#interpret as you will but his mannerisms there always read as much more shocked and hurt than angry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokisprettygirl · 6 months ago

Text

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Read Chapter 7 here// Series Masterlist

Chapter 8

Summary: For the first time in your life, you experience real pleasure by the hands of Daemon.

Warning: 18+, smut, crude language, description of Statutory rape, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), mention of child molestation, mention of physical assault, the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking,

Note: One of the dialogues between the two was inspired by the film x men ❤️

You looked at him shocked as he revealed that Dr. Vis was his brother. Suddenly, their behavior with each other made sense, but it also bothered you. How could brothers look so different from each other and why there were so many differences among them?

“Is he really your actual brother?” You asked Daemon to confirm the lingering doubt so he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"How about we get you out of this constraining dress and put you in something more comfortable, like my shirt? And then I'll answer every question you have” his voice low and soothing as he asked made you sigh.

“I can't stay the night” as much as you wanted to, it was a risk you didn't want to take “Tell me something okay? If he's your brother then how come he's so harsh with you?”

“Because he hates my guts, always did.. always will” his voice raised slightly as he let out his frustration.

“But why?”

“Because I'm a dragon and he's not, or that's how I have come to interpret it now, all my life he has driven me insane, making me believe that I was not well, that I was sick like mum was-” his eyes welled up as he mentioned her so you held onto him tenderly by scooting closer to him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

"He doesn't even look like you," you muttered, comparing the striking differences in their appearance. Daemon's silvery silks were nothing like his brother's brown hair.

“He does not..he looks like my mum, she was a human-” he cut himself mid speech as he looked at the bewildered expression on your face “it's complicated darling”

“I'm trying to understand you daemon -” you mumbled to assure him that you weren't going to judge him for anything he'd share with you.

“I know”

You had so many questions running through your mind, especially regarding his mother but you knew that this wasn't the time or the place to ask them as he already seemed so distressed at the mere mention of her name.

“Why didn't you tell me before?” you asked softly

“I was waiting for the right time.. nobody knows here that we are related” he looked at you somberly so you brought your hands up and fiddled with the collar of his dress shirt.

“So he's the brother that raised you? Whose girlfriend chose to take advantage of you?” you questioned so he sighed deeply.

“Yeahhh”

“Oh god..does he know about that?”

“He didn't care. .women are disposable commodities for him..why do you think he's been divorced twice?” your eyes widened at the reveal, you didn't think of Dr Vis as a person that had any interest in marriage once. Besides your question wasn't for the woman, you just wanted to know if he protected Daemon after his girlfriend had taken advantage of his little brother like that.

“I didn't know that” you murmured under your mouth as you tried to process everything.

“He was married..his first wife was a real sweet woman, real motherly and then he betrayed her over and over again until she gave up on him”

“Do you miss her?” you asked him curiously so he chuckled.

“I miss being cared for at times -” he mumbled nonchalantly, and even though his words seemed as if he didn't care one bit, his eyes told a different story.

“I care about you”

A small smile spread across his lips as you said that.

“Oh you do now do you?” he asked in a teasing manner so you crossed your arms.

“Don't you feel cared for by me?” you asked him so he let out an audible smile and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I wouldn't be baring my soul to you if I didn't..sometimes I ask questions just to watch that pretty mouth move”

You couldn't help but smile at the admission, his words often caught you off guard and made you feel all giddy in the best possible ways..

“Is it okay if I despise him?” you asked him as you tried to come to terms with the fact that Dr. Vis or Viserys was his older brother and not just his doctor.

“Feel free, he deserves it” he replied, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness and resentment and you didn't blame him at all, you had seen first hand how he has treated Daemon ever since he got here.

“Why are you here Daemon? Why did you agree to come here?” You asked him softly so he sighed and pressed his forehead down on yours.

“I hurt someone out there, it was either prison or this” your eyes flickered with a mixture of surprise and confusion all at once.

“Who was it?”

“Just some random prat I caught hurting an innocent girl. I didn't want to lose control but then he pulled out a gun. I felt threatened and I changed” Daemon replied with a hint of anger in his voice,

“Is he dead? That man?” you asked him curiously so he shook his head before he gave you a smile that some might have interpreted as sadistic in nature.

“No he's in an asylum somewhere being treated for catatonia” he mumbled as he grabbed the back of your neck and made you look him in the eye “Your old pal Criston and that moron Otto, they arrested me but Viserys convinced them to hand me over to him as I am supposedly unwell” he emphasized on the term unwell as he finished his sentence.

“First of all we are not pals. Secondly, let me get this straight, so the only time you have attacked someone is when you see people get hurt or disrespected” you asked him as you felt a genuine sense of admiration for the man in front of you.

“I'm not a good man or a hero if you're onto that” he scoffed so you gave him a smile.

“Mmmmhm that's not for you to decide” you said with a hint of teasing in your voice.

For a moment, it seemed as though Daemon was about to protest but his resolve seemed to fade as you looked at him so adoringly.

“Did your mother love you real good?” he shifted the conversation so you sighed.

“Mmmmm well she was gentle but she spent half of her days here, at times she wouldn't even come home. My father left her for a younger woman when I was like 10 so she was all I had” his eyes softened as he heard your voice barely above a whisper.

“I'm sorry..I can beat him up for you if you want me to”

You giggled as he said that and the sound of your giggles warmed his rigid cold heart. You were affecting him in ways he never thought possible. His guard was slipping away more and more everyday. You were bringing out a side of him that he had never let anyone else see, a side that was gentle, genuine, and real.

“You're cute” you mumbled as you stared at him for a moment before you caressed his scalp with your fingers and then a thought came to your mind “I want to see you like that..in your other form i mean..i want to see the dragon in you” you mumbled with clear determination in your voice. His expressions darkened as he weighed his words before speaking.

“Mmmmm you believe me then?” he asked softly so you raised your brow.

“I do believe in you”

“You must be insane to believe such a thing” his tone was riddled with playfulness and you couldn't help but chuckle again.

“Am I though?”

Without a second thought Daemon's lips met yours once more as he kissed you passionately. The heat of his body against yours was almost overwhelming, the tenderness in his kiss so deep that you felt your heart pounding in your chest, wondering how you had gone thirty years of your life without experiencing this feeling but then you remembered that unwanted kiss you had shared with that man and you knew you had made the right choice by waiting to get touched by a man who made every inch of your skin tingle with a mere look.

The next morning you were outside in the garden where patients were enjoying the sunny day, playing cards and having a picnic with each other while Daemon sat all alone on the grass, distancing himself from everyone, but his eyes were fixed on your form so you looked around and made your way towards him, the smell of freshly mowed grass and blooming flowers filling your nostrils as you walked.

“You should mix up, aren't you bored?” You asked him so he grinned at you and chuckled,

“It's not my idea of fun really”

“Mmmhm, I can't believe I have never really asked you this, but what did you do out there? For living, I mean?” you questioned him so he leaned his head back and sighed, his eyes lost in thought.

“I used to teach” he finally replied and it took you a second to respond because you felt as if he was messing with you.

“Really? That's... unexpected”

Teaching was the last thing you'd have thought of if you had to guess his profession.

“What's that look for? I can't be a teacher?” he teased, his brow raised with a hint of humor.

“What grade? I can't picture you teaching little kids,” you questioned him as a smile creeped onto your lips.

“They're not so little, I was a professor in a state college”

“What subject?” you inquired, your curiosity piqued.

“Sociology” he replied with a small smirk.

Despite his rough appearance and the fierce way in which he carried himself, you somehow still found it believable that he was in the teaching profession. You could totally picture him as the charming, dashing professor who captivated his students with his wit and intelligence. The hot mysterious professor every girl in the classroom had a secret crush on, fawning over his every word and gesture.

“You're something mister, I must admit” you smiled as you sat down next to him, though maintaining a proper amount of distance. "Why were you so rude to me on the first day?" He turned his head to look at you as you questioned him before he looked away.

“I was embarrassed” his voice sounded hurt so you grabbed onto his fingers to caress it with your thumbs.

“Why?” you asked

“Didn't want a pretty girl like you to think of me as some sort of deranged lunatic, I was projecting really” he mumbled as he turned his head to look at you

“What changed your mind?” you asked him so he smiled like a cheshire cat.

"Your scent did, that night when I sniffed you i was able to read you like an open book"

Just a day later Dr. Vis was called away from King's landing to attend a seminar in London and luckily it was your day off so you knew you were going to spend your whole day with Daemon because it was unlikely that Viserys would return tonight amidst the storm and heavy rains.

Taking the opportunity, you decided to shower and dressed up in a beautiful red dress, you also did some makeup but didn't go overboard with it.

You had informed Shyla that you would perhaps go out and meet up with your friends, that totally didn't exist anymore, just so they wouldn't really look for you in case of an emergency.

With a skip in your step and your heart filled with anticipation, you made your way to Daemon's room, the sound of the thunder striking and rain pattering brought a feeling of contentment.

The thought of seeing him was both exciting and terrifying, making butterflies rage in your stomach.

As you arrived at his door, you took a deep breath before knocking. He was taking his own sweet time to open but as he finally let you in you noticed that he just had a towel wrapped around his waist as he was freshly out of the shower so you turned around to give him some privacy. Despite your passionate kissing encounter since the night of the gala, you still weren't quite used to the intimacy between the two of you.

“Put on your pants sir”

You heard him chuckling at the command but then he moved around his room to grab a trouser from his closet.

Suddenly you were grabbed by your arm and pulled into his chest as he leaned down to kiss you. And you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been thinking about being kissed by him all night long and perhaps do more Today. A gasp escaped your throat as he picked you up by the waist effortlessly and wrapped your legs around him as he led you to the bed.

Your nerves were a wrecked mess at the moment, adrenaline soaring high, as much as you wanted him to touch you everywhere, all of this was really intimidating for you.

You had never been with a man like him before or any man for that matter but especially a man of his caliber brought you plenty of excitement but also terrified you. He was so physical with you in general so you could only imagine how intense he must be in bed with a woman.

You snapped out of your thoughts as he laid you down on the bed before he got on top of you so you looked at him nervously, your eyes raked over his chiseled torso, he looked so strong but so beautiful at the same time with his silver locks and dark piercing eyes.

“What scares you the most?” he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear so you gave him a small smile.

“That you would not enjoy me?” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked away, feeling embarrassed by your admission

“Enjoy you huh?” he repeated, a smirk evident on his features.

“I wouldn't know what to do daemon..I'm a grown woman who should have been married with children but here I am, a virgin, flinching everytime your fingers are near my ummm-...myy” he interrupted you as you clearly hesitated to finish your words. "I can't even say the words"

“Your warm cunt?” he spoke huskily, making your face flush at the unabashed words.

“My bits yes..”

“Can I kiss you again?” He asked you so you nodded immediately and he had his lips latched onto yours without any further delay, his fingers tightened around your hair as he caressed your scalp gently.

“That's crazy talk sweet girl..i am going to enjoy you more than i have ever enjoyed anything in my life, and it's not just your body that makes me want to ravish you, it's you, your sweet scent” he mumbled as he placed his nose into the crook of your neck “and this generous spirit that you carry, and honestly?” He looked at you intently as he cupped your cheeks, his thumb dragged over your already swollen lips.

“It's really hot when you're squirming underneath me. You have no clue what it does for an animal like me”

“You're not an animal -”

“ I am and you dig it pretty girl don't you? Thirty years and you didn't allow a man to touch you and it took me a few weeks to get you so willing to be underneath me hmm?” you gasped as you feigned an offense at his words.

“Are you calling me easy?”

“You're not easy, far from it" Daemon said, his eyes fixed on you as he puts both hands on your cheeks, his fingers tracing your jaw and lips. “But that's okay..You can be easy for me, you can be my easy girl and it won't make a smidgen of difference to how i feel about you” he whispered, his voice low and raspy in your ears, hands went under your dress as fingers trailed over the soft skin on the inside of your thighs, sniffing deeply he let out a grunt. The scent of your arousal thick in the air.

“It's exciting isn't it? Being spoken to this way?” He whispered in your ear so you hummed in response but it came out in the form of a whimpering moan instead.

“Turn on your side for me” he mumbled softly so you obliged “that's it ..good girl” your breath hitched as his husky voice gave you goosebumps all over again. Your fingers clenched around his biceps as he unzipped your dress and turned you around on your back again,

He grabbed the sleeves and lowered the dress until it was resting on your sternum, you had your bra on still but you still felt completely exposed.

“Daemon –”

“Mmmm I'm right here darling..I won't hurt you i promise, tell me to stop anytime you want me to yeah?” he rolled your dress up to your thighs, making your back arch on its own, placing your arms over your head you clutched onto the bedsheets in anticipation of what he was going to do to you next.

“No sex okay? You promise?” Your eyes teared up as you questioned him so he placed his head on your torso and placed a soft kiss.

“I'd never do anything you don't want or need my darling yeah? Can you trust me?” He asked, his voice gentle so you nodded in response.

You wanted him to show you the actual meaning of pleasure. You wanted him, no that wasn't right. In that moment you needed him, you craved him. He crawled up to meet your eyes as he slid your soaked underwear down your legs which made you shut your thighs close together as tightly as you could.

He caressed your legs with his fingers while he kissed you softly, the longer his lips stayed on yours the more comfortable you got with the idea of having his fingers between your legs, he didn't even have to force your legs open, the cold air hit your bare wet soaked cunt as you spread your legs apart involuntarily. Breasts squished into his chest as you felt his fingers rubbing over your dripping lips,

“Dae–” you moaned as his digits played with your intimate flesh. Hazy fog clouded your mind as you allowed the reality of the moment to kick in, a man was touching you, a man so hot, so sexy, so goddamn attractive was touching you in places you have barely touched yourself.

“Mmmm there it is..” he whispered in your ear as his fingers caressed your bundle of nerves.

“Mhhhmmmmm ohhhhh god”

“How does that feel sweet thing?” He whispered in your ear so you bit on your lips so harshly he was afraid you'd draw blood, as his thumb rubbed over your clit you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs around his hand.

“It's…unreal..your hands are on my–” you hesitated to finish your sentence so he grabbed your chin with his vacant hand.

“Your cunt”

“My ..”

“Cunt..say it”

“Mmmmmmm my cunt” you mumbled almost inaudibly, the whimper in your voice made him want to mate with you right now but he knew he had to control that monster inside of him.

“That's it..that's a good girl, breathe for me darling” he mumbled softly as he rubbed your clit slowly in circular motion with his thumb.

The strings of moans that left your mouth only enchanted him further, the sight of you with your arched back and eyes rolled so far into your head was better than what he had imagined in his head in the past month, the scent of your arousal intoxicated him as if he was heavily drunk.

It felt too much at once but at the same time it didn't feel enough, you needed more of him and the thought scared you. What was he doing to you? How did he carry such power to turn you into this person you had never been before? The person you never thought you'd ever become.

His lips trailed down wet kisses from the valley of your breasts, for a moment he sucked on your clothed nipples and that's when you brought your arms down to clutch your fingers around his silver locks.

No matter what you did though, your eyes remained closed, you didn't want to see yourself or his face between your legs as if you were committing a sin, a sin that you were most definitely basking in.

He held onto your thighs and stared at your dripping hole for a moment, your virginity intact as the day you were born and the knowledge only warmed his blood further.

You let out a cry of pleasure as he placed his mouth on your clit, he knew he had you all whipped for him, he never had a woman drip this way into his mouth before, you were gushing with want and he was more than eager to consume you completely.

“Daemon..daemon ohhh daemon please” you murmured under your breath and he looked up at you once to commemorate the view, engraving the succulent sight of you in his head as you experienced the pure carnal pleasure for the first time, then he got back to sucking on your dripping juices as if he'd never get a taste of you again. And good lord if you didn't taste divine to him. To know that no other man had the opportunity to see you like this only increased his appetite for you. He didn't know what he had done to deserve this but he was grateful nonetheless.

For once in his life he felt worthy of something good in his life and it wasn't because of anything he had done to warrant such satisfaction but it was all you. When you looked at him he didn't feel like such a failure in life.

He placed his tongue flat on your clit and halted his movements for a second just to feel those swollen nubs pulse over his tongue.

“Daemon– i am –”

“I know” he kissed over your clit before he sucked them into his mouth again “Let go princess, you deserve it”

Your fingers pulled on his ear as you felt the knot twisting and breaking in the pit of your stomach. Body thrashed around, chest heaved like a crashing wave, thighs closed around his head, almost suffocating him as you rode through the best orgasm you have ever had in your life.

He wrapped his lips around your lips and sucked it in once before he got up slowly, leaving a trail of your own release on your skin.

As he looked into your eyes, you cupped his cheeks, your thumb rubbed over his lips, they seemed red and swollen and wet and you wanted to kiss him but you didn't know if you were keen on tasting yourself so you refrained.

“That was…something” you mumbled as you got back to your senses slowly and he couldn't help but let out a chuckle and grabbed your panties to wipe his mouth before he kissed you senselessly.

“I'm keeping that” he mumbled as he pulled away a little and shoved the panties into his pocket, your face flushed at the blatant shamelessness as if he wasn't between your legs just now.

“Are you okay?” He asked you softly as he caressed your cheek so you nodded.

“More than okay…I'm good” he smiled as he pecked your lips once more.

“I'll go clean myself up” you mumbled as you tried to get up so he looked at you with his brows furrowed.

“Let me take care of it”

“No it's okay i promise” you kissed his cheek so he didn't make a fuss about it. He wanted you to take the pace as you saw fit, approach this in whichever ways it felt the most comfortable.

A few minutes later you stepped out of the bathroom and jumped into the bed to lay down next to him,

“Should we do something to you now?” you asked him nervously so he chuckled in response.

“Pleasing you is not transactional for me..quit worrying”

“Okay I just…don't want you to think that I don't want to”

“ And I just want you to enjoy the aftermath of what you just experienced alright?” He mumbled as he turned to you and pulled you closer to rest his forehead against yours.

“Tell me something about yourself” he said as his fingers caressed your cheek.

“mmm like what?”

“Anything”

You went quiet for a moment seemingly lost in your thoughts.

“Daemon?” You mumbled softly after a moment of silence so he propped himself on his elbow to look at you as he tucked your hair behind your ear

“I think I was molested as a child”

Okay that's so far from whatever he was expecting to hear from you.

“Go on”

“it's nothing ..never mind” He grabbed your chin between his fingers and made you look at him

“Talk to me”

“I just.. have this memory of being so little, perhaps I was five, and I was in school and my mom often used to pick me up very late so I'd just stay in my classroom, drawing or just learning my alphabets” he nodded as you mumbled hesitantly even though the glare in his eyes was unmistakable. “There was this gardener i remember who made me sit on his lap one day and then he caressed my behind but i remember his hands being under my skirt”

His brows furrowed as he caressed your scalp with his fingers to calm his nerves, fire burning inside him in several ways as he thought of such a little girl going through something so terrible.

“At the time i didn't really understand, I was uncomfortable but I didn't know that it was a bad thing, it was only when I got older that i really figured what he was trying to do”

“Was that a one time incident?” He asked you softly so you nodded but then there was a look of uncertainty on your face that he didn't quite miss.

“Would you recognise him if you see him today?” he asked so you thought about it for a moment. You remembered his face but you weren't really sure if you would recognise him today.

“I like to think that i would but he must have gotten older and I'm not really sure if would recognise him instantly, I just hope I was the only girl he had ever touched like that”

Well that was wishful thinking.

“i won't hesitate to kill that bastard if I could get my hands on him”

You smiled as he mumbled with such determined rage evident in his voice

“I know you would” you caressed his cheek before you leaned into him to kiss him softly, his rigid tensed body instantly softened in your arms as you snuggled against him.

“So what are you planning to do with my panties?” you turned the conversation so he sighed.

“Well later this night, I'm going to get naked, have it wrapped around my cock as I jerk off, all while pretending that I'm fucking that sweet wet cunt of yours” he whispered in your ear, voice deep and husky but at the same time playful.

“You're filthy”

“Mmmmm and you like that don't you?”

“I do..will you..can you touch me here again?” You asked him as you placed his palm over your breasts, making his breath hitch in his chest.

“Your tits hmm? Sure I can ..That feels good? Becoming an addict already huh?” he teased you but you couldn't even retort as you felt his fingers began to glide over your clothed curves,

“Yeahhhh”

“You're so inappropriate love” he mumbled before he sucked harshly over the soft skin of your neck, his hands continued to fondle your tits as he called them.

Your dress rode up again he wrapped your legs around his waist, the scent of your arousal was thick in the air as you didn't have your underwear on and his touch enticed you all over again, your cunt dripping salaciously. You felt like a slut but you loved it.

“Fuck i love your sweet scent” he murmured under his breath, his voice was deep but whispery. “Want to please me?” He asked you so you nodded immediately, you wanted to make him feel good even if you didn't really know how, you wanted to hear him moan and groan on top of you.

“What should I do?”

“Nothing, just let me do this, yeahh?” He mumbled as he drew a gasp out of you again by bucking his hips into your dripping core..

Even with the layer of his black trousers you could feel his hard thick muscle rubbing against your wet naked cunt, your fingers caressed over his back and as you traced your fingers over the scars on his back he let out a grunting moan,

“How did you get them?” You asked him softly and for a moment his hips stopped rocking against you and he grabbed your jaw between his fingers to kiss you deeply before he continued again. His hold was rough and possessive in nature.

��My wings ..they come out of there”

Your eyes flickered as he said that, you weren't even thinking about it but you were beginning to believe in the myth that he might be.

“They hurt when they come out?” you asked as you rubbed your fingertips over the scars, making him growl in response.

“Everytime”

His fingers clutched around your hair and you winced as he pulled on your roots harshly, your back arched into his chest again and the sensation was only building more and more for both of you but then he stopped all of a sudden and got off you to get away from the bed. You were in shock for a brief moment, not knowing what you had done wrong or why he seemed so upset all of a sudden. Once the shock withered you lowered down your dress and sat up to look at him standing a few feet away from you with his hands resting on his waist, he was breathing heavily and he was looking everywhere but you, his sudden shift in the mood made you feel awkward so you fixed your dress and zipped yourself up.

“What's wrong?” You mumbled softly so he wiped the sweat beads on his forehead with his palm,

“Nothing..”

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked nervously,

“It's not you alright?” he immediately affirmed.

“Okay” you clasped your hands together on your lap as you stared at him for a moment. He took a deep breath and finally approached the bed to sit down next to you.

“Are you okay?” you questioned so he let out a deep sigh.

“Yes, I was losing control and you don't deserve that..yet” he mumbled softly so you looked at him all perplexed.

“What do you mean, I was enjoying it?”

“Don't say stuff like that”’

“Why not? I'm just telling you the truth”

“I just want to be gentle with you love and take care of you, you don't know what you want yet, this is all so new for you”

You stared at him lovingly as he said that before you turned towards him and cupped his cheeks to kiss him softly.

“You're a good man”

“I am not-”

“You're good to me” the smile on your face only got bigger.

“You make me want to be good with you”

“You like me” it was more of a statement than a question and for the first time you saw a hint of blush apparent on his cheeks as if he was caught red handed.

“Of Course i do”

“I like you too” you mumbled as you kissed him again, his body felt hotter than usual but it brought you a weird sense of comfort you have never felt before. You often heard of women getting clingy to men after sleeping with them and you never wanted to be that woman but it seemed inevitable at this point.

Unbeknownst to you Daemon didn't just stop because he was losing control or becoming rough in literal meaning of the word but because he could feel himself turning, as soon as you had placed your fingers on the scars over his back he felt himself shifting and it scared him.

Because he knew he'd end up scaring you if you had to see him like that.

“I have been here all day, i should sneak back”

You mumbled softly as you kissed him so he groaned but then hummed in response. This affair with you was going to get dangerous and both of you needed to keep it as discreet as possible.

You stepped out of his room feeling every cell in your body flaming, the feeling of his mouth between your legs, the touch of his fingers all over your body was exhilarating but your nerves shut down suddenly as you bumped into Criston on the stairway to the fourth floor.

“I have to show you something” he said hurriedly as he grabbed your arm so you looked at him shocked.

Now what did he want?

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist

@anukulee @ammo23 @littledark11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

@daenny-t @avalyaaa

#daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader angst #non canon au #modern daemon targaryen au

104 notes · View notes

lazyvase · 7 months ago

Note

This might be a hard question to answer, but have you thought about what TMNT 2036 would look like in terms of art style? Would you want it to be 2D animated or use 3D models? Would it be more "grungy" and geometric like 2012 and Mutant Mayhem, or more wild and expressive like Rise, or more grounded like 03? Is the style somehow completely new that it's hard to compare to the prior incarnations? Do you have any specific design notes for the specific characters that you didn't mention in your big post on the heroes? How "weird" do the turtles look, pretty standard or would they push the bar even further than Rise did in making them stand out? Splinter's always changes a lot, what's he supposed to look like?

Sorry if this is a tough thing to ask, I know it's hard to describe something like a visual style without any kind of existing reference. But I also wanna come as close as I can to getting the same mental image of this iteration that's in your hand, and... MAYBE no promises at all Whatsoever don't count on it, try to give it some manner of actual visual interpretation? I'd do it completely out of my own reading of what you've said already without me asking directly, but I felt the end result would be more accurate if I did.

Regardless, I'm excited to see what else you have in mind in general for this! For as fun as a franchise like TMNT is with how it reiterates old concepts in new ways, it's a little shocking to me I haven't seen more people suggest their own iterations. I'll be honest and say I'm a little baffled I haven't had any ideas for my own Turtles (though I DO have part of an Avengers incarnation I had some scattered ideas for, might get back to that eventually), so I'm very glad you're picking up the slack in that sense. I might chip in with potential ideas as I get them but for now I definitely wanna wait and hear what you have in mind for the basics first. Excited to hear more when you have it!

This IS a hard question to answer, but I don't mind at all (Thank you for the ask!). I don't have too much of a consistent style in my mind, but I do have a few stray thoughts.

In terms of design desire, I'd say it's most similar to TMNT 2012 (for obvious reasons) with the turtles being blatantly different, without it being exaggerated like Rise or arguably even Mutant Mayhem. They're rather bulky (TMNT 2012 levels of bulky with defined muscles). I don't know what exactly grungy looks like, but if it's anything like 2012/Mutant Mayhem then I suppose they are(?). I definitely can see the argument for a geometric art style (more in a bit). I would want them to look more standard. Yet my imagination has other plans.

I have no idea if it would be 2D or 3D animated.

I'll start with Mikey and Donnie for they share an interesting similarity: I can't stop seeing their Mutant Mayhem heads. Granted it's not exactly their Mutant Mayhem versions. My Mikey has a much bigger forehead, and has a skin tone much more similar to 2012. I really think it's his gangly/lanky body that remind me of the Mutant Mayhem version. Though I can also see my Mikey having his eyes more spaced apart. I'm actually kinda inspired by the original comics by having Mikey's forehead just be a lump on top of his head. Mikey is the tallest of the 4. Not sure how tall exactly. But his brother typically have to look UP at him. (Though if this gets changed to make their heights more consistent it's fine with me.)

(Just have his mask lower (like where this one's nose would be), and I'd think we'd be close to what's in my head.)

Also, despite me kinda picturing Mutant Mayhem Donnie, my Donnie DOES NOT HAVE GLASSES. I'm one of those people who don't like it when they add the classes to convey "nerd". Maybe a more circular head? I also want my Donnie to be kinda pathetic. He and Leo are about the same height. (Donnie may be slightly taller. Who knows.)

For Raph I have two main sources: @/nerves-nebula's drawings (warning: it heavily discusses and alludes to topics such as abuse/SA/incest, so proceed with your own caution). And Bowser Jr. In fact, whenever I imagine Raph, he's the only who doesn't have proper eyes. He just has two dots. Though for consistency sake its best if he does I imagine. To expand more on the Bowser Jr inspiration, he's also comically short. As big as Rise Raph is, 2036 Raph is small. He's like half the other turtle's height. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I much prefer it when the turtles are about the same height (akin to 2012). On the other hand, this is so much funnier. It makes the moments when he FNAF jumpscares a Foot soldier or other enemy much funnier. It also allows him to bite onto some poor enemy's arm and force them to shake him off. Raph is the main reason why I kinda want to make the turtles different species of turtles, as he's so inconsistent from the others.

Raph's head kinda reminds me of Trappinch. The visible mouth/teeth outline is ESSENTIAL. HE CHOMPS!!!!!

Though ultimately it's for the best if Raph loses being the most cartoony for being more consistent with his brothers.

I have no clue for Leo. Mutant Mayhem kinda fits. But it's not perfect. I really only have vibes to go off of. He's a unique blend of 2003, 2012, and Mutant Mayhem. He takes everything as seriously as 2003, but doesn't have the authority to actually do anything about it. This results in him being kinda whiny.

The shell size for the turtles is the same as 2012. Gives them normalish body proportions. But still allows them to full retract. I'd also like the shells to look rather tough (maybe 2003 tough?), because, just like (of all inspirations) the Micheal Bay movies, the turtles are bullet proof. BUT ONLY WHEN RETRACTED IN THEIR SHELLS. Fun fact: Being bulletproof is what forces most of the villains to use laser guns and stuff because that's the only thing that could theoretical pierce their shells. Bullets don't work on Splinter either because he just Matrix-dodges them all.

Speaking of Splinter, he's heavily inspired by his 2012 version proportions wise. Very tall (though Mikey is as tall as he is). His fur is a light brown, akin to early incarnations. Most of his height is in his tall, thin legs. I don't know why I keep coming back to this design feature, but I think it's funny. Chicken legs Splinter. His most vital design element is his mouth (nose/snout?) being super long as well. This mostly so when he puts on his "human" disguise (just a bunch of human clothing hiding his features), his face mask is stretched out to the point in looks like a cone.

My April is heavily inspired by Mutant Mayhem April. She may be a bit more bottom-heavy than MM April. I'm also don't see 2036 wearing glasses, but if it completes the look then I don't mind. Now, the most important part is her hair. It is specifically the 2003 April's shade of red. She dyes it that way. Her hairstyle is inconsistent in my mind, but it often looks similar to 2003 April's due to color association. Though I imagine one of her bangs(?) being much much much longer on one side of her head than the other.

My Casey has the muscle mass of 1987, the hair of 2003, and the iconic gap tooth of 2012. I can see her head often being more oblong. She's often seen in gray/light-blue tank top, pridefully showing off her arms. As stated before, her hockey mask is painted with a skull featuring a large crack.

Now, as a bonus, I'll go over two villains I ever so briefly mentioned in the heroes post.

Baxter Stockman mostly resembles his 2003 design, although he has 2012's mustache.

Oroku Saki is also heavily inspired by his 2003 design. Though he also has a bit of 2003 Hamato Yoshi in him too. Given that's he's Splinter's owner and all that. I really want Saki to just look like a normal guy. His Shredder armor is also heavily inspired by 2003. Unlike 2012, there is not an inch of skin visible. The most important part of the 2003 inspiration is the fact that you can only see his glowing eyes in the mask, though they're pure white in this incarnation (like the fortnite skin).

I also really like this helmet design in general.

The most important part of 2036 Saki is that he has 2012's vambraces. Those are the coolest shit in media. I'll be damned if my Shredder doesn't have those exact ones. INCLUDE THEM!!!!.

Oh, and by the way, here's a visual teaser for another iconic TMNT villain in my incarnation:

Well that's about everything I can think of. Once again, thank you so much for the ask! It feels great to get all these clashing and conflicting design elements off my chest. It means so much to me that people are interested in my ideas. And don't worry, I already got three 2036 posts in the works. And I welcome any of your ideas.

#tmnt #tmnt 2036 #long post #very long post #really long post

6 notes · View notes

thetriggeredhappy · 1 year ago

Note

Was wondering, over here -- what's your favorite type of Scout characterization(s)? I've been in this fandom for almost a decade, and (imo) everyone's got a slightly different spin on him, ranging from "category 5 annoyance, cartoonishly egocentric" to "earnest but afflicted with Early 20s Brain" to anything anywhere in between or beyond that. Got any specific hallmarks you're fond of? Stuff you tend to disregard?

hrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

alright so naturally i’m always the type to drift towards characters who, even as you’re reading them, you can kinda see the lenticular way they can be interpreted. you can tell by the author’s tone how the character interprets themselves, and how they’re interpreted by the viewer, and how they’re interpreted by whoever they’re talking to—three-dimensional, in shortform. with grey areas. sort of taking them outside of their trope and giving them the leeway of, at times, even assuming that the media itself is biased regarding them.

which is how i approach tf2, as well—the medium they exist in is, by virtue of being an absurdist comedy, an unreliable narrator.

so when you posit the stances “scout is like if gaston was wicked annoying and 150 pounds max but didn’t notice” vs “earnest, flawed early 20s dude without a ton of perspective on his life”, as if they’re two ends of the spectrum, my answer is, they don’t have to be.

i’m not a huge stickler on interpretations of characters, to be honest, but i do have a few icks with some interpretations of scout. any interpretation that implies he’s one of those dudes who says things for shock value or for a reaction really irritate me, mostly because there’s nothing in the text of canon that would even remotely imply that. scout wouldn’t say some weird shit about a girl going to make him a sandwich or whatever, he’d draw a picture of spy getting hit by a car and then hand it to spy because they don’t get along. giving scout these weird greasy traits just because at a glance you might characterize him that way in the netflix live-action remake, it just comes across as like. like maybe you don’t know what you’re talking about actually. like, the cheapest easiest possible characterization. the wish dot com characterization.

and i know it might seem a little bit like the pot and kettle on this one since i do take such heavy liberties with the characters, but here’s the thing—my argument isn’t that changing the characters in your fanwork is Bad. that’s all fanwork. that’s all interpretation. my argument is that making tf2 characters weirdly bigoted and filling in weird shock value stuff for no reason is fuckin’ lazy.

it’s much harder, and much more vulnerable, and takes way more time and effort, to try to write these characters with good jokes, or with human personalities, or with actual motivations and thought into their behavior, etc etc. and going “scout says [insert alphabetical list of homophobic slurs], because it’s the 70s lol they hate gay ppl” just tells me you’re not capable of writing well.

that’s not to say i even want scout to necessarily be a good person. i think it’s actually kind of funny that he decided to like, learn manners and etiquette and put on a prom for miss pauling, because having a dude who kills people for money do some cute shit like that is weirdly sweet, in a roundabout way. i think the canon of the text would imply that scout tf2 is kind of a sweet dude. but like, y’know. obviously nobody on the team is mentally or emotionally well. mentally and emotionally sound people don’t die and murder for money. writing scout as particularly egocentric, overly concerned with his own life (either in an anxious way or a narcissistic way), loud mouthed, temperamental, a sore loser, unsportsmanlike, those are all takes i’ve seen that have been really interesting spins of his character.

my favorite traits in him are probably things like him being a hugely impulsive talker, way exaggerative of positive emotions (like whenever he or someone else does some cool shit), maybe a little overdramatic and whiny about the small things, him being dude who will see his friend punch someone across the bar and will sprint over to punch them too, a real ride-or-die guy, kinda stubborn. maybe a little catty sometimes, earnest in a weirdly brave sort of way, clumsy or bad luck or both. dude with a weirdly nonexistent sense of shame or embarrassment except about, like, if he finds out he was wearing his shirt backwards when talking to Miss Pauling or something silly like that. and not even necessarily all of these at once! i just like these characterizations in general, and scout tends to get these ones.

this went on longer than i meant it to, sorry. anyways. scout teamfortress my beloathed

#shut up me #everybody talks #i don’t necessarily disagree with more villainous horror-esque content with him. i just don’t personally enjoy the genre

22 notes · View notes

oscar-delancey · 2 years ago

Note

What’s different between Livsies Delanceys and OBC Delanceys?

Honestly? Not a lot, but also a lot. Just so you know going into this, though, all my comparisons are a mix of canon and personal fanon so bear with me LOL

How are they the same?

Obviously, they're all still the Delanceys. They're the same characters in the same media just portrayed at different times! They still are hired to be thrown against the newsies and still handle the "dirtier" tasks their uncle doesn't want to deal with. But this isn't what you're asking for, so I'll spare you that massive rambling post.

How are they different?

Actors, portrayals, and personalities.

Just like any other newsie, the brothers are portrayed differently across every version of the musical because of their actors. They may share their names, they may share the general surface level goals, but they're always different. There's different interactions between each other and with the newsies, there's different things that make them tick or set them off, and there's different mannerisms with them that allude to different key personality traits. It's all about paying attention and being interested in how they differ!

Obviously since this is about Livesies vs OBC for the brothers, it's going to be about Mike Faist's Morris and Brendon Stimson's Oscar vs Devin Lewis's Morris and Anthony Norman's Oscar.

It can be quite easy to lump OBC and Livesies together when it comes to how you perceive and portray ANY of the Newsies characters. They're technically the same iteration, it makes sense! Just as it makes sense to combine different bits of the characters from Broadway, the movie, and West End! But I very much prefer separating them, sheerly because they are portrayed so differently IMO.

The biggest different I have always seen is specifically Oscar. Brendon's seems much more aloof, egotistical, and full of himself, while Anthony's feels more restrained and quiet. Like he's holding back his anger (which is very much true according to Anthony). The way they hold themselves and how they express themselves are a big enough difference to garner being considered two different iterations.

There's even more when I go into specifics (please note that the differences I perceive are based on how the versions are filmed. This is a bootleg vs a proshot, a lot of my stuff regarding OBC!Oscar is interpretation's based on movements and his voice since I cannot see his face well).

REMEMBER! I am using a mix of MOSTLY canon and some fanon interpretations for this. These are also MY things I noticed and MY perception of them. It can differ for anyone!

OBC Oscar:

is very talkative outside his scripted lines. We see him talking to newsies in the background has he hands out papers when the focus isn't on them. He motions quite a bit with his hands and comes across as a very expressive person. We also see him talking to his brother a bit more often, again being far more expressive than Morris, gesturing a lot whether it's towards the newsies or other things around them.

shows (and feels) more than anger/frustration regarding the newsies and the strike. When the strike begins and the newsies stand their ground against the brothers, Weisel, and the scabs, Oscar is more visibly shocked than anything else. He comes out in front of the paper stand when his brother backs down from Jack, and is again frantically gesturing towards the newsies. His movements read more as shocked and honestly stumped, rather than angry or eager to fight.

is quick to back down from a fight. He is INCREDIBLY all bark no bite. The only time we really see him engage in a fight (outside of the giant brawl in Seize the Day) is during Carrying the Banner, where he shoves Race. Pre Seize the Day he backs down IMMEDIATELY when newsies square him up. He doesn't even try to stand his ground like Morris. He is immediately backing away from them.

Livesies!Oscar:

is rather quiet. He doesn't interact with any of the newsies, really, outside of his scripted lines. We sometimes see him talking in the background, but it is usually only with his brother. He watches people, yeah, but he really just does not talk to anyone. He is a honestly wonderful portrayal of that quiet, seething anger that slowly builds to the point of explosion

seems to actually be scared of Jack. Oscar, ever since the interaction in Carrying the Banner (both getting hit in the shin and then kicked in the face), flinches around Jack. It's a small detail, but a visible one during the proshot (he flinches when Jack slams the paper stand when he's pissed about the price change, and he flinches in the end when Jack (playfully?) hits Oscar with papers).

is actually kinda fucking cruel. Not only is he a yesman for Weisel, he seems happy to be it too. When he punches Crutchie, he also spits on the kid. When he threatens Jack in the cellar, he seems thrilled at the idea of using his brass knuckles against him. He doesn't come across as some kid barking up the tree, he comes across as someone who has some serious fucking issues that need to be brought under control.

Morris is a bit more difficult for me to properly explain the differences of outside of general appearance. Both Faist and Devin have WONDERFUL portrayals of Morris, but they also read quite similarly. Though, I will still lay out the differences I see :). (Again, my points about OBC!Morris are based on movements and his voice, because I cannot see his face).

OBC!Morris:

is quick to act against the newsies. When he see's the opportunity to get in their way and threaten or intimidate them, he takes it. See: he goes after Crutchie when Oscar shoves Race around, he immediately rushes forward to get the newsies to back down when they first go after the scabs, and he LUNGES forward to get the discarded papers before Jack and stands his ground against Jack for a while. Morris is in their faces as much as possible and is not afraid to move forward and be aggressive and threatening.

acts less like an egotistical yesman and more of a meat shield, both for his uncle and for his brother. He doesn't have the air of egotistical confidence that his brother has. Rather, he's more just... neutral, I'd say. He constantly steps up to his brothers defense (can be seen during the strike when the newsies go after Oscar) and more-so stands around as the intimidating chess piece Weisel has to move around rather than a guy there to back up his uncle's words.

is far more calm and calculated. Morris isn't one to run around or move/speak sharply. He is calm, he is calculated, and he is thorough. He's the definition of stone-faced if you ask me. When he delivers his threats, he delivers them flatly. Not in a bad way, more... deadpan, matched with unwavering certainty that it is almost impossible to determine if he is bluffing or not. He stands rigidly (both normally and when he is up hovering over the newsies keeping watch), he walks calmly, and he threatens the newsies with such a stagnant aura of confidence that you can't imagine him being loud or boisterous. He doesn't run from Jack in the cellar, he doesn't laugh, he barely even moves. He doesn't gesture like his brother and he barely wavers from his more intimidating stance.

Livesies!Morris:

is extremely expressive and wears his feelings and thoughts on his sleeves. He is a lot more physical and expressive when it comes to dealing with the newsies and how he reacts to them. He scoffs at Jack's threats, he slams the gate near Race's face when the newsie makes fun of him and his brother, he spreads his arms in that "try me" gesture when accusing the newsies of trespassing, and slams his fist on the press and points to it when threatening Jack. Honestly, that entire bit in the cellar he is much more animated than OBC. He throws the cover at Jack, he giggles at his own tormenting, and he fucking sticks his tongue out lmao.

craves violence and is far more eager to fight. Morris actively throws himself at the newsies multiple times. He jumps at the idea of tormenting Crutchie during Seize the Day and he nearly lunges at the newsies when they start to charge the scabs. He has to be held back by his uncle and actively throws a mini fit when he's shoved back. When it comes to the actual strike and the strike breakers come in to stop the newsies, he SKIPS in, he is EAGER to be there and to get his hands on the newsies.

is an accidental yesman to his brother and uncle. Despite having the exact same lines as OBC, Morris comes across as though he is backing up his family rather than acting on his own thoughts and threats. Going after Crutchie in Carrying the Banner feels more like an afterthought of "ooh! Violence! My brother started this I want some too!" than his own action of his own volition. Same with his threat during Seize the Day. He acts on the words and actions of others, he is tied to them. I feel like if you separated him and put him alone, he would be almost useless against anyone going after him. He is nothing without his brother (and, honestly, his brother is nothing without him).

In the end, they are still the same characters from technically the same iteration, just about 6 years apart. But to watch them and listen to them and pick them apart? It's so interesting coming across their differences and interpreting them. What matters to me, though, is the overall comparison that it came down to for me:

The OBC brothers hold each other up and fight tooth and nail for each other, while the Livesies brothers need each other to stand against the newsies but can fend on their own. It's not a big difference? But at the same time it is a big enough difference in nuance. They still care about each other in both iterations, but the way they help each other and defend each other are very different. We see them stepping up to back up the other more often in OBC, but in Livesies we see them standing back to back against the newsies during Seize the Day.

I just think it's neat to write them differently :D

#sorry this is SO FUCKING LONG LMAO #I didn't mean for it to be this long but it's also why it took me so long to answer #oscar delancey #morris delancey #delancey brothers #anon time #im a little bit too fixated on the brothers help me

14 notes · View notes

sserpente · 4 years ago

Photo

A/N: So this is a much requested Part II of this Christmas Imagine which I suppose you can also read on its own. Also has requests from @keepcalmandtravelonkate and @fandom-rpblog as well as the exclusive Zoom meeting idea. Haha, enjoy everyone! ♥

Words: 1822 Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve came sooner than you had thought and it was about as cheerful as you had imagined it. Thor greeted you with mug of steaming hot chocolate first thing in the morning, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater you had bought him last year and Tony was already in the spacious living room with Pepper to finish up the preparations for his annual Christmas party.

You spent the entire day baking biscuits and didn’t see Loki all day but for some peculiar reason you hoped that he too would attend the biggest Christmas party in New York City. Tony had invited everyone—no, that was not entirely true, the party was, in fact, for everyone—especially those who had no one else to spend Christmas Eve with or wanted to do so with none other than the famous Avengers.

With a sigh, you finished applying your red lipstick and admired yourself in the mirror. The green dress shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals had cost you way more than what you would normally spend on clothes but the occasion was worth it. You had only realised after that green was Loki’s colour too. Another sigh escaped your lips.

The God of Mischief and you had not really spoken since the roof-incident. Part of you wondered whether he was about as confused as you about what had happened between you, especially after Thor had interpreted your entanglement in a romantic manner, the other insisted you didn’t think too much of it. Loki was just… Loki. Mysterious, mischievous and handsome. Wait… handsome?

By the time you arrived at the party, more than two dozen guests had already arrived. Dressed in Christmas pullovers, suits or festive dresses much like you, they held small glasses full of mulled wine, eggnog or champagne, munching on biscuits and other Christmas treats and chatting with each other and the superheroes who had already joined the party guests, impressing them with their stories and their skills.

Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Loki standing only a few feet away from you. Heavens, he should not be allowed to wear suits. Instead of the light version of his Asgardian signature outfit you usually saw him in, the God of Mischief was dressed in an all-black suit complimenting his raven hair and tall figure. It was perfect to blend in and not attract too much attention, for many citizens still avoided him like the plague after everything that had happened only a few years back. Your eyes met, sending waves of electricity though you, and he nodded.

You furrowed your brows when somebody spoke your name. “Is that you?” Much to your dismay, you recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Derek, your ex-boyfriend. Derek who collected action figures of the Avengers and who owned a Captain America costume worth five-hundred dollars. Derek, who had cheated on you with other women and, upon your break-up, had blamed you for the sexual imbalance in your relationship. Needless to say, you had not exactly ended it on good terms. The last thing you wanted to do was chat to him of all people on Christmas Eve. Much rather, you’d finally spend some time with Loki again. He was fun to be around once he had warmed up to someone…

“I tried to text you like… a hundred times.”

“I saw. I blocked your number after fifty.” You retorted.

“Don’t be like that. I was going to make up, you know.”

“You literally told me it’s my fault that you went ahead and fucked other women behind my back, Derek!”

“Because you didn’t give me what I need in the bedroom, baby. We should have talked about that more. It wouldn’t happen again. Let’s talk about this. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay… Care to dance with me then?”

“Absolutely not.” You hissed.

“Come on. You are not here with someone, are you?”

You blinked. Fuck. Think, think, think. “Yes, actually.” You lied quickly. Your eyes fell on Loki who met your gaze again in a strange and almost affectionate way—something had definitely changed between you since he had helped you decorate the Avengers facility and you remembered, with butterflies in your belly, how he had caught you in his arms when you had fallen off the roof like a bird with broken wings. The idea came to you before you could properly think it through. Derek would never dare to defy someone like Loki. He was your perfect alibi to get rid of him.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. You probably know Loki?” Before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between you and put your arm under Loki’s. He did not fail to react. Turning away from Thor, he frowned and stared at your linked arms, then opened his mouth to question you. Much to your relief, however, the gesture did not seem to anger him.

You shot him a pleading glance. Play along, you thought. Please, take the hint.

“Are you serious right now?” Derek spat, a both disgusted and shocked expression on his face.

Much to your surprise—or maybe not—Loki wrapped his arms around your middle then, pressing you against his strong body. Your heart skipped a beat. This felt like him cradling you in his arms like a bride, only more… intense, for this time—this time, it was actually intentional.

Loki gave Derek a glare, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “Are you alright, my sweet mortal?” My sweet mortal? “I believe you have promised me a dance.”

Derek swallowed, blinking at you a few times—and then, without a word, he shook his head and disappeared in the burbling and dancing crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Good thing for you he’d always been a coward.

But while relief was flooding your veins, at the very same time, adrenaline set every single cell of your body on fire. Loki was still holding you. His lips against your skin had felt like the gentle kiss of a butterfly… You looked up, if anything not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was, given that by now, both Thor and Natasha had become rather taken aback witnesses as well.

“Thank you. I really owe you.” You muttered.

“I take it this was a former suitor of yours?”

You gave him a weak smile. “That’s a very elegant way to put it but yes, he is my ex-boyfriend. I left him when I found out he cheated on me—repeatedly. I panicked when he approached me and I knew he’d be scared of you.”

“Why thank you.” Loki replied with dismay before, much to your surprise, a smirk grew on his lips.

“No! I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. So?”

“S-so what?”

“He is still watching you. You would do well to keep up the act.” Loki said, keeping you from spinning around to check. But he was probably right either way. You had just announced in front of a bunch of strangers as well as your ex-boyfriend and two Avengers that Loki and you were dating. You were honestly surprised the Trickster did not at all seem too bothered by this very circumstance, not to mention what it meant for you. Ever since the roof-incident, you certainly didn’t mind clinging onto him like that.

“Dance with me.” He commanded softly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your waist while the other interlinked with yours. “He will lose interest if you feign easiness.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into him to not raise any suspicion and taking a deep breath when the side of your face connected with his chest. Loki rested his chin on the top of your head, weighing you gently from side to side as if the music was made of waves carrying you over an ocean. It was a classic playing right now—What are you doing New Year’s Eve by Ella Fitzgerald—sweet, calm… romantic. This evening was going in a very dangerous direction now but you couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in the God of Mischief’s arms. Who would have thought that putting up Christmas decoration together would create such a strong bond between two people… a mortal and a god on top of that?

“I got you a Christmas present, you know.” You murmured after a while.

His voice vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your cheek. “Did you now?”

“Hmm…” He stole away your ability to speak. That was so unfair! “I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning but… would you like me to give it to you now, in private?” It would be the perfect excuse to get away from here for a bit too, even if, in better lighting, Loki would probably notice your blushed cheeks.

“Lead the way, my sweet mortal.” There it was again. Smiling up at him sheepishly, you moved a step back and took his hand, practically fleeing from the scene.

Loki remained in the doorway when you reached your room. Whether it was out of decency or respect, you couldn’t quite tell. You crossed your room with quick steps, reaching for Loki’s gift under your bed. You had wrapped it in green paper and decorated it with a golden bow. A bit of a cliché perhaps but it looked just perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.” You said when you returned to him and handed it to him. He only took it hesitatingly.

“Why did you get me a gift?”

You shrugged. “I just wanted to be nice. I doubt the others will have gotten you something so I thought… just so you can unwrap something too?” You almost choked on your nervous laughter. “You know I almost decided not to give it to you after all after you almost drove me mad when I was hanging up the Christmas lights.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose you made that consideration before I saved your life.”

“More or less...” You replied, winking at him. Hey… this isn’t so hard after all!

Your heart was pounding in your chest by the time he unwrapped it, revealing the notebook and the green and gold fountain pen you had gotten him. It even came with green ink.

“It’s not much, really, just…” You said quickly. “I keep seeing you scribbling and reading a lot and I thought…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted. Honesty swung in his smooth voice, making your heart beat faster in an instant. At this speed, you were going to need an ambulance soon.

You smiled. “I ought to thank you. Derek is a dick. You saved me twice now, I’m in your debt.”

Loki chuckled once more, looking you deeply in the eye. “Yes. I believe you are.” It was, without a doubt, a promise.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente

1K notes · View notes

pikapeppa · 3 years ago

Text

Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

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

Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot.

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight.

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon.

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through.

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either.

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.”

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking.

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon.

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face.

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door.

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still…

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?”

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?”

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did.

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read.

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair.

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said.

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke.

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this.

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner. “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping.

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower?

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes.

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too.

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin…

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this.

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.

#garrus vakarian #garrus #shakarian #garrus/shepard #garrus x shepard #garrus x femshep #Fun fact: Garrus is actually my OG videogame husbando from back in the day #but when i first played the ME trilogy i wasn't a writer #so i could not process my feelings like a thirsty madwoman with too many emotions #I AM A WRITER NOW HOWEVER #AND MY FEELINGS CAN ONLY BE PROCESSED BY BARFING THEM ONTO A SCREEN #pikapeppa writes

204 notes · View notes

everything-laito · 3 years ago

Note

(TW) I don't know if you've answered thus BUT in ep 4 (i think) Laito us clearly harassing Yui and humiliating her in the church. He does the same in the game. But does he r@pe her or just sucks her blood? Cuz it wasn't clear and the scene itself was so confusing

OOH OH!!!! OK!! I’ve been meaning to talk about this for a LOOOONG time LOL! Because it is very confusing going over it for the first time! I’ll break down the scene that it was based off of in the game (HDB Dark 09) and episode 4 in the anime.

Buckle up fellas! I’ll give y’all a brain blast.

For some tangential and/or extra reading, here’s my entire HDB analysis and an analysis I’ve done on episode 4 before. Definitely not required to read this one though!

And as always, more under the cut!

GAME VERSION:

So in Dark 09, we start out with Yui being at the church. She’s reminiscing all the warm memories she had at the church, so she came to pray. However, Laito comes in, teases her that she expected a “knight in shining armor” (although this isn’t important, it’s just funny in an awful way), and asked her if she came to “pray.” However, he says プレイ (purei) not 祈る (inoru- “to pray”). The katakana spelling of “pray” can also be translated to “play” (or even prey) in English. So the double (or even triple, depending on the context) meaning is very interesting. He knows Yui came to pray, but he is considering this time with her to be more of a “playtime.” He uses this same double meaning in his song, “Bloody Sabbath.”

Laito furthers a guardian angel motif by comparing them to his familiars he has watching over Yui. This is how Yui finds out that he has familiars watching her every move. He continues to harass Yui in the same Laito fashion, with rhetoric similar to the one in episode 4.

Laito: Exactly. I don’t think I need to remind you, but on days like this…It aches so badly… Yui: …! Laito: Even the Church is a place I would rather avoid if it wasn’t for these special conditions.But today I am especially greedy. I want you. I want to pin you down and drink your blood to my heart’s content.

Here’s just some snippets of Laito’s harassment upon Yui. In my HDB analysis, I mention this:

On top of him continuing to gaslight Yui, this scene takes place in a church. It’s incredibly symbolic to the shame Yui feels before and especially after she is forced to endure Laito’s games. The church is a home for her, and for Laito to take that away from her by making her ashamed of practicing her religion anymore is soul crushing.

Not exactly related to whether or not Laito rapes Yui in this scene, but I do love this scene so much because of how symbolic it is. So let me compare it to the church scene in the anime.

ANIME VERSION:

This scene is a lot shorter than it is in the game. Laito says a lot of the similar things in Dark 09 like “wanting to expose Yui” and how much he wants to drink her blood, and how he’s getting excited by her facial expressions, etc etc etc. I think most of us know this scene well. It is also revealed in this scene that Yui’s being watched by familiars, but on top of that, we learn how Yui was given to the brothers by the church. This doesn’t happen in the game, but I felt like I needed to put it in anyways.

BOTH SCENES AND CONCLUSION:

Both scenes still have the blood sucking motifs and actions. We all know how blood sucking is still a sexual activity. So regardless of Laito raping Yui, this is still assault, and most definitely sexual harassment and assault given his words that he wants to expose Yui and give her love––which we know is a sexual kind, whether through sex or blood sucking. It’s still making Yui vulnerable in a nonconsensual manner. She’s still going through sexual trauma regardless. Even if they weren’t vampires, this would still be sexual assault.

So in Dark 09, we know that he does not rape Yui. Why? Well, the first time he rapes her is in Maniac 07. We know this because of this exchange and rhetoric that I also mention in my HDB analysis:

Laito: Fufufu…Oh well, it’s okay. Seems like it’s almost the right time. I’ve gotten worked up as well. I’ll do even more pleasurable things to you, okay? Yui: Let me go…already… Laito: Fu…Come on, the starting shot has been fired. (5)

And in Maniac 08, Laito and Yui have this exchange:

Laito: More importantly, hey? How was that thing from the other day? Does it still hurt? Yui: …! Laito: So it really does after all~ Nfu~ Ah…Rather than ‘hurting’, the term ‘aching’ might be more accurate. Did it feel better than usual? Yui: …!

------

Laito: Well, you’d be in trouble if such a small thing already left you in shock.

So we know something different happened than usual. By the wording of Laito treating it as such a “small thing,” it can be implied that this is when he first raped her, considering he’s used to being sexually abused in that manner with Cordelia. Obviously, it is not a small thing, but he’s trying to write it off as one. It’s kind of like saying “oh you didn’t know *insert fact here?* I thought that was common knowledge!” kind of teasing or just general statements.

So from Dark 09, we know that Yui did not get raped in the church. For episode 4? It is harder to tell on that scene alone because a lot of it is meant for interpretation, so I believe you could go either way with that scene. Analysis can’t do much for that scene, unless if you were to argue two ways. In the start of episode 5, Yui’s just remembering what Laito said about how she’s a sacrifice. She does not act like how she acts in Maniac 08. However, that’s just my opinion and regardless, the anime is not as good as the visual novel when it comes to showing and not telling, and it is a pretty short runtime. So they had to cut a lot of it out. But once again, I think you could interpret it either way in the anime.

If you were to base it solely off of the source material, then no, she did not get raped in episode 4.

Hope that helps! As always, if you need clarification on anything or have any questions, please feel free to reach out!

-Corn

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

KO-FI | ANALYSES MASTERPOST | ANALYSIS TAG | FAQ

#diabolik lovers analysis #dialovers analysis #dialover analysis #analysis #diabolik lovers #dialovers #dialover #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #raito sakamaki #sakamaki raito #laito sakamaki analysis #ask corn

71 notes · View notes

taeyongdoyoung · 3 years ago

Photo

summary: you have a crush on college student renjun so you make use of your best lamest flirting attempts and surprisingly they work?!

pairing: renjun x gn!reader

genre: college!au, romance, pure fluff

warnings: very lame jokes, mentions of a cruel prank in the past (someone asking out renjun as a joke, pls never do that to people!), lots of awkwardness & sweetness, a bit of swearing, reader has an obsession with renjun’s pretty hands

word count: 4.7k

It had been a while since you had a crush so strong you even had a hard time focusing in class. Usually, you were a very good student, diligently taking notes and participating when the professor asked questions. But that was until you saw Renjun for the first time.

It was like something possessed you and suddenly you couldn't think about anything else but his pretty, gentle face, his angelic voice and his lovely hands always drawing something in his notebook. It certainly didn't help much that you were seated right next to him during your shared lectures. It most certainly didn't help that you forgot all your vocabulary when you were in his immediate vicinity. Usually, your teachers and friends described you as well-spoken and eloquent, always knowing the right thing to say.

But that was, of course, until Renjun. All words disappeared from your poor brain whenever he was around. And it's not like you didn't want to talk to him, get to know him better. But you physically couldn't bring yourself to form a coherent sentence. You kept telling yourself it was just a silly crush and it would pass in time. But the more time passed, the stronger you felt the need to do something about your feelings. Naturally, you couldn't speak, but there was still something you could do. Something you probably did best. Write.

So one day, after what felt like an eternity of yearning, you finally gathered the courage to act on your emotions. Taking a small sheet of paper out of your notebook, you wrote a little something. It was probably super lame but apparently, even your writing skills were affected by your crush on him. As soon as your "masterpiece" was done, you slid it towards Renjun before you could chicken out and change your mind about this whole thing. The note had the following text:

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Your drawings are almost As pretty as you. P.S. Key word: almost ;)

The second he spotted the little note which was folded in a hurry, he opened it curiously. Once he read its insides, you could hear him snort under his breath. Was it that bad? You couldn't help but worry. Then, he took his own pen and started writing something under it. That was a good sign, right? You were feeling hopeful. Once he was done, he slid the paper towards you. You opened it in a rush. His response was:

Hey! Are you bullying my art?!?

You looked at him in confusion. How could he have possibly misunderstood? However, he was too focused on multitasking (drawing most of the time and occasionally taking notes based on the lecture) to spot your reaction. You decided you had no choice but to be as explicit as possible and wrote another note:

Nooo, I meant to compliment both you and your art, sorry if it came off wrong and lame :(

When he received it, you could swear you saw him smiling a little, which made your heart melt. How was he so beautiful? Soon enough, his reply came:

That's alright, I'm just teasing...Also, it worked.

You couldn't believe it. It worked? You'd successfully grabbed his attention by using this first-grade flirting method in college? You were suddenly feeling brave and kept writing. It was too late to turn back time.

I just think you're really pretty and cool especially when you draw but I was too hesitant to talk to you directly...

When he read your most recent note, he even gave you a look of disbelief, which you couldn't interpret until you saw his response:

Cool? Wow, that's a first...And it's ok, I don't bite.

You chuckled quietly and suddenly noticed that class was ending soon. You couldn't wait until tomorrow so you hurriedly wrote the content of your next note:

What do I have to do to get your number?

Renjun shook his head in amusement and this time, his reply came quicker than before:

*number enclosed* Here, that wasn't so hard, was it?

You could hear the lecturer saying his words of conclusion and you hurried to respond via another note, because you couldn't trust your voice to actually speak to Renjun. Not yet, at least. So, you wrote:

Thank you!!! Here is mine: *number enclosed*

And just as he received your final note, the students around you started gathering their things. You simply looked at Renjun and you still couldn't believe he'd actually replied to your silly flirting and even gave you his number! You waved him goodbye like a lovesick fool and practically ran outside of the lecture hall. Stage fright whomst? Try having a crush on the prettiest boy in the world.

After you went back home, you debated calling Renjun. Eventually, you talked yourself out of it. What if you said something stupid and embarrassing? With texting, you could at least have more time to think things through before sending them. Actually speaking to him seemed too terrifying a task to accomplish. So, you texted him excitedly and your heart did a back-flip when he replied. Was it strange that you already missed him, even though it had only been a couple of hours since you last saw him? Naturally, you couldn't tell him that, it would probably freak him out. So, you settled for texting (for the time being).

Renjun: Why did you run away after class?

You: I was too nervous to speak to you, I'm sorry!!!

Renjun: That's strange, I see you talking to your friends all the time...Am I so scary?!?

You: Nooo, you're not scary, I'm just being an idiot 😔

Renjun: Top of the class does not equal idiot but I'll let it slide this time

You: Thank you for your generosity!

Renjun: What are you up to?

You: Probably gonna work on that assignment for next week

You: Sorry, I'm so boring 😔

Renjun: First of all, you don't have to apologize so much, you did nothing wrong

Renjun: Second of all, saaame. We can brainstorm together if you want?

You: Sorry, I'll stop. Oops, I did it again. Pretend you didn't see it.

You: Also omg, yes pls, that would be great!

And that is how your friendship with Renjun started. Texting on your phones and exchanging notes during class lasted a week until you finally decided to ask him out. Again, via text, because you were feeling too shy to speak to him. The only other contact you'd had was waving at each other. And it's not like he spoke to you, either. There were two explanations for that: 1) he chose to respect your decision or 2) he was possibly just as shy as you were. Whatever the reason, you thought this could not go on forever so you managed to find the bravery to propose a date.

You: Do you wanna go out with me? 👉🥺👈

Renjun: Sure, where do you wanna go?

You: Oh, wow, I didn't think I'd get this far lol

You: Where do YOU wanna go?

Renjun: Hmm, there's this new art gallery I've been meaning to visit...if that's okay with you

You: Anything is good with me as long as I get to see your pretty face

Renjun: What

You: I said you're pretty

Renjun: Shut up, oh my God...

You: Do you want me to stop?

Renjun: Say that again

You: You're pretty

Renjun: 😳😳😳

Renjun: I can't wait to see you again

You: Same here

Once you got to the front of the art gallery, it struck you how strange it was that you would speak to Renjun for the first time ever. You mentally braced yourself as you awaited his arrival anxiously. Your nails were digging into the inside of your hands and you were terrified you'd pierce holes through your own skin. You told yourself this was silly, you had no reason to be so nervous. Renjun was a total sweetheart and he obviously liked talking...well, writing to you. You needn't worry that much, you kept repeating in your mind. You were too busy hyping yourself up to notice him approaching behind you. Too busy to be prepared for what came next.

"Hiii," Renjun greeted you with a surprise back hug.

"Oh dear," you jumped in shock as you turned around.

"Did I scare you, angel?"

Shit. Already with the pet names? How were you supposed to survive?

"No, it's fine," you waved him off, trying to play it cool. "Isn't it weird this is the first time we're actually speaking to each other?"

"Um...kinda," Renjun scratched the back of his head. "But I like it, it's what makes this so special."

"Wow, you sure do have a way with words," you chuckled.

"Shall we go inside?" he suggested.

"Yes, please."

As you looked around the art gallery, you kept pointing excitedly at the paintings, while Renjun was quietly evaluating them and telling you interesting stories about the artists. You couldn't help but be amazed by how attractive he was as he exhibited his knowledge. And of course, you couldn't help but wonder at how he was so much more beautiful than all the art you've ever seen. Naturally, you wouldn't tell him that. First of all, because it was too lame to speak aloud. Second of all, because your voice would undoubtedly betray you and crack or something even more embarrassing. As time passed, you were surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, despite your previous concerns. Renjun was very polite and soft-mannered and he made you feel comfortable, while the two of you looked at the paintings and discussed them. Once you'd seen everything, you were starting to feel a bit bummed out that your lovely date was coming to an end. When you were outside the art gallery, you impulsively asked:

"Can I walk you home?"

"I mean...sure. On one condition."

"Anything."

"I get to walk you home next time."

"There'll be a next time?" you whispered hopefully.

"I hope I don't sound presumptuous if I share my observation we both had a wonderful time."

"That's perfectly alright. Your observation is correct," you admitted.

"I live just around the corner, though. You really don't have to-"

"But I want to."

"So do I," Renjun said and the two of you began walking towards his home.

"I was wondering about something...You already know I didn't speak to you because I was feeling shy, but why didn't you? I have two theories, but I'm curious which one is more on point."

"Do tell and I'll try my best to enlighten you," he joked.

"Okay, so theory number one is you were being respectful of my wish not to talk yet. Theory number two is that you're just as shy as I am."

Renjun laughed and you could swear this was the sweetest sound in the entire universe.

"Am I so transparent? Honestly, it's a little bit of both. But there's another part you didn't guess. But it's too embarrassing."

"Come on, tell meee! It can't be more embarrassing than my lame attempts to flirt with you."

Renjun smiled gently.

"Well, to be honest, I couldn't believe you thought I was cool and pretty...I even feared this was some sort of prank. It wouldn't be the first time someone decided to mess with me like that."

"Renjun, are you serious? I don't understand why anyone would...Scratch that, whoever messed with you didn't deserve even a fraction of your attention. I meant every word I said. I really like you...and your paintings. And I'm sorry I couldn't say it aloud earlier. You genuinely deserve to hear nice things more."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," he blinked cutely. "But enough about me. I never told you...how beautiful you are. How kind and smart."

"I know," you waved him off teasingly. "But coming from you, this means a lot."

Renjun shook his head, amused by your words.

"We should go somewhere you like next time. Maybe a bookshop?" he suggested.

"Am I so transparent?" you repeated his words. "But sure, yeah. That sounds nice."

"Well, this is me," he said, pointing towards his home.

"Already? Aw, time sure flies by when you're having fun."

"I'll see you tomorrow in class, right?"

"Of course," you promised and before you could talk yourself out of it, gave him a quick but heartfelt hug. "Bye, Renjun."

"Bye, angel."

After your first date with Renjun, things were going quite smoothly. You finally got over your nervousness when it came to talking to him and the two of you would occasionally whisper things to each other during class. The first time he held your hand under the desk your cheeks filled with colour. Despite your embarrassment, you held his hand right back and granted him with a grateful smile. After that, holding hands in class (whenever you weren't busy taking notes) became like second nature to you two. It just felt so sweet and comfortable to be close to him. You couldn't wait till the next weekend for your second date. Even though you were just going to a bookshop and had nothing that special planned out, you enjoyed being around him so much that you were more than excited for spending time with him one-on-one. No professors or other students to distract you.

When the day finally arrived, you were surprised to find out your anxious self had made a comeback. Even though you were around him everyday and had grown accustomed to holding a conversation, it had been an entire week since your first date when it was just the two of you and you couldn't help but get cold feet as you were waiting in front of the bookshop. This time Renjun didn't surprise you from behind, you could see him approaching from a distance. Mentally bracing yourself for his inevitable arrival, you knew you'd be an awkward mess no matter how hard you tried.

"Hey, angel," he greeted you with the usual hug.

"It's nice to see you again, Renjun," you replied dumbly, briefly melting into his arms.

"You saw me yesterday, remember?" he teased you.

"Um, yeah, but still," you chuckled.

"Is everything okay? You don't seem like yourself," Renjun immediately noticed the change in your behaviour.

"Why wouldn't it be? Everything's peachy," you lied, but he didn't seem to believe you.

"Be honest with me, please," Renjun asked. You suddenly remembered what he'd confided in you during your first date. It was no wonder he had a hard time trusting you after someone in his past had had the nerve to pull such a cruel prank on a soul as sweet as his. You felt guilty for lying rightaway and began explaining yourself.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I don't want to fuck anything up. Like I just did by lying and swearing. Fuck. I did it again, didn't I? I'll shut up now," you were rambling anxiously.

"Relax, Y/N, I totally get it. I was just worried maybe you didn't want to be here...with me."

"What? Nonsense. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. No one else I'd rather be with."

"Well, the feeling's mutual so there's no need for concern. Let's look at those books, yeah?"

"Yeah, sounds good, Renjun."

As the two of you went inside and started exploring the hundreds of shelves together, you felt yourself relaxing a little. Being surrounded by so many familiar titles, so many gorgeous covers was comforting. And as you kept showing Renjun some of your favourite books and telling him about your most beloved characters, he realized you were back to your usual self in no time. Attentively listening and occasionally sharing his opinions on certain authors, you didn't notice how quickly time passed by and how much you had enjoyed yourself and each other's company. Once you had looked through the bookshop in its entirety, you felt like it was too early to put an end to your date, but you didn't want to come off as too clingy or something. So, you simply looked at Renjun, expecting him to say what he wanted to do next.

"I promised you I'll walk you home this time, didn't I?" he smoothly said.

"I believe you did," you giggled. It was so sweet of him to remember such a detail.

"I'm a man of my word so lead the way," Renjun replied, offering you his arm.

"It will be my pleasure," you eagerly took his arm and the two of you began walking. You were deliberately moving at a slow place, simply because you didn't want this to end and felt like prolonging the time around him.

"Your hands are so pretty," you blurted out at one point.

"You like my hands, huh?" Renjun smirked.

"Did I say that out loud?" you were undoubtedly blushing really hard.

"I'm afraid so."

You felt completely mortified as you covered your face with your own hands.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. You can tell me anything. Chances are I'll take it as a compliment."

"Really?" you sneaked a peak. "You don't think I'm weird?"

"Maybe a little bit, but it's one of the things I like about you."

"One?" you blinked curiously.

"You're really fun to be around and you've been nothing but sweet to me. And of course, you're stunning, but that goes without saying."

"Without saying? I don't mind hearing it, though."

"I'll have that in mind," Renjun smiled gently.

"Renjun?"

"Yes?"

"Can you hold my hand?" you almost begged.

"I don't know, can I?" he tormented you with a joke.

"Will you hold my hand?" you corrected yourself.

"All you had to do was ask," Renjun acquiesced and intertwined your fingers.

Walking hand in hand, you eventually reached your place. As you two stared at one another, you refusing to go inside, him refusing to go, both of you refusing to let go of the other's hand, you thought to yourself how badly you wanted to kiss him. You had no idea if it was too early for that but you knew that the longer you tried to postpone it, the more you'd crave him. And you were an impatient person. So you quickly kissed him without thinking much. It was a bit awkward and rushed but at least, you had finally done as you wanted. Renjun looked taken aback and blinked at you a couple of times.

"I'm sorry," you apologized again. "I just..."

He silenced you softly with another kiss, this time more slowly and putting your mind and heart at ease. You lost yourself in the feeling of his plush lips against yours, finally letting go of his hand so that you could wrap yours around his neck. Hesitant at first but growing bolder by the second, you could sense Renjun's tongue testing the waters. You slightly parted your lips, letting him in. As the kiss intensified, you could feel him becoming more eager to touch you, his arms wrapped around your lower back. When you were seconds away from losing your breath, you finally broke the kiss. Opening your eyes to look at him, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He'd kissed you back.

"I thought I told you to stop apologizing so much. Especially, when you haven't done anything wrong," Renjun scolded you politely.

You opened your mouth to argue, but when you realized your immediate response would have been another 'I'm sorry', you closed it. A second later, you came up with a different reply.

"I guess you'll have to discipline me, then," you huffed in a challenge.

"Dumbass," Renjun flicked your forehead.

"Hey!" you complained with a pout. "That hurts."

"What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?" Renjun gave an unamused look.

"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea," you mumbled, not expecting him to actually...kiss your forehead. But he did. And damn your knees for threatening to give out.

"Feel better yet?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Get inside already," Renjun tickled your sides, nudging you in the direction of your door.

"You want to get rid of me so badly?"

"No, but we can stand here forever if you don't," he rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to invite you in?"

"Don't tempt me and go," he was impossible to sway.

"Okay, okay," you relented. "See you tomorrow, Renjun!"

For your third date Renjun suggested something different. While your first and second date had all taken place in public locations, this time he offered going to his place. And maybe the shock on your face was too obvious, because Renjun was quick to keep talking and almost take it back.

"We don't have to if you don't want to! We can just watch something at the cinema or whatever. Forget I mentioned it if you're uncomfortable."

You quickly shook your head.

"No, no, I do want to come over! I was just...not expecting it."

"Yeah? You sure?"

"A hundred per cent," you nodded excitedly.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm at two hundred per cent," Renjun teased.

"It's not a competition," you reminded him.

"It's not if I'm winning," he kept playing around.

You rolled your eyes.

"So what are we watching?" you asked.

"You can't go wrong with Harry Potter, am I right?"

"You are so right," you squealed. "Which house are you in?"

"Don't get me started. Sometimes I get Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin, it's a mess."

"That's pretty cool, though," you were practically staring at him with heart eyes at this point.

"You're a Hufflepuff, aren't you?"

"Am I so transparent?" you complained, this line becoming something of a running gag between the two of you.

"Cute," he mumbled under his breath and you blushed, not managing to maintain eye contact.

When the time arrived for you to go to Renjun's place, you were more excited rather than nervous. He was so easy to talk to and you were genuinely making so many wonderful memories that you had made it your mission to not waste any second worrying needlessly.

"I have arrived," you announced the obvious as you stood at his door.

"I can see that," Renjun chuckled. "Come on in."

"I wasn't sure if I should bring something so I bought some pizza on the way. It's still hot, so I hope you're hungry," you said as you followed him inside like a puppy.

"Oh, that's very thoughtful. And I always have enough space left for pizza."

You grinned and the minute you put the box on the table and your arms were free, you wrapped them around Renjun in a hug.

"You're so warm," you murmured against his skin.

He kissed the top of your head swiftly. Soon after, the two of you were too busy re-watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, eating pizza and holding hands to talk much. Once the movie was over, you realized how badly you didn't want to go home and how cozy leaning your head on Renjun's shoulder felt. And how much you liked him and couldn't stop thinking about his hands, his smile and his overall existence.

"Do you want to go home already?" Renjun asked the dreaded question.

"I mean, not really, but I don't wanna impose myself on you," you whispered.

"Don't be so formal," Renjun replied. "Just stay a little longer."

"Yayyy!" you were quite overjoyed and kissed his cheek. "What do you want to do?"

"Hm, I don't know. I could give you a tour around the place."

"Sure, that sounds fun," you immediately agreed.

"Don't get your hopes up, it's just a regular college guy's apartment."

"I'm sure I'll be amazed by every little detail."

"Even my socks?"

"Especially your socks," you joked.

As he showed you around his apartment, you couldn't help but be amazed by how Renjun-like everything was. From the snug kitchen to his art supplies scattered around. Every corner made the atmosphere feel extremely homey. Until you saw something that you hadn't expected, something that hadn't come up in conversation before. A stunning grand piano. You looked at the instrument and then at Renjun and finally, back at the piano.

"Do you play?"

"No, I just keep things like that as an accessory," he responded sarcastically. "Of course, I play."

"Can you...no, wait," you stopped yourself before making a similar mistake to the one you made a while ago. "Will you play something for me?"

"Right now?"

"If it's not too much trouble," you gave him the very best pleading look you were capable of.

Renjun sighed reluctantly and sat down on the bench in front of the piano.

"Don't just stand there awkwardly, sit next to me," he urged you courteously.

You followed his advice and took the free spot. However, nothing could have possibly prepared you for witnessing Renjun's skills up-close. Watching him play was like magic. You were simply in awe and couldn't help but stare at his pretty fingers hitting the keys in just the right ways. When he was finished performing the piece, you were too frozen to do anything. Couldn't even manage to clap, even though he deserved it so much. But you were too transfixed by his playing and those damn hands of his you couldn't possibly move.

"Earth to Y/N?" Renjun went as far as snapping his fingers right in front of your face.

"Huh?" you let out.

"Did I enchant you or what?"

"I think you did," you chuckled. "Just...wow. You're insanely good."

He looked away bashfully.

"Thanks. It just takes practice."

"Nah, I've heard people play before but what you have is different. So pure and genuine. Like a blessing. And I'm not just saying that because I think I'm falling in love with you. I really mean every word."

"Care to repeat that?"

"I really mean..." you started, still not registering what exactly you'd said. How far you'd gone. What you couldn't take back.

"Before that," Renjun reminded you gently. "You know. The part about falling in love with me."

"Shit. I was thinking out loud again, wasn't I?" you asked dumbly. "It's too early for that, I know. I'm really sorry. Let's just pretend I said nothing and forget about it, yeah?"

In your panic, you jumped up from the bench and were about to escape like a coward but Renjun grabbed your hand before you could take another step.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, too," he said.

"W-what?" you stammered.

"And I don't care about whether it's too early or not. And I'm not going to pretend I didn't hear it. So the question is...what are you going to do about that?"

"Me? What...am I supposed to do?"

"What you want to do," Renjun clarified.

"Um...I want to keep falling in love with you, Renjun. And holding your pretty hands. Spending time with you. Listening to your angelic voice. What I want...is for you to be my boyfriend."

"I thought I already was."

"You were?"

"We went on a couple of dates...we kissed...Haven't I made it obvious enough?"

"Oh, right," you chuckled. "Sorry."

"Say that word one more time, I dare you," Renjun slowly ran a finger down your lips.

"S-sorry?" you had to test his patience. Before you could argue, he kissed you fiercely, wrapping his palms around your cheeks. You were drowning beneath his touch, which was ridiculous, considering he was also setting your lips on fire. You figured if saying sorry too much was going to end up like this, you would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

"Pretty angel," Renjun whispered against your mouth. "My pretty angel."

You were practically melting and the only thing holding you together were Renjun's arms.

"For fear of sounding lame, I'm inclined to say your pretty angel's almost as pretty as you. Key word: almost," you giggled, recalling your earliest attempts at flirting with him.

"Lies," Renjun shook his head.

"Hey, it worked the first time!" you pouted.

"It only worked because you're the pretty one," Renjun ruffled your hair playfully.

"Oh my God, shut up," you covered your face to hide how red it was.

"Never."

The End

#nct #renjun #nct dream #renjun x reader #nct fluff #renjun fluff #hwang renjun #nct romance #hwang renjun x reader #college au #writing

123 notes · View notes

papers4me · 3 years ago

Text

Fruits Basket Manga Review , ch 109

-The Tragedy of a an episodic format attempting to connect narrative in a series: (Tohru’s Background or Kyo’s Focus?)

One of my issues with se03, ep6 (other than it being 3 chapters combined horribly with new material added for shock value) is that it was weakly undecided who would be the focus? who would the narrative follow?: Is it tohru’s own pov abt herself? is it the gramps giving boring exposition abt tohru over weak still images of flashbacks or is kyo thinking abt tohru’s pain?

The truth is, it was all the above in the manga, but the manga gave each a chapter focus so that the chapter is well-directed with focused narrative. The anime weakly jumbled the 3 chapters together as they always do. You mix chapters & tada~ you got an ep, you only need a broad weak theme that connects the dots! here: it is tohru! & that’s it. As long as the 3 chapters discuss tohru in any form & manner, nothing will seem off if we put them next to each other in a 20 minute ep! right? riiiiiight ????

.. this was never a correct way. Just like a chapter needed a narrative direction, the ep is the same!!

ch 107: The beginning of tohru’s pov on her realization abt loving kyo.

ch108: tohru’s full pov of shock upon reaching the conclusion that she loves him & the beginning of her mom’s issues & abandonment.

ch109: Kyo’s pov abt tohru’s pain & his involvement, guil & the sheet hug.

ch110: (completely cut from the anime!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Kyoru’s part: the aftermath of kyo & tohru crossing the line of being in the most vulnerable & intimate, building towards a more crushing impact of the climax. The stronger & more painful their love is, the more it will hurt. Also a yuchi buildup?!!!!

-so, you see each chapter has a direction i& a narrative it follows independently that is weaved together to make a connected tissue of the overall plot. The anime puts the 3 chapters next to each other & we are lost on who to follow? kyo or tohru or the gramps. That’s why it feels tohru is weak & her two chapters worth of pov is stolen from her cuz it cut or shortened to include the grandpa, kyo, isuzu, shigure & let’s not forget (kazuma, yuki & haru) at the beginning, the dramatic shock value addition & OP & ED. All these take valuable screen time. The ep shocks us by moving from tohru to kyo. One minute she’s crying with him on the streets, next he’s at the grave & she’s visiting isuzu.

Kyo said he isn't going to the grave in the ep, upon seeing him actually going, I just assumed he wanted to avoid, hana, cuz I’m so invested in his story that I remember sth happened in se1, ep 14.. ages ago, The anime didn’t even allow kyo to inner talk abt avoiding hana... In their weird mind, kyo only inner talks in dramatic situations..See the difference!

Not only the writer (a) reminds us why kyo avoided the grave visit, she also (b) seized the opportunity to shine lifht onto an issue that will be the center of kyo’s struggles: Running away!

The anime introduce this in kyo’s pov only when kyo confronts tohru. Only when it was needed & couldnt be avoided. This is sth that will be the core of all the climax & the aftermath as well! Kyo running away.. How bad are you if you avoid inserting one line only that can be said in few seconds & establish great deal & foreshadow plenty!!!!!!!!!! I can’t for the life of my understand why short lines are cut from kyo when in the anime they have him be standing silent in the graveyard. Like slap the line above the silent scene!!!!! But doing so means the anime team understands tohru & kyo’s issues. They don’t. Not the slightest.

-Ep 6 signals the beginning of the anime moving from episodic format of se1, 2 & 5 eps of se3 & entering a connect plot. The anime doesn’t know how to do that & screwed tohru in the process. The protagonist’s main issues are one ep worth only. The antagonist main issues are one ep only (ep7). Ep 6, was treated as a stand alone ep (minus the inserted shock scene to create a lingering issue that needs a following ep to explain. TOLD YOU they don’t know how to make a series!). Thus the following ep 7 is akito’s focus. Everything that was established in ep 6 was pit on hold until akito reaches the craziest mindset for the climax. See why ep 6 was so bad? it is Should NOT be a stand alone ep.

-The plot connects kyoru emotional & physically: (Kyo’s chapter with a tohru’s focus:

Unlike the anime, the chapter knows what it’s presenting 7 where it’s going. Kyo’s issues. This ch focuses on him uncovering parts of his past as it connects with tohru’s. Unlike the anime, we know why kyo's connection to kyoko’s past. The anime is hiding this for the climax, no problem, it can still work both ways. However, hiding kyoko /kyo connection doesn't necessarily mean hiding kyoko/tohru connection. But the anime is cutting this to milk it in an ova or series next year~ no problem, it can still work if you handle this ep’s flashback better. for all the artistic creativity they inserted in the added scene, they failed miserably in tohru’s flashback portion. how?

By choosing a frontal pov shot in tohru’s grandpa flashback as if the audience are the ones who abandoned tohru or opening the door to find her alone. it does NOT work at all. why? the audience are encouraged to be like tohru since ep 1 as tohru is the mother, angel, fixer & endearing hopeful girl. The audience will NEVER abandon tohru, that’s why tohru’s story felt disconnected & weak in the anime. Not knowing what kyoko did, who would abandon such child?! differently not us. so why use the frontal pov shot? -_-’

-tohru confesses her pain to kyo without being ushered by isuzu, without any outside factor. She simply visited the grave & came home. hiding her pain. once again. like she always do. One question by kyo, prompts her to “ complain a little” call back to se1, ep5 as he advised. we see tohru get out of her shell little by little. NOT SCREAM OR SLAP. She opened up. why? cuz the story is abt “ opening the lid” not abt “ snatching the lid”. No need for shocks. Yuki opened his lide slowly, tohru even slower, kyo is resisting opening his altho it is cracking in this chapter. When your story focuses on character buildup it pays!

-I’ll give the anime credit when it due. The hug scene is so good both in manga & anime. but so awesome in animation, colors, music & voice acting. It’s breathtaking & painful. The most beautiful kyoru scene in the whole anime.

-It represents their mutual vulnerability, understanding, pain & determination to love the other but not also let go. kyo has made his mind to be locked in order not to hurt tohru & tohru has made her mind that she can’t let go of her mom.

You see, the scene’s meaning hits different between manga & anime; In the anime: tohru has already challenged the sohmas & screamed to be with kyo, while kyo is still decided to leave her. In the manga: they’re both at the same spot (undecided). I like both interpretations but I’ll choose the manga’s version. Simply cuz it means tohru is still uncovering her issues which means more focus on her, & more explanation of why cant tohru love her mom & kyo at the same time.

-This expression on tohru’s face is a the complete opposite of the shock value expression in ep 6! T_T. I do’nt even hate the shocked scene addition itself that much, I just think (a) this is NOT its time! Tohru deserved better spotlight! (b) kyo didn’t friggen forget! ah! THIS I HATE! (c) the whole shocked scene was so wasted in ep 7. tohru return to her stupid dumb lalala~ land, cooking & forgetting kyo. what growth? what determination & screams to isuzu? what enduring kagura’s slaps? nope! just happy & cooking, lalala~ no one was freaking over her mom’s picture~ lalala~ & kyo just slept it over~ shhhh... its okay. he’ll forget again... see? totally wasted!

The anime knows nothing abt connected narrative! augh!

Side Notes:

We see kyo asking the gramps why he’s offering him info abt tohru which is so logical! XD. I love it.

I’ve read ch 110 & wanted to insert the kyoru scene in ch 110 here, & put yuchi alone in a different post, then I realized I’ll need to talk abt it again once I analyze yuki’s own expressions! XD. so, I’ll put all ch 110 together in one post. It kinda half written by now, so I’ll publish it very soon in two days time. I didn’t read ch 111 yet tho.

I hope ch 110 is the last I feel this much disappointments in furuba’s anime & by ch 11, it hopefully be be minor changes altho I doubt that cuz the manga needed to dwell into tohru’s mindset & the anime kinda stopped after ep 6. so, yup! more big changes coming!

The sheet hug is so brilliant in theory & application! so romantic & so endearing! love it so much! The anime did it so well, too!

I love kyo’s narration & pov cuz it’s so refreshing change from the anime where he rarely does!

I really wish they kept the kyoko abandoning tohru part in the anime... sigh~ it has nothing much to affect her story with katsuya. so it won’t ruin the spin off/ ova or whatever it’s called.

I love the light focus on tohru in this chapter & how organic & natural it is opposed to how forced the plot seems in the anime....

#Anime Only #manga spoilers #Fruits Basket #fruits basket manga #disappointed paper

45 notes · View notes

13atoms · 4 years ago

Text

Slippery Fingers [Dhawan!Master x Reader]

Took longer than I expected, and I haven’t written smut in forever so forgive it being a little rusty, but here’s the Dh!Master smut which (barely) won the oneshot fic vote!

Also sorry if you’re a massage therapist, we’re on a different planet so I’m hoping the now-defunct word ‘masseuse’ is still in-vogue there!

Contents: Happy Ending Massage from an alien, Smut, Jealousy, yet another unsuccessful trip to a spa planet. [8k]

“You never take me anywhere fun!” You had pouted, pushing the Master’s buttons as he researched yet another scheme.

In truth, he did take you places fun. At least, places he thought were fun. But in all of time and space, there had to be more relaxing ways to have fun than overthrowing monarchies and trying to instigate political disasters.

He’d tried taking you hiking, once, but both of you had complained an hour in. He was bored, you were too sweaty, and no one was enjoying themselves. He’d teleported the pair of you back to the TARDIS, and you’d robbed a weapon store instead.

Still, you were determined he should take you somewhere fun.

The Master’s raised an eyebrow, a concealed smile making his lips twitch.

“A theme park, a beach, a… um… a waterpark? I’ll wear something revealing?” you teased, knowing he would never take you up on the offer.

The flirtation the two of you engaged with was frustratingly endless – just a bit of fun.

You relished in the way his eyes couldn’t meet yours, as he considered your suggestions. Maybe imagined them, too.

“Sounds boring,” he finally commented.

“What’s boring about a little hedonistic fun?”

He smiled, striding across the outback-interior of his TARDIS to finally meet you beside the console. Good. Co-ordinates were being set, the screens displaying a stream of impossibly fast information in a language you couldn’t read.

The Master was planning something.

“Hedonism is about pleasure, dearest,” he ground out the last word, and it made you smile.

You refrained from making the ‘old married couple’ joke that so many strangers made on your travels, because it rang a little too true.

“Yeah?”

“And if you’re in the mood for hedonism, you won’t find that pleasure in an amusement park.”

You raised your eyebrows, leaning against the console very intentionally, so his fingers had to brush your hip to flick the switches he needed. He shot you a knowing glance, as his hand lingered a little too long.

“Where will I find pleasure, Master?”

For a beat he paused, his lips parted and somehow inviting, mere inches from yours. Then he leant forwards, only to whisper.

“A spa.”

You felt the tension in the room pop, blown-bubblegum pierced by a pin and flying back into your face. Sticky and shocking and unpleasant. It took you a second to remember where you were – and who you were with. A retort came uncomfortably slowly, and you startled as the TARDIS began to dematerialise.

“Still trying to get me in a bathing suit?”

The Master winked.

As you stepped off the TARDIS, you found yourself in a stiflingly warm room, reaching for the Master’s arm subconsciously as he offered it.

All around you was a plush whiteness, creams and sterile surfaces somehow designed in such a way that the space felt both perfectly welcoming and clean. The TARDIS door locked quietly behind you, disguised as an inconspicuous cupboard, as the Master chose a direction to walk.

“This is one of the most exclusive spas in the whole quadrant – horrendously expensive.”

“Want to split the bill?” you teased, knowing damn well he’d never let you pay for anything.

Not that you could. What was the currency here? Credits? You’d never even considered it.

He gave you a laugh, tightening his hold on your arm as a lavender-skinned member of staff walked past you in mint-green scrubs, politely avoiding looking at you. They were a clear foot taller than the Master, and you tried not to stare.

“I hacked their systems to check,” the time lord boasted, “and it’s the quietest day they’ve ever had. We’re the only patrons.”

“That doesn’t seem very time-travel safe,” you chided, remembering the phrase from the countless times he’d warned you against doing something to change a timeline.

He rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help smiling fondly.

“It’s okay when I do it,” he sniffed.

Finally, you had found some kind of reception desk.

With nothing more than a smile and a few nods to the softly-spoken receptionist, you watched as the Master handed over a payment stick and arranged everything. You found yourself handed a dressing gown as white as the rest of the décor in this place, and so fluffy and warm you immediately pressed it against your face, much to the Master’s fond amusement.

“It’s really soft,” you explained, and he rolled his eyes.

“Go get changed.”

In the end, the cubicles you were offered to for changing were adjacent, and you were quite glad you didn’t have to offer any kind of gender-segregated spa-experience. The Master chattered away as the two of you showered and changed, spa employees silently arriving to administer all manner of hair and skin treatments before you enjoyed the rest of the facilities.

Hair conditioned and skin moisturised, you emerged from the cubicle to see the Master in just a dressing gown – mirroring yours – and the sight made you strangely uneasy. It wasn’t often he dressed down. Certainly never willingly, as far as you could remember. With conditioner combed into his hair and beard, a treatment across his nose, he had never looked less threatening.

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh which he clearly expected, already glowering at you.

“Come on,” he complained, heading for the next room.

He didn’t offer you an arm, but he did hold the door open. As you brushed past him, you noticed they’d combed the hair treatment into his eyebrows. You wondered if choosing the quietest day in history hadn’t been – as you assumed – for your benefit. His pride seemed a little wounded.

“It’s good to relax!” You reassured him, holding out your arm. He ignored it.

“For humans, perhaps.”

You leant into his shoulder briefly, trying to wind him up.

“Even big scary time lords need a break! Though, you do have a disappointingly tame interpretation of hedonism.”

“I was thinking of bodily pleasure, darling.” he purred, “I’m sorry if this doesn’t meet your exacting standards.”

Trying to ignore the rush his implication sent through you, you kept your eyes trained on the soft carpet ahead. How do they keep it so clean? I suppose no one wears shoes here.

“But I’ll ask you to reserve judgement until you’ve seen how good the massage therapists are. I believe on earth you might call it sinful.”

With a contented hum, you walked with him to the open treatment room.

As you sat in adjacent chairs, you realised just how naked both of you were, both adjusting your robes to cover yourself as a receptionist approached. She explained everything rapidly, and the Master nodded in understanding. You trusted he would reiterate anything important – you were distracted by the bare slice of his thigh he kept fidgeting to cover.

In lieu of clipboards they handed you tablet-style devices, which seemed familiar enough. The prices of the treatments seemed huge, but the Master told you to ignore them. Maybe the currency here was just inflated. The Master never seemed bothered, at any rate.

He was scrolling through his own options, and you knew he struggled to allow himself to go through anything that might seem self-care-y. The parallel massage tables set up ahead of you seemed to suggest you would be in the room with him, and privately you hoped he might allow himself to relax, to trust a highly-skilled stranger, with you right there.

“What are you getting?” you asked, curiously looking at his screen.

The options were all described luxuriously, with various options for oils and smells and styles, different firmnesses of touch and different problem areas the therapists could focus on. You were settled on some focus on your left thigh, the lingering ache of a muscle there had been bothering you since you’d fallen running from an enraged palace guard last week. Besides that, you had no idea what to select.

“Just something standard,” the Master told you non-committally, and you marvelled at how embarrassing this seemed to be for him.

Then, something caught your eye.

“What are these options?”

You pointed on your own tablet, pointing to one of the most expensive options at the bottom of the page.

Indulgent twenty-minute full body muscle release with Lerimoya blossom oil, Akesian-style massage and skin treatment. Completed with sexual release and relaxing cool-down.

The Master’s jaw seemed to clench minutely, but you pretended to ignore it.

“Exactly what it says,” he told you curtly.

You scrolled back up to the top of the options, taking a moment to consider his bluntness. You had to admit… there was something very tempting about it. Getting yourself off on the TARDIS made you nervous – a living ship with a consciousness watching you bite back moans as you masturbated a deeply un-erotic thought each time you remembered it. But this was clinical. Self-care.

The Master was a ceaseless flirt, but seemed unable to deliver on his gazes and winks and comments. You needed something.

“Isn’t that… taboo here?”

“As common as a back rub, love.”

His curtness hadn’t ceased, and it irritated you for some reason. So much for being relaxed.

The time lord had impatiently clicked some arbitrary option at the top of his list, no doubt the shortest massage he could get away with. He was already clicking his tongue, holding the device out to be collected by the receptionist. You took a deep breath.

He was always telling you to take what you want and be hedonistic. You scrolled down quickly, selecting the option, selecting the areas of your body which hurt (not least that damn thigh) before holding out the device.

You could feel his eyes on you, your cheeks burning, and some deep part of you igniting at the thought of what was about to happen. You were looking forward to it, you realised. So much.

“Chosen something expensive?” he ground out, the joke landing flat as his tone seemed oddly monotonous.

“If you’re paying, then of course.”

It was only as the tablets were taken gently from you by a kindly receptionist that you remembered the massage room would be shared. A screen seemed to have appeared silently between the massage tables, and you hoped your look of appreciation was understood by the alien.

There was something surreal about being asked to undress just a screen away from the Master, knowing he was doing the same on the other side, mere feet away as the lights dimmed and incense burned.

The spa workers were softly spoken and considerate, putting you at ease immediately as you lay down, feeling acutely aware of your body against the table. You weren’t sure where to put your arms, fidgeting, until warm oily hands smoothed them down by your sides, and you fought your instincts in order to stay still.

You wondered how the Master was doing. He wasn’t the best at letting other people touch him. At being vulnerable. He hated leaving his back exposed, always afraid someone would stab him in it.

You thought, for a moment, about trying to talk to him.

Would that be rude? Would it help him?

But talking felt uncomfortable, laying like this, and you couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

As large, warm hands started their work on your bare back, you let all thought of conversation go. You closed your eyes, feeling the smooth, gentle release of your muscles as they were expertly relaxed. The larger frames of the aliens here seemed to make them strong, pressure spread across fingertips which felt human-enough, the smell and warmth of the room tempting you near sleep, wringing soft noises of approval from you which you didn’t bother to conceal.

The time seemed to stretch on forever, in a delicious, in-urgent way you rarely experienced with the Master. He was always in a rush, unable to stand still even with a time machine.

This was, you conceded, luxurious and hedonistic: pleasure above all else. Pure self-indulgence. The pursuit of nothing but feeling good.

You could almost forget he was there. Soft music and the gentle movements of the massage therapists were the only sounds, until suddenly he was there again. For seconds at a time, in small noises, his presence seemed looming. The shifting of his beard against the table beneath him, a grunt of discomfort as a knot was released in his back, once a snap to not touch my neck.

He settled, soon enough, his treatment seeming more painful and intense than yours. You could hear the slap of skin onto his, the breath forced from his lungs as a considerable force was applied to his body. You tried to tune it out, each time the masseuse seemed to be hurting him. Likely by his own choice, you lamented. It was short, too. Your massage therapist had only just begun to work on the ache in your thigh, doing a marvellous job of easing the pain, when his massage was slowly finished.

Your body felt as though it was melting into the table, pleasantly warm with the oil and the heat of the room. Only because you strained your ears, you heard his masseuse leave the room, with a gentle instruction to lay still until they returned.

It was strangely difficult to enjoy the rest of your massage as you wondered what he was thinking about, just laying there. You had feared he might ignore their instructions and move, but he seemed to be behaving himself for the day.

A gentle murmur of “turn over for me” brought you back to your body, made your eyes snap open and a sudden rush of blood to the head caused you to feel disoriented.

“Take your time,” the massage therapist coaxed, as their soft hands guided you in turning slowly, careful not to let you fall off the table.

You had forgotten what was coming next.

The low murmur of something indiscernible started, a humming noise you soon tuned out, as hands found their way across your stomach. You felt yourself clench at the contact. This was different. Slower, more sensual touches, beyond the realm of what you would consider professional. You bit your lip, toying with stopping the treatment early, until you realised the source of the quiet buzzing.

As one huge hand began to knead at your breast, the other reached for the slipperiness between your legs.

Vibrations against your clit made you gasp, their expertly firm touches pulling you lazily yet inevitably closer towards orgasm. Your entire body felt dragged along with the certainty of a current in a river, moved as surely as gravity, pleasure growing stronger and stronger. As fingers pried your willing, limp legs apart, you let your hands roam your own oily skin, no longer caring about the noises you let slip past your lips, the quiet begs for more.

The calls of yes, please, fuck.

For a second, the Master’s fidgeting pulled you back into the room, making you gasp. But then the buzzing sped up, rubbing fingers joining it, and your mind went blank.

The Master grit his teeth, knowing nothing good could come from letting you tick that stupid box. It had been a kind of dare, a test of whether you’d actually do it. He thought he’d been playing good odds, in truth, even as a feeling of something uneasy had risen in his stomach at the thought of it.

A happy ending massage.

Or rather, you receiving a happy ending massage.

Perhaps he’d underestimated his own fondness of the pure art pleasure seeking, because his barely-relaxed body was already tensing again just listening to the hum of whatever tool they were using to finish the complete sexual release you had requested.

The whole time that damn alien had been abusing the muscles of his back, he had been wondering what you’d selected. If you actually had the nerve to go through with it. The treatment was popular here, he knew. In fact, the spa was famous for it. Famously good at it. Human anatomy and human pleasure were close enough to theirs that the richest interstellar-travellers from earth colonies would begin to arrive just a few years from the date he had chosen. They would all be seeking out the exact treatment which had caught your eye.

A strange thing to be famous for, he supposed, but popular. Certainly lucrative, and – was that moan?

It felt like it lasted an eternity, listening to how those… creatures finished their supposed-treatment, moans and calls and staccato words leaving your voice with a keening, sensual desperation he had never heard from you before. The slick sounds of your body had accompanied the buzzing of that device in the most insufferable symphony he had ever heard. He had considered leaving, so many times, gritting his teeth and trying to school his body into nonchalance as you finally came. The Master tried to block it out as you moaned, and laughed, and thanked the massage therapist, and apologised for thanking them… joked with the alien, no doubt glowing and coated with sweat and oil, flushed, your pants filling the room alongside contented hums.

He wondered why he couldn’t stand it.

“I’ll leave you for a few minutes to calm down,” the massage therapist had told you gently, and he had grimaced as you gave a breathy, giggling reply.

“I think I’ll need it.”

Then they were alone. And nothing should have changed dammit, and yet everything had. And he damned Rassilion and all those other bastards who decided time lords should be sexless and uncomfortable naked because fuck nothing had prepared him for this, no matter how much he pretended he was nothing like them.

He loathed to admit when humans were better than him at something, but in this situation, he longed to be the kind of species who could meet your eye after this.

You laughed again, suddenly, airily, and he wondered if that was supposed to be some kind of cue for him to say something.

Something witty.

Something clever.

Something him.

“All okay?” he choked out.

He was still on his front, and frankly dreading standing to change, and he wondered how you were laying. On your back, still, he presumed. All sticky and sweaty and mile-a-minute heartbeat like humans tended to be. He could smell pheromones from here, loathing his body for how he was reacting.

Yet another reason to dread standing.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you called back, so obviously sated and giggly from just your voice.

“It was exactly what you chose, love.”

The pet name sounded unnatural, forced, and he prayed you were too whacked out on hormones to notice. The spa worker slunk back into the room, and he took a moment to hate them, to hate those fingers which had been slippery and clever all over you. His stomached clenched as he wondered if they’d been inside of you.

As the lavender and mint form disappeared between the divider, the Master shoved his face roughly back against the table.

This room is too hot, he grumbled silently to himself, stupid human temperatures.

He wondered if you were cold, your skin risen in goosebumps, or if you were warm. Pliable. Slippery and soft and –

“How are you feeling?”

“Perfect.”

He could hear the stupid smile in your voice.

“Glad to hear it, if you’re ready to stand for me…”

The Master couldn’t help the furrow of his forehead, the dig of his fingernails into the soft surface of the table. Then he heard the matching gasps of you and the massage therapist, half-way pushing himself up to run around there and save you from whatever had happened and… you were fine.

Laughing, apologising for being lightheaded, saved from falling by the spa worker who had righted you. They were coaxing you to be slow, to be careful, and suddenly the Master was remembering the times he’d bellowed at you to go faster. To push your human physiology, to keep up with him. He could hear his own rough shouts, loud and harsh enough that they had made everyone around you wince with sympathy.

Then, he wondered why those thoughts were in his mind. And why that pang of guilt was making his hearts ache.

His damned masseuse had come back, no doubt from a smoke break or a lunch break or whatever these purple creatures did, helping him quickly into his robe. They offered him far less comfort than your massage therapist seemed to think was appropriate, still fussing and saying goodbye on the other side of the stupid divider.

He waved them away with a curt “good, yes, thank you.”

Then, he found himself looking straight at you.

And he couldn’t stand it.

The Master led you from the room with a military stride, taking some twisted pleasure in how you jogged to trail behind him.

“I can see why this is so popular,” you smiled, legs a little weak and your entire body feeling raw underneath your gown.

The Master ignored you.

The softness of the material was slightly tacky against your oily skin and you pulled it closer as you trailed behind the Master, enjoying a slight giddiness and feeling lightheaded, toes digging into the carpet as you took slow steps.

He seemed in a rush to get to the pool, swinging the door open, ignoring you as he let it swing closed after him.

The cloudy water of an oversized pool was pink tinted and sweetly aromatic, none of the chlorine smell you would expect on earth. You took in the fragrance with an indulgent sigh, refusing to give up your relaxation, even as a nagging feeling refused to leave you.

The Master was unhappy.

He waited for you to look away before quickly sliding into the water, chest-deep as he rested his elbows against the poolside behind him. He looked straight ahead as you disrobed and slid into the water beside him, the emptiness of the whole complex striking you yet again, as a sole employee passed whisper-quiet through the room.

The high vaulted ceiling was as simply designed as the rest of the complex, beautiful in its simplicity, and you looked up at it as you moved slowly through the warm water.

“Are you okay?” you asked the ceiling, hoping the Master might deign to answer instead.

He hummed, something affirmative and insincere. You let yourself float back, buoyant in the cloudy water, your toes breaking the water near the Master. He regarded you with a judgemental curl of his lip, before fixing his eyes on the wall opposite.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The Master didn’t reply, he just scoffed. You pouted, the water lapping at your face, paddling to stop yourself drifting into him.

“Just trying to have a conversation,” you grumbled.

Your words rolled off him like the sweat off his forehead, oil and water mixing on both of your skin, the heat of the room just a few degrees shy of stifling.

“Does this feel warmer to you, because you’re colder?”

He nodded. You rolled your eyes at him, finally standing in the water, crouching a little to keep your shoulders covered by the flat surface of it. You waded towards him, closing in on his personal space until the underwater bump of his leg against yours made you stop.

“Too hot?”

“Fine,” he ground out, rolling his head back towards the side of the pool.

You glimpsed the sweat and oil on his neck as you let your eyes drift over him, knowing he wouldn’t catch you while his gaze was trained on the ceiling.

“You’re in a bad mood.”

“I’m not.”

“Are.”

He gave an exasperated exhale, pinching his nose, and you watched the movement of his shoulders as he shifted his weight. You’d never seen so much bare skin, and you couldn’t help staring.

Sidling closer to him, you felt the brush of your leg against his once again, not recoiling. The Master tensed, and you ended up beside him by the pool.

“You are.”

All but whispering in his ear, you grinned as a shudder passed through him. The Master didn’t find it as funny, flopping his arm back beside him, wincing as it brushed your bare breast. He pulled away at lightspeed, shaky and sudden in his movements. You were getting to him.

He kept his lips tightly sealed, teeth clenched, making the muscles of his jaw bulge slightly beneath his beard.

A door opened, intended to be quiet but deafening in the tense room.

The Master snapped his eyes open at the noise, before moving away from you. He ducked his head underwater, rubbing product and oil from his face, before re-emerging with his fringe plastered to his face.

You laughed as he tried to brush the hair from his eyes, and that was the final straw.

“You’re insufferable sometimes,” he snapped.

The Master marched to the side of the pool, soaking his robe in his eagerness to cover himself as he climbed the steps, turning to face you for just long enough to reveal something unsettling in his glare.

“I’ll wait in the TARDIS. Don’t hurry.”

His curt words remained in the room longer than him, echoing as the door closed itself softly behind his indignantly retreating form.

“Grumpy,” you sighed to the vaulted ceiling, floating on your back, and wishing that high ceiling housed the consciousness of the TARDIS.

At least when you argued on the TARDIS, you knew the ship was (usually) on your side. Maybe her gentle hum would have alleviated your guilt.

You managed to float in the pool a little longer, swimming for a bit, trying to relax. It was no use. With a mournful last duck under the water, you emerged from the pool, not hurrying to cover yourself now you were alone.

What had the Master been so pissed off by, you wondered. Hadn’t he known what this place was like? His research was usually meticulous – in fact you suspected he tended towards places he had been before when planning days out for you. Was it the nakedness? The touch of a stranger, in that massage parlour? Or simply the strangeness of a place devoid of stress and terror and chaos.

You’d thought about your life with him a lot, of late. About how you couldn’t just keep seeing the darkness of the universe. Perhaps it was naïve, but you had hoped that his recent movements towards flirting with you might have been the start of a few nicer trips. Of something a bit… more with him.

But he was acting like the bastard you’d first known, no longer softer, kinder, towards you.

Somewhere the two of you had taken steps backwards. And now he was fighting with you at a spa, of all places.

You pulled the robe tighter around you, gave a passing member of staff a tight smile, as you found the cupboard door which led to the TARDIS.

Deep breath, you told yourself.

Stepping into a different dimension always felt a little disorientating, but the TARDIS was your home now. Welcoming in her warmer, yellow light as the door closed behind you and cut off the spa’s true white lights and pristine décor.

You saw the form of the Master the second you stepped inside, the first thing your eye was drawn to. He was in a different gown, a thicker, longer one. Dark purple like his coat, and just as modest in its coverage.

He was leaning heavily on the console, hunched over with his hair messily towel-dried and barely styled. He’d clearly made some attempt, then gotten frustrated.

“Sorry for being annoying earlier,” you tried to weakly joke.

The Master didn’t even turn to regard you, he just tensed his shoulders, leaning defensively closer to the ship’s console.

“You still reek of that oil,” he spat, “and hormones.”

Even across the room, you took a step back from him. You pulled self-consciously at the neck of your robe, hoping he couldn’t see how genuinely shaken you were.

You couldn’t reply, biting down a surge of emotion at his rejection and turning from him, inspecting a side table by the door. The TARDIS sent a wave of comfort through you, but it only made things harder.

Highlighted what her pilot wouldn’t give you.

After a few seconds of silence the Master whirled around, a furrow in his brow.

“Say something.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You had nothing to say to him.

He strode closer to you, and you stepped back again, closer to the doors.

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, an uncertainty in your tone which made the Master take pause.

“Why?”

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know why you were meant to be sorry.

“For upsetting you. Whatever I did, I…”

You trailed off as the Master regarded you for a second, something approaching genuine conflict on his face as he fully took in your appearance. Wet hair, dressing gown tightly around your skin, shivering from the change in temperature… you wondered what he saw.

He sighed heavily.

“‘Whatever you did’?”

The words weren’t cruel. It was a question. But he could be terrifying, even in a bath robe. And you watched his eyes, looking for a trick or a spark of something more troubling.

He was searching your eyes too, looking for sincerity. For some kind of comfort.

“You took me there, and I really don’t know what I did… why you hated it so much. But… I’m guessing it was my fault.”

To your surprise, he pulled you into a gentle hug, cradling your head as he pulled you near to him. He wasn’t squeezing you, your bodies hardly touching. He was just… holding you close to him.

“I don’t like being touched,” he mumbled, his words over your shoulder, like they were trying to evade being heard.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you into –”

“No I just… I don’t like you being touched. Either. It makes me nervous.”

“Nervous?” you echoed back to him.

You felt his fingers twitch against your head, tightening and loosening slightly.

“Maybe… I just… I couldn’t stand them touching you. Or seeing you. I wasn’t expecting that.”

In the silence which passed between you, you wondered if he was mulling over his own words. If he even suspected what you heard in them, the vivid green between the lines of what he’d said: jealousy.

“If there had been anyone else there, other guests, I would’ve made us leave. But you seemed happy and…”

He was struggling. Struggling to articulate himself, maybe even struggling to come to terms which his own motivations.

While bragging and flirting and banter came as easily as breathing to the time lord, sincerity was something much harder.

“You didn’t like being vulnerable?” you prompted, afraid to push him too much.

Something like an awkward, coughing laugh happened in the back of his throat – you only heard it because you were so close to him.

“I suppose you could say that.”

Snaking your arms around him, you pulled the Master closer, feeling your bodies properly together between thick material. He sighed indulgently, and you smiled, face hidden from him.

“You should have said. We could have left,” you tried to comfort him, “tell me, next time. We’ll just leave.”

He gave you the silent treatment again, though you suspected this time it was not unkind. He just genuinely didn’t know what to say.

You tried a different tact, returning to something more familiar.

“You really hate how I smell?” you teased.

He groaned, and you squeezed him just to make him groan more.

“You don’t smell like you.”

That was sweet, you conceded, rubbing his back in a few soft, gentle sweeps across the towelling of his dressing gown. He gulped.

“Did you enjoy your massage?” he asked suddenly, and edge to his words which made the question seem suspiciously loaded.

You tried not to let your wariness show, holding your posture perfectly still.

“I did. It was… intense. Good though. How about you?”

He gave a low laugh, and the knot in your stomach grew tighter, pulled taught by his sudden change in demeanour. He was holding you. In the way he might hold a hostage, not a friend. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, made you open your eyes and look across the TARDIS for any sign of danger.

You couldn’t know it, but you suspected that if you tried to walk away his tensed arms would stop you.

“My massage wasn’t nearly as satisfying, if the noises you made were anything to go by, love.”

The laugh you forced was barely loud enough to leave your lips. You felt the Master’s breath on your neck.

“Tell me what they did to you, love.”

“It was just… um… massage oil. And… they did my back. And rubbed that muscle I was complaining about, the one in my thigh. It feels a lot better now, actually.”

The Master stood silently, waiting. More, you could hear him thinking, more, love.

“They turned me over, massaged my front, and then they did the happy ending bit,” you laughed, awkwardness creeping into your tone where you tried so hard to suppress it.

“How did they make you feel?” he asked, an edge to his voice which barrelled straight past the boundaries of flirtation he had set before.

His voice was gravelly, seductive, each word painfully intentional as he whispered the syllables in your ear.

“Good,” you choked out, and he shook his head with a quiet, dark chuckle.

“No, darling, tell me what they made you feel. What did they do?”

Your mouth was dry, the TARDIS and your robe too hot, constricting against your sensitised skin.

You could feel yourself getting wetter, clenching, the faintest, most frustrating waves of pleasure in your clit. The Master was tense all over, and as you fidgeted, you felt him, hard against the front of your thigh.

“They hid you from me. Behind a barrier. Tell me what they did to you.”

In some deep part of your mind, a part which wasn’t clouded by lust and overwhelmed by the Master, pieces clicked into place. How he hated being exposed, but hated you being exposed more. His curtness, after you asked someone else to touch you. You damned him for being too proud to admit what he wanted, before you sought out pleasure elsewhere.

“They made me relaxed,” you began, “so relaxed. With these strong, gentle touches. All over. And then they turned me over, and I was so relaxed, I didn’t even notice how turned on I was getting.”

You paused, hoping the Master wanted to hear your words. That this was what he was asking for. His ragged breath told you enough. In his silence, he seemed to be begging for more. As you spoke, remembering the moment, you could feel your body responding to the memory. Growing wetter at saying it all out loud, at the knowledge the Master was desperately hanging off every word, his own arousal matching yours.

“When I was on my back, it was more oil. All over. Across my chest and my stomach and dripping between my legs and that was when I remembered what I had asked for.”

His grip on you tensed, his body thrumming with energy as it seemed to encircle you, and you forced yourself to conceal a smirk.

“The touches started on my stomach. They were teasing me, working me up. Then they moved to my nipples – I think your massage was done by then,” you pretended to think about it, and your tangent made him press his body against you insistently. You could feel that delicious jealousy, almost making him growl, as you paused.

“The oil was amazing. It smelled amazing and felt… so good. I don’t know if there was something in it, or if the masseuse was just that good,” you felt him shift again, privately delighting in how worked up he was getting.

“Then they had this toy thing. I never saw it, my eyes were closed, but… it was wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever felt better, I can’t even remember it I just…”

“Came.”

The Master’s hoarse voice felt like it was in your very head, and maybe it was, his telepathy sending a powerful jolt through you as you felt his arousal and jealousy and anger for just a second.

“You let them touch you… those aliens, those strangers –”

“You’re an alien too,” you reminded him, another rush of irritation rushing forwards from him.

“I am the best alien you’ve ever met, love, and you’d do well to remember that.”

He was so close to you, and your skin was so hot, you shivered at the snarl in his words.

“I was right there, and – ” he fumbled for words, and you smiled, pulling against his grip a little so he could see. His eyebrow raised in disapproval.

“You were right there, and what?” you challenged.

The Master shifted on his feet, his arms loosening around you, before he leant in again. His beard brushed the softened skin of your cheek, nuzzling, the slight scratch making you shudder from the rawness of it all. He inhaled deeply, pressing his nose into the swathe of skin beneath your ear, tutting with a condescension that sent a jolt of heat down your body.

“You still reek of sex. Even more now, darling. Do you want to go back? Cheat on me again?”

“I wasn’t aware we were in a relationship.”

With a bitter laugh, his hands found your ribs. Their grip was higher than they ought to be, brushing the underside of your breaths over the robe, squeezing just a tiny bit too tight. You reached for the belt of his robe, your own threat held between your fingers as you assessed the flimsiness of the knot he’d tied.

His fingers dug in tighter.

“Then I’d better make you aware,” his words came out as a threat, but you didn’t feel intimidated. The muscles in your abdomen clenched, and he noticed, fingers spreading wider on your ribs. “Can’t have you going elsewhere again.”

He was teasing, but you wondered if he had perceived what you did as cheating. His surliness made it seem that way.

“Think you can convince me?” you muttered, already far more focused on the roaming of his fingers, closer to the opening of your robe.

“Obviously.”

He stepped away, and you missed the contact already, searching his dark eyes. They were unfocused with lust. Flickering lazily and obviously to your lips. His robe had loosened slightly, a sliver of chest hair exposed below the smooth skin of his neck, and you didn’t bother to conceal the bite of your lip as you trailed your eyes down across his body.

“It really bothered you that much?”

In lieu of an answer, you found your head cradled in his hands, fingers haphazardly strewn across your face and head as he pulled you in, his lips against yours. When the Master kissed you, it was everything you’d imagined. His lips were intense and firm and bruising, but not rough. The fingers wrapped around your skull were firm, intense, but not painful. Not aggressive, not trying to hurt you, just demanding all of you.

The rest of the day melted away, the TARDIS’ presence disappeared, until all your senses could perceive was him. You could feel the wetness of his lips as he kissed you so desperately you thought he might sob, hear the sound of his breathing, the squeak of your shoes on the floor as he dragged you closer still to his body. You couldn’t smell anything his skin, the oil and the water from the spa mixed with sweat and the TARDIS’ laundry detergent and him.

Even the press of his fingers on your head made you close your eyes, focussing everything on the Master.

Your fingers fumbled to reach him, hold him somehow, finding the neck of his gown and pulling, blindly reaching to run your hands across his chest hair while you fought to open the gown further. Through where he was kissing you, you could feel his amusement, the smile which threatened to break your kiss as his hands slowly released their hold on your head.

With a slight tug at his chest hair you finally broke the kiss, pulling away as he hissed at the pull of your fingers across his

You thought you should probably say something, as the two of you stood panting, eyes glazed with want, but there were no words which could serve this moment.

Your fingers went back to the belt of his robe, tugging greedily until the knot was almost free. As you were about to undress him completely, his hands covered yours, holding them in place against the slight swell of his stomach.

“My room,” he demanded curtly, though the words came out stilted and strange as he fought to catch his breath.

“If its closest,” you agreed, happy to fluff his ego in exchange for that sincere, indulgent smile which spread across his face.

In a strangely sweet gesture, he reached for your hand, pulling you eagerly towards his room. You had never been in the space before, but you barely had time to appreciate it. The dark mahogany of the furniture and the scattered books, stolen goods, and components were completely ignored by the Master as he tugged you by the hands towards a four-poster, shoving blankets and books aside. When the bed was clear he pulled you bodily around in a wide circle, before shoving you back onto the bed with a boyish grin.

Unable to resist his glee, you let yourself flop back, the robe riding up and opening at the neck, much to the Master’s delight. He was quick to try and get the white fabric off you, one deft motion undoing the belt at your waist, pulling it open down the centre with a flourish that made you roll your eyes fondly at him.

You had expected a smartass comment, some kind of brag or joke, but instead he sank over your torso. Lips pressed to the gap between your breasts, he was astonishingly serious.

The room was silent aside from the sounds of your breathing, the gentle smack of his lips as he kissed his way down your body, and the sincerity of the moment took your breath away.

The Master wasn’t a man easily moved to reverence or seriousness, not by beautiful palaces or ornate temples or tragically burning civilisations. He always had a cruel remark, a joke.

His astonished silence meant more to you than words ever could.

When he reached the slope of your pubic bone, he looked up at you, hands flat on the bed either side of your hips.

“Can I fuck you?”

Your voice shuddered as you told him ‘yes’, a ‘please’ wrung from your lips as his tongue found your clit.

He looked up at you again through long eyelashes, seeming somehow, despite the context, surprised.

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” you repeated.

One hand reached down for his chin, stroking the line of his jaw in a mute reassurance. He smiled softly, lips pressed tightly together.

Your gentle touch on his jaw followed him as he moved up your body to kiss you again, gently, with all the veneration which seemed to have overcome him since the console room. His soft lips against yours made you groan, and he paused for a second, as though afraid you might suddenly be made of delicate porcelain and shatter from the gentlest pressure. You kissed him back harder and relished in the rumble of a moan from deep in his throat.

Then he was standing, eyes refusing to flicker from staring into yours, pulling your legs astride his hips and slipping his fingers into the wetness between your legs, fingers methodically stretching you for him.

“Good?” he asked, fingers toying at your entrance, refusing to find the nerves you wanted him to be playing with.

You nodded, trying to be patient.

“Good.”

With one last look of wonderment, he lined himself up and sank into you. You broke his eye contact, throwing your head back, whining at the stretch of him inside you. His hands reached to hold your legs, a thumb stroking across your thigh, before he gently started to move.

“Good?”

“Good.”

He thrust slowly, almost tentatively, as though trying to convince himself he wouldn’t hurt you. His pace gradually quickened, desperation growing on his face as pleasure built inside of you, until suddenly you were holding yourself in place on the mattress and the Master was grunting with the force of his hips meeting yours. Your feet dug into his back, supported by his hands holding your legs up, one arm thrown over your eyes as the other desperately tried to stop him from shunting you further up the bed.

All you feel was him, the desperation in his thrusts, the tightening of his hands on your thighs as you subconsciously clenched around him, your desperation mounting in tandem with his.

“Tell me,” you panted, a fistful of his sheets clenched painfully tight as he pounded into you.

“What?”

He was barely there, you realised, uncomprehending and stupid with pleasure. A groan ripped from his throat as you shifted your hips, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place.

“Tell me you were jealous.”

“Furious,” he grunted.

“Because you were jealous,” you ground out, feeling the Master reach between your legs, distracting you with the roughness of his fingers across your swollen clit.

You arched your back, uncovering your eyes to glare up at his sweaty face, his eyes trained hungrily on your body. As he looked up to your face, neck and stomach clenching with the strain of keeping up the furious rhythm of his thrusts, you laughed at the grin spreading wide across his gritted teeth.

His fingers on your clit fumbled for a moment, before letting you reach down to take over, your own slippery fingers barely needing to work across your clit before you gasped at the break of pleasure washing over you, the Master’s hips stuttering, struggling to stave off his own orgasm.

As you came down, he slumped over you, fucking you more and more erratically until he was coming inside of you, fingers scrambling to grip onto your body any way he could, pulling you closer as he gasped for air. You couldn’t help watch, mouth hanging over and sweat mixing with his, marvelling as he finally softened and caught his breath on top of you.

“Since it seems to really matter to you,” he mumbled into your neck, “I’ll say it. I was jealous.”

You laughed. He was heavy on top of you, his chest crushing yours as he laughed too, face pressed to the crook of your neck. You could feel his teeth against the sensitive skin connecting to your shoulder, the wetness of his mouth as he laughed, exasperated and high from the hormones.

“You were jealous!” you teased breathlessly, the words making a barest attempt at being sing-song, before his lips pressed against your neck gently.

“I was jealous,” he replied soberly, his hair brushing at you as he fidgeted, taking his weight off you a little. His legs were intertwined with yours, and you could feel the contractions of his muscles as he moved. “So, unbelievably, jealous.”

Even as you dedicated his words – this moment – to memory, you could feel sleep pulling at you. You sorely needed showers, and food, and probably water, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“So we can’t go back?” you asked airily, if only to feel the rumble of a short, exasperated laugh in the Master’s chest.

“Absolutely not.”

“What if I want a massage?” you whined, pouting for show, then gasping as the Master teasingly pinched at your hip.

“Then you’ll have to ask me.”

You pinched his hip in retaliation, his thigh jostling yours as he fidgeted irritably.

“Hm, I can live with that. If you’re any good.”

He was halfway to sleep too, tugging a displaced blanket across the pair of you blindly with his free arm.

“I’m the best, darling. Obviously.”

#dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #fic #13atoms #smut #writing smut in second person is always so weird #i feel like im gaslighting the reader #alexa play Gaslighter by The Chicks #this was meant to be like 2k #how did this happen

164 notes · View notes

caffernnn · 4 years ago

Text

Haru’s hopelessness - an extensive rambling.

Watchers of Free! Eternal Summer - y’all remember this moment, right?

Throughout S2, as some of the boys now have to seriously think about their lives and paths after high school, Haru struggles to think past what he’s always known: swimming for his friends/himself, eating mackerel, and being free. Things arguably take a darker turn once Haru cannot run from the question anymore and breaks, lashing out at Rin and saying he doesn’t have a dream or a future.

There are so many things that can be unpacked from this quote alone, and my thoughts on the matter will probably be sporadic, but here are a few key things I’d like to try diving into in this post:

My interpretation of Haru’s, Makoto’s, and Rin’s characters’ mindsets

What Haru is likely trying to say

How Makoto and Rin interpret his words (based on their mindsets and experiences)

I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on it all as well, so please feel free to add on :)

DISCLAIMER: This post will reference material outside of S2 itself to explain my insight/interpretation of the characters (S1 episodes, High Speed novel), but I won’t be putting full links to all of those materials in this post. If you’d like a specific link to anything I’m referencing, let me know and I can try to dig one up.

When first hearing Haru say that he doesn’t have a dream or a future, it is shocking and concerning, especially to his friends. However, as broken as lost as Haru is in this moment, the weight of his words and what he’s verbally trying to convey is most likely different than what his friends hear. I feel as if a big reason for this comes down to the different ways the characters perceive time and approach general goal-setting.

Here is a video that can give a frame of reference for what I mean by “time perception,” but I’ll still try to explain my thinking ---> https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJsdVUhu/

Rin and Haru butt heads on many occasions throughout the series due to having opposing characteristics and approaches to life. The big difference that comes into play during S2 is how they both approach goal-setting and time. As soon as we’re introduced to Rin, it becomes apparent that he is someone who is a visionary that has always set his sights on the future. From boldly proclaiming his Olympic goals in elementary school to encouraging their team to put their relay trophy into a time capsule, Rin establishes himself early on as a dreamer that puts his all into his long-term goals. Being someone who thinks about things in this manner isn’t inherently good or bad, but it does lend a hand to many of the issues we see Rin go through in S1 (having tunnel vision on his goal that isolates him from his friends, being prone to catastrophize when confronted with road blocks along the way [like when he breaks down after losing to Haru in middle school], etc.). However, all of that dreaming puts him at an advantage now when preparing to move forward into post-high-school life. He has a frame of reference for most of his next steps (winning races, talking to scouts), and now he just has to make it a reality.

Haru, in essence, lives his life in the moment. If he wants to swim, he’ll try to swim; if he wants mackerel, he’ll try to make mackerel. He lets the people around him (usually Makoto) worry about the possible consequences for his actions (swimming too early in spring might get him sick, swimming in a fish tank might get him kicked out of XYZ place, cooking mackerel after a long bath might make him late for school, etc.). The way he thinks about all of his “tomorrows” beyond acting freely on impulse is through having a consistent routine or norm to cling onto. When swimming, he’ll swim freestyle. When given a choice, he’ll default to eating mackerel. He’ll find a way to get in a swim or a bath most days because water is safe. He’ll walk with Makoto to and from school, sticking to the side of the path closest to the ocean and anticipating sharing the same split popsicle. This is about as much thought as he lends to the future, usually: he’ll keep doing the things that make him happy and comfortable, whatever that’ll mean to him in the moment. In opposition of Rin, this frame of mind based in immediacy and short-term goals helps him in S1 (teaching Rin to appreciate the moment, connecting with his friends, not getting lost in the overly analytical or competitive side of swimming), but it makes the challenges that come with his looming graduation in S2 much harder to cope with.

The reason that it’s important to understand how both Haru and Rin frame their perceptions of time is because it plays right into what Haru is saying during their argument. He is frustrated with Rin because Rin doesn’t understand the way Haru thinks/lives moment-to-moment (he yells as much in this fight) and he is tired of hearing people for years try and push him into long-term thinking about his future when he doesn’t naturally approach life that way. Think back to one of the first things Haru said in S1:

“When you're ten, they call you a prodigy. When you're fifteen, they call you a genius. Once you hit twenty, you're just an ordinary person. About three years until I'm ordinary. Man... I can't wait to be ordinary.”

Because of Haru’s swimming abilities, people have looked at him as a prodigy and have had their own visions about his potential or his future ever since he was young. Even if it seems like flattery, Haru feels boxed in by all of this. Being considered a prodigy comes with expectations that put him on a pedestal he never asked to be placed on -- if he’s going to swim, he’s expected to swim well; if he swims well, he’s expected to capitalize on his abilities in a competitive manner or expand his horizons to other forms of swimming; if he’s going to live his life tied to the water, people view him as a swimmer before they view him as anything/anyone else. Haru has been frustrated with all of this since he was younger (as expressed in S1), but it gets even worse as people close in on Haru from all sides with advice and sentiments that compound in Haru’s head as belonging to the echo chamber he hates so much.

So... what does this all mean in relevance to Haru saying he doesn’t have a dream or a future? Here’s my line of thinking: all of the internalized frustration Haru has with long-term thinkers (from his perspective) speaking over him and not taking time to understand his in-the-moment intuition-led mindset comes out in this line. What Haru is trying to say is that he doesn’t have a detailed long-term plan because he isn’t a romantic visionary like Rin. He wants to stick with his relatively free lifestyle (y’know, the one where he can do what he wants, but still ultimately sticks to a routine) because he sees no point in forcing himself to put effort into big changes if 1) he’s satisfied and 2) the system isn’t broken.*

*we learn later, especially through Haru and Makoto’s later fight, that these two points are up for debate, but this is what Haru has convinced himself to believe at the time of this specific confrontation.

However, with the way Haru vocalizes this frustration, it is vague enough that Rin and the others hear something much different. It’s written right on their faces. Like I mentioned earlier, being a long-term thinker prone to catastrophizing, Rin interprets (and possibly misconstrues) Haru’s words to mean that he doesn’t think he has the potential or abilities to strive for something. Rin feels Haru’s words like a punch to the gut because he relates Haru’s hopelessness to the times he has felt lost and hopeless, like when defeat after defeat led to him breaking down after his middle school race with Haru. It’s shocking and it stings for Rin to hear, because as much as he’s learned to believe in himself and his own future, he’s also held onto those dreams and hope for his friends. I’ll admit, his dedication and borderline obsession with swimming lends to him mostly vocalizing the dreams he has for his friends that are related to swimming (Makoto and Haru getting scouted, Sousuke returning to swimming), but the love is still there.

The idea of long-term vs short-term thinkers I’ve presented isn’t completely dichotomous or black-and-white, even though Haru and Rin tend to fall on the far opposite sides of the proposed spectrum. So, where does someone like Makoto fall?

Makoto is an interesting case. From how I’ve come to understand his character, I would say he also looks to the future, albeit in less idealistic or extreme ways than Rin. Makoto’s forward line of thinking presents itself through both his people-pleasing tendencies and his caring disposition. When Makoto interacts with people, he is often observant and calculating, trying to figure out how he can navigate a conversation in the most complimentary or polite manner. This ability and tendency to understand/empathize with others ties into a lot of the roles he takes on: team captain, big brother, part-time position as a swim coach, full-time position as Haru’s impulse control... he is inclined to think about the future and all of the possible consequences for his actions. This also ties into some of the other things we know Makoto’s character for, such as being a scaredy-cat (aka, someone who overthinks consequences in fear of the unknown) and a ray of sunshine (aka, someone who wants to see the best in people and holds onto optimism/hope for the people he loves, even if it sometimes means not saving enough for himself and his own abilities).

Despite being more of a forward-thinker, Makoto has definitely been influenced by his close relationship with Haru. Makoto has spent most of his life observing and learning how to read Haru, and it has been shown time and time again that Makoto is one of the people (if not, the person) that understands Haru best. He understands that Haru values the freedom of choice and harbors a desire for unconditional appreciation. He understands that Haru puts stock in consistency/reliability and needs time and space to process or reflect when life deviates from that carefully-crafted norm. Makoto’s actions towards Haru over the years all reflect him trying to be respectful of these observations. Even when he can tell something is bothering Haru, Makoto tries to let Haru work it out on his own first, not prodding him for information but letting his presence/support be known all the same. I digress, being best friends, their lives and routines are tightly woven together. Because of this, Makoto spends a lot of time also living in-the-moment with Haru -- he is a large proponent in Haru’s “free” lifestyle.

Since Makoto has a foot in both Haru and Rin’s respective worlds, how does he interpret Haru’s declaration that he doesn’t have a dream or a future? Surely, since he understands Haru and his position so well and has always been respectful of his mindset/wishes, he gets what Haru is trying to say... right?

Unfortunately for Haru (or fortunately, depending on who you ask), Makoto is immediately concerned by those words in a way similar to Rin. Like I mentioned earlier, Makoto holds deep optimism and hope in his chest for all of the people he cares about. Even though he never forced lofty expectations onto Haru to swim or be anything other than himself, he still holds so much care and hope for his best friend. For Makoto to hear that Haru might not have that faith in himself or the belief that he is worth a bright future, it breaks his heart. Similar to Rin, he is probably thinking back to his own moments of hopelessness, and I can’t help but think back to the lost and scared Makoto fighting with himself during the middle school days. When entering middle school, Makoto struggles with his identity, trying to figure out just how dependent he is on Haru’s friendship. One of his darkest moments in my mind comes from Chapter 8 of the High Speed! 2 novel, when Makoto is beating himself up especially hard after being frozen by his fear of the ocean yet again. Haru finds Makoto alone on a secluded part of the shore, where he says this:

“Will I be alright even if Haru isn’t here? …..I wanted to make sure of that.”

Raising his eyebrows, he shows a lonely smile. Makoto was fighting all along. He was suffering, all along. In a place where Haruka’s thoughts couldn’t possibly reach...

“Would Haru be alright even if I weren’t here?”

If Makoto’s internal struggles throughout their middle school days reveal anything, it is that Makoto has experienced a hopelessness that he wouldn’t ever wish on his friends. To think that Haru might now be at war with himself in a way that makes him question his own place in the world, his future... it is the ultimate catalyst for Makoto to step in and try to talk to Haru. Sadly, we all remember how that confrontation went...

ENTER: THE FIREWORKS FIGHT (S2E11)

(Since this post is already super long, I might go more into my thoughts on how this all plays into the misunderstandings about the fireworks fight in a separate post. We’ve talked about the fight at length on multiple occasions and you can definitely find my thoughts on the matter if you look under the “#fireworks angst night” or “#meta” tags on my profile.)

If you’ve made it this far into the post, thanks for sticking with me. I’d love to hear about how you interpreted Haru’s words or how you think the others took in his breakdown.

#long post #long long post #these poor complex boys with complex emotions #i just... care about them a whole bunch #meta #free! eternal summer #free! anime #ship neutral I think??#makoto tachibana #haruka nanase #rin matsuoka #fireworks angst night #(kinda but not really)#catherine wrote a thing!

197 notes · View notes

delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

the end of being alone (3)

Ch 1 | Ch 2 |

warning: mentions of fear, crocodiles, discussion of teeth

Logan found himself grateful that he’d made arrangements to postpone their other jobs for a bit, because it looked as though they’d be staying firmly on this planet’s surface for a while.

There had been all of one attempt to bring Virgil aboard the Mindscape, and it had resulted in a significant amount of crying from both the child and Patton. Whatever circumstances had led the Human to this planet, it had left them deeply fearful of any sort of spacefaring vessel.

… This did not annul Logan’s suspicions about smuggling, though he was careful not to say as much in front of Virgil. The child was keen, and any time the fact that they were a Human was mentioned, they withdrew and began displaying body language that Logan believed indicated a desire to flee. Checking that exits were still there, putting space between themself and any of the Mindscape’s crew, anxious tics, and so forth.

Needless to say, they avoided the topic.

However, to Logan’s surprise, the child didn’t seem at all adverse to basic questions about themself. Understanding their responses was rare, of course, but the kid was picking up on Common with a shocking quickness, and Roman had turned out to be rather talented at interpreting their gestures when they didn’t have the right words.

The data that Logan had collected from these inquiries was both strange and intriguing. He’d carefully woven a mental list of it all.

1. Virgil seemed to identify by he/him, though whether that was an actual gender preference or simply a child wanting to be called the same pronouns as the three of them was up for debate. Either way, Logan seriously doubted that there was any way to convey the nebulous concept of gender through a language barrier, so he let the matter lie.

2. After eating too fast, Virgil would convulse slightly in a semi-rhythmic pattern for a short period. He didn’t seem alarmed or pained by this, only slightly irritated when it would interrupt him mid-sentence. The condition of ‘hiccups’ was thankfully temporary, since it made Roman quite jumpy. For their tiny, squeaking nature, Patton had called them ‘hicchirps’, which was ridiculous, but Virgil seemed to enjoy any and all wordplay that made it through his grasp of the language, so Logan stowed his complaints.

3. Virgil was terrified of the locals. Despite being plainly evident, this observation didn’t make sense at first, seeing as the nearby town consisted primarily of native Hiiynal and a few offplanet transfers, none of which could be described as particularly dangerous or violent. After a few days of gentle questioning and no reprimands for not answering, Virgil finally told them that the locals would ‘chase monsters far away’ and so he couldn’t risk getting near. Questioning was temporarily halted in favor of showing the Human the art of shadow symmetry, for purely scientific reasons, of course.

(Supposition: Human children enjoyed movement games.)

4. While the synthetic meat from the ration kits was accepted by Virgil, he showed a surprising preference for sweeter food items, such as fruit and sugar crystals. Seeing as Humans were rumored to be obligate carnivores or even raw flesh-eaters, this was a strange discrepancy. Virgil had even eaten some of the leafy vegetables Logan had brought, face pinched up in disgust but insisting that eating ‘greens’ would make one tall. It was unclear to Logan what color had to do with nutrients or growth. He was also slightly alarmed at the implication of Virgil being short for his age.

5. Virgil seemed, for all intents and purposes, fixated on Roman.

The latest data point was a work in progress. Logan hadn’t mentioned it to Roman himself, because the Cravon was already fairly worked up over everything the Human did as it was. Nobody seemed sure if this jumpiness was because of the Human child, or on behalf of it.

Still, it was present in little ways. For example, even as he answered Logan’s latest series of questions, his gaze would occasionally flicker up from his hands to Roman, who sat at the mouth of the little cave, carefully peeling more fruit. It wasn’t about the food; Patton had taken it upon himself to make sure the child knew he only had to ask to get something to eat. No, this ‘almost-staring’ was a frequent occurrence, no matter what Roman preoccupied himself with.

“You were saying you met… Susan… when another predator was attacking it?”

Virgil nodded, hurriedly looking back to his hands. “It was a big bite monster, and Susan was loud crying, so I did, uh,” he lifted his arms up, hands spread wide, “this, and I was loud at it until it ran away. Like raccoons back on Dirt.”

Dirt was apparently Virgil’s name for his home. Logan hadn’t heard of ‘raccoons’ before. He decided not to get sidetracked. “I’d estimate the creature you saw was a Lifel. They are the natural predators of Humlilts.”

“Natural?” Virgil mimicked.

“It means ‘of nature’,” Logan attempted to clarify, gesturing around them. “In the wild.”

Virgil only grew more confused with the wide, encompassing gesture. “Sky? Was not flying.”

Logan glanced at Roman, checking that he was still preoccupied. Patton was back at the ship, contacting a friend for advice. There seemed no better opportunity if he wanted to avoid overwhelming Virgil.

“Virgil, would you like to try something new?” he asked, carefully neutral. It wouldn’t do to put any pressure on the child.

The Human squinted at him slightly, quick to use his most common phrase. “Will it hurt?”

“It will not hurt,” Logan replied, ignoring the tightening in his core with careful practice. It always felt so wrong, that a mere pupa would be so familiar with hurt. “I will always tell you if something might hurt.”

“Mmm.” The Human hummed, the way he always did when they told him such things. Like he wasn’t sure if he could believe it. “What’s it?”

“What is it,” Logan corrected automatically. “It is something I can do, to show you new words. Want to try a little bit, first?” That was the phrase they used for new foods, but it applied well enough to mindsharing.

Virgil clenched and unclenched his hands for a moment longer before nodding, going a little tense like he expected something unpleasant. Logan held a hand out to him, waiting until he’d reached out in return to start sharing.

Small, simple flashes of images and sensations. Quiet forests, shallow oceans, clean air. Plants, bugs, animals, humanoids, living and dying and living again. Nature.

Virgil had pinched his eyes closed immediately at the start of the low-level telepathy, and Logan only had a moment to worry that maybe it had hurt him in some manner.

Then, there was a feeling of recognition. Without a moment to spare, Virgil had grasped the nature of the Vidi and was projecting his own thoughts. Walking on a crunchy leaf-covered trail with other Human young, a winged insect emerging from a cocoon, the crack of thunder and heavy rain on a windowsill. Nature.

“Wow!” Virgil whispered, imprint thoughts flickering like flames, too quick for Logan to really see. “You see into heads!”

Logan pulled back slightly, offering a bit of content-smug in return to the Human’s awe. “That is one way of framing it, yes. So, you understand what I mean, about the Lifel being a natural predator?”

“Carnivore,” Virgil mumbled, and then offered image-thoughts of several creatures that Logan could only assume were from the deathworlder’s home planet. He watched with morbid curiosity as Virgil remembered a clip from a screen, displaying large ungulates with twisting horns crossing a river, and then being dragged underwater by a dark, writhing shape.

“That’s a crocodile,” Virgil told him, his eyes still closed tight in concentration. “They’ve got big teeth and they do death rolls. They look like alligators, but I know they aren’t because gators live in Florida.”

“Florida?” Logan asked. He wondered if perhaps ‘gators’ were kept in captivity for species preservation. Or perhaps they were too dangerous left in the wild?

Virgil showed him a memory of a long, reptilian form with a narrow, tooth-filled jaw. It was wading steadily through a swimming pool, not paying any mind to Virgil, who was sitting with his legs dipped in the pool, watching in fascination. “I lived there!”

“Oh,” Logan managed, his ears going numb with fear at the idea of a child being so near a creature like that. “So it would seem.”

The Human patted him carefully, a gesture of comfort. “It’s okay. The bad guys didn’t take any gators or crocodiles from Dirt. Just people.”

Virgil’s words trailed off, a sense of melancholy overwhelming him. Rather than find out more about the Human’s past, Logan felt an unreasonably strong urge to stop that sadness. “Could you perhaps tell me more about these… ‘crocodiles’? You seem to be quite informed on them.”

“I had a book about them,” Virgil managed, slowly dragging his thoughts away from his abduction. “Did you know some crocodiles have a… a ‘biting force’ of five thousand pounds?”

He had lapsed into English, the sentence sounding well-recited, but Logan still got the general idea of what he meant, and a strong image of a picture book, covered in writing he couldn’t read but still understood. If Logan was right about the measurement conversions, the fact was terrifying.

“That’s very interesting,” he mused, because terrifying and interesting often went hand in hand. “Are there any other predators that can bite like that?”

Virgil scrunched his face up in thought. “Maybe sharks. Oh, but for sure a T. Rex!”

Logan saw a very concerning glimpse of a large fish with too many teeth before Virgil’s mind switched to a cartoon depiction of a larger creature with also too many teeth. He was beginning to see a trend in deathworlder species. “I… see.”

“They’re all dead, though,” Virgil told him sadly, projecting a memory of a huge display of bones. He then seemed to perk up, glancing over at Roman again. “Except for in space!”

Logan narrowly avoided laughing out loud, covering his throat before the vibrating chirps could get far. So, this was the truth behind the Human’s interest!

“Roman is not a ‘dinosaur’,” he clarified, once he felt composed enough to do so. “In fact, I believe he rarely even eats meat.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Are you sure? Maybe he’s a secret dinosaur.”

Logan wiggled his fingers thoughtfully. “I suppose we’ll just have to check.”

---

“Roman, would you come here for a moment?”

Roman looked up from his task, immediately suspicious. Logan sounded strangely amused, like he was on the brink of laughing at him. That was never a good sign.

Still, the Human was looking over at him with those wide, strange eyes, and he wasn’t about to run away. He got to his feet, leaving his pile of dana peels behind as he crossed the cave floor. “What is it, dear esteemed companion who would never take advantage of me?”

“I need you to show us your teeth,” Logan said, very much not being a dear esteemed companion who would never take advantage of him. Roman resisted the urge to hang his head in resignation. He should have expected this. The Ulgorii was shameless when it came to exploiting his friends for science.

“How about absolutely not?” he replied, because there were actually limits to his tolerance for shenanigans, and one of those limits was threat-displaying at a baby Human.

“Hold on, look,” Logan said, and then bared his own ridged teeth with a click.

The Human did his small grimace-smile back, entirely unphased. They both looked to him expectantly. Roman felt as though he was being ganged up on.

“Um,” Virgil said, painfully tentative, “please?”

Roman felt extremely ganged up on.

He squatted, tail keeping him perfectly balanced, and pulled at the corner of his mouth to show some of his teeth.

“Woah,” Virgil breathed.

“See how the back teeth are narrow but dull? They’re designed to crack bones and get to the marrow at the center,” Logan narrated, like the nerd he was. “Roman doesn’t have the small incisors or sharp molars required for proper full-time carnivores.”

Roman almost reminded his crewmate to use small words, but Virgil seemed to get the idea, leaning uncomfortably close to stare. He then opened his own mouth, like he was planning to take a bite out of something, displaying a shocking number of tiny little bone-teeth crammed inside. Some of them were uncomfortably sharp.

Rather than attack anyone, though, Virgil touched his own teeth, carefully inspecting the shape of them. Roman resisted the urge to get him to sanitize his hands. Kits would be kits, he supposed.

Logan was patiently watching as Virgil pointed to each tooth in turn, and he obligingly recited the name of each type of tooth for the kit. His two lower arms took frantic notes on Human jaw structure, probably to prepare more elaborate meal plans better suited to a deathworlder diet. The kid soaked every bit of information in like a sponge.

Finally, after a long moment of thought, he announced, “My ‘lower canine’ is going to fall out in close time!”

“Soon,” Logan offered, always quick to interpret the Human’s occasional nonsense Common. “'My lower canine is going to fall out soon.'” And then, after a moment’s pause. “Wait, it’s going to what?”

And then, because Roman’s day needed more nightmare fuel, the kit bared his tiny fangs at them and poked one with his tongue, revealing that it did indeed seem to be sickeningly loose. In fact, Roman could see a few other gaps in the curved row of teeth, some with little bits of bone peeking out.

“Stars above,” Roman said, feeling a little faint. Logan was already interrogating a very confused Virgil on whether or not losing teeth was indicative of an illness or not.

“They’re just my little teeth,” Virgil told them, seemingly unconcerned with holes in his mouth. “I get big ones later.”

“There are plenty of species that have milk teeth, but to have their adult set not fully-formed by the time the milk teeth are ready to fall out…,” Logan quickly devolved into muttering, hands flicking.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Roman asked despite himself, eyeing the kit just in case he was going to burst into tears all of the sudden. Roman himself had lost one or two front teeth before his next set had fully formed, and each time it had felt like biting on hot metal.

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil seemed to have moved from confused to amused, still not entirely sure what the fuss was all about. “Not unless I,” he mimed pulling on the tooth, and Roman made a click-click-click of parental don’t-do-that chiding before he’d even fully registered the alarm he’d felt at the motion.

Virgil clicked back at him curiously, sounding exactly like a tiny version of an exasperated parent. Roman tucked his face against his shoulder, unsure if he should laugh or despair.

This Human was really going to be the death of him.

#sanders sides #space au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #teoba #the end of being alone #writing #my writing #crocodiles #raccoon #you all wanted baby teeth and so baby teeth you shall receive #ask to tag

566 notes · View notes

infinitegalahad · 4 years ago

Text

DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME

Summary: The one time Joe Toye saved you and the one time you saved Joe Toye.

Word-Count: 3.1k

WARNINGS: PLEASE READ! attempted suicide, descriptions of assault, blood/bruising, angst with a happy ending

A/N: Inspired by this post! When I was reading this and listening to Elton John, it hit me like a bus. It's not one of my best works, but I hope you enjoy! :)

Tag-list: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne @capsparkyspeirs

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

Toye was one of the toughest sunva’ bitches (Guarnere’s words) that you had ever met. Tall, dark, and brooding, easy company respected and feared him. He had a gloomy expression and zero-tolerance from bullshit from anyone and anything. The number of fights you had seen him get into, the way he’d hold the collar of a soldier’s shirt, or simply the look of disappointment would make anyone shit their pants. You were a visual learner and always associated the men of easy company with the weather. Joe Toye to you was like a gloomy storm cloud, thunder booming behind it.

Unlike Joe Toye, a gloomy storm cloud, you were a ray of sunshine. The war was a tough time for all the man and your mere presence would shine brighter than a thousand stars. A natural smile always donned your face, and the men simply loved it. Your sweet voice was like a lullaby to them. Whenever they needed someone to be vulnerable with, you always had their backs as a close friend. You had always been someone who had tried to find the positive in life, despite it being hard. Your smiles and bright attitude had earned you the nickname of “sunshine” or for short, “sunny”. You wore the name with pride and whenever one of the men of easy company would call you it, a smile would grow as you’d shake your head. The men of easy company adored the ray of light you brought to the company.

Despite the differences, even if you were scared shitless of Joe Toye, he made one thing clear around the company; that nobody would hurt you.

Joe wasn’t one for nicknames or social interaction. You had talked to him a few times, but it was brief. His brooding appearance was intimidating and yet strangely so prepossessing to you. You knew that opposites attracted. Whether it be his dark features or the way he’d growl in his low voice, it would always make your cheeks warm.

He wouldn’t have to speak. If someone had been bothering you or making lewd remarks, he simply hovered over you. You’d see the man who’d be bothering you, looking like he had just pooped his pants, scram away. You turned to thank Toye, but he’d be gone in a flash. It made you feel guilty. You wanted to thank him-but he always slipped out of your fingers.

You confronted about the Toye's attribute. Guarnere would look at you and give you a little goose laugh, stating the same phrase.

“Means he’s gotta a lil’ crush on yah, sunny. Ain’t want nobody to hurt this girl.”

“But that’s what I’m confused about!” You would exclaim in frustration, “Why doesn’t he let me say thank you? Why does he only nod his head when I say hi? Why does he look at me and smile, but then he looks away? Why does he-“

“Jeez laweez girl!” Guarnere would interpret your little rant and pat your shoulder, “I got sisters, I know what I’m doin”. Just let it play out.”

Letting out a groan of frustration, you’d bury your hands in your face and let out a loud groan. It was simply hopeless. You were in the middle of a war, and Toye and you knew that love had no place in war. You were probably an annoying babbling idiot in Toye’s view.

But little did you know-Toye thought differently of you. There was something about you that would turn his face and show his dimples whenever you’d cheer up a soldier or help out a friend. Toye didn’t understand how you could be so damn cheery all the time, but something about you made him do something he had trouble doing-smiling.

———

The first time Joe Toye saved you was in Aldbourne.

You had been having trouble sleeping most nights. One night, you couldn’t stand twisting and turning in bed, so you opted for a late night walk. Aldbourne was a quaint town, and you knew that there were no threats surrounding you. If one of the men of Easy had found out, they’d be horrified, but you knew that you were capable of taking care of yourself.

There was not a single noise in the small town. It was an odd hour in the early morning with the fog covering Aldbourne with the sky still being pitch black. Wrapping your large jacket around your body, you looked down as you wandered down the road.

Joe had been acting strange lately. He was more distant from the crowds, simply avoiding all conversations, all but you. It wasn’t that he followed you around, but he looked after you. He spent his time around you. It was the first time you didn’t seem him as irritated or annoyed, at least when he was around you. Whenever Luz would look at or simply tease him, his face would scrunch your and he’d stand up to go give the company’s comedian a piece of his mind. You’d sigh and gently grab his arm, holding him back.

Normally, Joe would ignore you and move on. Nobody’s opinion mattered to him.

But with you-he felt like his whole world shifted. Your soft face and gentle touch would enchant him.

A grumble would escape Joe’s lips as he turned around to sit down. He’d mumbled something in your ear, in which didn’t mean much at the moment to you,

“What would the company do without you, y/n?”

Nobody ever called you by your real name except for two people; Eugene Roe and Joe Toye.

In the corner of your eye, you’d see a faint smile. It wouldn’t be caught by anyone by you.

You were prideful in yourself. You, making Joe Toye smile. Nobody would believe you. Maybe you had been the only one who caught onto it-but you were the sunshine of easy company. Joe Toye was a cloud who was almost dark and gloomy, and you were the sun that would outshine him.

Sure, it was childish, but it still made your cheeks warm up and a smile grow on your face. You were in the middle of a war, and making someone smile or happy was your job.

As you walked through the night, the muffled voices of sobs and curses could be heard. Buried in the collar of your jacket, you raised your head. The pained noises were coming from further down the road. You picked up your pace and hurried down the road to see one of the men in another company. He wasn’t someone you knew well, but you were familiar with it. His voice and mannerisms identified him as Lowery.

Lowery sat slunched under a lamppost, sobbing with a few broken bottles surrounding him. His cries of pain and curses only made your head break.

“Lowery…?” You whispered, loud enough for him to hear you.

Lowery still had his face in his hands but stopped his loud sobs. “Y/n...that’s you?” He said in a slurred tone, completely intoxicated.

“Yes, it’s me.” You said as you walked over and bent down to put a hand on his shoulder, “Do you know where you are?”

Lowery didn’t respond and simply looked down into his hands. You knew he would need some assistance getting back to his barracks and some water to ease him.

“Come on,” You gently stated as you grabbed his shoulders, “Let’s get you back”.

Out of nowhere, Lowery sprinted up and grabbed you, spinning you and pinning you to the lamppost. His hands attempted to grab your neck and you fought them off, screaming for help. One of his hands held your hands together as he dug through his holster to pull out his jump knife.

“You fucking tramp, shut your damn mouth.” He hissed, spit forming through your mouth. With a firm grasp on the knife, his feet stomped onto the soles on your boots as he began to slowly drag the knife towards your stomach. “Always smiling and acting all prissy and shit. If you this doesn’t shut you up, then I don’t know what wi-“

Suddenly, Lowery’s cheek was met with a pair of brass knuckles. He groaned in pain, holding his bloody cheek. Seeing your opportunity to escape, you wobbled away and fell down in shock. Covered by the darkness, you managed to make out two figures. Lowery, on the ground, and another tall figure making his way towards Lowery.

The rough voice made it clear that it was none other than Joe Toye.

Toye grabbed Lowery and dragged him to the lamppost, pinning him with a single hand choking this throat. Lowery’s skin has gone pale, covered in blood as he struggled to breathe.

“Damn you, Lowery. You ever threaten y/n again and I’ll kill you. Got it? I’ll kill you,” Joe had spat out at Lowery. Lowkey didn’t respond and he punched him again, except on the next cheek, making sure to leave him brushed and bloodied.

“I’ll kill you!” He hissed, and Lowery began to nod. The second time Joe spoke made you jump out of your little shock. Pushing yourself up from the mud, you began to run down the road away from Toye and Lowery. Toye had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

As you ran, it took you a second to stick it together. In the barracks, there was another empty bed and it had to have been Toye’s. You had told him about your late night walks and he wasn’t over the moon about them, scolding you as a father does to a child. Toye was worried about you, being a woman, getting attacked or lost or anything bad happening to you. You would smile and sway your shoulder, saying that you were fine.

Next time, you were going to listen to Joe Toye’s advice since he had saved your life.

———

The second time, you had saved Joe Toye’s life also in Aldbourne.

You had all been sitting in a pub. It was a typical Friday night; the men were drinking, laughing, and chatting about whatever was new. You sat at the edge of the bar, swirling your beer in your hand. The incident that had happened a few nights ago was still fresh in your mind. There were visible bruise marks on the side of your neck and hands. They burned and hurt, but there was nothing you could do. The memories were still fresh in your mind, and it made you go quiet. You had told the members of Easy about the occurrence, but left out the part of Toye.

He must have followed you to witness the attack. It creeped out you, but then again, you shouldn't had told him of your midnight walks. In a way, it was a brave and kind action of Toye. If hadn’t been there, Lowery could have hurt you or even worse-killed you. But you felt guilty for running off like a coward, not thanking him for saving your life.

You saw Toye around, but he always avoided you and the men. He was usually standoffish, but it had become more noticeable. He would prefer to be on his own, not bothered by anyone, even you or Luz. Luz attempted to converse with Toye, but Toye looked at him, grumbled, and walked away. Luz looked defeated and you would sit by his side to comfort him.

“It’s just Toye,” You would say, even though you were uncertain, “Sure he’s in a funk.”

You had seen Toye head out to take a leak, but he hadn’t returned in an hour. Slugging by the end of the bar, you looked at the ticking clock as the hands would slowly move by. He had been gone for a strange amount of time, and it was beginning to worry you. Aldbourne was a safe town, but what if? It had happened to you, it could happen to anyone, even someone was frighting as Joe Toye.

Since the men were either too distracted or drunk, you put your foot down and chose to go after Toye. Going up the stairs, you went to each floor and looked for him, but found nothing. Your worry began to increase as you began to pick up your pace and check every room for a sing-yet you found none. On the highest floor, you noticed that a door had been opened. It had to have been Toye-nobody else would go up this bar. Walking up the small staircase, you were greeted upon the night sky and the roof of an atrium. The roof was made of glass, held up chicken wire. Joe stood in at the edge, looking down. He hadn’t even noticed your presence as he took slow steps towards the edge.

Realizing, your heart dropped as you took slow steps, “Joe!” You called, panic in your voice. There was no response from him.

You chose to become louder, “Toye, it’s y/n. Look at me.”

Still, nothing but silence. You could see his head tilt down to look at the three stories below him. Tears began to form in your eyes. No, he couldn’t.

“Toye!” You yelled as the wind threw a big gust. “I know you can hear. Look at me. Please.”

Just as his foot was about to hang off of the edge, he froze in place. The voice was familiar. Hearing a voice he associated with happiness become distorted made his brain freeze. He became paralyzed. Letting out a shuttered sigh, he redacted his foot and turned to look at you.

Like you, Toye looked different. He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt anybody or intimating; but like a scared child. His dark eyes were red and puffy. Everything that you needed to know was right in front of you. Holding your hand out, your fingers bent, signaling Toye to come forward.

You murmured under your lips, “Let’s go.”

Toye turned around and walked over the atrium. Joe looked like hell as he grabbed your hand, grasping onto as his life depended on it. You carefully lead him down the stairs. Reaching the end of the stairs, he did something you would have never imagined him ever doing. It was human emotion that most men felt, but you never thought Joe Toye would do it.

Joe fell onto his knees, crying. Big tears falling down his face. His burly, worked hands glided up against the side of your legs. It took you back. You couldn't believe he was in tears. Just a minute ago he was standing on the edge of an atrium to a three-story drop and there he was, crying as he held onto your legs for comfort.

So you did what you did best for the men of easy company. Bending down, you wrapped your arms around his back as you gently ran them down his back.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” You whispered into his shoulder, “Let it all out. I was worried about you.” When you got Joe to look at you, you cupped a hand on his cheek. “Why did you go up there?”

Joe shook his head, unable to use words. You patted his cheeks in reassurance, “Well, we were all worried. I was worried about you. What would I have done without you?”

Inhaling, he tilted his head down as he pulled you close. His head rested in your stomach as he began to speak. “I don’t know what I would’ve done with you. I don’t know what got into me...It just seemed like an escape. But you came and put me back in the right place. Saved me from myself.”

“Consider it a favor returned,” You mentioned. Toye looked up at you, he knew about the night just like you did.

“By the way, thank you.” You thanked him as your hands rested on his shoulders, “I ran away only because I was scared…”

Joe’s face softened at your worry. You shook your head and clarified, “Not of you, I just...yeah. I was a little shaken up.”

Seeing your hesitance, Joe’s fingers touched your chin to lift it. His fingers ran over the developing bruise marks. His hand rested on your waist as he pulled you closer.

“They’re not as bad as you think.”

“Bullshit.” Toye hissed. You took his hands as he held them, “If I see that fucker again, he’ll be a dead man. Someone’s gonna fuckin’ die.”

Seeing the tension rise, you patted his shoulders as he looked up at you with a disappointed face. “Joe, I understand. But, I don’t want you to get hurt as well. Don’t it for me...Please?”

Looking up and down, Joe buried his head once again in your stomach and grumbled grumpily, “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

As his head rested, you brought your hands to stroke his dark hair. You hummed in response, “How so?”

“You’re so damn smiley all the time. Thought it was because you were a woman, but that ain’t it. You’re just a good person-and that’s hard to find now,” Joe hinted at. It was a confession of love, in his own way. You knew what he was trying to say. You smiled down at him and stroked his cheek, in which he laid into. “I don’t know, I just like being’ ‘round you. You make me a better person.”

“That’s the point of my nickname, Toye.” You stated, “You know I’m here for you. You know that I love you, right?”

Toye nodded his head as he stood up and held your hands, “Yeah, I do. From the first day I saw you.”

The two of you began to talk down the staircase, hand in hand. You tilted your head, a smile on your face.

“You're joking! I thought you hated me. Always thought you did.”

Toye shrugged his shoulders, “It’s hard to hate somebody as kind as you, doll. Just promise me one thing.”

You looked over at him and nodded. The two of you stopped at the door before entering back into the busy bar.

“Yes, Joe.”

“Don’t let the sun go down on me.”

Little did you know, those words would stick with you and Toye for the rest of the war. From Toccoa to Aldbounre to Brecourt to Bastogne-that was your phrase. You were the sun to Toye’s cloud. You brought the light instead of him, and he became a better person from your sheer positivity. Through hell and back, no matter what, you had kept your promise to Toye-Till death do you part.

#joe toye #band of brothers #Joe toye x reader #Joe toye imagine #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #hbo war

120 notes · View notes