wonderful she looked that night, her skin glowing under the moonlight. As she sat there shivering is when Thomas realized he liked her- no, no, was in love with her, and he knew he had to act now.

“Are you cold, dolcessa? I have a jacket you can borrow.”

“I do actually,” she whispered, not sure if it was truly ok for her to even say it.

“Give me a moment, I’ll bring it,” Thomas responded, smashing his cigarette on the tray and practically running inside to bring his jacket.

As he came back he laid the piece of fabric on the girl’s back, making a point of holding her close afterwards, giving her extra warmth. “Is this any better?”

“Perfect,” she sighed, settling into the boy’s arms.

“You know, Y/N… You look absolutely beautiful right now.” He decided to be bold this moment, he couldn’t wait any longer, in fears of any more Ignazios taking her away.

“Oh, do I?”

“You do. I-I just want to say I like you,” he let out, not even thinking of what to say, quickly thinking that his way of expressing it was idiotic.

“You do?”

“I do, Y/N, truly. And it took me too long to realize.”

“Maybe you are a bit clueless, if you think about it,” she laughed, placing her palms on his sweet face. “You sweet, sweet puppy,” she said in a soft tone, all the while eying the man’s lips.

“Well, why don’t you make this sweet puppy very happy and just… kiss me?”

“Maybe I will.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie

#maneskin imagine #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #thomas raggi imagine #thomas raggi

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thewritingstar · 4 years ago

Text

Beautiful Revelations

Pairing: Gruvia (I know its been a hot ass min)

Fandom: Fairy Tail

tags: @shellielyzabeth @be-dazzled @nostalgicxslumber @unvalley @tigerfire54

Note: It has happened. I have written 200 fanfics and idk if I should be proud or slightly scared. (feel free to skip this omg why is it so long)

I want to say thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged or interacted with me in any way. I have always had a feeling that no matter what I write, I wouldn’t matter. But every comment and sweet note left made me realize that even if its just a smile or enough to make someone hit the like button, I made a small difference or added something to the fandom. Most of my fics are quick drabbles full of spelling mistakes, random thoughts and love for the characters. I know I don’t write very long stories or finish my wips (why are we surprised) but even though Im not someone people look to as a big author, each of you have made me feel special. There have been many times, this year especially that I had decided to give up writing. “Im not good enough and no one will even notice” Thats what I told myself if I decided to just back away. But every so often I would look and see that someone new or old had read my work. Every time someone reads something I wrote, I go back and read it too. I look at all the tags and see every comment and I stop and smile and remember how much joy it brought me when I first posted.

When I first started writing, I thought that I wouldn’t have a place. Yet in a very short span of time, I was welcomed with open arms and people started to tune in regularly for my fics. I had been given many nicknames such as Gruvia goddess, angst queen, satan (yes I know the fic0 and well even Star.

During my darkest moments, my mind lingered to my writing and to my internet friends. without hesitation I could message someone and feel better and be given the reassure I need. I can't even begin to say how much it means to me that people actually enjoy my writing and even me as a person.

I thank each of you for giving me a joy that was considered a luxury at one point and allowing me to write whatever I wanted and you took it with love and made me happier than I have been in years. To all the people who made art or wrote me something, it means so much to me.

Im not saying that this fic is my greatest but I think it has a special place because It shows the growth over time. 200 fics is a lot and whether or not they were all good, it doesn't matter because I did that and I can say that im proud. Im sorry for all that sappy shit but I wouldn't be where I am without you all.

-Star <3

ps: im not dying or stop writing fics im just happy lol

---

“There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”

― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

---

It was the nights like these that she hated most. The cold would creep through the blankets and make her shiver as her eyelids hung heavy. She could be ready to rest, let the sweet dreams guide her but instead those dark intrusive thoughts toyed with her like a fly on a freshly woven web. They would sprout out of nowhere, tangled with thorns and hold her mind hostage as it injected its sickly venomized thoughts for the night.

She always wondered how she got this far. She was one of the highest members of Phantom Lord, her abilities had rarely been matched. If she desperately craved, she could walk down the hallways and strike fear into the other members, no one could touch her. Hierarchies became a custom here. Once you made it to the top after clawing your way with blood, sweat and probably more blood, you were a god. Yet she walked in and in the next few minutes she was at the table with the master, already receiving a promise that she was special, a delicate and useful ally for the guild.

Special. What a swollen lie that turned out to be.

Maybe that's why she never bothered to search for a light, something to cure the rain. For every life she had bruised or ended, she wanted to feel the pain that followed. She needed to know the consequence of her actions, to be held accountable for ruining another family or taking something from the innocent. Instead she was celebrated.

The days turned to months and she found herself years later not knowing what anything meant anymore. Life used to be black and white. She would walk the side of the kind and good and now she was treading through a swarm of a morally gray compound.

These restless nights, she loathed them but then again, suffering was something that came naturally to her. The only person to ever knock her down was herself.

She climbed out of bed, fuzzy slippers over her feet as she walked to the bathroom. Her headache had worsened and she stared into the mirror. She had looked at herself a thousand times but… have her eyes always been that blue? No, she was tired and her vision was fuzzy, she was fine. Cold water came to her hands as she turned on the facet and splashed her face. Everything was the same as it always was. Expect for today.

Her order was simple. Defeat whoever stood in her way and make sure the Phantom Lord got Lucy Heratfilia. Why did they want some mage? She didn’t know but she was never one to second guess her orders. To go against what she was told was a waste of time, she would have been dead by the end of the day if she did. She had once believed that they accepted her with open arms, that Phantom Lord truly cared about her well being. It was a lie. A bitter sweet lie she allowed to remain in her head.

Hundreds of opponents had come before her. She was accustomed to the way of a battle and had harnessed her skill at a young age. The pure power of the rain pushed her further. She had an unlimited amount of power around her, unlike others, they would run out of fuel. She began to crave that god-like power. Allow the storm to rage on, all she had was herself and the droplets that followed. She understood she was an outcast. Love was never an option, not for someone who brought gloom everywhere.

But this afternoon, fate was a funny thing. She walked onto that rooftop, winning was the only thing on her mind, but he was there. A man who didn’t back down, a man who saw her as an equal.

Her heart began to race. It was forgien and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. She had felt attraction before but this, this was different. Something as small as a single glance had already spun her mind into a muddled mess. It would have been better if she turned around, if he didn’t engage in the fight. Then maybe she wouldn’t be thinking of him like this.

Love at first sight. That wasn’t real. No one could possibly have that happen. What could drive someone's emotion so wild that they become attached to a person in such a short time? And yet it happened. He stood there waiting for the next move and she could only gaze at him with rose colored glasses.

An enemy. A traitor. That's what she would be if she dared to let him escape. She couldn’t hestatite, she never did and now she was frozen in her spot as ice magic danced around her. Peoples magic and abilities never intrigued her, but this, this was beyond anything she had seen.

The light reflecting off of the ice as her droplets froze before her eyes was breathtaking and she hardly noticed that she was losing the battle. She never thought rain could look, dare she say, beautiful? But in this state of its frozen glory, it was all she could think about. She envied those who never had to stay in the rain, a jealousy she didn’t want to admit had festered over the years and she gave up trying to despise the element. But before her was something much more than the state she was accustomed to. Ice. The solid purity of her own and she had wondered what it would be like to hold it in her hands.

She had water locked him, pulled out all of the stops and even with that, he stood again and again. He had screamed that the water was boiling, burning his skin but never before had the water gone above warm. It was usually ice cold on the tipping point of freezing but she could feel the warmth surrounding her.

It shocked her just the same. She had heard people talk about feeling the sun kiss their skin, the warmth spreading as they walked, this was the closest she had felt to that. This warm rush of water was beyond what she had known and yet even as it tinged her hands it felt good, it felt freeing, it felt right.

It burned in a way she had craved for so long. Something other than the fridgeness she had grown used too.

She stared at her reflection in her mirror, tears brimming her eyes. How could one person she just met bring her something she had never felt before? She shut the light out in the bathroom and walked back to her bed, passing her window, she stopped and turned.

Above in the sky was the moon. A soft white glow surrounded the orb that she had never seen before. It was breathtaking. A cosmic power the normal people of the world didn’t dare to worship now became a luxury. The sky was clear and she could see the stars, she could sense them all. How could she have lived her entire life never once seeing the moon and the sun? She had been cursed to live in the rain forever.

But he-he made it stop.

When he grabbed her arm, it was like time had stopped. As if everything she had ever known was washed away and all she could see was a bright light encasing him. She was content knowing her death was coming, there was hardly a reason for her to live. Perhaps she wasn't even living, just surviving day after gloomy day.

He pulled her to safety, her back against the roof as she panted heavily. Those clouds above her moved like a curtain for a show, parting just so that she could see the enchanting mystery she had always craved.

She had never known a blue sky till then. The brightness was almost unbearable as she stared into a sky she had never known. So many emotions flooded her head but it was clear as those ice crystals that her heart was beating for him. She was his enemy, they made that clear from the start but he hadn’t hesitated to save her. He showed a mercy she had never come across.

Another tear fell as she sat on her bed.

“He saved Juvia.” She whispered to herself. A horrific thought came to her. Would she have saved him? She didn’t want to know the outcome because deep down she believed she was good. Beneath the surface of unremosle power, there was that scared little girl who never had anyone to care for her.

The amount of days she sat in that orphanage alone sewing her dolls and praying that the rain stopped one way or another, it was as if she couldn’t remember it. He had done the impossible. He showed her the sky she hadn’t seen. He had shown her kindness.

A thought came to mind as she stood and packed her things. No more would she be known as “the rain woman”. No more would gloom be her only trait. She was determined to find something much more appealing than those bowing by fear. She wanted love. She wanted that warmth of the water constantly and the feeling of the sun on her skin. She understood it now. There was a power strong than her, stronger than any wizard that surrounded the other guild.

She had vowed to be done with love. Promised herself that no man could hurt her again. She was trembling at the thought of being vulnerable once more. The only time she felt warmth was the scorching burn of a fiery rejection and words that burned like lava. It was too much for someone to handle. So she pushed it down, locked the key and threw it as far as she could. The temptation though. The idea of letting her guard down for someone, someone she barely knew? How she fantasized of that moment. She had once believed that someone of her past had done that, but they were all the same. Ashamed of the rain, the rain she caused, the pain she brought.

And after their fight when she collected herself and tried to run back towards her guild, he stopped her.

“For what it's worth I think you’re an incredible wizard. You may not want to believe that your guild is dark and bad but, Fairy Tail is always open.” He had said it with such sincerity that she wasn’t sure if it were true.

“Juvia thinks your magic is just as powerful.” She had said before he gave her a smile and turned away to go back to his other guild mates.

And here she stood, a suitcases packed in the night and a note left on the desk. This guild didn’t deserve any words. Not when they feasted on her ability. Harvested those negative emotions and almost made her fall into the deep end.

She knew what they would say. They would call her a coward. A traitor and a worthless wizard, at first it was enough to stop her. Make her stay and perhaps bring back the clouds. However what he said stuck in her mind.

“I would rather die fighting than let your guild have Lucy! She is one of us and we don’t leave anyone behind.”

Without hesitation he made it clear that every member of the guild was valued no matter how long they had been there, they were a family. If something like that would have happened, if she were threatened, her guild would let her die without a second thought.

Never again would she allow someone to have a hold over her. She spent too many years sheltered by pain and deviation to go on like that.

She grabbed her bag and closed her door.

Juvia stood in front of the door. The morning would be better to do this but it was beyond dark outside and she didn’t want her intrusive thoughts pulling her back to her old guild. Softly she knocked, maybe hoping that he wouldn’t hear it and force her back to the isolation of fear.

The open clicked open and her eyes widened slightly as a sleepy Gray leaned against the door frame, shirtless and rubbing his eyes.

“Juvia?” He blinked and watched as her cheek puffed out in red. He looked down to see that he was only in his underwear and let out a yelp as he grabbed a blanket off the chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Um Juvia thought.” She paused and looked towards the ground. “Actually Juvia apologies for disturbing you.” Her back was to him and she began to walk away.

“Wait!” His hand caught hers and he pulled slightly. A jolt of warmth spread through her, burning her like a thousand suns as well as the chill of ice from his own temperature. She looked back at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Juvia, please just tell me.”

“Such kindness.” She whispered to herself. Her heart rate sped up just like it did earlier and she swallowed a breath. “Juvia was wondering…why did you save her?”

His hand dropped her as if he were shocked that she would dare question his action.

“I wasn’t going to let you die. Enemies or not, I don’t think you deserved that fate. I don’t believe that you are this evil person your guild made you out to be. To be honest when you fell, you look like you didn’t care what happened and I guess I saw myself in you.”

“You saved Juvia because you know what it's like?”

“To feel lost and hopeless I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Sometimes it's hard thinking you deserve to live, that it would be better to harbor all the pain of your past. I don’t know everything about you but that look in your eyes. I couldn’t let you go knowing that there was a brighter future ahead.”

A tear dripped from her eye. Her smile was soft as hugged her arms to her body. “You knew Juvia would join the guild.”

“Well I wouldn’t say I knew, but I was hoping that you would. If you still want to, that is.”

“Juvia would be honored.” She bowed respectfully towards him.

Gray smiled and bowed back. His eyes faced the sky looking towards the moon. “Have you ever seen it?”

“Tonight would be the first. Juvia thinks the stars are remarkable.”

“Lucy knows alot about them, I think you two would be good friends.”

Juvia shook her head as regret twisted in her stomach. “Juvia accepts your kindness and compassion but she doesn’t know if the rest will. Juvia was her rival, she understands if everyone doesn’t see her as a friend.” She frowned slightly.

A laugh came from the ice mage's mouth. “That's the thing about Fairy Tail, no matter where you come from or what your past may have held, there's always going to be a friend waiting.”

Juvia nodded. “Thank you Gray. Juvia will talk to your guild master tomorrow.”

“Like I said before. You’re an incredible wizard, you’ll be just fine.” He winked.

“Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

She watched as he entered his house before turning around and walking towards her hotel. Her shoulders felt lighter and she held her head high for the first time. This was her step in the right direction, this was where her new life began.

Time had slowed and allowed her to pause. A beautiful revelation she never knew could exist came to mind as she just realized that she was in love.

---

She looked down at her leg in the mirror. The voices behind her had faded to the background as she became entranced with the mark of Fairy Tail.

“The blue suits you.” She turned to see Gray standing there with a smile as he was focused on her guild mark.

To say that she was grateful was an understatement. Her mask she wore like a crown had shattered. It unravels in his hands as the months went on and all that was left was the person she wanted to be. She could finally let go of her ghosts, her darkness and begin to forgive herself.

---

“What do you think?” He asked her as the white sky fell with snow.

Gray had told her of a special spot he used to go to when the first snow came. Past the forest was a clearing of grassy hills that would soon become a winter wonderland. Laid out on one of the hills was a blanket and a few lanterns.

She held her hand out and felt the tiny snowflakes collect on her hand. He sat behind her, one arm snaked around her waist while the other hand rose above hers and created a small flurry of snowflakes.

��Breathtaking.” She gushed. This was the first time she had seen snow fall. Her eyes followed the ice magic as it formed a heart and blew into the sky joining the other flurries. She turned so she could meet his eyes and his normal content face was replaced with a smile.

He leaned forward until their noses touched briefly. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He said and she only had a moment to process his words as his lips landed on hers and her eyes fluttered close.

Her hand went to his cheek as she leaned towards him, her energy matching his and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart. She would be embarrassed to say that she might have dreamt of this moment a little too much but it didn’t matter now. All she knew was that her beloved felt the same.

---

For once she was happy to hear a cry. That little whimper bubbling from the baby's mouth, her baby, she was in disbelief. Perfection was a rarity. No one was perfect, but the being with a tuft of dark blue hair and grey eyes would beg to differ. A child was never in her future. The thought came up randomly but the idea of raising a family wasn’t even a question.

During her missions in her old guild, she would walk past a family. She would see happy faces on everyone and would only be filled with envy and hatred. Disgusting was what it was. How could you love someone else when there was no love for you?

But times change. She would see others holding their child's hand and feel a warmth in her heart at how the children beamed up at their parents. She could sense the love all around them and would smile herself, hoping that it might become a reality for herself.

She would wake in the middle of the night, not from her demons but for her new reason to live. He would babble and tug at the locks of her hair and giggle when water magic danced before his young eyes.

---

It was nights like these that loved the most. The soft rays of moonlight casting shadows through her window as silk sheets wrapped around her bare form. She used to spend nights alone, only her pillow to catch her tears and now delicate fingers trail her backside as she listens to the thumping of his heart. His chest rises and falls as her own follows the rhythm. Her eyes flutter close as her tiredness grows untils it's interrupted by a cool press of lips under her ear.

A peaceful sigh leaves her lips as she tilts her head up to meet dark eyes gazing at her. Flushed cheeks was something she wore often and she lifted off of him to move further up and meet his lips with hers. He pulls her back to him, hating the emptiness between them and adores the way she shivers when his thumb traces her guild mark.

Their love was honest and raw. She had learned that nights like those in the past would haunt him as well. They would keep him up and plague his thoughts with images of death and destruction. But now, they lingered in the shadows, always there but something brighter and beautiful guarded them to peace and she focused on the way he breathed her name then the tears that dropped.

There was an overwhelming amount of happiness that she had gathered after all the years she spent in Fairy Tail. She found friendship and family bonds. Love in all forms that she cherished deeply. Her powers were seen as a gift to help others and lend a hand, not twisted into medled lies that she had spent so long untangling.

Her lips pulled from his slowly and their breaths settled between them. When she looked at Gray she found something more. She had freedom and rebirth. Forgiveness and lust wrapped into something more than love. Their bond was stronger than she could have ever dreamed and when he left kisses over her skin she wanted nothing more in life than to stay frozen in this moment.

He did the impossible. He opened a door, shined a light through her darkness and allowed her to accept the fact that she did deserve to live. She could cherish moments and keep them as her own without the threat of corruption. Her life was now her own to command and she did it with such grace and beauty that Gray couldn’t imagine her being any different.

“I love you.” He promised and there was no doubt in her mind that he meant it.

“I love you too.” She responded.

The beautiful truth was that she was finally at peace and loved herself.

---

I hope that you all enjoyed and thank you for being so lovely <3

#Gruvia #Gruvia fic #gray x Juvia #Juvia x Gray #Juvia ft #gray fullbuster #juvia loxar #fairy tail #fairy tail fic #thewritingstar

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cordonian-literature · 4 years ago

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Reluctant Reunion

Summary: Olivia reflects on her relationship with Vivienne

Premise: majority of TRH thrown out the window, but some elements are present. overall i’d say this isn’t canon. the MC’s name is Vivienne (nicknamed Vivi). her and Liam have two children: Eleanor and Evangeline. the gang hasn’t seen each other much.

A/N: hi! so i wanted to practice some writing since i’ve been kinda out of it, so i decided to do a @wackydrabbles prompt! i’ve seen some people do it and just wanted to participate :) this week’s prompt is not everything is a joke, and will be in bold

A/N 2: the idea for this fic came from Prompt #1407 (i’ve changed it up a bit though). i don’t know if i’ll continue this or not, but i’ve been playing around with the idea and just might

Word Count: (+/-) 1540

Warnings: none (i think. feel free to call me out if im wrong)

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those unique to my story*

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Olivia tried to do what she could to keep Vivienne at arm’s length. But her smile was so disarming, and she was so genuine — how could one help the overwhelming want to get close to her, to be embraced by the soft care she expressed to everyone in her vicinity? Olivia didn’t want the bubbly feelings, the pounding in her chest. She believed that if she kept ignoring it, the emotions would go away.

The isolation of Lythikos allowed Olivia to stay focused; there was always some issue that would occupy her mind long enough so Olivia would not think of Vivienne, and would instead attend to her people’s concerns like the old rulers of Lythikos.

But Valtoria’s issues were not unique to Vivi’s duchy. The smallest familiarity between Valtorian and Lythikosian concerns would prompt a lighthearted, heartbreakingly friendly phone call from Vivienne. The Queen would invite the Duchess over for a discussion, and would afterward ask Olivia to extend her visit, which Olivia never did.

But something she couldn’t ignore was a surprise invitation from Duke Bertrand — “financial proposals need to be overlooked to confirm suitability for all duchies of Cordonia” prompted Olivia to start towards Ramsford. Olivia did not expect that the King, Queen, and their friends were already there.

It had been Lady Hana’s idea for them all to meet and enjoy an evening over tea after having spent months apart. But for the afternoon, the Queen and Duchess Olivia would attend Duke Bertrand’s meeting.

They both sat in front of Duke Bertrand, their chairs some feet apart, a distance Olivia felt keenly towards her left. Olivia’s chair fully faced the Duke, while Vivienne’s was turned so that in one swift glance she secured both their attentions.

Vivi didn’t hesitate in commenting that Bertrand’s proposal would negatively affect more than half the country. She opened up the discussion, allowing Olivia to speak first, then adding in her own opinions.

The three of them formed a rough plan with enough moving elements that at least one was sure to work. Leaving the office, Olivia made a beeline for the front of the estate.

Her heels tap sharply on the wooden floor. Olivia slows her pace so the taps are the same rhythm as the melody of Vivi’s voice, drawing Olivia into tranquil peace.

Unfamiliar tranquil peace. The inclusivity of Vivi’s words were not well-known to the Duchess that had come to terms with isolation. She wasn’t ready to embrace the friendships that she had disconnected from years ago.

She stood in the front of the estate, watching the fog lift and dance around the marble columns. Some puffs of clouds were so large Olivia could put herself in a daze and imagine she had climbed the North-most mountain in Lythikos, her body kindly begging for oxygen, the ghost of Misha just on her heel. Other warm clouds were so small that Olivia could close them in her palm and diminish it from its lonely existence.

And then it was time for tea. When Olivia walked into the sitting room, the soft colors of the curtain compliment the gentle conversation of the friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. Olivia takes a seat on an empty couch, attempting to avoid bringing attention to herself.

Olivia takes a long breath. She smells the scent of the tea on the small table in front of her, the dry lemony tang of furniture polish, and the faint scent of Vivi's perfume, who had come to sit next to Olivia.

Eleanor takes a seat on the gray velvet settee with her father and asks where her sister, Evangeline, is.

As if she'd been conjured by the mention of her name, the girl enters the room and grabs the pitcher off the table. Olivia notices that she is almost as tall as her father. Evangeline stares carefully at everyone's glass as she fills them, the tea pitcher looking like a child's toy in her hands.

She smooths the edge of her rose-colored dress as she sits near her mother, cupping the tea in her hands as if it were a valuable heat source. She looks over at her sister, who converses with Liam and Drake.

After she reached the age of twenty, Liam pulled Eleanor on the front lines of Cordonia’s issues, leaving the girl little time to spend with her family. Many called the Crown Princess rough, claiming her serious exterior was too extreme.

But now, next to her father and his friend, Eleanor is relaxed and leans back against the cushion. Evangeline eyes her sister, her own posture as stiff and straight as a wall. She analyzes the sleeveless, light green dress gently draped over Eleanor.

“Do you want me to put some ice in your tea?” Evangeline asks, motioning towards her sister’s casual attire. “You seem like you feel hot.”

Eleanor drifts apart from Liam and Drake’s conversation, a vacant smile on her face as she answers Evangeline. “No? Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing,” Evangeline smirks and takes a calm sip of her tea, a laugh hidden behind every word. “Just that I’ve never seen you wear something so… revealing.” She gives another critical look, her eyes glazing down to her sister’s shoes and back up to her face, giving an angry smile at the last second. “It doesn’t look too good on you. I’ll tell my dressmaker to make something that suits your style.”

“Thanks, but there’s no need.” Eleanor’s face falls as she turns back to her father.

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Evangeline leans over to put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I was just joking with you. It’s sarcasm. Ever heard of it?”

“Not everything is a joke just because you say it is. Sarcasm or not.” The sisters turn away from each other.

Vivi gives a gentle laugh in the direction of her daughters. “Drake was your babysitter once and all his sarcasm rubbed off on you.”

Conversations are paused as everyone absorbs Vivi’s words. Olivia remembers the diplomatic trip Liam and Vivi took to Italy less than two decades ago. Eleanor was able to come along, but Evangeline had been too small. Duke Bertrand and Lord Maxwell were also meant to make an appearance, Lady Hana was called to Shanghai to visit her parents, and Olivia had issues in Lythikos to attend to. The only person available had been Drake, and after that one week, he had become baby Evangeline’s favorite person.

When she was a child, she would constantly urge her parents to let her go on camping or fishing trips with Uncle Drake. Liam would always accompany them, but the younger sister had always been cold towards Eleanor, throwing a fit if her parents suggested she accompany them.

The group chuckles when they remember, even earning a smile from Olivia. But the grins dissolve into lost looks. They meet each other’s eyes, and though Olivia remains focused on the tea pitcher, she can sense the sad questions they kept to themselves: where had it all gone wrong? How did we let the distance become so large?

Olivia knows these questions depress those around her, but she has had a lifetime to adapt to them. From her lonely childhood — being her parents’ second priority, then being treated as the traitors’ daughter after they died. To growing distanced from the friends of her youth and her first love — Liam making it clear to her countless times that he would never reciprocate her feelings, and Olivia eventually coming to terms that such a love was never meant to be her’s. To a vast space having formed between her and the only woman that had ever believed in Olivia.

Maxwell gives an audible sigh. “If only my puns rubbed off on Eleanor.”

The girl rolls her eyes, while her sister inspects her freshly painted nails.

Maxwell playfully scolds her: “Were my play on words not good enough for you?”

Eleanor laughs, a bright smile lifting the mood of the room. She speaks of her childhood, everything she remembers and misses, the adults adding in silly details of her childish antics. But Olivia has no memories of Eleanor’s childhood, nor of Evangeline’s.

The friends’ conversations flowed gracefully, but Olivia could not contribute anything.

And so she stood and left, quietly lifting herself out of her seat and spinning towards the door. She wondered if her driver were ready to bring her back to Lythikos.

The fog embraces her, wrapping wet coils of air around her waist, drawing her away from Ramsford, away from memories she wasn’t a part of, away from Vivi.

But before she can lower her head and enter the limo, Vivi’s slender fingers wrap around Olivia’s wrist, drawing her away from the vehicle and slipping an envelope into her hands.

Her disarming smile doesn’t disappear until Olivia has opened the envelope: it’s an invitation to the palace.

Decline it, her head tells her.

Accept it, her heart tells her.

Vivi sighs, holding her arms against herself as if she were about to break.

“You’re cold,” Olivia states.

Again that smile. Vivi agrees to go inside, Olivia agrees to consider the invitation, though she doesn’t want to.

But her incompetent driver leads her to the palace anyway.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

i don’t have anyone to tag - but if you would like to be tagged if i continue this, let me know :)

#wacky drabbles #trr fanfiction #trr au fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #the royal heir fanfic #trr fanfic #cordonia #liam rys #trr liam x mc #trr olivia x mc #olivia nevrakis #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices the royal romance fanfic

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razanartuk · 4 years ago

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about me tag game thing

i was tagged by the wonderful @nothingunrealistic! thank you very much ily <3

under read more bc i was not capable of keeping my answers brief this time around

why did you choose your url?

this...was supposed to be a short explanation but it turned into quite a tale so strap in i guess because we are going on a ride. back in 2017 i was just getting into musical theatre rp and i was still feeling too shy to really talk to anyone ooc so i would just wait for people i wanted to interact with to post starter calls so i could just do things in character with them the easy way. So i did this with my friend cam, who posted a starter for me using a lyric from If I Could Tell Her. she linked the song so i could listen to it, so i did and i went ‘wait a minute, is that Ben Platt from Pitch Perfect?? (and other things too, but i only recognized his voice at the time bc of the acappella girl movies)’ and yes it certainly was.

i had zero idea what the plot of Dear Evan Hansen was about at that point, and for some reason based off Just That One Song and the poster art of who i assumed was Some Guy in a Polo Shirt i started to think it was about some jock guy who broke his arm and had an emo/goth friend who had either died or gone missing under mysterious circumstances. also i intuited that Evan had a crush on his friend’s sister but he couldn’t tell her that directly or his emo friend would kick his ass. so i was like mostly wrong, but a little bit right.

oh and i knew jared and alana were characters from the show bc cam said that they were i think?? but i had no idea what their role was. so after listening to if i could tell her, i listened to good for you and all i really got out of that was that evan the apparently not-jock guy had done...something... that really hurt jared and alana. and at that point i finally decided to go look up a plot synopsis and i found out i was waaay off base. but honestly this is why cast recordings should include scene dialogue in the songs bc otherwise you just get soundtracks like dear evan hansen where the songs have like. zero context. we really just go from waving through a window to for forever to sincerely me without like. any reason as to what is happening huh. It’s honestly not a surprise anymore that all those people on twitter had no idea the plot isn’t about gay teenagers.

anyways. cam was writing jared and she made a post at one point about wishing somebody would write alana and i was like ‘oh i could do that!’ (after i had actually Seen a bootleg and finally knew what the whole story was, of course) so i made a multimuse rp blog featuring alana beck, nabulungi hatimbi, chloe valentine and some other characters, and cam started sharing her headcanons with me that alana is trans, jared and alana were close friends when they were little kids but they sort of drifted apart as they got older and their priorities in life changed, jared was the first person alana came out to when she realized she’s trans, etc.

one night i started talking about wanting to pick a more theatre-relevant url for my blog and trans-[character name] urls were getting pretty popular, and at least 3 of the friends i made through rp had changed theirs to coordinating trans-[character name] and i think it was cam suggested i should make mine be trans-alana so i did. eventually i realized the unhyphenated version was available so i changed it to transalana with no hyphen and i have lived here ever since. sometimes i think about changing it but i feel like transalana has become a part of My Brand and i am not so great with coming up with cool names for things.

any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them

in theory, i have sideblogs... i don’t really use them, but of the ones i do have, there is:

emsbookblog - this was supposed to be where i would post excerpts of the book that i’m working on, but i think i did that maybe one time roughly 2 years ago and then promptly forgot about it/got nervous about my writing and was scared to share anything else. the rest of the stuff that is there is assorted writing tips. i don’t really know what to do with it now. i probably should post all my little thoughts about em and anita and caleb there instead of infodumping on my main from time to time, but if i do that then i have to promo a sideblog and direct people over to it which is always annoying to me when i could just do it on this blog which is much easier

dearnovelhansen - this is basically no longer used, but was a sideblog i made specifically to talk/complain about the novel adaptation of Dear Evan Hansen which was about 3 years ago?? maybe? i can’t be trusted to understand the passage of time. but to summarize: i thought it was an honor just to have the story be made more accessible since many of us couldn’t see the stage performance, but i hated a lot of the creative liberties that were taken. my main grumbles are that everyone who isn’t evan or connor is done so dirty in the novel. connor’s still kind of done dirty in the book, but not as much as like. heidi, alana, jared, and zoe are.

horseisle3 - this one was meant to be a place where i could just enthusiastically post screenshots from hi3, but instead it turned into a blog where i occasionally reblog other players’ hi3 content and bitch about how bad the game admins are bc hi3 is the tumblr famous (infamous?) homophobic horse game. the game where it was once okay to call your club store the gulag bc according to their head of hr, ‘it’s just a russian word for prison’ but you can’t say ‘im gay’ without somebody accusing you of corrupting young children who play the game. unfortunately there aren’t very many good interactive horse games out there, so this one is still about as good as it gets. it’s either that or star stable and i don’t care about star stable.

mlaenie - i’ve had this url saved for i don’t even know how long. way way way back in the day when i wanted to escape from the clutches of the onceler fandom i abandoned my first blog where i basically had an alter ego i guess?? and i decided to just be myself on the new blog. i don’t fully remember who came up with it, but one of my sister’s mutuals suggested that if you scrambled the letters in your name you could come up with aesthetic-looking urls. so lauren’s url became lrauen, and to match with her mine became mlaenie, which i abandoned on tumblr after about a year or so? but have continued to use as my main username on twitter, reddit, youtube, xbox, steam, and discord. i barely ever use any of these accounts aside from twitter, steam, and xbox, but yeah. so i’ve decided to try and turn this empty sideblog into a place for video game thoughts maybe. we’ll see how long it lasts this time around.

how long have you been on tumblr?

i made my first tumblr account in december of 2010, but i didn’t understand how to use it at all or how to customize my theme to look cool and unique so i quickly abandoned it. i made a new account in september of 2011 after some kids at school and my sister told me i should and i have been trapped here with varying degrees of activity/inactivity ever since. i have witnessed the rise and fall of the lorax/onceler fandom, hyperfocused on lord of the rings, star wars and back to the future all at the same time, and for the past 4 years i’ve mostly been a musical theatre blog with assorted other fandom stuff mixed in. i feel i have seen everything and nothing, but mostly i’m just tired and bored.

do you have a queue tag?

no bc i don’t use a queue. i’ve tried using it in the past but i irrationally feel pressured to sustain a coherent theme to queued posts and my brain simply does not vibe with that so i just don’t use it at all anymore. Instead i instantly reblog or post several unrelated thoughts in succession and then don’t post again at all for 3 days. the way god intended

why did you start your blog in the first place?

my very first blog was intended to be a place for me to post all of my petz 5 animals’ profile info, but i didn’t have any understanding of how coding worked at all and i don’t think i really wanted to learn, either. so it just sat there, unused. my second attempt at blogging was as a classic rock fandom person, so as you can probably imagine i was pretty pretentious about ‘modern pop’ vs the beatles, the rolling stones, the who, the monkees, and so on. and then i slowly devolved into a lorax fandom blog and everything went to shit so i made a new blog for lord of the rings/the hobbit which later evolved to include star wars and back to the future blogging. and then for the past 4 years i’ve been mainly a musical theatre blog with other random stuff i like thrown haphazardly into the pot. wonderful.

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

because my url is transalana and two of my most prominent lgbt headcanons are that alana beck is trans and a lesbian. i gotta be shouting out @kinqmike though bc she’s the one i adopted the trans alana beck headcanon from in the first place!

why did you choose your header?

in 2017 i was hyperfixating on Dear Evan Hansen (and Be More Chill, but there weren’t many gif-able videos then considering it ran for a month in New Jersey in 2015 and there was only one yet-to-resurface 35 minute bootleg) so i just grabbed a random gif off of google. i really should get to replacing it with a new header of my own though. i just don’t know what i should do for it.

what’s your post with the most notes?

i have lost track of how many notes it has (i think it’s somewhere around 200 now?) but when Will Roland and George Salazar performed Two Player Game on Good Morning America, i posted a screencap of their Jeremy and Michael along with that one quiz answer meme that says stuff like ‘i want to see it grow up healthy’. i didn’t tag it with any ship names or anything because i was anxious about having it show up in the tags, but somebody who reblogged it from me did tag it as boyf riends and i firmly believe it took off because of that. i don’t think i make posts that are relevant enough to amass thousands of notes, even by accident. which is probably a good thing bc if i did i would have to block so many of them.

how many followers do you have?

on this blog? 175 according to the counter. how many of those are still real people and how many are bots and abandoned accounts? i have no idea.

how many people do you follow?

i try to keep it somewhere around 200. i think i’m sitting at 180 right now but i kind of need to go through and clear out the really inactive blogs.

have you made a shitpost?

let’s think about this for a second. i’ve been on tumblr for nearly 10 years. you might even be able to say i’ve made more than one. they’re just not what you would call...popular shitposts.

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ post?

that stuff makes me so incredibly anxious that i have to fight the urge to want to yeet my laptop or mobile device through the closest window whenever i read it, so i try very hard to avoid any sort of ‘if you don’t reblog this, i’m judging you’ posts. i find them very manipulative and not particularly helpful

do you like tag games?

yeah babey!! i just frequently forget to do them, but please know that if you have ever tagged me in a tag game i felt incredibly touched by the gesture and the @mention even if i completely forgot to do the thing afterward

do you like ask games?

i do! but also rip to literally anyone who has ever sent me an ask meme bc it takes me so long to answer them. i’m still working on a micro fic prompt from a few weeks ago. also, horrified to realized that it has in fact been a few weeks and not 3 days anymore.

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i don’t know that any are tumblr famous as a whole. but probably @neverheardnothing

do you have a crush on a mutual?

in any sort of romantic connotation? no. not that i’m aware of. there are mutuals that i have friend crushes on where i want to be friends with them but i get so anxious when it comes to meeting new people that usually nothing ever comes of it. i’m really not good at small talk or other casual conversation either which, as you may or may not be able to imagine, sucks. i just wanna skip over all of the awkward introductions and ‘hey how are you, how is life, what are you doing with yourself?’ stuff. not because i don’t care about it. i do, but i think most of my friends/the people i want to be my friends are also depressed and anxious so asking these basic questions about life tends to uh. make us all nervous. and i don’t do much with my life so i always have the most boring answers anyways.

i’m not tagging anyone officially bc the @ thing has just completely given up on me at this point, but if you want to do it, go for it. and then say i tagged you so i can read it c:

#mel.rtf #abt me #tag games

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horansqueen · 5 years ago

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You & Me : chapter 2

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: 1- haha syke (sort of lol)! 2-thats why i asked this question, now you know!

yes, thats the only notes you need lol! oh and FEEDBACK PLEASE! :) please tell me how you think their coffee “date” will go?? would mean a lot!

Chapter 2 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

"Honey! I'm home!" I yelled as I walked inside, closing the door behind me and throwing my purse on the couch.

"Kitchen, babe!"

I followed the voice with a small smile and leaned against the door frame as I watched him bend down to take something off the oven. I crossed my arms and stared at him, trying to suppress a chuckle. With a quick head movement, he pushed a lock of his hair out of his face and raised his eyebrows at me with a smirk. I moved closer to him, taking a few steps slowly as he put the cookies he had just not burned for once in a plate.

"You know your son is way too young for cookies, right?"

His eyes became smaller as he looked at me and it made me laugh even more.

"I made them for you, silly!"

"Louis, come on." I pointed out with a frown. "I just spent two hours tasting wedding cakes and you think i'm in the mood for cookies?"

With a grimace, he grabbed two cookies and put one in front of me before sitting next to me at the table. I made the cookie turn around as I stared at it, feeling suddenly a bit nervous. I wasn't really sure I wanted to have this discussion but I told Louis everything. I was surely not going to keep that kind of information from him.

"Okay my queen, talk to me, what happened?"

He slid his arm on the table until his hand reached mine. I let go of the cookie and gripped his fingers tight. His hand was warm, as it always was, but it took me a few seconds to look up in his eyes. When I did, my heart skipped a beat. He was clearly concerned and worried and I just shrugged a shoulder before looking down again.

"I saw Niall."

Suddenly, the grip of his fingers became tighter and I held my breath. Louis and I had been through so much together during the past year and I was scared this would somehow change the dynamic we had. I knew he kept talking with Niall from time to time but it was far from being the way it used to be between them. I never asked Louis to choose between us, and I never even made allusions to it for the simple reason that they were friends before we were and I knew he still considered Niall like a brother. Who was I anyway to decide who Louis could and couldn't hang out with?

That being said, Louis and I had worked on ourselves individually a lot. We both went to therapy, tried to follow our dreams, found love and learned to accept ourselves as full human beings. We didn't need love to be complete and we didn't need our soulmates either. Of course, it didn't feel so easy when Niall was close but if I wanted to be honest, I thought it would hurt a lot more to see him again.

"He was with his girlfriend?"

"No." I replied with a shrug before adding a 'thank god' in my head.

"How did that make you feel?"

I took a few seconds to think and finally looked up, my eyes meeting his as a small smile spread across my lips.

"It's... Niall, you know? I'll always feel something when he's around. That's what you said, right? Soulmates and all that?" He nodded slowly and I shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, I will love him forever but... he broke me, and I don't want to let him break me again."

Louis' face change and he sent me a sincere smile before nodding quickly this time. He squeezed my fingers and tapped my thigh a few times a bit too roughly.

"Ow!"

"That's my queen!"

He got up and kissed the top of my head, making me roll my eyes but chuckle. He walked to the fridge and took a beer out before opening it and throwing the cap in the sink. I stared again at the cookie on the table and swallowed, playing over and over the encounter I had with Niall in my head. He looked good and happy and I couldn't help but think that he never regretted his decision to break up with me. Of course, it took him a few months to get a new girlfriend but when he did, something inside of me died. I remembered exactly when I found out he was dating someone and it was probably the biggest slap in the face I had ever had. I cried for a week, wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. All I could think about was how his love for me, if it ever existed, was clearly not strong enough but even worse, he didn't even try to keep my friendship.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

I sighed and closed my eyes for a few seconds as I tried to get my heartbeats back to a normal pace. I couldn't hide anything to Louis, even if I wanted.

"Not so much him but what I meant for him."

Louis walked back next to me and crouched down, one of his knees on the floor and his hand on my thigh. He waited until our eyes met and he raised his eyebrows.

"We've been through that, remember?" Louis pointed out in a soft tone. "He was scared to be trapped and he let go of the most important person in his life. You were not the problem, Liv."

"He's with someone now." I just said, shaking me head, after letting out a long sigh. "And with her too I mean, he replaced me with her."

Louis nodded very slowly, pressing his lips together and making the left corner of my lips raise up.

"Yes, besides you, my friend Neil has very bad tastes in women."

It was not true at all but I appreciated the lie and I tilted my head to stare at Louis. I had moved back to my apartment after Niall broke up with me and Louis was the one who had picked my stuff at Niall's for me. We hung out together and he's the one who pushed me to write what I wanted to write. My father agreed to make a special section for my story on his site and within a few hours, there were more views than any other page of the site. I found someone to play the male character and I gave myself the role of the female one until I got the e-mail that literally changed my life.

Netflix. I barely believed it and I had to read the e-mail twice but it turned out to be real and after some negotiation, my tv show was about to be re-made with a bigger budget and real actors and this time, it was going to be seen by way more people. I didn't have to insist to keep playing in it, they quickly agreed to that term of the contract and it surprised me. Apparently, I was not so bad of an actress, who would have known? That's why I moved to L.A. with Louis : to live a dream I wasn't even aware I had before, when I was dating Niall. There are so many things I didn't know when I was with him, including who I was. Now, it was different.

"So." Louis continued, getting up to grab his beer again. "Did you girls go with Liam's request and pick chocolate?"

I raised my eyebrows in amusement and my lips parted a bit as we stared at each other.

"How do you know that?"

Louis' smile turned into a smirk. "He asked me and I said I wanted chocolate too! So I said he should harass Julie and he said I should harass you. So I had to challenge him, and he lost."

My face twisted and I frowned, suddenly a bit scared.

"What was the challenge?"

"Oh, darling, you don't want to know." his accent had turned thicker and his smirk bigger, making me shake my head. "Trust me."

"You're right, I don't want to know."

He laughed a bit and moved his chin in my direction as he leaned against the counter, his beer still in hand. He took the last sip and put it away before swallowing and licking his lips. I loved Louis. I really, really loved Louis.

"So? Chocolate?"

I grimaced and sent him an offended look as I shook my head again.

"It's like you don't even know me!"

"What did you pick then?"

I didn't have time to answer. My lips just parted a bit before we both heard the doorbell. I jumped on my feet and we both rushed to the living room to reach the front door.

"Me!" I yelled as I tried to be faster than him.

"Oh please, it's clearly for me!"

I laughed as he pushed my hips with his and even more when both our hands ended up on the knob, twisting it at the same time without opening the door. We laughed and when the door finally opened wide, my smile grew.

"So, who won this time?"

I forgot the game I had with Louis and barely even heard my boyfriend's question. I just tilted my head and bit my bottom lip. He looked pretty and the way he smiled always got to me. Louis let him walk in and he just opened his arms, bending down slightly to wrap them around my waist and pull me up. I laughed like a school girl and looked down at him, bringing my lips against his.

"Clearly, I won." I whispered only for him to hear, licking my lips before kissing him again.

He chuckled against my mouth and finally put me down but I kept him close and deepened the kiss. The fact that we were still acting like new lovers was nice and I hoped it would never stop.

After moving here, we were about to cast auditions for the other characters but I was mostly nervous about the male lead since I was going to do most scenes with him and even kiss him. I was allowed to have a say in who they would pick but before we could even start the auditions, I received a message on twitter. My account was not private anymore and was even verified, which was something I never thought would ever be possible. I was not the kind of person who liked attention but it was still important for me to remain on social medias, even if I wasn't online as much as other people.

Most of the messages I was tagged in were about Niall and I couldn't blame his fans who asked about me but it was surprising to see it even after so long. At first, the tweets about some of them being 'devastated' by our break-ups made me cry but now I just felt nostalgic of what I once had with him. One time, though, I got a notification that I was tagged in a post and when I clicked on it, I choked on my coffee. Dylan O'Brien. Dylan fucking O'Brien had tagged me and had added 'would love to play in your show!'

After a few days of chatting online, we had finally decided to talk on the phone and I realized he was the funniest and sweetest guy in the world. It's only really the very first time I met him that I realized I had it bad, though. He came to the audition but in my head, the part was already his, and when our eyes met, I felt it inside of me. It could have been just me being starstruck but when he had smiled at me, my heart had fluttered in a way it hadn't since... since Niall.

"You two get a fuckin' room." Louis let out, but I could hear amusement in his voice.

I turned to him and he sent me a smirk just as I showed him my middle finger.

"I live here too, remember?" I asked jokingly.

The plan when we moved here was to buy a house together, support each other and spend as much time as we could with each other. Did Louis and I ever had sex after that infamous night? Maybe, but quickly, we had both stopped needing it. Not because we weren't in pain anymore, but because we had other distractions and other things to focus on. I hadn't received my first check yet but it was coming and I knew it. I couldn't wait to give some of my money to Louis for the house but only as a rent. He was keeping the house to live in it with his girlfriend while I had planned to move with Dylan very soon. Everything was falling into place, and just as I thought my life was exactly the way it was supposed to be, I saw Niall again.

"Yea well you two lovebirds will have the house for yourself tonight." Louis explained, grabbing his wallet from the coffee table and looking for his keys. "I'll be gone all night."

"Say hello to Eleanor for me!"

Louis sent me a smirk and a wink before walking up to us and bending down to kiss my cheek.

"Will do." he promised in a low tone. "Goodnight queen."

A few months earlier, I had heard Louis cry himself to sleep at night. It was not something unusual, I knew it happened from time to time since his mother had passed away, but I remember leaning against the wall of his room for half an hour, listening to him cry and crying with him. If he had wanted me to be there with him, he would have asked, I knew it, that's why I didn't knock or tried to talk to him, but at the same time, it was hard to handle, and I couldn't pretend I knew him as much as Eleanor did. He was also crying for her, I was well aware of that, and on that night, I had messaged her. I didn't have to beg her to come over, she just did. She literally took a fucking plane to come here and comfort him. If that's not love then I have no idea what is.

"Goodnight, pet."

Louis raised his eyebrows and pointed his finger at me. "Don't call me that, ever, remember?"

I just shrugged and laughed, feeling Dylan's hand grab my fingers gently as he chuckled too. He suddenly turned to me and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh hey, you were trying out wedding cakes today, how did it go?"

"She didn't pick chocolate mate, don't even bother." Louis grimaced, making Dylan smile more.

"Of course she didn't, i'd say..." he turned to me and his eyes got smaller as he pondered. "She hesitated and almost picked raspberry but ended up choosing.. strawberry and cream."

My lips curled and I shook my head. "How do you know me so well?"

"O'Brien, I hate you." Louis just said, slapping gently my boyfriend's chest. "Thanks for making sound like a loser."

"You're welcome!" Dylan joked as I rolled my eyes at their interaction.

I waited as Louis typed something on his phone and he finally looked up at us and smiled before leaving. As soon as the door closed behind him, I received a text message and walked up to my purse to look at it.

'Tell him!!!!' Louis had typed with clearly too many exclamation points.

I just sent him a thumb up and when I went back, I felt my lips curl very slightly at the sight of the emoji Niall sent me. It was good seeing him, it felt amazing to be near him. It was so hard to realize that my best friend was not my best friend anymore, and although I knew that life is just like that sometimes, it still hurt. This year away from each other was needed, at least for me, to find myself, but I always thought Niall would remain in my life forever.

"So strawberries and cream uhm?" Dylan said to catch my attention. "I can live with that."

I threw my phone on the couch and sighed with a smile, turning his way. I grabbed the front of his shirt and finally looked up in his eyes, licking my lips as his hands reached my waist.

"Can you live with me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and making him chuckle low.

"Damn right I can."

He pulled me closer and kissed me, making my heart skip a beat. I had never compared Dylan to Niall but at that exact moment, I couldn't help myself. They were both smart, kind and funny, the main difference being that Dylan hadn't shattered my heart in pieces, at least not yet. The way they kissed was different too. Niall kissed me passionately, impatiently and deeply. Dylan kissed me gently, like I was something fragile, something important he didn't want to break, or simply because he wanted to take his time and feel every second of it. He kissed me like every kiss actually meant way more than we both thought.

I felt him deepen the kiss and my heart jumped again. I couldn't do anything with him before telling him about my day, and all I could see behind my eyelids was Louis' text message.

"Mm, I have something to tell you." I whispered against his lip, making him pull away immediately.

He stared at me for a few seconds, his eyes roaming on my face, and I suddenly felt extremely nervous. He was never the jealous type but I don't think anyone could enjoy their lover meeting again with their ex, especially knowing Niall and I's history.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"Nothing's wrong, no, don't worry." It wasn't a lie. I sent him a small smile and shrugged. "I just wanted you to know that... I saw Niall, today."

His eyebrows raised slightly but fell back down half a second later. He stared down at me, mostly trying to decipher how i felt about it instead to react to it, and it made something in my heart stir. He was perfect and I loved him, I really did.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked gently after about a minute of silence. "How did it go?"

"It went... well." I admitted, nodding slowly and glancing down before looking up in his eyes. "He asked if we could meet again for a coffee but I didn't message him yet. I'm just not sure if I should go."

Dylan's lips curled slightly just as his eyebrows raised. "Not because of me, yea?"

I shrugged both shoulders, feeling suddenly embarrassed. One of the reasons why I was not sure was him, but an other part of me, a part I didn't want to show, was simply scared. I was scared that things wouldn't be like they used to be, I was scared that we wouldn't really get along, I was scared that the old me would resurface and I was scared... I was scared of the feelings I could have again if I spent time with him.

"You can go see him, Liv." he let out softly, bringing one of his hands to my face to caress my cheek with his fingertips. "Not that you were waiting for my approval or that you need it but, I know there's so many things you want to tell him and ask him and... it's normal. I can't even begin to understand the relationship you two had, all I know is... it was intense. There's some part of you that will always love him and I'm fine with that. Just... go. And you'll see."

Slowly, my lips curled as I stared at him. I brought my hand to his hair and slipped my fingers in it before sighing. I felt suddenly lighter and I was not sure why. Perhaps knowing that my boyfriend was fine with it helped.

I mouthed a 'thank you' and he smiled more, shaking his head.

"There's no reason to thank me." he just said, pulling me closer and kissing my lips. "I love you, Olivia."

I wrapped my arms around him and closed my eyes, inhaling him before squeezing him tighter against me. It felt good and I felt safe but I finally pulled away and smiled.

"Okay so food and a movie?" he proposed, raising his eyebrows before I grimaced.

"Oh I wish, I mean food, but i'm gonna have to eat in front of my computer." I explained with a sigh, letting my head fall lightly on my shoulders. "I need to write and my mind is lazy these days."

"Why don't you inspire yourself of what we're going through right now?"

I stared at him and raised my eyebrows at the idea before Dylan just chuckled and winked at me. I knew that to write something good, it had to be close to something I was living, but playing it on screen was about to be a challenge if I did that.

"I'll make food you just... work."

I thanked him and grabbed my phone before sitting in front of my computer. I started typing a few ideas here and there but the truth was, I couldn't stop thinking about Niall. Dylan was right, there were many things I wanted to tell him, many things I wanted to ask. but at the same time, I was well aware that I wouldn't be able to let it out all at the same time. I also knew we had to be in a public place, if only to be sure I wouldn't end up yelling or in tears.

'Coffee tomorrow afternoon, are you free? 🤪’

I didn't want to let Niall make me emotional the way I used to be when we were dating, or even before. He always had so much power over me and I didn't want him to anymore. I didn't want anyone to have to much power over me.

'Always free for you 🥰’

The emoji he picked made my lips curl and I quickly texted him a time and place before putting my phone away. I stared at my work on the screen and sighed to myself. I didn't really want to add Niall to my story, I was too scared of how realistic it would become, since my real boyfriend was already playing my on-screen boyfriend, and I decided to push this idea away.

Dylan came back with a plate of pastas and it made me wonder how long I had spent in front of an almost empty document. He sat to face me and my eyes moved up to him.

"I'm stuck."

"Did you message Niall? Are you gonna see him soon?"

I felt my heart skip a beat at his question but he kept staring at me as he brought the fork to his mouth. The fact that it was super casual for him made me squirm a bit on my seat. Was that a good or a bad thing?

"Yea, tomorrow afternoon."

"Good." he nodded, pushing the plate my way. I sent him a smile and started eating too. "Maybe it'll inspire you."

His eyebrows raised and he chuckled when some sauce landed on my shirt and I quickly tried to wipe it off, making him laugh even more.

"Guess you're gonna have to take it off." he just pointed out.

I looked up at him only to see a smirk gracing his face and I chuckled too, tilting my head. I pushed my plate away and leaned closer to him, sending him an amused smile and keeping my voice low.

"Maybe you should take it off yourself."

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan story #niall horan writing #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #my fanfics #yam #i want to know what you think and how that made you feeeeeeeel!

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savage-rhi · 5 years ago

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if you feel like it can you write smth for my baby khaio + higgs with this prompt 🥺👉👈 “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” have a nice day jay and hopefully u get to refresh yourself somehow its hot af here in croatia aswell im dying

@nemodoren Once again it is swamp night in my neck of the woods but I am doing awesome! My pants may be glued to my skin, but I am dandy! Please don’t die. Not without me my person xD lol. I hope you like this hon! Thanks for waiting on it! 💙

Spurts of laughter filled throughout the terminal as Khaio ran, leading the way while Higgs trailed behind. Khaio was ecstatic, his whole body brimmed with energy all the while Higgs was cautious, nonetheless, he was becoming more playful by the second. Khaio had that sort of effect on Higgs, and he knew when to take advantage of it especially when Higgs was having an off day.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Higgs said, catching his breath when Khaio finally stopped and began to climb up a ladder near the entrance. He looked down briefly and smiled at Higgs, giving a careless shrug.

“You didn’t have to tag along, y’know?” Khaio said in his defense. His sarcasm clearly evident.

Higgs shook his head up at his associate, adjusting his hat before he began to make the trek up the ladder. Murmured curses escaped his lips, wishing he had time to go to his quarters to change out of his porter uniform. Alas, Khaio’s enthusiasm ensnared Higgs and then some. Even if he wanted to say no, Higgs didn’t have the heart to deny the request. He hadn’t seen him ages.

Since they first met, Higgs had been wary of him. Khaio had his moments were he kept to himself, but when the planets aligned, he seemed to be livelier. More so than anyone who lived in the city limits that Higgs had encountered. The shift in personality once upon a time had put Higgs off. Given how he grew up and the kinds of people he encountered during his youth, Higgs didn’t have a lot of friends. He didn’t want to take a risk with anybody, regardless of his altruism to help the community out. In his experience being a porter, friends were nothing but trouble. God forbid they die on the job too. There was something about Khaio that lifted Higgs’s shields, and as much as his curiosity baited him to pursue further, Higgs was afraid of getting hurt. He was too stubborn to admit it to anyone but himself.

“Bout’ time you showed up!” Khaio said as he watched Higgs reach the top. He extended a hand when Higgs got close, watching as the porter hesitated before grabbing a hold of Khaio’s arm while being hoisted up.

“Mind tellin’ me what the hell you brought me up here for?” Higgs chuckled, crossing his arms as he felt a cool breeze hit the back of his neck. Goosebumps began to trail down his skin. Even with the porter uniform, Higgs felt exposed to the elements. Nonetheless, it was kind of nice considering how sweaty he was.

“I gotcha some things! While you were gone, I did some trading with folks here and there and bada-bing!” Khaio said happily, walking over to a vent sticking out of the rooftop of the terminal. He gently kicked at a loose spot, taking off a panel that revealed a bag.

Higgs watched as Khaio looked through the contents before smirking, giving the bag a friendly toss towards Higgs. His eyes widened, leaning forward to catch it nearly falling flat on his face.

“Jesus!” Higgs exclaimed while Khaio laughed.

“I might be Jesus in your eyes after you see what I got!” Khaio said teasingly.

Higgs chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever.”

He began to rummage through, his fingers being careful while he pulled out the contents one by one from the bag. To say Higgs was astounded was an understatement. Khaio had gone through the trouble of getting Higgs old Egyptian history books he hadn’t seen before along with a few packs of music CDs that existed before the Death Stranding. Higgs recalled ranting about his passions to Khaio but never thought he had been truly listening during their conversation in the past.

Higgs stopped to briefly look at Khaio, noticing the smug look he had on his face.

“Alright, alright, maybe you surprised me a little bit,” Higgs admitted.

“It gets better!” Khaio said, gesturing for him to continue.

Higgs sighed, then located the final item. He picked up the small package and brought it to his eyes so he could read over the inscription. Once that and the pungent smell emitting from the box kicked in, Higgs’s jaw dropped.

“No way!” Higgs exclaimed.

“Yeah, way!” Khaio laughed.

“No fuckin’ way!”

“Yeah, fuckin’ way!”

Higgs enthusiastically began to open the box, revealing the bundle of fifty cigarettes. They weren’t just any brand either. The potent scent of marijuana infiltrated his nose like an old friend and he couldn’t help but laugh like a schoolboy. It had been ages.

“Damn. Ya’ll know if the community police caught ya with this your ass would be deep-sixed, right?” Higgs asked, furrowing his brows as Khaio approached and took one of the cigs out of the box, keeping his gaze on Higgs while putting the end of one in his mouth.

“Do you think I give a shit?” Khaio snorted. “It’s not like you’re one with a clean track record.”

“Touche’,” Higgs laughed, taking a cig for himself. He sat the bag and contents on the ground and leaned towards Khaio when offered a lighter. The two of them silently puffed, enjoying the texture and taste of the smoke. Eventually, Khaio and Higgs leaned upon the balcony of the terminal’s roof and looked outward at the vast terrain. It was a full moon tonight, and they could easily make out rock formations that had character.

“You didn’t have to go through the trouble of doing all this, you know?” Higgs said after letting out an exhale.

Khaio was thankful it was dark out. Higgs couldn’t see how Khaio’s face flushed with pink from hearing how genuine he had sound from the turn of events.

“Contrary to what you might think, I do care about you,” Khaio said, swallowing as the words left his lips. He had been wanting to say it for a long time but didn’t expect his mouth to run away with him.

Higgs turned his head, gazing over Khaio. He could feel the corners of his lips form into a smile. His eyes sincere as he took in the emotions that sprung up suddenly, along with the pleasant buzz behind his eyes. Maybe he could take a risk. Maybe Khaio was worth it. Maybe.

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

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haikyuu-scenarios-box · 5 years ago

Text

Haikyuu Horrors — Week 1 🔪

Wendigo — Kuroo Tetsurou x GenderNeutral!Reader

Next week: Demon — DemonKing!Oikawa Tooru x FallenAngel!Reader A/N: lowkey dedicating this to @kageyama-tho and @normiewrites bc i love their blogs and they said they love horror stories fuck me up im so excited to write next week’s scenario The setting is in the Ashio Copper Mine and I had to make a couple of changes for the sake of the story. Although the mine’s been abandoned since 1973, tours are still carried out to this day and it’s a popular tourist spot. I’ve diverged from that (and some of the geography) and made it so that the mine’s been closed completely since 1973, including the public. TW: character deaths, gore, blood, mentions of cannibalism and murder this is a wendigo scenario what did u expect Word count: 3,617

UNDER THE CUT

__________

January 9th, 2018. 12:47:32 AM Ashio, Nikko, Tochigi Prefecture The Kuroos Cabin

They both lived beneath a sky forsaken by the sun.

The threat of fractures haunted their bones, the undertones of their skin had been drained and exhaustion circled their eyes.

They both lived beneath a blinding white, their irises forever glazed.

Steam rose up from the latte that sat near the map of Nikko. [Y/n] had only taken a couple of sips of the coffee, finding the flavour disgustingly sugary. There was no element of surprise there, though - after all, it came from power in a packet. Superficial scratches ran along the desk, worn down from the never-ending notes and diagrams that [y/n]’s pens drew.

‘It’s almost one in the morning.’

‘Oh, Tetsurou,’ [y/n] approached Kuroo, wrapping their arms around his waist, ‘How come you’re up?’

‘I was asleep until I heard the kettle boiling,’ he chuckled, his fingers combing through their hair. Agony sank into Kuroo’s chest as several strands came out. He ensured that they ate three healthy meals a day, remained hydrated and spent time outdoors, but inadequate sleep takes a great toll on any body.

‘The coffee tasted awful, so it wasn’t even worth waking you up for,’ they said sheepishly, ‘sorry.’

When it came to [y/n]’s insistence on tagging along with Kuroo during his trips to Nikko, he possessed an immeasurable dislike. The steady decline in [y/n]’s health induced a sickening anxiety within him, causing numerous arguments that all led to his failure in persuasion. [Y/n] always prevailed, ending up with him in their expensive two-story cabin in Ashio, drinking that godawful packet coffee throughout the night.

Kuroo grabbed both of [y/n]’s hands, placing a kiss on each knuckle. ‘Come to bed,’ he coaxed, leading them out of the study.

‘I can’t,’ [y/n] pulled away, ‘I’ve got a new lead and I’ll lose my train of thought if I leave it for the morning.’

A long, dejected sigh left Kuroo’s lips. Their marriage of three years was fulfilling and filled with immense joy, there was not a speck of doubt about that fact. It was that obsession of theirs that caused concrete to pour into his lungs. For the entire year, it’d non-existent – it only emerged during those winter trips. It was almost a ritualistic occurrence that was triggered by lingering trauma.

‘It’s been six years, [y/n],’ he said with sorrow, immense grief overwhelming him.

‘And I’ll work on this case for another six if that’s needed,’ [y/n] returned to their desk, eyeing the blueprint taped to the wall above it. It was entirely taped with maps of nearby areas, newspaper clippings from 2012, head shots of the volleyball team they managed in high school - everything that they believed would assist them.

‘Look at this,’ [y/n] turned their laptop towards him, showing him a list of names on an excel spreadsheet.

‘Since when did you become so tech-savvy?’ Kuroo grinned slyly.

‘Firstly, excel isn’t tech-savvy,’ they scoffed, ‘Secondly, don’t change the topic,’ they demanded. ‘I made a list of everyone who disappeared from the area over the past six years.’

Kuroo leaned into the screen, his pupils drifting down the list.

‘And?’

[Y/n] pointed to the column titled “disappearance”, ‘Ever since the winter of 2014, the year they closed the investigation, a bunch of people would vanish within days of each other. All of them had no familial connections and barely any relationships, so there’s never been any pressure on the police to find them.’

Their lips pressed against the ceramic cup, taking a sip of their now-lukewarm coffee. ‘I’m glad neither of us have gotten snatched so far,’ they laughed nervously.

‘Probably because we’re not a socially inept,’ Kuroo chuckled, burying his face into the crook of their neck. He grabbed their shoulders tenderly, turning them around. ‘They’re dead, [y/n],’ Kuroo said with a soft voice. He placed his hands on their cheeks, the pad of his thumbs stroking their cheekbones. ‘They got lost during the snowstorm that day and died of hypothermia.’

‘No, they didn’t!’ they yanked his grip off them.

‘For fuck’s sake, [y/n]!’ Kuroo exploded, yelling in frustration, ‘The case was solved years ago! You’re losing sleep and ruining your health for nothing!’

‘You’re so full of shit!’ they fumed, ‘I know you don’t believe that because you were obsessed with this case too, remember?! But unlike you, I didn’t stop caring about what happened to our friends!’

‘I didn’t stop caring, I just moved on!’ Kuroo stepped towards into them, driving them to walk backwards until their back pressed against the wall. ‘Every year, you insistent on coming with me and I let you. I try so damn hard to make sure that you don’t return to your obsession, but you do it the moment I fall asleep.’

[Y/n] cowered under Kuroo’s intense gaze; his eyebrows knitted as air hissed between his teeth.

‘You’re never coming back here ever again,’ Kuroo walked away, prepared to slam the door shut, ‘we’re leaving in the morning.’

‘The mines, Tetsurou!’

The muscles within Kuroo’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, his posture slumping. ‘The Ashio Copper Mines that'd been abandoned since 1973...’ [y/n] began, ‘the police never even considered checking them.’

He finally looked at them, donning a smile riddled with misery.

‘Do... do you really want to know what happened?’

‘Of course I do! Don’t you dare tell me that you found out and kept it from me,’ [y/n] said with disgust.

‘If you were the one who found out first, I would’ve been furious if you didn’t keep it from me,’ Kuroo picked up their snow jackets from the clothes rack, 'let’s go.’

__________

‘How are we meant to get in? The adit’s sealed,’ [y/n] rubbed their gloved hands together furiously, vapour drifting out of their mouth.

‘Not fully,’ Kuroo walked over to the slabs of wood that covered the left edge of the adit. He placed a hand against them, his brain vividly recalling his first venture inside. The images pulsated within his eyes, almost liquefying them within their sockets.

Kuroo began to move the wood, each one sinking into the snow as he discarded them.

‘It’s a really small gap, but I think we’ll be able to squeeze through. Come,’ he ushered.

Although the glacial breeze no longer pricked into [y/n]’s exposed skin, the place somehow intensified their cold-induced numbness; as though fungus began to bloom from their pores. They believed that their unease was caused by the dark, but it continued to plague their muscles even after Kuroo flicked on the flashlight.

‘Hey, it’s alright,’ Kuroo put his arm around them, ‘there’s nothing threatening our wellbeing down here.’

‘Except for the rocks above us that may tumble down at any moment,’ [y/n] shuddered, ‘where exactly are we going? I-it’s still pretty dark.’

‘I want to show you what I found,’ Kuroo held them even closer, ‘Don’t worry, there’s no skeletons,’ he smirked.

‘This is not the time to joke around!’

A shriek erupted deep within the mines, the sudden spike in their blood pressure inducing a shiver into every vertebrae.

‘W-what on earth was that?’ [y/n] wheezed, breaking away from Kuroo. They frantically looked around, but their vision was limited to what the flashlight exposed. A droplet of water fell onto their scalp from the rusty beams above, causing them to gasp and jump backwards into Kuroo.

‘Calm down,’ he cooed, holding [y/n]’s hand. ‘It’s been abandoned for over a decade and everything’s breaking down. Odd noises aren’t unusual.’

[Y/n] nodded with a gulp, their saliva soothing their dry throat.

‘That elevator though’—Kuroo pointed the flashlight to his left, revealing a cage elevator—‘didn’t break down much. It worked fine the last time I was here.’

‘The last time?’ [y/n] scoffed playfully, ‘You’ve been going on spooky adventures without me?’ they asked sarcastically.

'Can’t comfort you every time you get startled,’ he snickered. He led them into the elevator and pulled the latch, the coils creaking as it took them upwards.

Their arm was tightly looping around his, horrified at the possibility that they’d get separated.

‘The wendigo’—Kuroo grunted as he slid open the cage-like door of the elevator—‘is a mythological creature that comes from Algonquian folklore.’

Logs of moldy wood were hammered into the walls over the rocks underneath, the spotlights mounted on them burnt out years ago. Several mine trolleys ran along the railway, ores of copper overflowing. The soles of Kuroo’s shoes created a crunch as he walked onto the pebbles covering the ground.

‘Tetsurou,’ they said with a stern voice, ‘when I said that this isn’t the time to joke around, I meant it.’

‘What, you’re not into Native American culture?’ Kuroo teased.

‘I’m not into you trying to scare me even more.’

‘[Y/n]…’ Kuroo placed his forehead against theirs, giving it a slow and gentle kiss, ‘... you have to trust that I’m telling you all this for a reason.’

[Y/n] held Kuroo’s hand in silent agreement, continuing to follow his lead.

‘The Algonquian people believe that when a human starves long enough, the wendigo spirit will begin to possess them, driving them to have thoughts of cannibalism.’

A screech almost entirely pierced through [y/n]’s eardrums, a high-pitched ringing flourishing within their ears. The hairs along their body pointed upwards as their lower lip quivered.

‘Humans who find themselves in such a situation usually succumb out of survival. But even then, they’re not excused from the sin they committed. Their fate to transform into a wendigo, a man-eating monster, is sealed. That is their punishment.’

Another screech, this time leading to the sensation of an ice pick digging within [y/n]’s ears.

‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!’ [y/n] looked at Kuroo with fury and repulsion, ‘Y-you’re so damn casual about t-th-that story! And those sounds!’—they waved their hands around, attempting to come up with an appropriate description—‘Those a-aren’t things b-b-breaking down, o-or a person that could be here, b-because it’s so—’

Multiple shrieks, shaking and swirling within the aged walls.

‘Monstrous?’ Kuroo turned around to face them, the hazel of his eyes seemingly green. ‘Our friends were trapped in the mines for weeks, [y/n]. They were starving.’

‘I really don’t like that you’re implying that our friends ate each other. And I don’t like that you’re narrating some campfire story while doing so,’ [y/n] backed away from him, ‘we’re leaving. We’re leaving right now.’

Kuroo completely neglected their demand, immediately clasping his hand around their wrist and dragging them forwards.

‘Let go!’ [y/n] dug their heels into the ground, clawing at his fingers, ‘Dammit, Tetsurou, let go of me!’

They’d known him since their first years at Nekoma. Well over a decade had passed since then, yet there was never a single occasion where force was an element of Kuroo’s touch. As a matter of fact, the delicacy and tenderness of his touches were a sharp contrast to the roughness of his callouses - that was the kind of man [y/n] developed an intense love for. Not the man that was forcibly dragging them somewhere they didn’t wish to be.

‘A wendigo never dies from starvation and its hunger is insatiable... that’s the whole point of the curse,’ Kuroo dismissed their pleas. He finally stopped in front of a row of small wooden planks, propped into a muddy patch of soil. ‘But when I found them during that winter in 2014, I made a vow to keep them well-fed. That list of missing persons you showed me? That was the menu.’

‘You fucking kidnapped people and threw them in here?!’ the next shriek led a burst within [y/n]’s ear canal to suddenly erupt, their own scream merging with the animalistic ones echoing within the mines. [Y/n] pressed their hands firmly against their ears, palms warm with the blood that slowly poured out.

‘I killed them beforehand so they wouldn’t suffer.’

Their face was raw from the negative temperature of the night, their tears scorching it as they trailed down. Kuroo wrapped [y/n] within his arms, holding them tightly into his chest. It did not induce the slightest amount of comfort, though. Kuroo’s embrace was foreign, alarming and unspeakably nauseating.

The white paint on the wooden sticks was almost entirely chipped away, age having worn them down. [Y/n] kneeled in front of them when they caught glance of the letters scratched into them, blinking rapidly to lessen the clouding of their vision.

Inuoka. Kai. Shibayama. Taketora.

A cassette of the team devouring the intestines of those four played inside [y/n]’s mind, as though their body was taunting them. Bile rose up their stomach, burning the delicate membranes of their throat and mouth as they spat it out.

‘W-who the fuck even are you?!’ they aggressively pushed Kuroo away, ‘You’re not the man I married! I d-didn’t marry a fucking murderer!’

‘You’d rather they starve again?’ he asked in disbelief.

‘You just said that those things don’t die from starvation!’

The next screech prompted Kuroo to stand up and face away from them, appearing to be waiting for something. ‘It’s not fair that we’re alive and happy, [y/n]. We both have to die just as horribly,’ he said in an uncharacteristically calm manner. If [y/n] hadn’t known any better, they would have believed that he was a deaf man that was completely unaware of the monstrous wails. ‘That is the punishment for our sin.’

‘What fucking sin? There’s no sin! Please, Tetsurou, this is all just survivor’s guilt—’

The muscles of their tongue tensed at the sight. The creature was no shorter than twelve feet, its legs thrice the length of its arms. Its pale, wrinkled and sickly grey skin was tightly taut against its bones due to severe emaciation; its abnormal skeleton on the verge of breaking through. No hair was to be found on its body - only frost.

Its claws, the size of battle swords, sunk themselves into Kuroo’s head with ease; as though it were a needle gliding through a pin cushion. It placed its gaunt, sunken face in front of Kuroo’s, releasing a high-pitched scream that throbbed within [y/n]’s damaged ears. The short strings of decayed tendons that hung from shank-like teeth flew away from its mouth, some dropping to the ground.

[Y/n]’s pupils drifted towards the rocky ceiling of the mine, spotting several more wendigos screaming in hunger. The sound of flesh tearing caught their attention, leading them to look at Kuroo once more.

The wendigo pulled his head upwards. [Y/n] watched every vein within his neck tear until his head was completely severed from his torso, splashes of ruby painting their face and dyeing their clothes. The vocal cords within their larynx were paralysed - even though the scent of rotten mince from their husband’s blood clung onto the hairs within their nostril, [y/n] found themselves incapable of making a single sound. Kuroo wasn’t capable of doing so either while he was ripped apart, the blood filling his upper body making him gurgle instead of scream.

What distressed them even further was the wendigo’s sunken eyes. Its murky, faded golden eyes.

‘... Kenma?’

The wendigos that lunged in [y/n]’s direction immediately snapped them out of their shock, prompting them to grab the flashlight. Sheer horror powered their legs to run to the elevator nearby; they possessed no desire to turn around and see how many there were exactly, especially when considering that that would slow their movements.

Splinters and cuts embedded themselves into [y/n]’s fingers as they pushed large barrels, tumbled trolleys, rocks — anything and everything — in the wendigos’ way while they ran. Under normal circumstances, [y/n]’s strength to do such things would have been non-existent, but their heart beat fast enough for adrenaline to seep into every cell. Fear was a fuel to pushing the body well beyond its limits.

Although [y/n] was relying on the unstable light they wavered around, the elevator began to enter their view. They extended their right hand out, prepared to close the metal door once they got in. Their brain was floating, their vision was hazing and their organs were collapsing.

The unanticipated piercing of large, pointed teeth into [y/n]’s shoulder was what led them to finally scream. The wendigo was a creature of the winter, yet its bite was agonisingly hot. They could fully feel its humerus, rib cage, vertebrae — its entire skeleton — pressed against them while it lifted them off the ground.

The wendigo was then suddenly ripped away from [y/n], Kenma — or rather, what used to be Kenma — having jumped at it. The pull tore several of [y/n]’s tendons, their nails digging into their shoulder to ease the throbbing sting.

With that singular brush of a four-leaf clover, [y/n] made it to the elevator at last. They found no time to apply pressure to their wound, dropping the flashlight and slamming the door shut. One of the wendigos gnawed at the bars, leading [y/n] to pull the latch frantically. It was significantly taller than the others - around fifteen feet. If it weren’t for its door, it would have easily grabbed [y/n]’s head and crushed it, giving them an end identical to Kuroo’s.

[Y/n]’s head spun with a ruthless migraine, anxiety deepening while the wendigo refused to let go of its grip on the elevator while it ascended. They were unsure if it was their sole aim of escaping, or the trauma they’d gained from watching their husband’s severed head rolling towards them, but an intense rage engulfed them. They began to relentlessly and repeatedly slam the soles of their shoes against the wendigo’s claws.

It screeched with a fury and pain, eventually letting go. When the elevator reached a halt, [y/n] realised that the adit was now close.

[Y/n]’s brain began to shut down as they continued to run, following the white emitting from the small gap they entered from. The howls of those wendigos — their friends — reached a crescendo, blending into a singular note. They wondered how frequently they must have screamed as humans, desperate to suppress their hunger and restrain the wendigo spirit. Their survival relied on renouncing their humanity completely. Yaku, Fukunaga, Teshiro, Lev - they all succumbed, feasting upon the flesh of their teammates. All [y/n] could do was hope that they weren’t devoured alive.

The truth of Kuroo’s last words regarding them tormented [y/n] - “they’re not excused from the sin they committed. Their fate to transform into a wendigo, a man-eating monster, is sealed. That is their punishment.”

When [y/n] finally squeezed themselves through the gap, they immediately barricaded it with the discarded planks of wood and nearby rocks. Their skin was encased with a filthy, blackened sheen of melted ice. It was a disgusting contrast to Kuroo’s blood on them; jelly-like, thick and sticky. Their own blood, on the other hand, warmed their bruised, sweaty body while it gushed out of their shoulder. It all made [y/n] reek of rust and mold.

A loud, poignant wail left their cracked, bleeding lips, collapsing on all-fours as they sunk into the snow. Crimson and mahogany wept into the ground, tainting the white that stung their knees and palms. [Y/n]’s nostrils narrowed with mucous, dripping into their mouth and leaving a salty taste against their tongue. Tears tickled the tip of their nose as they fell and melted their way through the snow, the proof of their grief vanishing as quickly as it was born.

For a moment, they wondered if they’d sinned too.

__________

December 26th, 2018. 04:38:05 PM Ashio, Nikko, Tochigi Prefecture Ashio Copper Mine

Years’ worth of wendigo-related research and observations, all hidden away in the cut outs Kuroo made within complex chemistry textbooks.

[Y/n] quietly chuckled to themselves as they dragged the ice sled up the short mountain, amused by their past naivety. Those hollowed books all rested on the large bookshelf in the living room, yet they never bothered to even read the titles. Not until after Kuroo was decapitated, that is.

One of Kuroo’s hidden possessions included a comprehensive map of the Ashio region. When [y/n] sat down and analysed it the first time they found it, their loneliness for him surged. They were encouraged by others to return to the dating scene once they’d recovered, but they knew they’d never do so. [Y/n] wasn’t lonely for company - they were lonely for Kuroo.

Having reached the large hole situated above the Ashio Copper Mine, [y/n] kneeled beside the ice sled. In one of Kuroo’s diaries, he specified the only way he keep them well fed. There was a hole situated above the mountain housing the mine, deep enough to guarantee that no wendigo could climb up and emerge. That was where he dropped the bodies.

Several items were strapped onto the sled - a snowboard, a helmet and a thermally insulated box. However, they were mere props. They proved to be highly effective tools of disguise, attracting no suspicion whatsoever while they made their way from the town to the isolated mines. Those who passed by [y/n] never viewed the duffle bag as an object of interest. What menacing thing could there be in the bag of an individual clad in snowboard attire? Goggles? An extra pair of gloves? Bindings?

How extraordinarily slim was the probability that a corpse would be present?

Unzipping the duffle bag, [y/n] eyed the bloodied dent within the man’s temple. Kuroo specified that some Algonquians believed that the human remained trapped within the wendigo’s icy heart, but [y/n]’s always rejected that theory. The wendigo that was once Kenma tore its childhood friend in half, then proceeded to guzzle down his muscles and slurp on his pulsating arteries.

There was no human in there.

But [y/n] finally understood the sin Kuroo referred to - it was the sin of escaping the ghastly demise their friends met. For committing that, they were rewarded with an equally violent death, or the punishment of ensuring that the wendigos remained fed when they awoke from hibernation every winter.

Some may say that that was not the case. That [y/n]’s statement that there was no sin — only survivor’s guilt — was correct. It was far too late for [y/n] to speculate on such matters, though.

[Y/n] huffed as they dragged the body out and rolled it into the hole. Numerous revolting crunches echoed while its skeleton shattered, limbs at grotesque angles due to the obliteration of its joints.

When screeches bounced against the walls of the mines, they realised that they lived beneath a sky forsaken by the sun.

Fractures began to settle within their bones, their complexion had been drained and exhaustion cursed their eyes with an itchy dryness.

They realised that they lived beneath a blinding white, their irises forever glazed.

#it's 2 in the goddamn morning ya'll better give me feedback on this :^((#haikyuu horrors #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #scenario #writing #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: murder #tw: cannibalism #tw: character death #gender neutral reader

110 notes · View notes

hylaven · 4 years ago

Text

anything for you

Haikyuu!!

Relationship:

Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Tags

Murder

vaguely described death

Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen

technically canon compliant

Fluffy Ending

Pre-Relationship

no beta we die like men

Aftermath of Violence

I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping

Blood and Injury

Personality Swapnot

the actual magical trope for it

How Do I Tag

Slightly Out Of Character

crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446720

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kinda terrible but i did like it so im posting it now, send me your thoughts, twitter: wolfBLIX

******************************************************************************************

“FUCK! Just DIE already, you bitch.” The final crack of the spinal cord as the target’s back hits the floor. He reached for his phone and dialed a number from memory. “Omi, I need you.” Click.

He knew this was going to be a pain in the ass to clean up. The job was supposed to be simple and easy. What the agency failed to tell him was that the target was trained to avoid assassinations for very obvious reasons. He almost felt sorry for who had to pick the room up after the agency’s cleaner finished. There was blood splattered onto his cheek and across one of the walls of the room. A small bedside table was completely across from where it should be, plus it was missing a few legs. Atsumu was splattered with blood, similar to a piece of abstract art. Red dripped down the side of his face, it was from when the target swung at him with bloody knuckles, but now it mixed with his sweat from the fight.

The only good thing about this issue was that he was able to see Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi Sakusa was the cleaner for the hitmen agency for when jobs became a little messier than they were supposed to be. He was a confusing person but damn good at his job. Confusing for the same reason that Atsumu worked for the agency. Kiyoomi hated germs and always wore a mask and sometimes even gloves outside of doing his job. He hated people, kept to himself unless he knew the person well, and was painfully agoraphobic, yet he thrived in high school as a star volleyball player. This had been where Atsumu first laid eyes on him, in high school at a volleyball match. Atsumu is sort of the antithesis of Kiyoomi: loves attention, people, is loud and ‘obnoxious’ (as said by Kiyoomi the first time they met mid-match).

Years had passed since those moments. The world has spun on its head and the reality they lived in felt similar to a fever dream or an alternate timeline. Maybe it was; there had been a war in 2020 and a few years later any sports teams had turned barbaric and now assassination, executive protection, and hitmen agencies had taken the place of any sort of police or law enforcement. Sure there was a military company, but they were more of a front for just a really big government-lead assassination group.

Now they both were roughly 26 and had seemingly flipped personalities. Kiyoomi gave presentations and orders as one of the Captains at the agency; he cleaned up the worst of the worst scenes of guts, blood, and everything else; he even went as far as to seek out the newer recruits to help them learn the tactics and routes (though Atsumu still thinks this is to make his job easier). Atsumu inverted himself, on the other hand. He rarely spoke to anyone other than his commanding officer and boss Kita, his twin Osamu, Osamu’s partner and their childhood friend Suna, and Kiyoomi, even if he didn’t see Kiyoomi outside of jobs very often, Atsumu still considered him a friend.

7 minutes and 10 seconds. This is how long it takes Kiyoomi to walk in the door of the now trashed suite of the hotel. Atsumu is frankly shocked that no one came to tell them to be quiet with the number of times they threw each other into walls.

“Miya.” Kiyoomi looks at the disheveled mess of Atsumu in front of him. His blonde hair was sticking to his forehead and sweaty from the clear struggle the target put up with. He had a still bleeding split lip and blood was smeared in his cheek, otherwise his face wasn’t too beat up. Kiyoomi knows Atsumu is one of the quickest on his feet and hates to get his face hit, so the mere fact of the split lip and blood smear kind of worries him, though he would rather drink the chemicals he brought than admit it. His clothes were intact, well sort of. There were clear slash marks in his shirt and it was barely hanging on his body. The kevlar vest he wore underneath was showing through and had a couple bullets embedded into it. “At least you lived.” Kiyoomi heard concern laced in his tone of voice, but Atsumu was too far into his own head to pick it out. The assassin was barely standing on his own, Kiyoomi was surprised he hadn’t fallen over yet.

Kiyoomi started cleaning up the scene while Atsumu just stood there blankly staring at the wall. It was times like this that he remembered the contrast to the change in their personalities. He could remember the times in high school that Atsumu used to harass Kiyoomi during training camps and at tournaments in the hallways or on court. It made him miss the loud and egocentric Atsumu that he fell in love with on the court all those years ago, but at the same time, he knew he loved the broken Atsumu just the same if not more. He relished in the moments that he was able to see him. Even if it was only during really bad assignments or on an off chance he saw him in the hallways of the agency.

“Jesus, Miya, what did ya do to him.” Kiyoomi had started moving the semi-mutilated body to the body bag he brought with him. Atsumu managed to break one of the target’s hands, their nose, and a forearm plus a plethora of various bruises and cuts. “You wrecked his hand and face up, I’m surprised you don’t look worse.” That was just the visible marks on the body, but as soon as Kiyoomi picked up the body to move it, he could hear the cracking of the already ruined spinal cord. Motioning to the body bag, “Unzip that for me, Miya.” There was no response for a moment. “Atsumu.” He stagnantly snapped his head towards Kiyoomi with wide eyes. “Can you unzip the bag for me?” Kiyoomi softened his tone.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Atsumu relaxed slightly out of the state he was in, clearly still coming down from the adrenaline of the kill. “Thanks, Omi Omi.”

“Anything for you,” quietly slips out of Kiyoomi’s mouth before he can react. Shit, he thinks, hope he didn’t register that.

Atsumu stares at the cleaner for a minute. He definitely heard it, Kiyoomi thinks while internally cursing the dead body into its grave.

The silence hung in the air similar to the icicles. Kiyoomi finished moving the body and laying down chemicals and Atsumu sitting on the floor.

Kiyoomi moved to kneel in front of the man he wanted to be okay. “Atsumu? What do you need me to wrap up?” He gestured with the piece of antiseptic and gauze in his hands.

After a second of him seeming to lag in real time, Atsumu looked up into Kiyoomi’s eyes. “Omi?” Kiyoomi nodded in response. The blond shook his head as if to clear it, “I think it’s just my arm. Fix me up. He managed to slice me with the rock by bed. I think I’m alright, all things considering. Just tired.” While Atsumu talked on and on

Between the dazed look and how messy the hit was, Kiyoomi could tell Atsumu was exhausted. So he did the next best thing to kissing him and hoped Atsumu would forget about it in the morning. Kiyoomi moved his hands from where they were finished tying the gauze around his arm and took a deep breath, pulling off his gloves. He set his bare hands to rest on the sides of Atsumu’s neck. He fought the urge to look away from the eye contact they were maintaining, though he could see the surprise clear as day across Atsumu’s face. “Tell me what you need,” Kiyoomi spoke barely above a whisper as if he were scared of startling the other man. “I’ll do anything for you, if you just tell me what it is.”

More silence. Normally the silence would be comforting to both of them, but not right now. The tension was thick enough to blanket the atmosphere. It was suffocating; Kiyoomi could feel his legs slowly lacking more and more blood flow. For what felt like hours, couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

“Come home with me.” Kiyoomi blinked. Atsumu rambled on, “I mean look at me. I can barely stand, I’m asleep on my feet. Take me home and crash in the guestroom or something. I know you’ll harass me about making sure I clean this tomorrow, might as well just do it for me, Omi Omi,” he motions to the 2 inch wide section of his bicep now covered in a gauze wrap.

It was Kiyoomi’s turn to be shocked. “Okay.”

They stared at each other at the ease of the whole experience.

“I mean, you are right, I don’t trust you to take care of that properly.” Kiyoomi raised his eyebrows at the man on the floor. He was thankful that he had the face mask on so Atsumu couldn’t see the soft smile dancing on his lips.

There was a small spark back into Atsumu’s eyes at the slight jab, and Kiyoomi knew he would be alright.

Hey, Kiyoomi might not have had to kill a man for Atsumu, but he could at least dispose of a body for him.

2 notes · View notes

tim-stonker · 5 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, mentioned Georgie Barker/Melanie King Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Elias Bouchard, Melanie King, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, mentioned Basira Hussain, im sorry queen it was a 5+1 and u were number 6 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, more like AU elias isnt a bitch, 5 Times, Mutual Pining, implied Nonbinar Jonathan Sims, he's gnc, Getting Together, Comfort No Hurt, bc we need that, Just Pals Being Soft, dimples as a plot point Summary:

5 times people didn't see jon's smile plus the 1 time someone did

i wrote some gay shit about jon smiling and it became this. whole thing is under the cut, check it out on ao3 if u wanna !

-5

Jonathan Sims was an unexpected candidate for the position of Archivist, following Gertrude Robinson’s rather abrupt retirement (Elias still wasn’t sure if she was actually telling the truth when she said she wanted to spend more time travelling with her grandson. He didn’t even know if she actually had a grandson.) When word got out that there was an opening for head archivist, it surprised both Elias and Jon’s manager when he put his application into the pool. While Jon wasn’t the highest position in Research, he wasn’t at the lowest tier either, and everyone knew that being Head Archivist was much like being the mayor of a ghost town. Sure, you had a fancy title, but not much else. The Archives were in the basement, they were cold and dusty, and typically, if a budget needed to be cut, it was the Archives that took the brunt of the slashes. But, Jon was organized, faked his confidence well enough, was willing to put in the work, and, if Elias was being honest with himself, there wasn’t exactly a queue out the door to take over the vacancy that Gertrude left.

The interview went well enough, though Jon was clearly filled with nervous excitement. He kept reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear - it was too short to stay in place, but much too long to not be a bother. His voice almost echoed in Elias’ office, strong and precise, even when he struggled with some questions that Elias asked about his strengths and weaknesses. Elias appreciated the way that Jon carried himself, the slight aura of grandeur and pride that he seemed to give off, contrasting starkly with his awkward attempts at being personable.

Though Elias told Jon that he’ll be in touch within a few days to inform him whether or not he’ll be transferred to the Archives, he’s already certain that there’s no better candidate, and, if nothing else, he loathes having new hires from outside the Institute. He can overlook a few missing qualifications if it means he can cut down on the number of interviews he has to conduct.

Elias waited a few more days, finished up more interviews, and found his suspicions were correct. Jon - despite the roughness around his edges, and his lack of a library sciences degree (an aspect that makes Rosie raise her eyebrows at Elias when he mentions it) - is the best fit for the archives that Elias has. He calls Jon into his office again, watching as Jon delicately maneuvers into the chair on the other side of Elias’s desk, fingers picking at the sleeves of his cardigan.

“I’m happy to tell you, Jonathan, that after much consideration, that you have been promoted to Head Archivist. Your transfer from the Research department will be put through promptly, and - unless you have any objections - you can begin your new role as soon as next Monday. Congratulations.”

As Elias spoke, he watched as Jon’s eyes widened, eyebrows raise, as the tension melted out of his shoulders. The corners of his lips seemed to flicker, wanting to curl upwards, but not quite able to.

“I, oh, wow. Thank you, Elias. I, uh, I’m really excited to be working in the Archives.” Jon stammered out. His voice had less of the confident bravado that it had during his interview, and while that would usually make Elias reconsider his choice, the fact that all of Jon’s nervous ticks seemed to have disappeared sated his concern.

Elias nodded, hummed, and launched into the less fun aspect of promotion, namely discussion of new contracts, pay raises, the fact that Jon would be able to ask some of his co-workers to become his assistants, but any vacancies will be filled at Elias’s discretion. Jon nodded along and asked the appropriate questions at the right time.

Perhaps he’s just bad at expressing emotions, Elias thought, though the thought is both fleeting and insignificant. It gets pushed out of the way, quickly, and is discarded, not to be thought again.

When the meeting was over, Elias stood up to show Jon to the door. Just before Jon left, Elias stuck his hand out, and once again said, “Congratulations, Jon.”

Jon looked startled for a second, before reaching out and giving Elias a hearty handshake.

“Thank you, Elias, really,” Jon replied. While saying that, the corner of his mouth twitched once again, and for a moment, Jon’s face began to break out into a smile. Eyes excited and bright, before he schooled his expression back into one of vaguely happy neutrality.

Elias released Jon’s hand, and when his office was once again empty of everyone except himself, he briefly wondered why anyone cares enough about smiling to prevent themselves from doing it.

Like most intrapersonal thoughts, though, Elias waved it away, going back to his own work, just glad that he didn’t have to get Rosie to put up any more job listings on Linkedin.

-4

Tim was surprised when Jon approached him with the job offer. Sure, he and Jon had worked together for a few years and Jon frequently complimented Tim on his work and whenever Jon actually showed up to work get-togethers, he seemed to awkwardly stick to Tim’s side like glue until the event was done. But Jon always declined Tim’s invites to non-work social gatherings, and sometimes it was hard to tell if the snark in Jon’s voice came from malice or…. Something else.

Tim had chalked all that up to awkwardness or to Jon’s work ethic, but for some reason, he never thought that Jon actually considered Tim to be a friend, even though he did tentatively think of Jon as one. So it was rather shocking when Jon marched up to him, a small stack of papers in his hands at the end of the workday, and announced,

“I’ve been promoted to Head Archivist.”

“Oh, well, congrats, Jon,” Tim said, smiling. He clapped Jon on the shoulder. “Yeah, I heard you put your application in.” Tim didn’t mention that he heard because some of their co-workers were making jokes about hoping to see the last of Jon, with his insane work ethic and snappish remarks.

Jon nodded. “I’m also allowed to pick my own assistants since many of Gertrude’s have quit or been reassigned since her absence.”

“That’s cool.”

“I was wondering if you would like to join me in the Archives, Tim.”

“Oh,” Tim said, eyes widening. Jon looked straight at him, unflinching, though his hands were curled into tight balls at his sides. This was certainly unexpected.

“I think we work well together. You do really good work, and while I’m not exactly sure what… extra work transferring to the archives will entail, I’m that your presence will be beneficial.” Finally, Jon broke Tim’s gaze. “Also, I… quite enjoy your company.”

“Wow, well, thank you, Jon,” Tim managed to stammer out. He looked at Jon’s now sheepish expression and how his cheeks had taken on a slightly red tinge from the honesty. “Uh, can I… think about it? For a few days? It’s just… kind of a big change.”

“Oh, of course, Tim,” Jon nodded earnestly, passing Tim the stack of papers, which Tim now saw as a would-be employment contract, with different sections highlighted, presumably the parts that Jon thought Tim would find important. Jon made like he was about to turn to leave before he paused and said, “Also I. I won’t be offended if you decide to stay put.”

“Oh, I know,” Tim said, even though he wasn’t sure why he knew. Jon nodded again.

“Well, see you tomorrow.” And with that and a brief wave, Jon walked away, leaving Tim to stare at the employment papers and to think about what to do. And Tim did consider it. He had a pretty good thing going on in the Research department. He was well-liked, and many of his managers said that he could probably get promoted to a higher position with a better salary in a few years, and though the entry position of archival assistant was better paying than his current gig, Tim knew he was never going to get promoted from that role.

Tim had friends in Research, but he also had friends in artifacts, and finance, and HR. The more he thought about it, it wasn’t like his work-social life would end if he went to the basement. And, as much as his co-workers liked to poke fun at Jon, Tim did genuinely enjoy his company. He liked his wit, and snark, and the way he tried to play off his awkwardness and usually failed. And despite his somewhat clumsy attempts at socializing, anytime Tim talked about his life outside of work, Jon listened, made jokes, and was friendly.

Jon was also quite easy on the eyes, in his own strange way.

Tim found it wasn’t really much of a hard decision after all. So when he walked into work the next day and tossed the signed contract on Jon’s desk, all he said was, “It better not be as dusty as everyone says it is.”

Before walking off to his own desk to finish up his own projects, for a moment he thought he saw Jon duck his head to smile. But when he looked back, Jon was just holding the contract, and though his eyes were happy, his face was straight.

-3

Sasha enjoyed her work as an archival assistant, despite all the dust, and Jon’s moodiness, and the strange errands that the statements sent everyone on. It was an unorthodox job, cleaning up the decades of bizarre filing that Gertrude left, hunting down follow-ups from people who were clearly drunk, sick, or delirious at the time that these ‘occurrences’, well, occurred.

She certainly enjoyed her co-workers, basement dwellers that they were. While archives and research had many employees and had been on floors where different departments mingled, the four of them - Tim, Sasha, Martin, and Jon - were stuck down in the cool basement, surrounded by files, and books, and old foundation. While she had been on amicable terms with Tim before, the forced proximity brought them much closer, and she was happy to meet and befriend Martin. Pretty quickly the three of them began to go out for drinks after work, plan dinners, and movie nights, and get-togethers on weekends. They sometimes invited Jon, but the answer was also unanimously no.

Still, despite Jon’s rebuffs at having a social life, Sasha always felt like her relationship with him was… different than the others. While Tim and Jon had prior acquaintanceship, Sasha only briefly knew Jon in research; and Jon was either oblivious or blatantly ignoring Martin’s crush on him, rebuffing his attempts of flirting and courtship with harsh words and mumbled, unfocused ‘thank yous’ when Martin brought him tea.

It surprised her how highly Jon thought of her, and how well they got on.

“Here’s that statement you were after,” Sasha said, after knocking on Jon’s office door. Jon turned in his chair to face her, hand outreached to take the folder when she got close enough.

“Thank you, Sasha,” Jon said, as he grasped the folder. Sasha nodded and was about to let go when she glanced down and saw Jon’s hand.

“Is that nail polish?” She asked suddenly, voice coming out more accusatory than she intended. Jon snatched the folder away from her, curling his fingers into his palms as soon as the paper hit the desk surface. He still wore his face of neutrality, but his jaw was tense. Sasha was surprised at how defensive, and how quickly, Jon reacted to the question, but immediately saw she needed to remedy it. She quickly added, “It looks nice.”

As soon as the compliment was said, Jon seemed to relax a bit. His jaw unclenched and slowly he unfurled his fingers. His nails were a simple black, though it was a messy job and they were already chipping.

“Oh, thank you.” He said softly.

“Did you do them yourself?” Sasha asked, even though she couldn’t imagine Jon asking for help to do his nails.

“Yes, er. As a child, I always wanted to paint my nails but I couldn’t, so.” He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “They’re not very good, are they?”

Sasha shrugged. “Pretty good for a first time, though. Next time you’ll want to push your cuticles back first, and you should probably get a varnish too. It’ll stop them from chipping so much.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Sasha,” Jon said, clearly not expecting advice. Sasha gave one last nod, and a, “No problem.” before leaving Jon’s office.

After that - or maybe Sasha just noticed it more afterwards - Jon seemed to come to work ‘prettied up’ more often. He seemed to listen to her nail advice, and while he often sported plain, black nails - sans chipping, thanks to the nice clear coat he put on - a few times he came into work with blue, or red, or green nails. While Martin and Tim always complimented them, if they noticed, Jon began going up to Sasha to show her every fresh set. Often it would be a week or two between appearances; Jon seemed to just let the previous coat chip off completely before repainting them, approaching Sasha with his hands curled in a way so that he could view his own nails before showing them off to her. Sasha always made sure that she seemed excited to see them, even if they weren’t always that good. The way that Jon seemed to loosen after every compliment, the way his face would soften just a tad made it worth it.

Soon it became their little routine, even as Jon’s habits changed. While it started with nails, soon Jon would awkwardly approach her to show off the fancy braid he just learned how to do with his growing hair. Often, they were messy and uneven, large strands falling out of the cheap hair ties, but Sasha would say it was nice, before offering to fix it for him. Jon always declined, disappearing into his office and coming out later, braid abandoned and hair in its usual neat bun, but Sasha always offered. For a while, Jon had taken to looking at the clothes Sasha came to work in, awkwardly complimenting her on whatever coat or blouse or shoes she had worn. It took Sasha a few times to realize what he was saying - or at least thinking.

“I like your skirt,” Jon mumbled one day, as he and Sasha walked into the archives. “It’s very pretty.”

Sasha hummed, looking down at it. It wasn’t anything fantastic, just a black a-line skirt with a vaguely plaid pattern, long enough to be work-appropriate without annoying her. She mostly wore it because the growing pile of dirty laundry in her flat left her few other options.

“Thank you, Jon,” she replied, before pursing her lips. “You know, I think you would look quite nice in a skirt.”

A bold move, Sasha knew, but after Jon sputtered for a moment, he managed to choke out, “You… you do?”

“Oh, yes. You got nice, slender legs, and if one a little longer it would just add to the frumpy librarian look quite nicely.” Sasha laughed a little, unable to resist the urge to tease a little. Jon gave a polite chuckle and nodded.

They repeated this process a few more times, over a few weeks. Jon would give Sasha a sincere, if not a bit bumbling compliment on her wardrobe or appearance (often for items Sasha did not care for that much) and after thanking him, she would flip it around and say, “I think this lipgloss colour would suit you better than me” or " a blouse like this would make your collarbones look good” or even being as bold as saying “You should get a dress like it, then we can match.”

Jon would brush the comments off with a laugh or a denial, but Sasha could see the wheels in his head-turning, the way he would occasionally look at whatever pair of pants he was wearing that day and frown.

Eventually, Sasha’s hard and not-so-subtle work paid off when she saw Jon shuffle into the archives, not in his usual attire of plain cardigan and button-up, tucked into a pair of boring pants, but with a new look: a cardigan and plain button-up tucked into a shockingly boring skirt. It suited him, though; the long grey fabric skimming his ankles, the way it would flow behind and the way his feet would kick it in front. Jon’s fingers seemed to be absent-mindedly twisting themselves into the fabric, as he made his way towards his office.

Sasha was right; Jon did rock the frumpy librarian look.

“Good morning, Jon,” Sasha greeted, cheerfully. Jon looked up.

“Morning, Sasha.”

“New wardrobe?” She asked, nodding at his outfit. Jon seemed to falter a little, standing still, waiting for her assessment. “I like it! Really suits you.”

And while that was a bit of a lie - Sasha found it to be a bit boring, and she would never have even considered buying herself, though it did quite Jon wonderfully - Sasha couldn’t bring herself to feel the least bit bad, when she heard Jon mutter a soft, “Thank you,” before hurrying to his office. For a split second, Sasha would have sworn that his lips were pulled into a smile, thought for a moment she saw a flash of his teeth, but he was opening and closing his office door before she could confirm.

-2

Despite all her grumbling, thrown insults, and jabs, Melanie didn’t actually dislike Jon. Well, no, she did dislike him, immensely. He’s smug, and rude, and has a know-it-all attitude, and he absolutely did not take her show seriously. But, behind all of that, he respected her abilities and her competence, if not the way that she uses it. She thought of it like she wouldn’t want anything to hurt Jon unless it was her giving him a good slap around the head.

Still, when she ended up hanging around the Archives more - and shockingly, no one, not even Jon, tried to stop her - after her show fell apart and took most of her professional network with it, she’s surprised how much common ground she shares with Jon. At first, they needed someone else in the room with them, to grease the wheels of conversation - either Sasha siding with Melanie every once in a while, or a well-timed joke from Tim, or Martin’s placating tone - but every time they found themselves able to stand each other without any assistance, even starting their own conversation. Without her show, with its staged dramatics and clickbait titles to feed Jon’s antagonisms, they find that they have similar opinions and histories with the supernatural.

“Most statements and stories are completely false,” Jon had repeated many times. But soon he began to add, “But the ones that are real are… deeply concerning, and hard to come by.”

More than a few times Jon had caught Melanie digging through filing cabinets, looking for a statement with a shred of truth in it, anything to follow up or make a story out of. After the third time that Jon threw open the door to the filing room and nearly gave himself a heart attack when the light illuminated Melanie’s hunch over figure, reading through a pile of folders that she most certainly was not going to put away properly, Jon sighed and asked, “Why don’t I just give you some statements that seem real.”

Melanie looked up from the file in her hand that she was about to discard. “You’d do that? Isn’t that against ‘policy’ or something.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s no more breaking rules than allowing you in here in the first place.” He eyed the pile of statements on the floor, the open drawer with crumbled papers shoved in. “Besides, I’m tired of having to spend an entire day refiling after you pop in.”

And so, Jon started keeping track of statements he believes. First on sticky notes, then on looseleaf paper, and eventually in a notebook so that Melanie can keep track as she goes along, Jon wrote down the name and case number of what he believes are credible cases, and Melanie dug them out of their dusty tombs. Even if she didn’t put them away - which she rarely did, can’t go making Jon’s life too easy, she thought with a grin - it was clear that he appreciated knowing exactly where they came from. She still browsed around, skimming through statements that Jon doesn’t believe, but she puts those ones back where she finds them if they weren't worth her time.

Their strange friendship continued like that for a few months. They steered clear of personal topics, even, no, especially, as Melanie began going on dates with Georgie. Occasionally, a personal detail would slip in; Jon mentioned that he hates denim skirts after telling Melanie about a statement that, for some reason, explicitly mentions them (“And what makes you an expert on what women should wear?” Melanie asked, annoyance clear in her.

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No, I’m talking about me. I hate wearing denim skirts.”

“Oh,” Melanie says, the wind coming out of her sails. “Uh, me too.”). At one point Melanie mentioned that she loves artificial blue raspberry, which made Jon scrunch his nose in disgust. Before they knew it, Melanie and Jon knew about the other’s thoughts on movies, books, fashion, the weather, politics, animals, food, and whether or not Rosie is dating that one woman from HR.

It was a slow and gradual shift, one that caught both of them off guard. But neither was anxious to prevent it and really, Melanie was kind of interested to see where it would go. It’s with that thought in mind, seeing how this will go, that she throws a folder onto Jon’s desk. He hadn’t looked up when she knocked and entered without waiting, but with the manila folder obscuring whatever paperwork he was doing, he sighs and lifts his head.

“Yes, Melanie?”

“This statement was misfiled,” Melanie said, glee and gloating oozing out of her voice. She cackled when she saw Jon scowl, arms crossing automatically. He glanced down at the casefile.

“It most certainly was not,” Jon huffed, picking it up. He doesn’t even mention how it wasn’t a file he gave her, so keen to prove her wrong. “It was filed by year, 2006, subsection ‘non-human creature’, subsection ‘false’ and-”

“Exactly,” Melanie interrupted. “It’s not fake.”

“What do you mean it’s not fake.” Jon narrowed his eyes. “It’s about a bloody sea monster!”

“A sea monster which is described in another statement from 1984,” Melanie threw another folder onto his desk, which Jon hadn’t noticed in her hand in his haste to disagree, “And, one that causes damage similar to this accident report,” Melanie unlocked her phone and shoved it into Jon’s face. His eyes crossed and squinted as he tried to read the news article on the screen. “Which, by the way, all occur in the same region of the Barents Sea.”

Jon lifted his eyes from the phone screen, still slightly glaring at Melanie. He looked away after a second, raising a hand to scratch the side of his face.

“Well, then, I guess we will have to look into it some more,” his voice was different than what Melanie was used to. Behind the movement of his hand, Melanie thought she saw some falses of teeth and saw a slight twinkle in his eye. He quickly dropped his face, expression and voice back to normal, “But, this is not permission for you to go back to rummaging through my files!”

Melanie grinned wolfishly, putting a hand on her hip. The gentle voice and expression were already leaving her mind. “Like I ever needed your permission, Jon.”

-1

It was almost surprising how well Daisy got on with Jon. She supposed it was because they were both a bit quieter than the people around them, got a bit more drained from human interaction than others, a bit more like old souls. Only, Daisy was more of an ‘old soul’ because the thought of all the therapy she had to go through years ago still made her tired and because she was literally about fifteen years older than everyone else in the Archives.

“Why is it that your joints hurt more than mine even though you’re a baby?” Daisy asked, after finding Jon laying on the floor of his office, hair and dress fanned out on the floor. When she had questioned his state, he just mumbled, “m’back hurts.”

Calling him a baby made him grumble more. “I’m not a baby, I am a grown man-”

“More like an old man.” Daisy joked, sitting down cross-legged by his head. “Seriously, you’re too young to be aching this much.”

Jon shrugged, shirt rustling against the carpet. “I’ve always ached. I guess having a desk job just made it worse.”

Daisy nodded. She couldn’t really relate; all her old aches hadn’t been physical, and before the archives all her jobs involved in a lot of moving - whether it was fast food as a teenager, or retail as a young adult, and then the police.

“You should go to a chiropractor, get a massage.” She suggested.

“Chiropractor and masseuse are two different professions.”

“Piss off, you know what I’m saying.” Jon rolled his eyes and squirmed a bit on the floor.

“I don’t like the thought of someone… massaging me.”

“It feels really good,” Daisy replies, thinking back to the few massages she had gotten in her life. “And chiropractors don’t really massage, they just snap your joints back into place and then give you weird exercises to do.”

Jon shrugged again and didn’t say anything. Daisy wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t have anything to say, or if his previous movement made something along his spine twinge. After a minute of silence, with Jon’s face occasionally morphing from boredom to discomfort, Daisy got an idea.

“Stand up,” she said, getting to her feet herself. Jon looked up, startled.

“Why?”

“Just do it,” Daisy stuck her hand out for Jon to take. With a little effort, Jon sat up, groaning a little, before taking her stand to stand. As soon as he was upright, Daisy reached down to hold Jon from under his armpits.

“Uh, Daisy, what are you doing?” Jon asked, arms sticking straight out, stiff, as Daisy brought his body closer to her.

“I’m going to reset your back,” Daisy said, as Jon’s face squished against her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this a few times, it usually helps.”

Jon mumbled something, before yelping when Daisy stood closer to her full height and he was lifted a few inches off the ground. Jon’s arms instinctually went around Daisy’s shoulders, even though she was fully supporting his weight.

“Okay, you gotta relax your body, untense your muscles- Jon that is the opposite of untensing. There you go, okay, you’re going to hear a crack,” She said, before squeezing Jon into her body, forearms pressed across different parts of his back. There was a loud crack as she felt Jon tighten his arms around her and give a little yell into her shoulder.

She loosened her grip, but still held him close for a second, just in case. She felt his mouth move against her shirt, and at first, she thought he was mumbling something, but then the movement ceased for a few seconds. Another small movement, and then no motion once again. Finally, she lowered Jon to the floor and released him. He stood, and quickly went to smoothing out his shirt.

“How’d that feel?” Daisy asks, noticing how he wasn’t automatically going back to lie on the ground. Jon stilled for a second, before saying,

“It feels a lot better. Thank you, Daisy.”

Martin knew he wasn’t subtle, at least not when it came to Jon. He knew practically anyone who came down to the Archives could tell he had a crush, knew that his attempts to coddle, and talk to, and make Jon proud were just about as sly as painting a banner that said: “I WANT TO DATE JONATHAN SIMS.”

He almost couldn’t help it. Sure, he had gotten a bit better at not letting Jon treat him like a doormat over the years - sometimes Jon even seemed pleasantly surprised when Martin told him off for being mean - but there was still an undeniable urge to be gentle with him, to treat him kindly, to make him smile.

Not that anyone had any recollection of Jon smiling - hell, Tim even made a few jokes that Jon was probably in a terrible accident as a smile and ‘broke his smile muscles, but left his annoying muscles intact’. It wasn’t very funny, but Martin and Sasha still laughed.

Still, in some masochistic kind of way, Martin enjoyed this prolonged courtship. And even though his friends were sure that nothing was advancing, that Martin was still being a pining fool (which wasn’t an inaccurate description) and Jon was still being an unrequiting idiot, Martin was sure that he was making progress. Jon and he were having more… moments. More times where they would make eye contact and Jon’s face would soften, more conversations where Jon would ramble off-topic, at ease and relaxed, before remembering himself and Martin and roping him back into the conversation. There would be times where Martin would pass Jon a cup of tea, mug angled so that Jon could easily grab the handle, and yet Jon would take the mug in such a way that their fingers would brush. Sometimes they even lingered there, the heat of ceramic burning his hand, almost unnoticeable in comparison to the heat of his face as Jon glanced at him through his eyelashes, saying, “Thank you, Martin.”

Maybe it was just because no one else was privy to these moments, or maybe Martin really was just a yearning fool, desperately grasping at anything that suggested Jon returned his affection, but no one else seemed to understand these moments or take them seriously.

“Your crush is getting out of control,” Tim said one day, after watching Martin bring Jon tea in a mug covered in hearts. “Like, legally speaking, I think it’s too much.”

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon had stared at the mug for a few seconds before taking it, and even though it was still piping hot, much too warm to comfortably drink, he took a sip as soon as it was in his grasp. “This is lovely, Martin. Thank you.”

“Leave it alone, Tim, it’s fine,” Martin replied, going back to sit at his desk.

“No, it is getting a bit ridiculous,” Sasha agreed. “I mean, how long have you been after him? Like, I love Jon, trust me, but he’s either oblivious or ignoring your, uh, flirting attempts.”

“He’s not ignoring them.”

“So he’s just oblivious?”

“I don’t think so.” Sasha and Tim looked at him strangely. He sighed. “Look, things are fine, okay? It’s fine, just let me… do my thing.”

“Fine, we will ‘let you do your thing’ but, for the record, you probably could have gotten with at least three people in the time that you’ve been lusting after Jon,” Tim said, earning a laugh from Sasha.

But it was fine, whatever he and Jon had. It was certainly more than what he had been getting before, and even though he wanted more - chest aching at the sight of a frazzled or tired Jon, feeling the need to brush his hair out of his face, to press tender kisses to his eyelids, the near unbearably desire to just hold him, and care for him - Martin wasn’t unhappy. And somehow he knew Jon wasn’t either.

Sometimes Jon even sought Martin out, intentionally leaving his stuffy office only to walk over to Martin's desk and chat with him for a few minutes before returning. Often he would have to return a minute later, muttering about leaving a pen or a pencil or a hair tie. (One time, as Jon turned around to leave, Martin saw the pen on the edge of his desk, and said, “You left your pen.”

Jon had turned around, looking almost disappointed. “Oh. Yes, thank you, Martin.”

He collected his pen and returned to his office. Martin didn’t see him until he said goodbye for the night. The next time he saw Jon dropping something at his desk, he didn’t mention it.)

When Jon actually remembered to eat lunch now, he would only come out to eat if Martin hadn’t eaten already, as he had taken to sitting either across or directly next to him during meal times. If Jon was sitting next to him - usually because Melanie or Basira were sitting across the shifty breakroom table - Martin could feel Jon gently, almost shyly, pressing his knee against Martin’s leg. Jon’s face was always blank, but if Martin made any move to shift away, Jon’s head would snap towards him until contact was either completely broken or restored.

Of course, there wasn’t an easy way to explain this to anyone else. How could Martin have possibly hoped to quantify glances, and touches, and the new intonations when Jon said ‘Martin’, the name now completely different than what Jon used to call him, despite no letters changing. How to explain it when no one else seemed to notice the magnitude of these changes if they noticed the changes at all?

So Martin rolled his eyes and made jokes with the others as they teased and prodded him about his ‘crush that was going nowhere on the boss’, and hoped, like so many times before, that Jon couldn’t hear them through his office door.

As pathetic as it sounded, Martin was prepared to play the long game, to continue this dance he and Jon had begun as long as it took, to tolerate the unbearable loneliness that crept up on him at home so long as he got to see Jon at work, to keep bringing him tea every day until, well, until something happened, or until one of them left the archives. Martin had made peace with that fact, though he loathed to admit it, even to himself.

And then, Jon asked for his help one day.

“Can you stay late with me this evening? I need some assistance looking into a statement.” Jon had been formal, professional when he asked.

“Of course,” Martin said, if not because any time spent with Jon was a good time (usually, not even Martin was in deep enough to enjoy some of Jon’s moods), then because he did take his job seriously. “Anything you need.”

“I can stay behind too if you need extra help,” Basira offered, turning to look at Jon.

Jon nodded at her. “Thank you for offering, but I’ll only be needing Martin.”

And he has to admit, hearing that did bring warmth to his face and to his chest.

The help that Jon needed was minimal. Some of it was just reaching a file of a self that was too high since the stepladder that he used to use had broken, and Martin knew that Jon had too much pride to ask for help reaching something when everyone was in. Otherwise, all he needed assistance with was looking over a few files to see if a name popped up in all of them. All in all, it only took about half an hour, including the time it took to re-sort the files and put the relevant ones on Jon’s desk.

As Martin was preparing to leave, Jon approached him one more time, also clad in his winter coat and bulky scarf tucked under his chin. He stood in front of Martin, looking intently. Martin waited for, well, something. Jon took a deep breath.

“Would- Are you- Do,” Jon scowled at himself, took another breath and reached up to tug his scarf lower again so that more of his face was visible. “Martin, would you like to go out to eat with me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Martin replied, cheeks reddening slightly. Jon paused for a moment.

“I mean this as a date.”

Martin looked at Jon, bundled in his winter wear, hair slightly tangled, fumbling over asking Martin out!

“I knew that’s what you meant,” Martin said with a smile. He looked down at Jon’s hands, clenched tightly into themselves. He reached a hand out and carefully brushed a finger along the knuckles of on. “Of course, I would like to go on a date with you.”

And when he looked up, he saw Jon smiling, and it felt like seeing the stars for the first time. Jon always said he looked much older than he was, which Martin was inclined to agree, but when he smiled, he looked more his age. The tiredness and stress that plagued his expressions disappeared under the glow of his grin, eyes crinkled, and. Dimples.

Jon had dimples, nestled in between his smile lines, a secret that Martin knew he was now the only one in the Institute besides Jon who knew they existed.

“You have dimples,” Martin said, a smile creeping onto his own face. “They’re cute.”

Jon sputtered a, “No they’re not!” and Martin could see he was trying to return his face to its usually impassive expression, but it seemed that every time he got close, his grin would break through. Eventually, Jon tugged his scarf up to cover his mouth, but Martin still saw his eyes crinkled, somehow still felt Jon smiling through the layers.

“They’re cute,” Martin repeated, wanting to pull Jon’s scarf down again. This want was different than what he usually felt, a desire not tinged with sadness or loss. Maybe it was presumptuous, but Martin knew that this urge would be met. Maybe not now, but soon.

And Martin thought about Jon’s smile, even when he asked, voice muffled behind the layers of wool, where Martin wanted to go to eat, and would Martin like to walk, transit or take a cab there, and, and and.

Martin thought about Jon’s smile, knowing he was one of the few people to see it, knowing that he would get to see it again

#jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #fanfic #links #jon x martin #i hate having to share fics to tumblr idk why but they always look so UGLY

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incorrect-pokespe-quotes · 5 years ago

Text

I read every single Emerald fic on FFN so you don’t have to

There are 66 fics with Emerald listed in the tags.

First, I took out any fic that was either not in English or actually gameverse, leaving me with 38 fics-- though I will say, the Spanish fics look like they slap

After filtering out “everyone appears” fics (I skimmed them to make sure) I was left with 26 fics. (While I would like to include “everyone appers” fics, I do not have the time nor motivation to read 30,000 words of derring-do and melodramatic heroics seventeen times in a row for Emerald to show up, deliver 2 lines, shoot something, and leave)

From there, I sorted them into various categories based on whether Emerald was a BG character or not, whether the fic had romance, whether Emerald was actually PART of that romance, etc. Then, finally, I was ready.

Below the cut are the reviews of all twenty six fanfictions!

Category 1: BG Emerald Every fic needs side characters, whether to provide extra voices or comedic relief or just a foil for the MCs. These fics don’t feature Emerald in a huge capacity, but he’s there and that’s what matters to me. I came into this site expecting anything: third wheel Rald, wingman Rald, Im-only-here-to-complain-about-your-flirting-Rald... I found everything but! It seems the most cliche writers among us don’t like using the Emerald tag, bc the few Frantic-with-BG-Emerald fics with I did find turned out to be spectacular! I’m pleasantly surprised and impressed.

1. That Special Someone - Team Cap Cap is on this list like 30 times so get used to it. This fic is mostly about Ruby refusing to shut up about Sapphire and how much he loves her (and how Emerald finds it infuriating). The details of this fic are super cute and the way Ruby and Emerald interact added 3 years to my lifespan, so I highly recommend this one if you want a nice, relaxing read involving the Hoenn boys (dare I say best boys?). In short, read this fic and all of Cap’s other fics while you’re at it.

2. A Picnic - Team Cap Oh look. It’s Cap again. This fic, surprise surprise, is also good, and while it’s a little more basic than the others (Emerald runs into Ruby/Sapphire at a park and they mess around), it’s still cute and I still love it! Not really much else to say here... but the fic is good and I recommend if you’re in for some light domestic reads.

3. High Hopes and Checkered Skies - aromatisse I’ll be honest: my general opinion of frantic fics with BG Emerald is... low. A lot of them shoehorn my poor boy into whatever the plot requires at the cost of his characterization but this fic really surprised me in the best way! This one features Sapphire bringing Ruby to a “special place” the two of them arguing, and Emerald having to patch things up (mature Emerald? I don’t believe it!!). I found this fic while making this list and immediately bookmarked it bc THIS SHIT GOOD FAM. Please read this.

4. Alpha and Omega- Ruby and Sapphire's Thoughts - Shadoweevee70 Not much to say about this to be honest. It’s exactly what it says on the tin. No plot, no development, not even 500 words. Emerald has a line. I think two.

5. Boundaries - Team Cap This fic hurt my heart. Though it focuses on Wally’s one-sided crush on Sapphire, there’s a touch of Emerald in there acting as Wally’s emotional support buddy, which tells me that either Emerald has matured or Hoenn is just devoid of emotionally stable individuals. Regardless, this fic is heartbreaking and beautiful but contains very little Emerald, so therefore I have very little to review. In short... not a lot of Rald, but you should read it anyway.

6. Summer Days - eonentity Crystal and Silver go on a “date” and Gold + Emerald try and stop them. It’s cute, it’s honestly kind of creepy if you think about it, and it involves Emerald. While the premise is kind of sketch, the banter between Gold and Emerald is incredible and I really like the general progression of the plot (especially the ending!) This is a very cute fic if you’re looking for something simple to read. Highly recommend, utilizes Emerald as a character really well!

Category 3: MC Emerald (gen) This... this is my bread and butter baby. These fics run the gamut from friendship to domestic to drabbles to angst and everything in between, but the gist of it is that it includes Emerald as a focus without pairing him off. Not to say this is my favorite category... but it is. I’m biased, sue me.

1. Family Inclusion - Team Cap They say to leave the best for last, but I disagree. You’ll realize pretty quickly that Cap is one of my favorite authors to appear in this tag, and this fic is one of her best! I’m focusing on Chapter 3 (that’s the part with Emerald) where he has to entertain a shiny baby Ralts while Ruby and Sapphire are away (everybody say awwww). The fic is stupid cute, and while it doesn’t really offer much in terms of character development or stakes, it’s the type of domestic fluff you can read over and over and still find just precious each and every time. Also... Emerald takes care of a baby pokemon how can you NOT love that. Seriously. Look at this.

2. At the Amusement Park - Team Cap Oh wow, another Cap fic I really like. What a surprise. I’m astounded /s. This fic focuses on Emerald’s dilemma of being short at a place where height restrictions mercilessly mock the vertically challenged and how he deals with it with the “help” of Ruby and Sapphire. Though there is background Frantic (which shouldn’t really come as a surprise), this fic mostly focuses on Emerald’s insecurities and his relationship with the trio. It’s introspective, it’s wholesome, I’ve read it six or seven times (I lost count). Regardless, it’s good, and like every other Cap fic on this list, I demand you read it. That is a threat.

3. Frantic Fight - Puph17 Any fic that drops a line like “margarine is in vogue” within the first three lines is immediately propelled to my top ten fics of all time list and this is clearly no exception. Despite the name, this isn’t franticshipping, just Ruby and Sapphire bickering and Emerald / Wally being annoyed about it. This fic, hands down, is one of the funniest pieces of fanfiction I’ve ever read on this godforsaken site. I am begging you to read this fic, if not for Emerald with a megaphone for the sheet amount of laughter it will cause. This fic may not be deep but it sure as hell is hysterical. ... Well, what are you waiting for? Why are you still here? Go read the fic, we’re wasting daylight.

4. Weird War - storm-aurora This is another fic I think I’ve probably read a dozen times and refuse to get tired of. Emerald and Sapphire are having a paintball fight in Slateport market, and I literally could not ask for a better friendship fic. The writing is high quality, the characters are very accurate (altho bc this is fanfic it doesn’t matter all that much), the friendships feel real, they’re having a paintball war.... everything about this is ideal. This is the quality content I live for. Please PLEASE read this fic, you’ll be happy you did. Close this tab and go read it immediately for your sake and mine.

5. Skydrop - ayasato Not a lot of people write about Emerald. The ones that do, for whatever reason, seem to do it very, VERY well. This fic, which is so long it might as well be considered an epic, is probably the piece de resistance of Emerald friendship fics. While not as snappy or funny or domestic as some of the other fics in this list, it more than makes up for it with a beautifully built slowburn friendship between Emerald and Sapphire, my favorite take on his living situation I’ve ever seen, and enough introspection to make your high school English teacher swoon. This fic is a must for any Emerald fan, even if it takes like an hour to read in full. It may be long but it’s magnificent.

6. Croissant Kings - ayasato The fact that this fic is discontinued is irrefutable proof that this is the timeline god abandoned. Emerald and Pearl running a croissant stand is quite possibly the single most absurd fic concept I’ve ever heard but... it works. Somehow? It works. This fic is perhaps, hands down, one of the most ridiculously entertaining concepts and executions I have ever seen in my life. Everything about it, from the setup to the writing to just Emerald being Emerald is so raw and so ridiculous that I smile fondly when I think of it. I wish there were more than 3 chapters, however...

7. Perfect - Micah Debrink I’m gonna be straight with y’all: I don’t like this fic. I’m not too sure what the plot is, and it was certainly an interesting read, but not my cup of tea. It’s good, don’t get me wrong; the writing is mature, very well paced, and overall well-written, but something about the characterizations is just not vibing with me. Thus, I’m not gonna pretend I thought this fic was perfect (har har) but I will say it’s something you should give a try. I’m admittedly a very biased party, so maybe you’ll enjoy this fic more than I did. For sure give it a shot, because maybe you’ll like it more than I did. This ain’t my jam, but it’s quality preserves nonetheless.

8. Roost - ayasato This is short and sweet and may have some Sapphire/Emerald crushing if you squint, but overall a fun read. Very short, very good, give it a shot. This author is very high quality and that’s that on that.

9. One Day - Jian-Kenkoku This is short yet again but has a super interesting (if poorly explained) premise: Emerald gets adopted by Gold / his mom! This short oneshot details his first day, and while it is a tad rushed, it gives me the Emerald family content I have been sorely lacking. Not sure if this is one of my “reread until my eyes bleed” fics, but it’s certainly worth the trouble of reading through! It’s very cute and I recommend!

10. Emerald: Lying to Himself - reminiscent-afterthought Very poetic and extremely well-written, but less than 200 words. This fic took me thirty seconds to read and it feels like time well spent. Please read it, even if for the sole reason that it’s super short. It’s also a super poetic way to talk about the Emerald arc.

11. Go Away Gold! - jayfeatherelle Ah yes, the “little brother enlists the help of a prankster to keep apart his sister and her boyfriend” trope... This may be cliche, but it sure as hell was enjoyable! Emerald enlists the help of Meddler Blue (side note: where did this trope come from bc she never does anything in canon that would be qualified as meddling other than just messing with Red at any given opportunity). Anyway, this fic is adorable, has a lesson at the end (that surprised me), had a really mature conclusion, and gave me Blue / Emerald friendship I really didn’t know I needed. In short? This is a cliche done well. It’s predictable, sure, but that’s not a bad thing! If anything, it’s a great nostalgic read.

12. What if: Emerald never met Crystal - LetEveryoneOveraRip This fic stole the last little bit of hope I didn’t even know I still had. You thought it couldn’t get more violent or sad? You were wrong. Everyone dies. This fic made me sad for like 45 minutes and I feel emotionally manipulated. I guess I should have seen this coming. Not much else to say except that this fic made me really sad, which, of course it did, but I still feel cheated out of a happy ending regardless.

13. Emerald Owner’s Guidance and Maintenance Manual - Pokerescue18 Nothing happens in this fic. It’s literally an instruction manual and it’s well written and all but also has no plot. It is quite literally what it says in the title, so perhaps this should have been obvious but even still, I was left confused after reading this. I think I need a nap.

14. Through My Eyes - Kaith1 Relationship angst that hurt my heart. This is less than 400 words so again, took me only around a minute to leave but the emotional impact scarred me for life. Very well done! This fic details Emerald’s inner turmoil as Gold and Crystal get together and Emerald worries he’ll be abandoned again. While I do feel like Emerald hating the two of them for getting together is a little ehhh, this fic does a great job of showing why Emerald would be so upset about it and his inner motivations for being so hurt by it. While I don’t agree, the author made me “get it” a little more, and for that I say bravo!

15. At the Fair - IanDonyer This one is short and focuses on Emerald meeting a security guard at a Halloween fair kinda deal. It’s also one of the first Emerald fics on FFN, released far before the remakes even came out! While obviously it doesn’t contain much in terms of character development, it also was written with only the Emerald arc to go off of-- so I can easily overlook any character inconsistencies. That being said, this fic is really cute and uses the OC pov really well! If you’re looking for a blast from the past, check this fic out!

Category 4: Emerald shipping fics On the rare occasion where the blue moon hangs melancholy in the sky, the planets align, and starlight rains down from the heavens... someone ships Emerald with another character. Romantically. Not sure where the aversion to shipping him came from, but for whatever reason everyone prefers him single. These authors, these brave knights, they’re changing that. Hell yeah for romance.

1. Left Out - RedCharmeleon Not to be like “this fic is painfully straight...” but yknow. Emerald is upset at Gold/Crystal’s wedding because he’s the only single one and needs a girlfriend. There’s also a “what are you, gay?” joke in here, which soured my mood for the rest of the fic. I’ll be honest, I never really liked the “all male protag / female protag ships and then taking Silver, Pearl, and Emerald and pairing them off with OCs” deal, so I’m heavily biased against this fic, but the writing is decent and the plot is fine. If you enjoy this style of plot (everyone needs to be paired up, blushing galore, love at first sight, everyone acts like they stumbled out of a hallmark movie script) then this is the fic for you!

2. Glances - Diemerald A collection of drabbles about Emerald and Wally becoming friends and falling in love. I’ve read it seven times now. While the plot is a tad disjointed because of the format, this author really NAILS Emerald’s character. Emerald (and Wally) show a lot of growth between the snippets and god it’s so beautiful I need more of it. Please read this fic. Tell your neighbors about this fic. This fic is fantastic.

2. Revolvershipping Cuddles - Charmerruby You’re never gonna guess what this one is about. It’s very cute but it’s literally just fluff. Very cute, like marshmallows. This is kinda short so there isn’t really much to say, but I will am starving for Emeruby content, so though this be but little, it be fierce. And fluffy. Did I mention cute? This fic is so filled with love my heart grew three sizes after reading it. I could keep calling it adorable, but I don’t think that’s productive. Spend the time reading this fic instead.

3. Misunderstandings - Pokeluv101 Reading this was very weird because I know the person who made the OC the story is centered around. Reading even the names thrust me so violently back into my middle school days I can almost taste the edge. It’s very good, and I suggest giving it a read even if you’re not a huge dexholder/OC fan. Also tsun Emerald is good Emerald.

4. Unexpected - Diemerald A fic about Emerald and Yellow falling in love. Not exactly my cup of tea so I skimmed it but this author is really good so it’s a great fic, even if it’s not to my tastes. I suggest giving it at least a once over because this author worked hard and I respect them, even if this isn’t really... my thing. Check it out!

5. Big Changes - Aquatales You know how I said I would read every Emerald fic? I lied. This one is about Emerald getting genderbent and immediately shipped with Wally against his will by his friends. Reading the summary gave me hives and I could not bring myself to read it in full.

Final Thoughts While I’ll be honest and say that I did find some of the the cliche fics I was expecting, I was incredibly and happily surprised to discover that more often than not, the people who bother to publish Emerald fics really care about his character and publish some pretty high quality stuff, and that’s pretty damn cool. There are shipping fics, BG Emerald fics, MC Emerald fics, and most of them are pretty fantastic! Way to go spe fandom writers, you did my boy justice, all..... 10 of you.

#trainer emerald #pokespe #not a quote #I read every fic so you don't have to #admin vex

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illusionlockarchive · 5 years ago

Text

pazam: a mess, truly a mess

so i usually dont do these kind of posts, i guess you could say its a call out of some sort? but i never liked that word, i prefer rather to just compile sources on WHY people would believe that a certain person is not truly as nice and understanding as they seem. consider this more of a psa post, detailing on whats going on with pazam on the sfm community, why so many people are against them.

So, a while back, tumblr user jymble made a post on the main tag stating that pazam was transphobic. they linked back to this post, which contains screenshots of pazam in a group chat stating that they do not feel comfortable with the idea of trans people. now, this did happen 9 months ago, true. however, for the record, pazam is already an adult, 24 years old, so they should have some tact. and as further and more recent events will show, they actually havent changed that much at all, at least not as they claim.

the screenshots should be in the post, but here is a transcript

[Screenshot one]

Pazam:

What????? Why?????

I literally HAVE NOT been doing ANYTHING malicious to them

And if it did I apologized

Yes I do have discomfort about them but I keep it to myself

Why are you doing this????

[End screenshot one]

‘Them’ here refers to trans people in general. Notice the defensive and victimizing stance they almost immediately take upon being confronted about their feelings on trans people.

[Screenshot two]

elliott:

of COURSE you dont

sammaku:

Like specifically

Elliott hush

Pazam:

This whole concept of transness and changing your gender physically

I hate to say it again but it weirds me out and it makes me question my own gender which flings me into anxiety, depression, and obsession

sammaku:

Its fine to not understand but are you willing to learn about it

Pazam:

I don’t want to talk about this anymore

sammaku:

That depression anxiety and obsession just comes with gender issues

(the rest of the text is cut off)

[End Screenshot two]

notice once summaku asks them if they would at least be willing to learn about it, pazam immediately deflects it by saying they dont want to talk about it anymore.

[Screenshot three]

Pazam:

Seriously??? That’s all it takes????

Wow I’m a moron

I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused to you

@.aziraphale @.elliott @.sammaku

I just don’t get this stuff period

And I’ve gotten into trouble with this stuff before

I’ll probably never understand it for the rest of my life but I’ll try to be more tactful around y’all

Especially since you’re all young

And I’m like an adult

[End screenshot three]

While at first this would seem like they had finally learned their lesson and apologized, the things they add on after the @s become quickly worrying. Not only do they admit to ‘have gotten into trouble with this stuff before’, meaning they have probably shown their transphobia in other places and been called out, but they also stand firmly on the fact that they will never understand it or ‘get’ it.

And of course, as jymble points out, the implication that the people they were talking to were only acting like that because they were young.

A while after this post was made, Pazam had posted an apology, and went onto contact jymble asking for the post with the evidence of their transphobic to be taken down. The reason? They were afraid people would see it and think they were still transphobic and not give them a chance.

In this more recent post, you can see the conversation play out between Pazam and jymbles. Long story short, Pazam feels that it’s unfair that that post is still up after they apologized, and jymble of course said they would rather not take it down, people deserve to know what they did and take their own conclusions, even if that involves avoiding them. How does Pazam respond? By flat out deleting the apology post. I’d love to show the apology post to give you both sides of the story but I cannot anymore, because Pazam in a very bizarre move just deleted it because they got mad a trans blogger wouldn’t take down their post with proof.

Here’s the transcript of the screenshots:

[Begin Conversation]

rebloggidy (Pazam’s personal):

I’m by no means transphobia-free after learning what I’ve done but at least I know my actions and am making an effort to be a better person towards trans people.

rebloggidy:

Hi again. So I hate to be that person but would it be ok if you took down that post about the transphobia claims? I know it took me 9 months to apologize but if people only see your side of the story and not realize the post I saw they’ll take it out of context and still think I’m transphobic. Do you understand?

jymble:

... i already told you im not taking down the post.

[jymble sends a screenshot of her own message in a previous conversation, the screenshot reads as follows:

however, i dont think im taking the post down, nor am i entirely comfortable with you interacting with me either. people deserve to know how you acted with this stuff, until youre really and truly *better* with it instead of just trying, and i was a direct target of it]

jymble:

you oughright told me "im by no means transphobia-free", word for word sorry, but i told you before. im not taking the post down.

rebloggidy:

I remember that. But what I'm trying to say to you is that if people who read it out of context will immediately think I'm still transphobic without the other side of it (my comment)

And I don't want people to think that in the future

jymble:

if people make assumptions without looking at the entire situation, thats on them

i am not deleting the post and thats final. people have a right to know what youve done, and they have a right to be uncomfortable

rebloggidy:

I'm ready to take down my post because frankly, I'm sick and tired of having to justifiy something that I did 9 months ago, and that people grow and learn even not 100% during that time and I'm ready to move on.

I'm still into smile for me and feel free to make a blacklist of my name so anybody who rbs my work on your dash can have it hidden or something.

Take care.

[End conversation]

a lot to unpack here, but perhaps most notable is when jymble simply stands her ground and tells pazam she wont take down the post, pazam straight up decides, without being told to or anything, that they should take down their apology. later on, they made a post stating why they deleted the post, and saying they had ‘been forced to’.

I also would love to link it here, but as of now of writing this, like, not even an hour or so after I had seen that post, it got deleted. The only memory I have of it is a conversation I had with my boyfriend about Pazam, in which I copypasted a fragment from that post that read:

“ So for those wondering where the apology post went, I was forced to delete it. I wanted to archive it in some way so I could pull it up for reference, but there was no way I could. Also I didn’t really want to see it every time on my blog because quite honestly it’s upsetting to look at.”

There are some lies and twisting of truths here. Pazam wasn’t forced to delete it, they decided they should do it as a way to somehow get back at jymble. And the excuse that it was upsetting for them to look at is just inexcusable, what matters most, letting people know of what youve done and that youre sorry, or just never addressing the situation?

But, well, I’m just hoping you’ll take my word for it. As you see, Pazam has officially deleted ANY traces of acknowledging this situation on their blog.

This worries me. If Pazam is truly as concerned that they will be seen as transphobic as they claim, why are they deleting anything that could give them a chance of showing their own side of the story?

Now, that is the end, for now, of Pazam’s history with transphobia. However! It is not the end for some other very shady things.

Namely, Pazam has consistently whitewashed characters from Smile For Me, specially Kamal, and when called out on it, simply deletes the asks.

Want to know how I know this?

I sent them an ask myself. I had come across this picture of Boris and Kamal:

And I knew that this wasn’t right. I can understand using light colors and doing watercolor, but if they can make Boris’ hair brown and vivid enough, why not Kamal? He looks like another character completely, or like he’s deathly sick!

So I sent them an anonymous ask, perhaps a bit exhasperated, true, and my wording could be better. It went something like: “i am begging you to draw kamal with darker skin”.

I waited, checked. But nothing came of it. They never answered it.

Pazam flat out ignored when they were told they had drawn a canonically brown man with skin way too light. Not even a lone text post saying ‘hey anon, i dont agree with you’ or ‘hey anon im sorry it wont happen again’. Nothing. No word, no opinion.

And with this situation going on with them evading responsibility, I can’t say I’m fully surprised.

And, yet another thing. People had expressed concern over the fact they had drawn their Flower Kid, who is 17, in very intimate and close positions with Dr. Habit. It included nuzzling faces, cuddling in bed together, wearing his coat...

And they did hear the claims this time. As of now, their Flower Kid is 24, according to them.

Except... They do not look 24. At. All.

this is a 12 year old. at best. short body, stubby legs, big head. those are all attributes of a very young character, usually children. like, legitimately, thats how childrens anatomy is in real life. the younger the person, the bigger their head is in proportion to their body.

We have already had an adult trying to justify drawing their flower kid who barely looked like an adult if at all in intimate situations with Habit. Let’s not let it slide by again.

And yes, I’m aware Pazam claims that those pictures were not supposed to be interpreted as romantic, ‘only platonic fluff’ and that they intend to keep it that way, but I have talked to my boyfriend who is a survivor and he said it very well could be a case of someone just trying to cover their tracks.

BUT, all that being said, maybe this one particular instance could be just us being wary. Still, it does not diminish all that they have done, specially ignoring the whitewashing claims.

What you are going to do with this information, I do not know. Maybe you don’t care and will keep reblogging their content. Maybe you’re disgusted by them. But I’m just here to give you the facts. Personally though, I’m not willing to give them much of a chance after the way they’ve behaved. They are 24 years old, three years older than me, and I think I could do a better job of handling a situation like this, frankly.

#don't be scared. i am here with you.#smile for me #smile for me game

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