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zoeysdamn · 1 year

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Bark, Bite & Break Bones - Tyler Galpin x Van Helsing!reader | Part.4

Summary: Things seem to go better between you and Tyler, as you both realize how alike you are. Maybe this could get you past the sarcastic weird friendship status? Ajax definitely thinks so. A tragic turn of events during the Poe cup lead to a yelling session, where some harsh words are not regretted.

Warnings: angst, smut (characters are between 17 and 18), swearing, name-calling, physical assault (bullying), attempted drowning, mention of blood, implied removal of teeth

A/N: Let’s be honest, the whole plot of this long-ass chapter (8630 words, what the actual fuck) is to get to the smexy smoochie times. I regret absolutely nothing lmao.

[Masterlist] [Prologue] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3]

Two weeks after the nightly confrontation, Principal Weems called you in her office. For the briefest moment, you thought that someone had talked about what happened in the forest then in the school corridors, but then you remembered that none of them had any interest in doing that. Plus, Kent was a coward, and Divina was not smart enough to take such a risk without compromising herself. So this summons in the middle of your Outcasts history class maybe wasn’t such a big deal? Gathering your belongings you excused yourself to the teacher before making your way out of the classroom. You caught Tyler’s gaze on the way, shrugging lightly at him to say it was probably nothing.

Ever since that attack and the unexpected heart to heart – another one – around a cup of coffee, you and Tyler had grown closer. The flirting and sarcasm was still here of course, you both enjoyed that too much to ever let it down, but there was beginning to have something…more. More glances to the other when no one looked, just to make sure that everything was okay; more attention from you during the therapy sessions, carefully listening to Tyler gradually opening up about how he felt, whether it be anger toward his dad and Laurel, sadness, regrets or no about what he had done, how he felt at Nevermore. You were secretly glad the shameless flirt didn’t change, it helped you keep some distance between the two of you. Because even if you started to actually appreciate Tyler’s company (aside from the fact he was the only company you had at Nevermore), you had to remind yourself that he was still a menace; he was capable of losing his shit and your job was precisely to make sure it won’t happen, no matter how friendly you were to each other.

Tyler was right, you were using sarcasm and flirting to deflect every single one of your problems rather than facing them; this was no different, but you could feel your will falter more and more. Being both considered as monsters being outcasts had gotten you closer than you could have imagined. And it was kind of nice to have someone actually starting to care about you, even if you spent most of the time pushing it away.

Knocking on the office door, you entered after Weem’s invitation to come in.

“You wanted to see me ma’am?” you asked flatly, internally glad there was no school board to welcome you this time.

Twice a month or so, the school board called you to the principal’s office, requiring regular updates on the Hyde situation. Both your bitterness and their habit to be haughty never helped those meetings to have a semblance of civility, and it often ended up in half-hidden threats and snapping.

Larissa Weems nodded – noting the lack of sarcastic greeting you were known for – and invited you to sit on one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“Indeed, Miss Van Helsing. How are things going for you at Nevermore?”

The memory of the students and their baseball balls flashed behind your eyes – as did the lingering ache of the now almost faded bruise on your cheek – but you shrugged, “Not so different from last time,” you simply said. Calling those fuckers out would only bring you more problems.

She nodded in understanding, “What about Mr Galpin? Any progress so far?”

You frowned, “Shouldn’t you be asking Dr.Fern that?”

“I’d like to have your view on this situation.”

For a moment, you were tempted to pour all of your sarcasm to that wonderful occasion to spit on that cocky asshole. But that’s what you would have done a few months ago; now, you weren’t so keen about that, much to your own surprise.

“He’s trying,” you conceded in a softer tone than usual, “he only wants to graduate without much trouble, make amends and then go on his merry way. I truly think he’s genuine with that.”

Principal Weems didn’t hide her surprise and her eyebrows rose high, “Is that the Van Helsing or the student talking here?”

“Does it matter?” you shrugged, “for once I can say something good about a creature I’m hunting, don’t make me look like the villain, Principal Weems.”

She cleared her throat, not gracing you with any other answer on the matter; which meant you were right. “That’s good news then. I assume you’re keeping a close eye on him still?”

You nodded, “Ajax’s helping too. Although the two of them are now more at ease with each other, he’s still on alert.”. It was Weems’ turn to nod this time, then you raised an eyebrow, “Why are you asking, thought? I thought last week’s meeting with the board had reassured you enough.”

It had been a vast joke, that meeting. At your bruise on cheek and knuckles, and the cut above your eyebrow, the board had been suspicious and had asked you for explanation; no doubt looking for every reason to point out one of your faults. Snarky as ever you had casually explained you had tripped on a root and fell during one of your morning runs; before daring them to prove that if they didn’t believe you.

“It’s merely personal curiosity,” she acknowledged flatly, linking her hands over her desk, “now, about why I made you come here: you’re aware that the Poe cup is to take place in a few days, right?”. At the nod of your head, the principal carried on, “Due to some…daring behavior last year, we’ve decided to increase the security during the race.”

“I thought the point of this cup was to have no rules?” you pointed out.

“Indeed, but the security of the students is a sensitive subject as you can imagine,” she said gravely, “some parents are more…concerned about it this year.”

There was no need to explain why; a murderous Hyde and a Van Helsing at the school had to make more than a parent worry. “Yet you keep the Poe cup this year. Why, for the sake of tradition?”

“This is not the subject here,” she brushed off casually, “I’m asking you to give a hand to the race’s security this year.”

A dumbfounded scoffed left your lips, “In what honor would I do that?”

Weems gave you a scowl, “It could help you look less menacing and more willing to redeem yourself, miss Van Helsing. It’s in your best interest to help us here.”

“I don’t want to look less menacing,” you snarled, “I’ve already agreed to help you with Tyler, that should be enough for the judge and the board.”

“You’re not making things easier for you, Y/N.”

“Is that a threat?” you dared, cocking your head to the side. Weems glared at you for a second, but then shook her head.

“It's advice,” she articulated, “and I truly think you should take it before I’m ordering you to do it.”

Huffing in annoyance, you crossed your arms, “Fine, I’ll do your stupid security work. What am I tasked with?”

Hiding her satisfied smile, the principal laid a map of the Nevermore lake on her desk, “You’ll have to patrol around the lake. Last year some other students had joined the race by the outer shores, we want to make sure nothing shady’s going on in those areas.”

“Sounds simple enough,” you nodded, “what about Tyler? Should I bring him with me?”

Weems leaned back in her seat, “Ajax Petropolus isn’t competing this year, he’ll be asked to watch over him in the crowd. Where the school board and I can keep an eye on him.”

“Perfect,” you said sharply, getting up and grabbing your bag, “guess I’ll be free of him for a day, lucky me.”

Weems didn’t add anything as you exited her office. On your way to your next class, you received a text.

Up for a coffee break?

Without thinking, you grinned and typed back an answer.

Look who’s asking me on a date now. Hope this isn’t your attempt to poison me, pretty boy

Haven’t found something stronger than your sarcasm yet. 10 minutes in the quad?

Make it 5 and I might even go easy on you at fencing practice

Come to think of it, maybe you’d miss Tyler if you happened to leave him for a day in the end.

The day of the Poe cup, you were glad to be allowed to dress in your civil clothes and not in the awful Nevermore uniform. Technically, everyone was allowed to, but you had never cherished the classical shirt/jeans combo this much. Arriving on the race grounds with Tyler, you gazed at the gathering teams this year. The elaborate costumes were a sight to see, but it didn’t cover for the hateful looks thrown in your direction as soon as you both arrived at the tents area.

“So you’re telling me you’re letting me in this while you go on a sunday walk? Any chances I can tag along?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at Tyler’s words, “Ajax will be with you, relax.”

“How much do you think I have to bribe him to stone everyone?” he joked and you laughed lightly at that.

On your right side, a group of teenagers exited a tent dressed as grim reapers, their black and white makeup making them look like deadly pandas. Among them, Ajax was there in his normal clothes, trading jokes and encouraging his friends. When they passed next to you, you recognized Xavier and other boys of his dorms; you simply nodded at him when his eyes met yours, before warily glancing at Tyler. The tension between the two of them hadn’t disappeared, but at the very least they seemed civil toward each other. Maybe their shared friendship with Ajax had something to do with it.

“What are they?” you asked the Gorgon as he stayed with Tyler and you, giving one last cheer to his best friend’s team.

“The reapers,” he pointed out proudly, “they drew The City in the Sea this year, something along the lines of Death sitting on a throne or something.”

Glancing at Tyler, he shrugged in indication he had no clue either. Edgar Allan Poe’s poems weren’t something you were experts at.

“Guess it’s my cue,” you mumbled, catching a glimpse of Principal Weems tapping on her watch while watching in your direction, “you boys are going to be fine?”

They both nodded, the awkwardness of their first interactions almost completely gone by now. Crossing past Tyler, you whispered in his ear:

“Text me if the board decides to be a little too friendly with you, those guys are absolute shitheads.”

“Awww, you do care,” he cooed

Rolling your eyes in amusement you shoved him playfully, “Don’t make me regret this, pretty boy.”

As you made your way away from the crowd, the two teenagers gazed at you until you disappeared from their gaze. Noticing the way Tyler’s eyes lingered a little bit longer, Ajax let out a low whistle.

“So, what’s the deal between you two?”

A confused frown took place on Tyler’s face, who turned to his roommate, “What?”

“I mean,” he tried, awkwardly gesturing to where you had previously stood, “there’s a lot of sexual tension here, and you’re like, always flirting but aren’t you supposed to be enemies or something?”

The Hyde shrugged, “Guess so. She’s also ready to bite my head off any moment.”

Instead of proving a point, the argument only seemed to go in Ajax’s direction, “See, exactly what I was saying. You’re bound to fuck, bro.”

Tyler tried to repress a smirk. “Didn’t know my roommate was that much into gossip,” he chuckled, while the both of them tried to find a good spot to watch the race.

“I’m not,” defended the Gorgon, "but Enid is.”

Following the direction Ajax pointed at, Tyler’s eyes switched to where the Ophelia team stood, dressed in sort of zombie brides, torn veils and fancily stained long sleeved white tops – except for Wednesday who sticked out in her black outfit.

“She has a shit ton theories going on about you two,” chimed Ajax, waving at the werewolf when she gave him a smile.

Tyler let out an almost nervous snort, “I’d be curious to hear them.”

The teams started to gather near their respective canoe, meaning the race was about to start soon. As he and Ajax tried to get a good view of the lake, Tyler caught the sight of a familiar face among one of the teams. Dressed as a weird raven, Kent had a shifty gaze, almost looking nervous. The memory it brought back to his mind made Tyler frown slightly.

“Hey,” he called out to Ajax, “do you know anything about what happened two years ago?”

“ ‘bout what?” said the Gorgon mind-asbently, struggling to open the coke can he had brought with him.

“About the accident with Y/N.”

The Gorgon choked on his drink, coughing awkwardly a few times before clearing his throat.

“W-well, I know what everyone else knows, nothing much.”

“It’ll be enough,” insisted Tyler, “so, what happened?”

His roommate scratched his neck nervously, “Well, you see, when Y/N arrived at Nevermore she wasn’t uh– not many people like her y’know? Being a Van Helsing and all that. But to be honest, she didn’t make any fuss or anything really, like, she just laid low and all.”

Tyler frowned slightly, “So what’s the problem?”

Taking a look around them, Ajax lowered his voice, “There was that student, Jeremiah. A vampire guy, from a rich family, old blood and everything. Kind of a jerk, but never did anything that bad, he just played the tough guy.”

For some reason, Tyler doubted that. Still, he let Ajax continue the story.

“Jeremiah and his friends tried to humiliate her, because well, pride I guess, but she never fought back to not get expelled, everyone knew she was ready to tear them apart tho.”

“None of the teachers said anything?”

Ajax shrugged, “There was no evidence technically, just a random student’s feud. Until…”

“Until?”

The beanie boy gulped slowly, “Well- there was a night, everyone was getting to their dorm just before the lights extinction, and then…then we heard a detonation and a scream coming from the quad–”, he took a deep breath before carrying on, “and when coach Vlad arrived well…that wasn’t really a pretty sight from what I’ve heard.”

The mere mention of it sent a cold chill down his spine; Ajax had never seen Jeremiah’s face after the attack clearly, but the rumors had made up for the missing pieces.

“He- he had half of his face burned and…and he missed some teeth from what I’ve heard. Took quite the beat up, him and his buddies, but Jeremiah had it the worst, couldn’t leave the hospital for two whole months.”

Tyler hummed pensively, “Okay, but has it to do with Y/N?”

“Jeremiah’s buddy told everyone what happened before the attack, like how she harassed them because they were vampires and all, and besides, the corner of the quad they were attacked was booby-trapped.”

“Booby trapped?” repeated Tyler with a raise of his eyebrows.

“An artisanal explosive device was put there, just for them,” explained the Gorgon. At his roommate’s still perplexed look, he insisted, “the bomb was concentrated with silver dust and hydrochloric acid according to the investigation, which is the most effective weapon against vampires, it has to be Y/N.”

“Okay but how can everyone be so sure?”

Ajax gave him a surprisingly sympathetic smile – yeah, Tyler cared about you even if he didn’t admit it. “She confessed everything,” he said, making Tyler’s eyes widen even more, “admitted everything the second your dad suspected her, explained how she placed the bomb and lured Jeremiah and the other to the quad. Never confessed ripping out his teeth though.”

“What?” articulated Tyler.

Drowning the last of his soda, Ajax coughed awkwardly again, “Jeremiah lost his canines, no one knows why. Heard that his family got a mage forging an amulet to dissimulate his scarred face, but I don’t think the teeth grew again. But hey,” he added hurriedly, “you can’t tell anyone I told you that okay? Those are kinda confidential information, officially it’s been an accident.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tyler, completely missing out Weem’s speech for the opening of the cup.

Ajax scratched his neck nervously “Well, you see Jeremiah was an important member of the Nightshades and I kinda owe my place to his departure.”

“The Nightshades? What is that, a boy’s band?” snorted Tyler.

“Nah bro, we’re a secret student society, but this stays between us okay?”. The Hyde gave him an amused nod. “His family unenrolled him from Nevermore after that, claiming he needed to be transferred into another hospital. The official announcement of the school mentioned an accident, but the Nightshades got word of the police report thanks to Yoko. Vampires solidarity or something.”

Suddenly, something clicked in Tyler’s mind, “Wait, Yoko’s a nightshade?”

A horn resonated loudly, cheers erupting at the beginning of the race.

“Uh-uh, she and Bianca are kinda leading us now. Why?”

Tyler’s eyes flickered to the canoe, clumsily getting on the lake under their team’s efforts. Neither the blue-eyed siren nor the vampire were anywhere to be seen.

“Do they compete in the race this year?” he hurriedly asked the Gorgon.

“Uh, don’t think so, why?”

Tyler couldn’t answer him. But something suddenly felt very, very wrong.

Strolling on the lake’s surroundings, you were internally grateful for this gateway. You weren’t too fond of big crowds, if avoiding the wheering students was a possibility you were glad to take it.

Scanning the shores with your eyes, you looked out for any suspicious object or presence. Usually you would have been impressed by any attempt of cheating, but given you were there as a security guard today, well guess you were the buzzkill. The echo of a foghorn made you whip around briefly in reflex, the boats starting to hurry on the water.

That’s when it happened.

A bubbling sound erupted from the lake and before you could turn your head in its direction, something sprung from the water, gripping your ankle and tugging harshly at it. The sudden attack made you lose your balance and you crashed on the muddy shore ground with a yelp. Your head hit the ground and dizziness overcame your senses for a few seconds; enough for the unknown gripping strength to tug on your leg, sending a shrill of pain through your muscles as they tried to pull you into the water. Violently kicking your legs, you tried to get yourself free of this grip, swearing loudly with everything you had. The sound of quick footsteps reached your ears, and through your blurry mind you thought that someone had heard you and came to help. Hands grasped your and your head shot up, ready to thank whoever had come. But at the sight of a familiar dark binocular and sour face, all your hopes vanished instantly.

“Yok–”

A hard punch from the vampire sent you on the ground again, falling limply backwards at the border of the water. The same force that had tried to bring you into the lake broke from the surface again, and it was only when it pushed your head under the water you realized it was hands. The cold splash of the water against your face made the dizziness vanish on the spot, instead replaced by the struggling of your lungs trying to breathe. The unforgiving pressure of the grip on your neck didn’t allow you to move the slightest and you started to panic even more. Despite the muddy waters, you recognized the cerulean eyes glaring at you from the depths of the lake. Bianca.

Lungs starting to burn, you trashed your limbs, trying to get out of here the quickest way possible. Plunging your left hand on the water you clumsily scrabbled out to the siren’s face, and as soon as you felt it you dug your nails into her cheek with all of your strength. Bianca let out a wail and the pain thankfully made her let go of your neck; emerging it from the water you took a loud breath, filling your aching lungs. But your relief was short-lived as a hit on your back made you fall inward again, and a new hand pushed your head under the water again.

“What do you think you’re doing, bitch?” seethed Yoko, her hand gripping on your head and maintaining it immersed. When your left arm tried to reach for something again, she pressed one of her knees between your scapulas, eliciting a muffled wail from you as she gripped your rebellious arm. “Don’t fucking move,” she growled and twisted your arm painfully.

Black dots started to fill your vision and it became harder to stay conscious. Water started to fill your lungs no matter how hard you tried to breathe, and the piercing pain on your arm wasn’t bearable anymore. Yoko vampire’s strength bent it so hard, you could feel your articulations almost popping under its pressure.

Then without warning, your head was pulled out of the water again, making you gasp.

“What are you doing?” you heard Yoko scream at the siren.

“The race had begun, someone could see us!” Bianca argued. Their voices sounded so far away from you.

“This is our best chance to make her pay,” assured the vampire, and their argument gave you the opportunity to try to snuggle out. “Where do you think you’re doing?” roared Yoko when she felt you move against her, and in her furious rage she didn’t notice pressing your left arm behind your back even harder. A snap echoed and a blood curdling wail left your mouth.

The echo of your cry resonated through the lake, getting to the intrigued participants on their boats. Hearing the shouts, a few of them turned their heads in your direction. The throbbing pain on your twisted shoulder and arm made your mind dizzy, everything around you happening in slow motion. You vaguely heard a splash – maybe Bianca fled? – and a curse from above you, then the pressure on your back suddenly disappeared. It took you a solid minute to realize both of your attackers were gone, and by the time you managed to recompose your spirits and look up, two of the canoes were now paddling in your direction, concerned and shouting voices calling out for you. At least, to whoever they thought you were, there was no way any Nevermore student would have come to help a Van Helsing. Although you did recognize Enid’s voice among the shouting.

Struggling to get up, you managed to get into a sitting position clumsily and then the hardest part was done. Before any of the boats coasted a surge of adrenaline made you jump on your feet, and without looking back you ran away to the dorms.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks and you tried to clutch your left arm close to you to tune down the throbbing pain. Shouts echoed behind you but thankfully no one seemed to follow you. Leaving the Poe cup into a confused mess, you didn’t even think about the consequences. For now, all you needed was to run, and lay low. This was what a wounded animal usually did when they weren’t feeling safe anywhere; and you should know, because it was everything you were at that moment. So you ran.

Less than twenty minutes later, after finally reaching your dorm, you had slammed the door of your room in anger. Good news was, no one seemed to have noticed your absence – or no action had been taken yet, either way you were glad of it.

Hunched over on your desk you swore between gritted teeth, trying to reach the back of your shirt with your trembling right hand. The faintest move made a shot of pain rise immediately within all your left side, striking you like hot iron and making you swallow the pathetic whimpers that had dared to try to escape your throat. Internally you cringed for the hundredth time at your own stupidity; how could have you been so dumb and let yourself be cornered like that? God, you almost wanted to cry in shame.

At the price of an incommensurable effort and weird contortions, you finally managed to tug your shirt over your head while carefully trying not to move your limp left arm and shoulder; the gesture still wrenched a muffled cry of pain out of you. Slumping on your desk, you let out a ragged breath with the ruined shirt in hand, exhausted by the mere action of pulling it out.

A knock on the door suddenly echoed in your room, immediately bringing a snarl on your already wincing face, “Go the fuck away!” you shouted to the unknown intruder, but your voice came out more like a rasp than anything menacing.

Indeed, the threat fell out empty because the door swung open anyway, revealing a panicked Tyler. He looked absolutely feral with panicked concern, his hair slightly disheveled and ragged breathing like he had run. He still looked in better shape than you did though, even if it wasn’t hard right now. With your left arm limp and the bruises scattering around your upper body to your hips, added to the scratch marks and mud the ground left on your right cheek, disheveled hair and fresh cuts all over your hands, you looked like you just had crawled yourself out of Hell. Maybe it would have been more pleasant.

You didn’t even mind Tyler’s eyes checking you out for any injuries as you were only in your bra and dirty jeans – frankly you were too tired to care.

“Wh’t ‘re you doing h’re?” you mumbled, trying to push down the throbbing pain coursing through your body.

“Checking on you,” he answered, closing the door behind him before rushing to your side, “fuck what happened out there, you disappeared and Enid told us something happened, are you alright?”

A hand came to hold your arm but you hissed in pain as soon as he touched it and slapped his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you barked, and despite you best judgement you cowered away by reflex.

Tyler’s eyes widened, taken aback by the wounded animal behavior that definitely wasn’t yours. He took a step back, raising both of his hands in a peaceful gesture, “I’m not going to hurt you I promise,” he uttered softly; he caught your shifty gaze and the way you cradled your left arm close to you, “your arm?” he asked slowly.

You held his gaze for a few seconds, eyes burning with anger and tortuous ache that poisoned your limbs. Swallowing down another threat, you finally nodded reluctantly. “Shoulder,” you muttered in defeat, “it’s dislocated.”

Tyler almost choked on his own air, as the realization of how violent the fight must have been for you to end up in such a state sinked in him; before he could add something, you gestured him to help you with your good hand.

“Help me up,” you breathed out weakly, and he rushed to support you without a word. Clumsily maneuvering the two of you to your bathroom, you tugged off him in front of the door.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked, eyes searching inside of the small room while you stood at the entrance. He didn’t notice you positioning yourself so that your bad shoulder faced the wall.

“Won’t need it,” you grumbled and gripped the door frame for support.

Tyler turned around to protest but he barely had time to open his mouth in horror with the realization of what happened; taking a deep breath you slammed your shoulder against the wall in one sharp, strong hit. A loud ‘plop’ echoed as your dislocated shoulder fell in place again and a strangled cry of pain escaped your lips, fingers gripping hard on the door frame.

You let out a low moan. “Motherfucker,” you swore under your breath, rotating your shoulder articulations slowly, feeling it coming to life again. The ache still stung like a bitch, but at least it would wear off within the next few minutes.

Tyler still looked slightly terrified by what just happened, “How- are you okay?” he urged, finally reconnecting to reality.

“I’ll be fine,” you groaned.

Brushing past him you grabbed a towel, wetting it before swiping it over your face to remove the mud and blood. At least nothing on your face seemed to be broken, but the marks would remain for at least a week.

“Are you sure?” pressed Tyler from behind, and you huffed in annoyance, anger boiling in your veins once more.

“Yes I’m sure! For fuck’s sake Tyler I had worse I can take care of myself, I don’t need your fucking pity!”

The anger lash out took him off-guard, and a flash of hurt even passed in his eyes. You hadn’t snapped at him like that for a long time, it was like you were back to the first time you both met. But since then things had gone better, smoother between the two of you – even with the occasional flirting and sarcastic comments. The sudden hatred directed toward him hurt Tyler.

“I just want to help you,” he tried to explain calmly but you wouldn’t hear any of it and pushed him out of your bathroom forcefully.

“I don’t want your bloody help, fuck! How many times do I have to tell you this?” you yelled at him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

This time he scoffed and his eyes turned dark, “What? he sneered, “because I’m a monster? And I thought we were past this, sweetheart.”

“Get. The fuck. Out,” you snarled, trembling with anger. He didn’t listen to you.

“Y/N Van Helsing needs no one, that’s true,” he taunted with a provocative smirk, approaching closer to you in the exact opposite of what you had asked him, “she’s all big and bad and doesn’t need anyone, right? How does that sound, doll?”

“Don’t,” you warned him between your teeth.

“Funny, I thought all of this flirting would have been to use me. Guess you’re just a slut then, mmh?”

“Watch your fucking tone Tyler.”

It didn’t stop him. Now your back was almost touching the wall, trapped between it and the menacing looming figure of Tyler. He hovered over you, gazing intently with cold eyes; a mix of hurted anger, bitterness and playfulness in them. “You’re just a prideful cold-hearted bitch in the end,” he spat, “always pushing away help because you think you’re so fucking better than us, uh?”

“You know nothing about me,” you snarled bitterly, but he carried on anyway.

“Thinking you can play smart with everyone but cowering that when anyone’s proposing their help,” he mused, “why that doll, uh?”

“BECAUSE I’VE NEVER HAD ANY,” you roared at him, the last string of self-control finally snapping.

For a second, everything fell silent in the room. The tension that had been built up was so close to breaking, but none of you even dared to release the slightest breath, faces mere inches from each other’s. Like who would dare to tear apart the deafening silence and who would break under all of this unforgiving pressure that had been growing and growing for weeks. Tyler’s eyes had widened slightly at your outburst; when they glanced ever so slightly to your parted lips, you lost it.

Grabbing his neck, you crashed his lips against yours, unable to hold it any longer. All the flirting and resulting tension had reached their breaking point as much as your self-control to his cocky comments, pretty face and soft heart.

A groan immediately muffled by your lips escaped his, and the kiss turned into a heated clash of teeth, tongues and asserting dominance. Fuck the Poe cup, fuck Bianca and Yokok, fuck his pity; fuck him. Nothing else mattered but the rough pull of his lips against yours and the feeling of his body pinning you against the wall. Tyler’s hand roamed over your hips, gripping them tightly and pulling you flush against him. It didn’t take long for you to moan against his mouth and your hand got loose in his hair, giving a harsh tug on his curly strands. This elicited a grunt mixed with a laugh from him, as he pulled back from your lips ever so slightly.

“Careful sweetheart,” he teased in a hushed tone, “you’re on thin ice there.”

As an answer, you tugged on his roots again and a low moan of both pleasure and pain erupted from his mouth. Ghosting your lips over the column of his now exposed throat, you playfully licked a long stripe over his jugular, “Make me,” you taunted before sinking your teeth at the base of his throat.

A soft whimper escaped and Tyler’s grip on your hips became even tighter. The rough surface of his calloused hands roamed over your naked back, kneading on every curve and scars. You didn’t stop sucking on the soft skin of his neck when you felt the claps of your bra getting loosened, pressing yourself harder against him instead and gasping softly when you instinctively rolled your hips against his. Burying his face against your neck, Tyler tried to refrain himself from moaning. But when you did that again, pressing your clothed core against his, one of his hands left your lips to grip the side of your face and harshly brought your lips back on his, muffling those pretty sounds. The delicious feeling of the hard swelling in his pants made you grin and you teasingly bit on his lower lip. Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, the sight of his flustered face, the faint blush on his cheeks bringing out his freckles and scars, and the animalistic hungry look in his eyes was the hottest thing you had seen for a long time, you almost moaned on the spot. The feeling of his hips bucking into you in reflex sent a thrill straight to your throbbing core, you could already feel yourself getting wet. Letting go of his abused lip, you captured his mouth into a quick heated kiss before trailing open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, knuckles turning white as your hands gripped his neck and back – which wasn’t so unpleasant to him, judging by the soft groans he let out. He tried to mirror your actions, hands caressing and gripping your bare back, roaming on every inch of skin under them.

At the tracing of his fingertips on the rough and irregular surface on your right scapula, you groaned a little, slightly parting yourself away from him for a split of a second. But the immediate loss of contact elicited a frustrated grunt for Tyler and his hands roughly landed on your ass, bringing you back flush against him, grinding against your clothed heated core. Moaning under his touch, you couldn’t help but grin at the ever growing swell you felt against your thigh as his head was once again buried in your neck; his breath was ragged, febrile with raw desire. Gasping lightly at his grip on your ass, you leaned up to whisper in his ear:

“Who’s a slut now, pretty boy?”

The usual flirty nickname sent a rush of blood straight down his dick; it only made you grin even harder. A dark chuckle escaped his lips and he lifted his head up, lips teasingly brushing against yours.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, doll,” he grinned lazily, squeezing your butcheeks.

Cocking your head to the side, you mirrored his expression and stuck your tongue out, licking your lips tantalizingly slowly, “Who said I didn’t want to finish you, tiger?”.

A spark of desire flashed behind his blown out pupils at your words as your hand traveled down his chest, nails raking on his skin over the fabric. Then without a warning your hand disappeared between the two of you, and you popped open the button of his jeans eliciting a choked-on low moan from Tyler when you palmed his length through his boxers.

“The question is,” you whispered in his ear, relishing how he shivered under your gripping touch, “can you finish me, lover boy?”

Out of the sudden your hand was ripped off his jeans and your back slammed against the wall, wrists pinned on each side of your head. Tyler’s gaze burned hungrily with desire, your words having pulled off all the restraints out of the window. He looked absolutely feral, and that sent a rush of excitement right down your spine – and to your core.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly.

You moaned shamelessly, rolling one of your shoulders to make one of the straps of your bra fall over your shoulder. Tyler’s eyes hungrily trailed down and followed as the previously unclipped fabric fell and revealed your naked breast. You couldn’t help but feel your lips stretch into a delighted grin, the previous events of the day long gone in your mind now.

“Big words but no action so far,” you teased him, playfully eyeing his raging boner under his jeans, “need a hand with that?”

Letting go of your wrists one after the other, Tyler chuckled and hooked his fingers on your hoop belts, tugging you flush against him, “I’d rather have you using your mouth, doll.”

Tossing your bra somewhere in the room you gave him a flirtatious smirk, “It’ll depend on how you’ll be using yours, lover boy.”

Tyler flashed you a feral grin before ducking to your chest and captured one of your nipples in his mouth. The sweet kisses of his tongue against your bundle made you sigh, head rolling against the wall. Your unused hands clumsily tried to fiddle with the zipper of his pants but a long moan escaped your throat when he cupped both of your breasts, one thumb circling the unattended nipple teasingly while he busied his tongue twirling around the other. You felt yourself getting even more wet in arousal, the sensation of his lips dancing over your chest being frustratingly pleasant. When you tried to roll your hips again to gain some friction, his hand grabbed them, steadying roughly.

Tyler looked up from your chest, teasingly lapping on one of your erect nipples, “Eager now, doll?”

Glaring at him, you tried to not sound as needy as you were, “Stop teasing.”

With a grin he let go of your breasts and dropped on his knees, trailing kisses down your belly, nipping at the soft skin under your belly button. Helping him with the zipper of your jeans, both of your hands covered his, guiding him when he started to tug your pants down, his thumbs hooked on the side of your panties to pull them down at the same time. Your breath hitched a little when your pants fell on the floor, leaving you completely bare in front of Tyler. The sight of your pussy, so wet with arousal and so his to take was so fucking hot to him, and he felt his dick twitch painfully in his pants. He glanced up playfully at you, and you felt your cheeks heat a little at his silent question.

Are you this wet for me sweetheart?

Without breaking eye contact with you, he helped you pull your pants off completely, raising one of your legs then the other before tossing the piece of fabric away. His left hand stayed on your leg, caressing your inner thigh surprisingly softly before diving in and giving one hard, quick lick on your glistening cunt. A long moan erupted from your throat and your head rolled against the wall, back arching on the brick. It didn’t take more to Tyler to start ravishing your pussy, licking and nipping at it like a starved man.

“Fu-uck!” you moaned hotly, not caring how loud you were, “just there– ah!”

The sudden contact of his tongue around your clit cut the air from your lungs for an instant, before you let another long moan. Hands firmly gripping on your thighs, Tyler smirked to himself, thrusting his tongue deeper to your hot center, juices dripping down his chin. A strong stroke of his tongue made you buck your hips into his mouth, your right hand flying to his hair, grasping for your dear life through ragged breath. Your grip on the back of his head hardened, pushing him closer to your dripping cunt, his nose bumping against your clit and making your eyes flutter in pleasure.

“Don’t anh– don’t stop,” you whimpered in a lust-filled wavering voice, “shit I’m coming, I’m–”

White flashed behind your eyelids as a wave of pleasure crashed within you, setting the blood in your veins on fire as you let out a loud high-pitched cry. The grinding of your hips didn’t slow down, chasing your own release at an erratic pace between greedy whines. Your other hand blindly searched for the door frame on your left, trying to get some grounding through the earth-shattering orgasm Tyler’s restless tongue was blessing you with. The strong grip on your shivering tights prevented your buckling knees from collapsing under you.

With one final strangled cry, the high of your orgasm finally started to wear off, leaving you panting against the wall and legs quivering. But Tyler didn’t seem to be one doing things halfway, and he carried on his ministrations, kitten licks on your abused cunt to help you through the remainder of the orgasm.

Loosening your grip on his head you ran your fingers through his hair as you tried to regain your breath, “Good boy,” you cooed, gently petting his hair, “you did so good, lover boy.”

Tyler chuckled, dropping one last sloppy kiss on your pussy before trailing up, getting up slowly to capture your lips with his. You opened your lips to his, tasting your own juices as his tongue curled around yours. His hand snuck around your hips, keeping you close – and taking the opportunity to playfully squeeze your butcheek. An amused chuckle left your lips, wits returning as your mind became less lust-clouded.

“Not bad, tiger,” you grinned, pressing another peck on his lips. “But you’re still awfully overdressed.”

That made him chuckle too, but before he could sass something back you were already tugging his shirt over his head, throwing it on the pile of your own clothes. Crashing your lips against Tyler’s in another heated kiss, you pushed him backward, maneuvering the two of you in your bed’s direction. Although it was a rather clumsy attempt, because you two became quickly entrapped into another surge of pleasure, your gestures became hurried again and fingers fumbling with Tyler’s pants. When the back of your knees hit your bed, you reluctantly let go of Tyler to lay down on your mattress. The freckled boy used this to shove down his pants, taking his boxer along. His cock sprung free, angry red and leaking with precum hitting against his stomach. Eyeing him shamelessly you bit your lip in appreciation. So there weren’t any more scars under his shirt, but what he got was definitely better.

“Like what you see?” teased Tyler, climbing on the bed, hovering above you.

“Looks promising, lover boy,” you grinned, fisting the hair at the base of his neck to bring him down to a kiss.

“Condoms?” he asked between lips biting and heated kisses.

“I have an implant,” you breathed out, trying to fight the urge to slam his hips against yours, “you’re clean?”. He nodded and you gave him a roguish smile, “Then what are you waiting for, tiger?”

Tyler grinned and dove on your lips, ravishing them with the same passion he had sweetly tortured your cunt before. The tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, coating your juices. But the impatience and horniness grew stronger and without any warning you locked your legs with Tyler’s and flipped him over. His back crashed into the mattress and his eyes widened for a moment; but then he grinned at your naked figure straddling him, hovering him in a sensual vision.

“Well, here we go again sweetheart,” he mused, “I’m starting to think you like to be on top of me.”

Sliding a hand between your bodies you gripped his hard cock, giving it a playful yet harsh enough stroke to elicit a pained moan from him, “Don’t worry lover boy, you’ll like me on top of you too,” you purred in his ear.

Lining yourself with his length you latched his lips between yours in a bruising kiss before lowering yourself on him, moaning loudly against his mouth at the delicious stretch. Tyler’s hand gripped your hips tightly, knuckles turning white as he threw his head back in pleasure, eyelids half closed. The feeling of your wet pussy sucking him made his eyes roll at the back of his head, a deep guttural moan breaking from his lips. Pressing your chest against his you spread your legs further, taking him even deeper until his pubic bone hit your clit, making you swore hotly in his ear.

“Fuck,” you whispered feverishly while gripping his shoulder, “you’re so big, filling me so well lover boy.”

The praise made his cock twitch inside of you, and a low rumble echoed from his chest before he bucked his hips up, tearing up a high pitched whimper from you. That made the both of you snap. Circling your hips, you started to ride him at an unforgiving pace, clenching your walls around Tyler’s dick and moaning shamelessly in his ear. Under you Tyler was a trembling mess, bucking his hips upward to meet yours, his low moans vibrating and sending shivers to your nipples pressed his chest. His cock pressed deep inside you on that sweet spot that made you see stars and you let out a muffled cry in ecstasy.

Tyler grinned between pants, “Getting enough of my cock now, sweetheart? Riding as if your life depends on it like the slut you are.”

A merciless grind of your hips made him choke on his words. The hand that had been resting on the back of his neck slid on his throat and you squeezed, angling up his face to you. The pressure on his windpipe was enough to make his breath short, but not enough to be dangerous; the edging and power play sent a rush of blood directly to his dick and a pornographic moan left his lips. This, combined with his the utterly fucked up expression draped over his face, bruised lips parted and cheeks flushed, sent a shiver down your spine and you felt getting even wetter than you already possibly were, milking Tyler’s cock messily.

A sharp buck of his hips slightly changed the angle and his length hit deep, sending a hot wave of pleasure in you again. Grounding your knees on the mattress you started to bounce on his cock, not even recognizing your own voice anymore in the mix of moans and groans filling the room. The hand around Tyler’s throat squeezed even harder, just as your pussy walls clenched around his throbbing length, feeling the familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m close,” you moaned loudly, not caring if anyone heard, “I’m so fucking close, Tyler–”

“Come on doll,” he rasped seductively in your ear, “come all over my cock, give me that pretty pussy of yours.”

Whimpering almost pathetically, you continued bouncing on his abused length, chasing after your release erratically. Tyler slid his thumb between your bodies, finding your clit and flicking it. Seconds later, you were bucking your hips on his cock brutally, milking it as your second orgasm crashed through you. Tyler held you close as you rode through your orgasm, kneading on your flesh – no doubt leaving marks. A soft cry broke through your lips, hips stilling for a second before bucking lazily against his still hard length.

Two firm hands gripped your back and you suddenly found yourself flipped over again, hitting the mattress with force. Hand still around his throat you gazed at Tyler through your lashes, heavy with lusted haze. With a sharp thrust of his hip he entered back into you, eliciting a raw moan from you.

“I’m not finished with you yet, doll,” he grinned teasingly before starting to buck against you, thrusting harshly without mercy.

Your head rolled on the side over your pillow, surrendering to the hot burning pleasure of Tyler’s pounding on your aching core. Letting go of his throat, your hand slid over his jaw, caressing his scared cheek with your thumb and making him look at you. His brown eyes gazed into your glossy lust-filled ones, taking in your panting and blissful expression like it was the most beautiful art composition in the world. Your thumb rolled over his lower lip, and he couldn’t help but nipping playfully at it.

Throwing one of your legs across his hip, you dug your heel on his back, bringing him closer to him to help him get his own release, no matter how hard he was already pounding into you. Hiding his face in your neck, Tyler’s ragged breath mixed with moans and his cock twitched painfully inside you, feeling himself getting close to cumming. Feeling it too, you arched your back, pressing yourself even closer against his hard body.

“That’s it, give it to me,” you chanted, “fill me with your cum, tiger.”

A low groan escaped his lips, muffled against your neck and his hips gave a couple of harsh thrusts before releasing himself in you. Moaning hotly in your ear he spilled in your cunt, hot ropes of cum filling you as you held him close, legs crossed behind his thighs. Cradling his sweaty body against yours, you felt him give a few more lazy thrusts, before half collapsing on top of you.

Ragged breath and softly tuned down whimpers filled the room, the contact of your naked skins on each other helping you match the other’s calming heartbeat. After a solid minute of silence, you slightly rolled on the side, gesturing to Tyler to get off of you; his body was starting to weigh on your ribcage. Getting the message, he carefully rolled over, making you both hiss slightly when he pulled his softening length out of you.

Falling on your back you let out a long sigh, closing your eyes for a second and draping your arm over them. The pleasing ache in your body slowly mixed with the exhaustion sinking in, and every inch of your body felt heavy like bricks.

Next to you, the mattress dipped awkwardly and Tyler pondered if he should go away right now. A hand clumsily searching for his own blindly answered him, and he looked at you in surprise.

An arm still draped over your eyes, you mumbled, “Stay.”

The very brief second of hesitation vanished out of his mind the moment he saw a single, glossy tear rolling down your cheek.

“Please,” you rasped weakly.

The sight made his heart squeeze painfully. He thought he had seen all the sides of you today, but he had never seen you being this vulnerable. So he slid back next to you, and pulled the duvet over the both of you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised in a whisper, caressing the hand holding his.

For the first time, you were glad you weren’t alone right now.

[Part.5]

A/N: I said what I’ve said, and I’m not taking anything back lmao; yes post Hyde!Tyler had a praising kink and a thing for dirty talk, fight me on this krkrkrkr

Also, did I search for Edgar Allan Poe’s poems to find new teams for the Poe cup? Absolutely. Here how I pictured the teams: Annabel Lee (1849) = about his wife, so I made Ophelia Hall’s girls dress as corpse bride The city in the sea (1831) = about Death sitting on a strange throne, thought that grim reapers outfits could suit former Jesters aka Xavier’s team Evening star (1827) = a makeup with blue foundation and little stars would be SO PRETTY and even if she’s not competing in this chapter I could picturing it fitting Bianca perfectly, so the other girl’s dorm The raven (1845) = self explanatory, the second boys’ dorm dressed as ravens

Thanks everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed this part ♥ Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist:

@igotanidea @officerrrfriendly @beggingforxavierthorpe @aliciahlewis @stresseyzesty @katiemrty @leightonsteele @black-swan-blog27 @mooniesthings

Usernames unfound by Tumblr:

@spiceyhotsherbet

Plz tell me if I’ve forgotten you in the taglist (or if you wanna join!)

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin fanfic #tyler galpin angst #tyler galpin smut #wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #Van Helsing! Reader #no beta we die like men

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shmaptainwrites · 30 days

Note

What about wilson and reader being friends and slowly falling in love

~🥰

ahh nonnie! i love a good friends to lovers pipeline!

i think slow is the key word you used there because since there’s already so much of a foundation with your friendship i think that hopefully makes it for a better starting point of your eventual romantic relationship with wilson

i’d you were friends first there’s be hesitation on both ends when you realize you have feelings for each other because then you’re caught in the conundrum of what if the other person doesn’t feel the same way and you’d rather stay friends and keep the friendship than try your chances at something romantic and then having it not work out and losing that friendship that’s so important to you both

i think when wilson realizes he’s in love with you he still tries to show it even if he doesn’t initially make a move and it presents itself in subtle ways, like maybe more things make him think of you so he gets you little gifts here and there, and he really takes to heart anything you share with him (like if you’re encouraging him to find his own place in the world and figure out kind of who he is outside of a relationship/what his likes and dislikes are, those kind of things, he’ll actually really make an effort to work on that, initially for you but then more for himself as time goes on)

then there’s always an eventual tipping point where the closeness of friendship gets kind of blurred with something else and since your relationship was already on a deeper level to begin with it kind of catapults you into having that conversation together about your feelings

and i think it’s a little emotional, and very soft, and wilson would be sitting next to you, holding your hands in his as you spoke and shared how you felt before finally being able to say he felt the same and didn’t want to overstep or risk losing your friendship because he wasn’t ready and when you ask him if he feels ready now (and to be honest with you because you can take it) he says he thinks he’s learnt a lot over the past little bit and he’s looking forward to and open to learning more as time goes on and that he’s ready to try if you are

and it’s so easy to just gently untangle your hands from his and place them on either side of his face, before leaning in and giving him such a gentle kiss that afterwards he immediately goes back for more and pulls you closer by your waist and it just feels natural, and right and you’re both so happy you were able to have that talk together

send me your sfw RSL character x reader thoughts

→ accepting asks for james wilson, cruise, and peter müller

→ i’ve seen up to 5x12 of house — NO SPOILERS PLEASE

#mimi answers #🥰 anon #mimi’s wilson thoughts #james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #house md

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soracities · 11 months

Note

It's wild that multiple people are going through this but not unexpected. I'm also in love with one of my close friends. I want to tell her how I feel and ask her if she feels the same. But I fear that if she doesn't feel the same way, I will lose someone I really care about, and I'm not ready for that. I would rather keep my feelings in and us remaining friends than potentially lose her forever. She's the best thing that's ever happened in my life, and she has made my life so much better by being in it.

Like the previous anon, though, I feel as though I'm betraying her somehow by not being upfront about my feelings. Someone had suggested not to tell her and risk losing the friendship. But the longer we remain friends, the more I fall for her. I'm not sure what to do at this point.

i don't think there's ever an easy solution in a situation like this, and how "well" (for lack of a better word) someone is able to handle it comes down to so many different things at the end of the day. some people are able to harbour such intense feelings and never speak them, or make the choice not to act on them but it doesn't change how emotionally fraught it all is.

for whatever it's worth (and i'm aware it may not be much) i think that, no matter whether they remain in our lives or not, all the care and love and good that people have brought us don't necessarily vanish when those relationships cease to be there; all that you've received and taken into yourself and become moulded by, because of their presence in your life, is something that is now within you; it is yours, and you carry it forwards and with you into the life to come. and all the ways that this person's presence has made you better are ways that will now continue to exist, to flourish and grow and extend outwards to others in an act of devotion, a kind of homage, to the person who allowed you to become this version of yourself to begin with.

at the end of the day i think the most you can do is try to be as honest with yourself as possible and be fully aware of the reality of your situation and what either choice will entail; whether you choose to tell her how you feel or not, i think it's important to look at both scenarios with as lucid an awareness as possible of what you can handle, at this moment in time at least. sending you, and anyone else feeling this, so much love, anon.

#ask #anonymous #notes from elsewhere

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kiefbowl · 5 months

Note

Asking advice because you're good at it. I'm going to drop my friend over trans stuff because it's affecting me negatively. She's a woman who says she's a man. Should I gently explain to her why I don't want to be around her anymore or would that be a waste of time? The ONLY reason I'd do it would be to plant a seed that might "save" her someday but that seems like delusional savoir shit on my part. The risk is her telling me something hurtful because I still care about her opinion.

No, I don’t think you should go into a friend break-up conversation with any intention of trying to “save” them - and I know you put that word in quotes intentionally, I know what you mean. You want to throw a life line just in case. That’s a good intention, but what you really should determine is whether you want this door permanently closed or not (and this is true for any kind of friend break up). If you want less of an end and more of an indefinite break, then when you have the conversation you should make it clear what will open that line of communication again. Now here’s the thing, I think asking this friend to stop transitioning for you is not a good idea, it posits that your feelings should be the center of that decision, and that will backfire. You might want to say instead something like: “I feel like we don’t have the same values/viewpoint anymore, and I think these differences are effecting me negatively. This is a touchy subject, so if you want more details we can talk about them, but just know they do have to do with some of the current changes in your life.” That sort of euphemistic language can help set the stage of what the conversation is going to be about without being unnecessarily cruel or specific, giving your friend the option to say “yes, let’s talk about it” or “no, actually I don’t need to hear any more.”

Then of course, if this is a conversation to try to keep the door open, you have to say something to the effect of: “I’m still available to talk but I need time. If you want to talk to me you can reach out [specify how if you’d like], just know I will be honest with you about my beliefs and opinions if you do.” Now know, she might never reach out, and more over she may not be happy with you at all and have something to say about it. You cannot control how she reacts to any of this. So that leads to another option:

You don’t tell her, and you just quietly make more space between the two of you. This may sound cruel, and in a way it is. But so is a break up conversation. One way or the other, you are putting yourself first, and that requires a steadfast steeliness that is not synonymous with the duty of friendship. But that’s what you’re looking for, right? An out to this friendship?

Now, the final advice, and this isn’t some trick, you can end whatever friendships you want, but I would consider possibly just briefly giving yourself some space from her before deciding to “drop her.” Maybe you already have or it feels like that’s what’s been happening for a long time, so go ahead and break up with her if you feel like you need to. On the chance though that you’ve recently come to this decision, it might be prudent (depending on how special, deep, or long time this friendship is) to just do some reprioritizing in your life and see how you feel in a few weeks or months. If you’ve been constantly around her, and have been prioritizing her feelings, or arguing has been increasing, that’s very exhausting. Maybe you could start a class or join a hobby group, give yourself something else to focus on while giving her less time with you. I suggest this because when you end a friendship, you may say or do things the other person is unwilling to forgive (despite your best efforts or intentions to be kind and thoughtful), but in the space of losing that person you might wish you did still have a connection of some sort. A friendship doesn’t have to end to evolve. Your friendship can naturally “down grade”, and that’s very normal.

And I add all this because you “still care about her opinion.” That to me sounds like you’re tired, you need to put yourself first for awhile, you need a change in the relationship, but you still love and care for her. If you didn’t care about her opinion, you’d probably wouldn’t need the advice :)

In any case, don’t rush. You can take your time figuring out what you want and how you’ll act before acting one way or the other. Good luck sis!!

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singswan-springswan · 11 months

Text

fish!Tim reminded me that he existed

words: 4409

rating: general audiences

warnings: allusions to drowning (if you squint), thalassaphobia

summary: Tim and Lucy spend a day seeing the underwater sights

read here on ao3 | part one | part two | part three | part four

@accidental-spice

Tim liked Lucy a lot. He knew why. He mildly despised the reason why, but he’d been stewing in denial for long enough and liked her too much to stop caring. She was the best thing that had happened to him in three years.

Lucy was a constant gamble, and a steep one at that. But being around her made Tim forget all about the risk, anything other than her blissful sunshine aura, really. He felt stupidly soft for it. And that was okay. He’d had to make peace with a lot of things. Lucy was a case he made gladly. She was wonderful. Gentle, kind, empathetic. She was funny and bright and honest and good and she made Tim feel like a real actual person—not just some monstrous beastly accident (a freak).

And he did, on some level, feel responsible for her. He’d rescued a number of humans before, but he’d never stuck around long enough to let them get a glimpse of him. It was beyond risky at that point; it was suicide. Especially in California. So Lucy’s knowing was on him, because whether he meant to or not, he let her see, and he chose to keep letting her see every time he went back to the cove and didn’t drown her.

Killing Lucy would have been the smartest thing to do, to avoid the possibility of himself dying or getting dissected or locked away in some rich guy’s aquarium. If there was ever even the slightest hint that she might give him up, he had to strike first. But this was Lucy. The more Tim met with her on beach dates after shift, the further situational homicide fell down his list of ideas. Maybe her long sleeves got to him. The moment he pulled her from the marina in her soaking wet blues, he knew he couldn’t really hurt her.

Instead of feeling horrible about the risk of letting her into his life, he’d decided to own it and just indulge himself. It wasn’t like he had better things to do anyway. Lucy brought an element of exciting every time she visited. He looked forward to their visits way more than he’d like to let on.

They’d been meeting at the cove for weeks now, sharing meals, watching low-quality movies on her laptop, and that one weird time where she conned him into making friendship bracelets. Somehow. She made his bracelet with recycled plastic-thread-something like a true Californian, and it was actually not uncomfortable. To make matters worse, it made him think of her.

In short, Lucy was a great friend. Tim liked her a lot. Despite his put-on grouchiness, he even loved it especially when she surprised him with spontaneity. It was both endearing and… interesting.

“What are you wearing?”

Lucy wriggled through the crack in the cliff with more difficulty than usual, and Tim watched in open judgment from his usual spot in the water. She hopped on one leg. Her bags (plural) were bulky and snagging.

“Hi!”

“Need a hand?”

“Don’t patronize me!”

Her hair was done up in a simple ponytail. Unless Tim’s eyes were failing him, that was a wetsuit she was wearing. The baggy tee on top would have looked less weird—Tim even would have overlooked the dumb psychology pun—if only she’d been wearing pants. But no. Just a wetsuit and a t-shirt. What a woman.

“We—” Lucy made a show of pulling her bags free, staggering back a few steps. She marched over and dropped them on the ground with an exaggerated huff. “We’re doing something fun today.”

Tim raised both eyebrows inquisitively. “Oh? Implying what? That the past few weeks have been boring? Admit it, you have fun just hanging out with me.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I’d never do that. Your ego’s big enough as it is. Here’s the plan.” The bag with the most awkward shape was the one she started digging through first. At first, Tim was curious. This sentiment naturally drifted to mild horror when she pulled out a pair of rubber fins and a snorkeling mask.

“You’re going to give me a tour!”

He blinked at her earnest—and very not-bs—smile. She was serious. “You can’t be serious.”

Her grin turned dazzling. “Sure am. Look, I never took a diving course, and I’ve never really done any free diving myself, but I can hold my breath for a long time.”

The agitation in Tim paid her little attention to detail. Now she was patronizing him. Except this was a little too extreme. His tail did an unhappy side-to-side that he tried his best to ignore. Hopefully she hadn’t seen that. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, my parents were pretty unconventional Asian parents so they let me play the flute instead of the piano and turns out—”

“No, stop. I meant the part about a tour.”

“Oh.” She lowered the diving gear. “Is it a big deal? I never get the chance to swim or anything, and I’ve been wanting to take a diving class but they never work out with my schedule. I thought I’d ask you to show me some things. I mean, you’re out there all the time. You must know some nice places to see.”

A frown itched at his brow. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“I know it’s last minute, but I wanted to take my day off on this. I even made little sandwiches.” With the cutest pout, she unzipped her second bag and brandished whole dozens of fingerling sandwich things, which—despite being a bit roughed up from the entry—looked admittedly delicious.

But Tim was not one to accept bribes. “I’m not a tour guide.” He said firmly, with enough emphasis behind it that she and her smart brain could pick up his hidden meaning.

Her disappointed deflate was almost enough to make him back down.

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped.

His tail twitched again. Honestly, he was happy to oblige, but he didn’t like the implication. They’d never gone that far before: venturing out into the open. She’d just admitted to being a novice, and she clearly didn’t plan to play it safe. Which meant she’d be putting her complete trust in him and his… unique abilities. He didn’t like it.

“Just because I can breathe underwater doesn’t mean I know the first thing about keeping you safe.”

“Well I’m not going to drown myself.” Lucy shot back. “And for the record, you do have a solid history of saving my life. I’d say you’re pretty trustworthy.”

“Don’t—”

“Trust you? Sorry Tim, it’s too late. Now, is that your only reason for being edgy about it? I don’t want to twist your arm but I really thought this would be a fun thing. Together.”

He frowned at her for a prolonged moment. He liked Lucy. A lot. If something made her happy, then it was something he wanted too. Just… the price of this request went a little unappreciated. Tim wasn’t super proud of himself. It might be all his fault, but there was always a slight edge to being friends with Lucy, and it always lingered in the back of his head that he was a wonder to any human he came across. Lucy had been playing it cool but there was no way she couldn’t be thinking about it, openly or not. Especially in a scenario where he was in his element on total display.

“Uh… Lucy, um.”

She pulled a dirty move. She whipped out the doe eyes. Then she grabbed his wrist, soft fingers resting on the stupid adorable bracelet he’d grown so fond of. How on earth was Tim to say no to that act? Only if he really really cared about his comfort exclusively. Which he didn’t. He liked her almost as much as he felt uncomfortable having her gawk at his inhumanity.

“Please, Tim?”

Shoot.

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

Her imperative sweet look melted into a happy grin, which pushed the uneasiness into a small box at the bottom of his chest.

“Awesome! I’ll stow lunch in the cave over there and we can circle back after round one.”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you hadn’t brought lunch.”

The comment prompted a curious look from her. “What do you eat? When I’m not around.”

“Human flesh.”

She gave him a deadpan smile.

“Kidding.”

After settling her belongings, she donned the gear and tugged her shirt off. Her cannonball was a slight bit excessive. Tim ducked sideways to avoid the splash.

“So where are we going first?”

He offered his hand, firmly holding hers when she did that cute curious little smile and obliged the gesture. “There’s a grove just a ways down the coast. How long can you hold your breath?”

“About four minutes—five, if I try really hard and don’t move.”

He couldn’t help the sudden snort. “Really? That long?”

“Yeah.”

“Because that’s not how long it takes you to drown—”

She cut him off with an offended gasp. “Hey, that was one time! I was caught off guard! And I panicked. This’ll be different because I’ll actually be prepared and ventilating properly, unless you decide to be mean and pull me down a few times.” With a skeptical (adorable) frown, she attempted to tug her hand back, but Tim just chuckled again and held on tight.

“That’s a very unoriginal prank. I would never stoop so low.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Hey, I was there, remember? I know it’s traumatic to think about, and I… actually have a lot of respect for trying this diving thing out in light of that. I’m not gonna pull a fast one on you, alright? Just trust me.”

“Okay.”

“Great. Now, as obnoxiously massive as those flippers are, I know they’re not fast, so I’m driving. Squeeze my hand a few times if you need to let go and take a breath.”

She nodded determinedly. “Got it.”

Tim hadn't made the trip with someone else before—which wasn't really saying a lot, but still. He had sea lions follow him sometimes. Or dolphins that were baffled by the way he was shaped. Once there'd been a shark in no rush. That was a weird day. But now Tim had Lucy, and going along with her was different for a number of reasons. They kept hitting the surface. She was an entire new body to pull. Her hand was warm and her hair tickled his fin every second stroke. Lucy was different from some curious animal; she had a different presence. A different feel. More importantly, she was right there beside him, and she wasn’t going to leave at any moment’s notice.

“Okay, this is our spot.” They paused at the surface, and Lucy released his hand to readjust her goggles.

“Sweet! Hey, do you know diving hand signals at all?”

Tim gave her a weird look just to communicate how dumb he found that question. “No.”

“Aw, really? Darn. I’ve just been practicing a lot and it is so hard to keep the gestures straight between work and ASL, I was hoping I could practice with you.”

“Why would I know hand signals invented for human divers?”

She cleared her throat noisily and stuffed the snorkel in her mouth. Tim would die before admitting it, but he thought her blush was really cute. Embarrassed Lucy was something she worked hard to not be in front of him. She always slipped out at an unexpected moment.

Unfortunately, Tim didn’t get a chance to tease her about the red racing across her cheeks, because she ducked underwater as soon as he opened his mouth.

The spot he’d taken her to was part of an underwater shelf, spanning the coastline where cliffs rose up. It dropped off around half a kilometer into the sea, but everything between there and dry land was a vibrant tourist attraction. Or, it would be anyway, if anyone with monetary interest happened to find it. Dense kelp stalks rose up from the sandy seabed, drifting in the mild current. There were plenty of fish, all shapes and sizes flitting through the sunbeams and half shadows, and a handful of sea lions to chase them. If he was lucky, Tim sometimes caught otters picking through the silt at the bottom. It was tranquil and pretty.

Lucy really liked the place, and that made Tim proud of himself. He could feel her excitement through the water. She was almost vibrating.

“Don’t go too far that way.” Tim caught up to his enthusiastic friend, pointing out away from the shore. “It might be too deep. I don’t want to risk you popping a blood vessel or something.”

He got the impression that if she could grin around the snorkel, she would. She threw up an OK sign instead.

For the next hour or so (or maybe two or three; Tim could never gauge time well these days) Lucy went bonkers. She ducked around every kelp stalk, chased every fish, turned every rock and shell over. Tim had seen it all before so this was nothing exciting to him, but Lucy’s enthusiasm was entertaining. He could only trail after her with a mildly amused smile. Begrudgingly, he also carried every little item she shoved into his arms. There were a dozen or so knick-knacks she’d deemed worthy of keeping. It was all junk. He told her so. She flipped him off.

Also, because she couldn’t breathe underwater, Tim didn’t get any explanation for the useless objects. The first one she tried was an actual living urchin, which he dodged quite artfully if he did say so himself.

“Woah! No no—get that thing away from me! Are you nuts?” Tim had learned his lesson with urchins pretty early on, and he wasn’t eager to relive the awful experience of getting stung. How Lucy managed to scoop the thing up without freaking it out was beyond him.

She pouted and made seal eyes.

“Lucy, that thing is highly venomous! Put it down!”

It took a bit more yelling and a bit more of her stubborn insistence and a bit more of Tim’s clever evasive maneuvers before she eventually backed off and dropped the spiky death ball. It quickly scuttled off.

Somewhere along the line, a low hum tickled at his ears. Too low and too far away for a human to pick up on, but it still caught Tim’s attention. In fact, it’d be perfect. The slow melody sounded familiar too. Judging by the distance, they’d have plenty of time to regroup for lunch and get back out to intersect.

Unfortunately, Tim had worn down Lucy’s patience with the urchin fiasco, and she wasn’t distracted by the music to desist her kleptomaniac tendencies. The next thing she grabbed was a rock. Not a shiny rock, or a rock with a funky shape. Just a normal, boring rock. She snatched his wrist and slapped it into his hand, maintaining stern eye contact as she did.

“What is this? A present?”

She rolled her eyes with the energy of “no, you stupid idiot”. Tim gave her a tucked frown, shifting his head back. Her emphatic hand gestures were passionate if nothing else.

“It’s your rock.”

She nodded exaggeratedly.

“You want me to hold it?”

She gave him two OK signs and turned tail before he could tell her to find another tote bag. Oh well. He had nothing better to do.

The trinkets kept coming after that. Lucy was—admittedly—a lot more selective than Tim expected, but she was fascinated by the oddest stuff. The only normal thing she got out of the adventure was a pretty shell, which she explained during a surface break was going to adorn the mantle in her apartment. Everything else was random as all balls. There was a stick. Just a soggy stick. And a piece of coral shaped like something he thought she was too mature to find funny. Also a long strand of seaweed she’d looped around his neck like a boa. The last one may or may not be for her to keep. He wasn’t sure at this point.

Lucy started to tire out after item number thirteen-something, slowing her springy movements to lazy drifts. Tim swam up alongside her and nudged her elbow with his own. Her eyes wandered a bit, appraising his form as he approached. He tried not to acknowledge that.

“Lunch?”

The response was a quick thumbs up and a sunshine dazzle. Lucy waited for him at the surface.

“We really need to work on your endurance. It’s only noon and you’re spent.”

Lucy raised both eyebrows with a cheeky scoff. “Actually, it’s—” She flicked her wrist up to consult the waterproof watch (that Tim definitely did not envy). “One-twenty-three.” Her smug expression was so unnecessary and so cute.

“Whatever.” Tim rolled his eyes.

“I’d say that was a pretty good stretch for having never done it before.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

“Yeah sure. But now that you mention it, I am super hungry. Let’s go back.”

The return swim was more awkward with everything Tim had to carry, but unlike Lucy he had a lot of endurance built up and could swim at this pace for hours on end. He was hungry though. Luckily, Lucy way overpacked. She brought enough food to feed a flock of pelicans, and that was a really good thing because Tim hadn’t had a proper sandwich in a long time and would kill for three about now.

When they got back to the cove, they settled in a cave beneath the northern cliff wall. It was cozy, tucked into the rocks and halfway underwater. Lucy found a small entrance on land some weeks ago. The ground was smooth, and the splintered gaps in the stony ceiling allowed for plenty of light to trickle through.

It was Tim’s place, more often than not. He didn’t like drifting about on the open ocean, and try as he might—he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from land altogether. He himself had collected plenty of items over the years. But unlike Lucy, his stuff was actually useful. And it was very neat too. Lucy had annoyingly little respect for good organization.

“Hey, I’m putting your junk over here.”

They surfaced in the tide pool at the cave’s seaside, which connected to a tunnel that opened a lot deeper down. He probably wouldn’t trust Lucy to go that far free diving if he wasn’t there to pull her along. On the inside, the tide had carved away the stone until a low shelf remained to curl about the water’s edge, less than a meter below the surface. Perfect for lounging, or sleeping, which Tim had definitely done in the past. It was very tucked away—enough for him to feel safe—and the water was calm. Above that was the lip of the pool. He picked a spot closer to the wall and unloaded his arms.

“Lucy, you see this? Right here. Do not forget.”

She waved him off lazily and settled into the shelf. “Yeah sure.”

“Look—you’re not even looking.”

“I’ll follow the sound of your voice.”

She was insufferable.

“Fine. but I won’t remember about your goods so you’d better grab them before you leave. This the lunch bag over here?”

Her affirmative grumble came with a wide swing of her arm when she tipped her head back to see where he was pointing. She’d stashed the sandwich bag from earlier a bit closer to the land entrance. Tim hauled himself out of the water, shifting awkwardly until he could stretch across and grab the satchel by its strap.

“You packed chips.” If he was ten years younger, he might have cooed.

Lucy pushed her snorkeling mask off so she could grin properly. It must have been a bit too tight. There was a solid red line on her forehead and cheeks. “You’re welcome. If you didn’t know, this is the classic post-swim lunch. Really hits the spot. Should be a bottle of lemonade in there too.”

“I know.” Tim said, trying to manifest the tension in his throat away. It had been a while.

“You’re supposed to put the chips inside the sandwich.”

“Not sure these sandwiches are big enough.”

Lucy swatted his tailfin where it drifted the water. “It’s totally bomb. You have to try.”

He did as he was told, and the iconic taste brought with it a flood of nostalgia. He leaned back against the cave wall with a contented sigh.

“Right?”

“I’ve got our next outing planned.”

“Phew!” Lucy sprawled dramatically on the pool’s edge. “There’s no stopping you, I see. At least let a girl take a break first!”

“Sure. What's that thing you humans say? Don’t swim an hour after eating?”

“That rule is all about circulatory issues, which isn’t as big of a deal as people try to make it. I’ll have you know, my cardiovascular health is in top shape.”

Tim snorted. “Good to know. But you got an hour before we head back out. I promise it’ll be a lot more low-key; there’s just something I really want to show you.”

She made an interested noise. It was going to be the perfect bookend to her diving excursions for the day; Tim just knew. Now that she was tired from the forest, she’d be able to appreciate the next attraction with all the reverence it deserved.

They finished the sandwiches, then sat and made small talk for the rest of the hour. Lucy pulled her flippers off and stretched her feet. She tried to coerce a massage out of Tim. He declined firmly.

By the time they got back out there, Lucy was even more deadweight than before. She was tired, clearly. The diving trip took a lot out of her. Tim would have complained, or made some light jabs about it if he didn’t like her so much. Besides, this part was supposed to be relaxing.

At first, she was kind of edgy. She tensed up and sidled close. Tim couldn’t resist a teensy tiny smile.

“What’s the matter, boot? You’re not thalassophobic, are you?”

She elbowed him hard.

“Ow!” To be fair, he had dragged her out leagues offshore over dark open water with no explanation. She’d never make it back to land on her own. Hopefully the surprise would be worth it. By the sound of the music, they wouldn’t have to wait too much longer.

It was subtle when it happened. The low, grumbling whine tilted up a pitch, louder now, and Lucy straightened fully alert. Tim grabbed her arm. He pointed down. “There. Look.”

She gripped his wrist tight enough to betray trepidation, which he’d find endearing if it wasn’t a little manufactured. Her eyes were wide behind her mask. Roughly thirty meters below them, dark shapes materialized from the depths, cruising slowly and smoothly with every bit of grace. They were so at peace on such a lazy afternoon, and their music calmly reflected that. “Can you hear it?”

It was difficult to interpret the look she gave him through the mask, but he recognized the thumbs-up and the tug on his arm as a signal to talk at the surface. Lucy tugged her snorkel out. “What is that?”

“They—”

“I didn’t ask to be swallowed whole by sea beasts!”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Tim snorted, fighting to keep the fondness from his voice. “You said you wanted a tour.”

“Don’t tell me the leviathan is a local attraction.”

“Relax. They’re harmless. I wouldn’t have brought you out here if I thought you’d be in danger.”

She squinted at him skeptically. “...and the singing?”

“It’s still not me.”

There was a long pause where the wheels turned in her head. Tim never thought he’d have this level of patience with a boot. Maybe the past few years of boredom hadn’t been a total waste.

“Oh no, I’m stupid.” Lucy groaned eventually, pulling a hand away from Tim’s shoulders to take the mask’s place over her eyes. She was very adorable when embarrassed. Tim wasn’t usually one to appreciate cuteness, but Lucy was wildly difficult to resist.

“They’re whales, aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t hang your hopes on becoming a detective.”

She groaned pathetically.

The second time he took her down, they found the whales had drifted even closer, now visibly outlined against the endless blue. There were a few new shapes Tim hadn’t seen last year. Lucy was still squeezing his hand, but the mild fear he’d felt from her before was gone, replaced by a semblance of quiet wonder.

She froze outright when a pair of them carved past on their way to the surface, eyeing her and Tim with comfortable curiosity. Tim earned himself a surprised stare from Lucy when he extended a familiar greeting with a low, resonant hum. Her sharp gestures probably weren’t specific to any of the languages she’d been learning, but it got the point across.

“Yes, I understand them. They’re asking about you.”

She gesticulated again.

“What did I say? I told them you’re my friend. Look, here comes the mom. Say hi.”

The larger of the two slid silently beneath them, easily tilting to brush a massive flipper against Lucy as she passed. Lucy’s chills were so strong Tim himself shivered in sympathy. Her eyes were the size of sand dollars.

“This is her new calf. He’s a little nervous to meet people.”

Lucy made a very unbecoming noise and gripped Tim’s hand tighter. He couldn’t help smiling.

The baby gave a soft whine. He cut the accelerator and coasted towards them in stiff anticipation, mirroring Lucy’s tense posture. And he didn’t stop. He bumped into them, pushing them through the water with his momentum, like he wanted to see whether they’d move or not. Of course not. Lucy was too afraid to risk spooking the little guy. If she’d been breathing to begin with, she would have held her breath. Tim watched the progression from shock to joy on the gentle slopes of her face, fully endeared against his better judgment. The emotion there was so intense despite being quiet, which he could understand. It wasn’t every day a baby whale decided to snuggle with you on his nose.

The moment was blissfully wonderful. Lucy pressed a reverent palm to the calf’s smooth skin. She’d gone limp and still, awed and openly delighted. It made Tim really happy to see.

#chenford #chenford fic #chenford mermaid au #the rookie #the rookie fic #the rookie au #the rookie mermaid au #modern mermaid au #tim bradford #lucy chen #my writing

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chainofclovers · 2 years

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I don’t think the OP of this lovely post (pictured here)…

…has seen s2 of the show yet so I didn’t want to reblog with a bunch of words about something they haven’t watched but this post made me feel so much nostalgia for the PERFECT feeling of having consumed Ted Lasso s1 and Ted Lasso s1 only. My least favorite parts of the fandom experience (ship wars, Twitter, toxic positivity aka Missing the Entire Point) were not on my radar at all. I was just living in this sweet little deceptively complicated and absolutely beautiful world of dreamy characters!

BUT!

I loved s2 too, and this perfect s1 post actually reminds me of something I specifically love about it, which is that…in s2, a lot of that showing up and courage and loving callout stuff that happens in s1 falters. Not because those things aren’t important, but because the writing on this show has something really important to say about how the big, scary, painful stuff in life can actually trap us in a place where we can’t just rely on our own gestures to get out of it. There are moments that transcend the sadness and isolation, like when Rebecca pulls Ted out of his flat on Christmas, or when Beard does show up with the coffee the day after the Man City match, or when the season finale hits and people finally seem ready to start talking to each other about real things again.

S1 defines the culture of the show—be good for other people. But s2 reminds us that you can’t be good for other people if you’re not good for yourself, and if you can’t be good for yourself because you’re being haunted by things too big and too painful to navigate on your own, you have to figure out how to ask for help. People don’t ask for help very much in s1; they perceive needs in each other and respond. S2 gets more painful, and the only way out is to consciously say I want to make an appointment or Stay, Ted or (this one is paraphrased) Your mustache is going to pop off your face if you don’t talk. Ted wouldn’t have been able to keep going without therapy, because his normal coping mechanisms were no longer enough.

So many fans seemed to feel like s2 eroded the culture of s1, but I don’t think it did at all. Rather, it was a reminder that without external structures in place (like therapy, like friendships that include a commitment to being honest, like a workplace environment that makes it explicitly safe to provide feedback and talk about the things that happen to you) that make it possible to care for self and others during painful times, you can risk losing what the happier version of you would never let go of.

(And I also think about the social commentary of 2x3 with Sam’s decision to lead the protest, and the soulmate-y parallels of 2x10, and how even when certain individuals aren’t able to feel the warmth they deserve, it doesn’t ever stop existing.)

I have not watched a single episode of Ted Lasso in 2022 because something in me wanted to take a little break, but I’m planning to rewatch both seasons this week. I have NEVER watched this entire show straight through, not since s1, when I watched those episodes straight through many times. My memories of s1 are of this very warm world with flickers of pain, and my memories of s2 are of this very painful world with flickers (big flickers) of warmth, and I’m finally genuinely excited to experience that straight through.

I’ll always be so grateful to have spent that time with s1 and s1 only, just feeling wrapped in that already-complicated universe that they somehow made feel so simple, but I’m also grateful for the ways it got more harshly complicated in s2, because it was necessary, and something about heartmotifs’s post makes me extra excited for s3, too.

#ted lasso #hot dork club #meta by me #ted lasso meta #(sort of)

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polkadotsunshine · 1 year

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of the wild things that happen in True Colors, one of my favorites has been andrias’s A.T. field.

i choose to interpret this as an in-universe real fucking Absolute Territory Field. this is not a dune shield or newtopian tech. this is a barrier manifested by his soul. in evangelion (spoilers btw!) we learn that all life generates its own A.T. field. these fields are the boundaries that separate individuals from each other, in both a physical and metaphysical sense.

angels are special in that their A.T. fields are so strong they are visible and can be used for supernatural physical feats. so why do i believe andrias can do this?

at various points in the story, the protagonists of evangelion try to form close relationships but they only end up hurting each other. as a response to this trauma they shut themselves off from the world. each character does this through different means, but they all find a way to avoid making close relationships again. they put up emotional walls and though these barriers are not physical they are no less strong. this insight is key; as it turns out, A.T. fields are formed by an individual’s fear of being hurt by others.

“Hedgehogs have a hard time sharing warmth with other hedgehogs. The closer they get, the more they hurt each other with their quills. People are also like that. I think some part of Shinji is afraid to take that risk because he's afraid of being hurt.”

andrias has spent a thousand years trying and failing to forget leif. because she was such a close friend, losing her hurt so much more. he has spent a thousand years in self imposed solitude, grieving over her betrayal. his life has been defined from his isolation; it’s no wonder it’s manifested physically. it’s no wonder that andrias has an in-universe real fucking Absolute Territory Field.

“That's the thing about friends, isn't it? The more you love them, the more it hurts when they go.”

now let’s understand how anne overcomes this supernatural defense.

anne has been betrayed by sasha, marcy - even hop pop - and yet she will not let them go. she chooses to fight to restore her friendships, often literally. while andrias has long since given up, anne accepts that the joy of connecting with others comes at the risk of betrayal and abandonment. to her, it is a happiness worth the pain.

“It's not easy. Forgiveness is hard. And it can take time. But believe me... it's worth it”

anne weilds the power of the heart. she reconnects to the stone and undergoes her transformation with one goal in mind. her strength is fueled by an undying motivation to keep her friends. she channels the calamity gem with a simple mantra:

“Give him back.”

while andrias accepted the loss of his friends as irreversible, anne refuses this fate. this is the essence of anne’s conflict with andrias. in their final battle during All In, anne confronts andrias’s philosophy; the fight is more psychological than physical. after all, tritonio says, "an honest dialogue is more powerful than any weapon.”

“So what? I'm supposed to give up? Stop feeling things? Like you? Honestly, I pity you! You shut yourself off from the rest of the world, didn't you? A thousand years of suffering. Of burying your feelings. Of hating yourself. That must have been hard.”

after all these years; anne’s spirit, marcy’s friendship, and leif’s letter change andrias’s mind. he finally opens himself up to others. his A.T. field goes down. he's vulnerable.

“So I'm begging you, my dearest friend, don't close yourself off. Open your heart, and follow it.”

however, back in True Colors, andrias is more closed off than ever. he backstabs the first friend he’s had in a thousand years. in his mind, there’s no going back from here. anne cannot defeat him with a change of heart; not yet. she must overcome the shield with force, though that’s easier said than done.

you see, in evangelion, only one thing is strong enough to break through an A.T. field: another A.T. field.

so how can anne have such a strong A.T. field if she is philosophically opposite to andrias? here lies the foundation of evangelion; accepting your boundary between others is a necessary part of life. when A.T. fields cease to exist, people cannot exist because they are indistinguishable from one another.

in the end, shinji realizes that he would rather struggle to understand others than to simply not exist in a sea of souls without A.T. fields. he does this after a long journey to find happiness and self worth.

anne, like shinji, recognizes the pain of intimacy, yet chooses to fight for it anyway. the strength of her A.T. field comes from her strong sense of self. her friendship with sprig teaches her that she has value. she finally stands up for herself because she values her own self worth. her A.T. field, while not visible, shatters andrias’s defenses. her individuality is not born from the fear of others but something stronger.

"I think the reason I don't want a new look because I'm finally happy with who I see in the mirror right now. So no matter what I put on, I just wanna see the same person smiling back."

anne wins because she loves herself.

#first time writing something like this i hope it makes sense #it's a bit hard for me to be normal about this show so idk if this jumble of ideas works #also forgive the 9anime watermark lmao. i'll have a pristine copy of amphibia but i don't do that for much else #maya writes #amphibia #best of

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belphegor1982 · 1 year

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So someone had to grab the writer by the scruff of the neck and make his chapter longer than the entire fic so far. Dammit, Johnny. (I mean who’s complaining, right?)

Jigsaw Pieces

Chozen, uneasy

Daniel, adrift

Amanda, sleepless

Sam, shaken

Johnny, fixing things

Daniel, not alone

Johnny is used to fucking stuff up almost as many times as he keeps trying to fix it. He isn’t used to having things this good and keeping them that way. Or maybe he just lost the habit, because what wasn’t shitty when he was a kid was admittedly pretty great.

But right now, Robby and Miguel have put all their bullshit behind them and reached something that might just be friendship one day, they actually had Olive Garden takeout dinner together with Carmen last night, the four of them, and this morning Johnny’s at the Home Depot with his son shopping for a new latch mechanism for his busted doorknob. Like an actual dad.

So maybe he’s just happy about it. Sue him.

“Okay,” he says, “so – remember the number that was on the latch?”

“Sure,” says Robby, taking out his phone. He took a picture of that latch before they left, when Johnny removed the doorknob to check the stamp, instead of just writing the number on a scrap of paper. His kid is a geek sometimes – or a nerd, a dork, or whatever – and that’s one of the million little details that make Johnny really happy because he’s finally getting to know things like that about his son.

“It’s, uh, 2-3/4.”

“That means the backset is two and three-quarter inches. So we’re gonna need one of those suckers there. Let me see the picture again –”

If he’s honest, he kinda sucked as a handyman, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know things. He did most of the work of turning an empty space into a badass karate dojo, after all, and even jumped through all the hoops to make it “up to code”. He can show his son how to change a doorknob. That’s a thing a dad does, right?

“Hey, cool, this one has two keys already, you can have your own right now. So if you want to change a lock, lesson one. The first thing you wanna do is check your screws. There’s always the risk of old paint ‘cause an old tenant thought the door needed a new coat, or a screw loose because some genius decided to kick your door open for no reason at all –”

Robby shoots him a look that clearly says You are such a doofus, but there’s fondness in there too and that is new. Come to think of it, it’s a little like the look Miguel gets sometimes in response to something Johnny just said when he doesn’t just fully go Sensei, what the hell. It took Johnny a couple of years to identify that look as I love you but I really don’t get how your mind works sometimes and he’s still not sure just how offended he’s supposed to be.

“I know how to change a lock, you know,” says Robby with that small smirk of his that Johnny knows he got from him.

Johnny squints at him.

“’That have anything to do with the two chucklefucks you used to hang out with?”

“Yeah.” Robby shrugs and looks down at his shoes for a second. “I mean, I learned on my own, but it came in handy then.”

Johnny nods and doesn’t press the issue, which Robby appears relieved about. But hey, if Robby can let go of the past and accept that his father wants a shot at being an actual dad, Johnny can not be an asshole and let that kind of sleeping dog lie, as well.

They’re both saved from having to break the moment by his phone blaring the chorus of ‘Run to the Hills’ from his pants pocket. The name on the screen is daniel larusso, so Johnny picks up and grins.

“Hey man, I was gonna call you later. Guess what: I went with your idea, and turns out a little Johnny Classic was just what the kids needed to get over their shit. They whaled on each other for a bit and got it out of their system like a couple of champs—”

“Sensei?”

Oh – wrong LaRusso.

“You can call me ‘Johnny’, LaRusso, I’m not your sensei anymore,” he says. Robby glances at him, eyebrows raised. Right – there’s probably still some bad blood between him and Sam. Maybe they could fight it out at some point, too, clear the air? “What are you doing with your old man’s phone?”

“I didn’t have your new number.”

And asking your ex for it would’ve been awkward, Johnny muses. He picked up Miguel in pieces the other day after the break-up. The kid got real quiet after a while, but not angry. “She said she wasn’t okay, Sensei, what else was I supposed to do? We’re just… gonna be friends now.”

Jesus. These kids are handling their relationship drama better than Johnny did when he was twice their age.

…Wait. Isn’t Sam supposed to be several states away right now?

“Hang on, yesterday your dad told me you were in Ohio with your mom. What’d he do, hop on a plane and play an apology song on a boombox?”

That was all the rage for a while in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s after that movie: fuck up with your girl, show up on her doorstep with a boombox to say sorry, and annoy the hell out of the neighbours like that’d make it all better. But now it’s like, nostalgic or something, and it sounds exactly like something LaRusso might do. Dork. (Johnny really hopes it worked.)

A corner of Robby’s mouth twitches. Johnny wonders if he even knows what a boombox is – most of the kids these days don’t seem to.

“No, we came back home last night,” says Sam LaRusso’s voice at the other end of the line. “I mean, this morning. There was…”

She trails off. Johnny frowns. The hardware store is way too noisy for a proper phone conversation, but he’s starting to pick up on a vibe. A weird one.

“Hey, LaRusso, you okay?”

“No,” she says again, and shit, there’s a break in her voice like she’s trying not to cry. “Dad got hurt.”

Johnny’s stomach drops.

“What? What happened?”

Whether because of the look on his face or the tone of his voice – or both – Robby’s eyes snap back to him and he goes sharp and tense.

“Cobra Kai,” she snaps, her voice trembling a little. “Well, Terry Silver, anyway. He… he beat him. Pretty bad.”

Shit.

Johnny learned the hard way that Terry Silver is not just some old fart with a fancy car and a stupid ponytail. The kick that man landed in his ear made his head ring for days, and he won’t forget the rest of the beating he took that night at the old dojo in a hurry. In his fifty-two years of life, Johnny Lawrence has never been defeated so viciously. The only other person who came close to kicking his ass like that was Miyagi, on Halloween 1984, and Johnny was a kid, so that doesn’t count.

The sad part is, Johnny is pretty sure Silver would’ve done a lot more damage if Kreese hadn’t stopped him.

Kreese is in jail. Not that the son of a bitch would step in for anyone who wasn’t Johnny, anyway, in between two attempts at choking him to death. But LaRusso was alone – how far did Silver go without a safeguard?

“I’m coming over,” says Johnny without even thinking. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Twenty, Dad,” Robby corrects him, “and that’s if the traffic is fluid on Balboa.”

“Yeah, twenty. Listen, Sam –”

He wants to say Don’t worry, even beat up halfway into the ground your dad will claw his way back up, and I should know, because I almost did beat him halfway into the ground when we were kids and he still got back up eventually – he’s a stubborn little shit, he’ll be okay. But then he thinks about the LaRusso who showed up at his apartment yesterday, unkempt, desperate and disheartened. It would have barely taken a breeze to knock that guy down.

Goddammit. Silver really chose his moment to strike, huh.

Robby is looking at him oddly, and there’s silence on both ends of the line, until Sam’s voice comes back.

“Yes?”

“Nothin’,” says Johnny, who still hasn’t figured out what to say. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up, pockets his phone, and his gaze falls on Robby.

Wait. He can’t leave his son like that. He’s done leaving his son like that. Robby deserves better.

But no amount of relationship drama could compare to the epic levels of awkward that would ensue if Robby Keene just showed up on the LaRussos’ doorstep, especially after all the Cobra Kai crap he pulled in the last six months.

Johnny runs his hand over his face and into his hair.

“Shit.”

“What happened?” asks Robby, both voice and eyes sharp.

“Silver beat up LaRusso. ‘Pretty bad’, according to Sam.”

Robby’s face does something very quick and very complicated. There’s a lot of conflicting emotions there, but what Johnny doesn’t miss is that shock isn’t among them.

(His son spent months in a dojo co-run by John fucking Kreese and a nutjob who delights in screwing with people’s heads and beating them up. Just as well Johnny still has room for more in his bag of nightmares. In hindsight, LaRusso’s obsession with keeping Cobra Kai away from all the kids in the Valley isn’t so stupid.)

“You should go,” says Robby finally. “I can take care of the doorknob on my own.”

Johnny narrows his eyes at him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I told you, I know how to change a lock.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, Dad.” Robby gives his little half-smile, and this time the Lawrence smirk is absent. That guarded sweetness is all him. “I’m glad you and Mr. LaRusso are getting along now. I told you the two of you could actually be friends, remember?”

“You said we could learn a thing or two from each other,” Johnny points out. “There’ s a difference.”

“Am I wrong, though?”

Johnny stares at him for a couple of seconds. Then he smiles and awkwardly pulls an arm across his shoulders for a half-hug, relieved that Robby doesn’t even try to squirm out of it.

“No, you’re not wrong. Okay, got enough cash?”

“Yeah, but I don’t need cash if I take an Uber. The new doorknob’s on you, though. The escape room thing was your idea.”

From the way the smirk is creeping back into his smile, he’s calling his dad a doofus again. That’s fair. The escape room thing was a bust. But that’s okay, because Johnny kinda loves finding out Robby can call him a doofus and still want him as a dad.

The best part about trying hard to fix a relationship is finding out the other person is actually trying as well, just as hard.

Johnny pays for the doorknob. He stays with Robby until the Uber pulls away with his kid in it. And then he fires up the Grand Caravan and probably breaks some kind of record and a couple of traffic laws getting to Encino.

Funny how life works. The first time he went to that house – on a stolen bike, because his car was a still smoking wreck thanks to LaRusso’s dumb cousin’s biker friends – he wanted nothing more than to kick LaRusso’s ass. And now? He’s also racing up that road at breakneck speed, and then he’s also standing in the driveway with clenched fists, itching for a fight – just like that first time – but everything else is radically different. He takes a deep breath before knocking, for one.

It’s Sam who opens the door, with Amanda standing inside and a Japanese man he’s never seen before, who must be the ‘Chozen’ guy Daniel mentioned when they were catching up yesterday. They would look oddly formal if not for Amanda’s expression – the kind that always makes Johnny want to punch the mirror when he meets his own eyes.

And that’s as much a kick in the guts as the way Sam’s voice broke a little over the phone, because this expression doesn’t belong on Amanda’s face at all.

Johnny mostly ignores the dude for now – although he does note that the guilt and worry on his face reflects Amanda’s – and speaks quietly, like the words have to force their way out.

“How bad is it?”

“Could be worse,” Amanda says, no louder, her voice slightly unsteady. “But, um… could be a lot better.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“I don’t know if he’s up for a lot of talking, but you can try.”

LaRusso, not talking? Things really must be bad, snarks a voice at the back of Johnny’s brain with more fondness than bite. Force of habit. There’ll always be at least a little bit of friction between them, and that’s fine. LaRusso doesn’t seem to mind, either, at least not anymore; Johnny ribbing him just gets a snort and a shake of his head when he doesn’t counter right back with a grin. That’s kind of a miracle, considering where they started from.

“I’ll take my chances,” Johnny says, even though it’s not exactly what he means. Looks like Amanda gets it, though, because she lays a hand on his arm for a second with a tight smile before walking away.

For some reason he hesitates a second in front of the bedroom door. Maybe what LaRusso needs is to lick his wounds in peace, not for his old enemy to see him at his lowest.

But then LaRusso has seen Johnny at his lowest a few times, too, and even though Johnny was tempted to tell him to go to hell – might have done a couple of times, he can’t remember right now – having him around wasn’t the worst he could endure.

So Johnny knocks once and enters without waiting for an invitation.

LaRusso looked like shit yesterday, unshaven and pinched with shadows under his eyes, but he still looked better than he does now. Even in the relative darkness of the room behind the drawn curtains – which Johnny recognises from experience as the first line of defence against a really bad headache – he can see the bruising on the side of LaRusso’s face, creeping down over his cheekbone and slithering around his eye. It might bring back an old memory of glaring at him and Miyagi from across the old Cobra Kai dojo the day after that fated Halloween night, if not for one very important detail: the eyes that were big and nervous but razor-sharp then are now bleary and unfocused.

“…ny?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” says Johnny in response to whatever that sound was that makes his own throat tight in sympathy. What the hell happened to him? “Can I, uh, come in for a minute?”

LaRusso squints at him, eyes almost screwed shut. Then he waves him in with his left hand.

Johnny closes the door, knowing all too well how much a single ray of light can hurt when your face looks like that. He plunks himself in the armchair near the head of the bed and looks – actually looks – at LaRusso.

There’s something wrong with his right shoulder, and even in the dark his eyes are reduced to slits, with lines of pain adding to the crow’s feet in the corners. The bruising on the side of his face admittedly is pretty spectacular, and there’s some more across his throat that Johnny is just noticing now, but from up close that’s not what stirs up something sour in his stomach. Even when he was a teenager who kept getting his ass kicked – and the teen version of LaRusso always seems tiny in Johnny’s memory, gangly even for a skinny kid, all big eyes and crooked grin and long noodle limbs – LaRusso has never looked fragile. Cracked, sure, but never actually broken. Johnny didn’t know that was even possible.

Something happened – not just a beating. The bruises go deeper than that. And if someone knows just how far down bruises can go even after they fade – starting with a foot to the face and especially an arm around his neck in a parking lot – it’s Johnny.

“So. What’s the damage?” he asks in a low voice.

LaRusso gives a slight one-shoulder shrug, his eyes still half closed. Johnny leans forward, elbows on his knees. LaRusso has to understand that this is important, that Johnny is not messing with him.

He has no idea how to fix this, but he’s gotta start somewhere.

“Hey, I’m asking ‘cause I don’t know. Your kid called me and said Silver beat you up. She sounded upset, I got worried – for all I knew he’d cracked your head open or something. What’d he do to your throat?”

“Foot,” croaks LaRusso, a hand on his upper chest then on his throat, just below the chin.

Ice grips Johnny’s stomach and creeps up into his ribcage. The sensation turns into fire as it reaches the tips of his fingers, making him ball up his fists.

From the pattern of bruises, this means that steaming pile of shit put his foot on LaRusso’s throat while he was down and let gravity and his own weight do the work. No mercy indeed. If LaRusso is here and not in a hospital it means he’ll be okay once he recovers, but that’s a fucked up thing to do, especially to an opponent who isn’t a threat. Johnny’s done a bit of research since last December on the consequences of chokes and strangles just in case Kreese decided to pull that crap on him again. Silver could’ve severely damaged LaRusso’s windpipe that way.

“Son of a bitch,” Johnny says, softly but completely earnest.

LaRusso does that thing where he nods and raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t look up. He won’t quite meet Johnny’s eyes. Johnny doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s starting to freak him a little.

“Don’t worry, though. No way we’re letting him get away with this. What’s Stingray’s address? I know he wouldn’t talk to you but he’ll sure as hell talk to me—”

LaRusso’s hand shoots out, catches him by the sleeve of his hoodie in a tight grip – his right hand, which makes his breath hitch as he goes paler for a second.

“Don’t,” he rasps out, his voice low-pitched and raw and breaking like a teenager’s. “Don’t, it’s not… You were right. I’m out. It’s not worth it.”

Johnny frowns. “What do you mean, ‘it’s not worth it’? Guy’s just beat you to a pulp, and what – you’re just gonna take it lying down?”

LaRusso shakes his head gingerly.

“Gonna l—leave well enough alone. For once.”

Johnny’s eyes go round. That’s – no. That’s just wrong.

“You – what? You’ve never left ‘well enough alone’ once in your life, LaRusso, even when you should have! And now all it takes is one beating to make you give up? I did worse to you back in the day and you still got all up in my face!”

Alarmingly, LaRusso doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead he tightens his grip on Johnny’s sleeve and takes a few uneven breaths.

“The kids. Said he’ll go after the k—kids.” He swallows and immediately gives a full-body wince, eyes screwed shut for a second. “That it’ll be easy for him to – to rope ‘em into Cobra Kai.”

“That’s bullshit,” says Johnny firmly, even as his heart breaks a little in his chest at that. Kreese – and probably Silver, too – did snare Robby into Cobra Kai easily. But that was because Robby, more naive than he wanted to be even after basically all the adults in his life had let him down one way or another, just went to the one guy who hadn’t disappointed him so far.

Sam LaRusso took the whole Cobra Kai is evil thing to heart long before Johnny realised the harm the Strike first, strike hard, no mercy motto was doing to his students. She also has a wholly different relationship with her dad; the way things stood between them then, Johnny knows Robby wouldn’t have been as worried about his father getting beat up to hell as Sam was when she called him earlier.

Sam is safe from whatever crap Silver might try putting into her head. And whatever the hell her brother is doing, as far as Johnny knows he’s never shown any interest in karate, so there’s that. Little gremlin’s probably better off geeking out on video games and snarking at people.

At least Johnny’s tone makes LaRusso look up and meet his eyes fully. That should be a win. It’s not. The expression in them is sending goosebumps all across Johnny’s shoulders.

“You don’t know him,” LaRusso insists in that awful raspy voice. “That’s what he d—does, he… I knew he… He gets into your head, okay? Makes you invite him in, and then… th—then if you don’t step back you d—don’t recognise yourself anymore—”

Sometimes Johnny wishes he hadn’t been stupid about losing Miguel to Miyagi-Do somehow when Silver and Kreese crashed their lesson six months ago and freaked the hell out of LaRusso, to disastrous results. Maybe then he would’ve listened to what LaRusso was not saying when he told him about the ‘85 All Valley over drinks later.

“LaRusso,” Johnny interrupts him – and then, because LaRusso looks all set to continue despite how his voice sounds, “Daniel, stop. Silver’s not getting to the kids. I won’t let him, okay? Made that mistake before, and look where that ended. Besides,” he adds, “our kids know better. Not just Sam and Robby and Miguel, I mean all our kids. Even the ones who never set foot in Cobra Kai. They know how it works, they’re not gonna fall for that – and Hawk, Bert, Nate, the others? They’re not gonna fall for that shit twice. Especially after they hear about what Silver just did to you.”

Daniel’s hand relaxes and falls. His eyes lit up with fear earlier, and now they look dull again, and Johnny doesn’t know which is worse. It’s not even anger or shame at having had his ass handed to him – which, well, is not a feeling Johnny is entirely unfamiliar with – it’s just… like he’s not fully there.

Johnny tries to catch his gaze, grab it and not let go. It’s way harder than it should be.

“I mean, if you think you’re the only one who got the shit kicked out of him by that guy, you’re wrong. He got the drop on me too one time, you’re not that special.”

That does the trick. Daniel’s eyes widen, scan him in alarm as though searching for bruises.

“You – what…? When?”

“Remember prom night? Shannon came to see me when I got home after I dropped Miguel off, said Silver had given Robby his fucking car for the evening to take his date to prom, no strings attached, just because he wanted to ‘make sure Robby was taken care of’. Even offered her a job and a new place, because why not.”

Johnny saw red then, and he still doesn’t regret for one second his knee-jerk impulse to go beat the shit out of the ponytail creep to teach him a lesson – only that Silver sucker kicked him. He can’t help feeling a little vindicated when the same red-hot anger flickers across Daniel’s face for a second.

“Except Shan can smell a rat a mile away and she��s stone cold sober now, so he only freaked her out. So she comes to tell me right away, says You need to handle this, and yeah, I do – I’ve failed Robby in all the ways a dad can fail his kid, but I’m still his father. He wants nothing to do with me, that’s fine, but that shady fucker does not get to ‘take care’ of my son and my ex like that. So I break into the Cobra Kai dojo – don’t look like that, it was mine in the first place, that’s not really illegal – and Silver calls on the landline like some movie villain, says to meet him at the corner of Magnolia and Lankershim. Apparently he wanted a trip down memory lane or something.”

“That’s—” Daniel mouths, squinting up at him suspiciously, and Johnny nods.

“Where the old dojo used to be, yeah. It’s just an empty space now. Anyway, I go there, and first thing I know, I get a roundhouse kick in the head. Coward bushwhacked me. I couldn’t even strike first, he struck before I could even see him. I mean, I still got a few good licks in, but that guy can kick, man.”

There’s a wry downturn to the corner of Daniel’s mouth – like Yeah, he does that – but no smug look, no silent I told you so, even though honestly Johnny might have let him have this one. It’s not like he wasn’t warned. He can still see Daniel in that bar, hands flitting around his whiskey glass to stress his point, brown eyes wide and earnest, saying I’m tellin’ you, Silver knows how to fight and You cannot ‘strike first’ with this guy, trust me.

And then he’d wanted to take over the kids’ training and scrap all the Eagle Fang offence, and Johnny had gone Screw that, you just think you’re better than me but you’re not, and from there the chain reaction ended up blowing everything to pieces.

God, they’d been so stupid.

“So, yeah. Oh, you wanna know the kicker, though? He just wanted to impress Kreese. Here’s a Johnny Lawrence all beat up, happy fucking birthday, I guess. He figured that if Miguel saw me beaten to a pulp, he’d be too upset to win the tournament.” Johnny shakes his head. “That would’ve been useless anyway. I screwed up with the kid all on my own – didn’t need to get kicked in the head for that. Just to make it all about me and put too much pressure on his shoulders, especially just before that last match. Some sensei,” he can’t help but mutter. “The only difference with Kreese is that at least this time I made it clear to the kids that No mercy was out of the question.”

Sympathy softens Daniel’s whole face in two seconds flat.

“Johnny,” he says gently, or at least that’s Johnny’s best guess.

Johnny waves it off because first off no, he doesn’t want to go there, and in any case Daniel’s voice box is in bad enough shape and he doesn’t need to make it worse.

“Anyway – Kreese wasn’t too happy about that, for some reason. We agreed to settle this at the tournament, he said, and I thought you knew better than to question me, like he was Silver’s boss or something. I was too out of it to catch the rest, but I think Silver didn’t like that at all. So maybe that’s why he paid Stingray to lie and say Kreese beat him up – because he was tired of playing second fiddle to Kreese.”

He suspects there’s a lot more to these two’s relationship than that, but to be honest, he doesn’t really care. The threat of Kreese has dropped significantly since he got sent to jail and good fucking riddance. Unless the two of them are still working together somehow – which Johnny seriously doubts, considering Silver apparently framed his old partner like some psycho in a gangster movie – now they can focus on taking down Terry Silver and Cobra Kai without John Kreese in the picture.

This shouldn’t be such a relief to Johnny, but it is. The fact that he doesn’t have to worry about his old mentor getting under his skin like he’s so easily done in the past does give him a clearer head and a sharper focus. His beef with Silver, beyond an ass-kicking, isn’t personal – that one defeat is nothing to the ongoing struggle to claw out every single remnant of John Kreese from his mind and that of everyone he’s ever touched. The urge to scrub the world clean of Strike first, strike hard, no mercy, to scrape out every trace of paint of the motto on that wall, to erase every imprint he’s made like he never existed. After that, well, maybe Johnny will be left with a hole in his soul but at least what used to fill it won’t hurt anyone anymore—

Johnny blinks.

…Shit. This is pretty much what Silver is to Daniel, isn’t it.

That’s why he was so hell-bent on stopping Johnny from resurrecting Cobra Kai in the first place.

Johnny tucks the realisation into a corner of his mind for the moment, because Daniel’s eyes shutter closed at the mention of Stingray as abruptly as someone pulling curtains over a window. He’s checking out again.

“Hey,” says Johnny, laying a hand on his forearm, “stop that. Okay, I’m not gonna go ask Stingray, but we gotta do something. I said Cobra Kai had to go, last December, and I meant it.” He gives Daniel’s arm a squeeze and lets go to lean back in his seat a bit. “Things just got… It was a lot after the tournament, you know? Robby left Cobra Kai, Miguel disappeared to Mexico, and then when we got back there was…”

He stops himself just in time, thinks it over for a second. He can’t tell Daniel about the baby yet – it’s too new, too fragile, too uncertain, and anyway Carmen prefers to wait until the next sonogram to tell anyone, just to be safe. I’m dealing with some family stuff, he said to Daniel yesterday; what he meant was I’m trying to get my son and the kid who’s pretty much mine as well to get along without trying to kill each other. A few weeks ago he would’ve meant I’m in way over my head because I’ve got another kid on the way and I have no idea how to not screw that up and figure out how to be an actual family.

But family isn’t necessarily about blood, and it can be so much more complicated than just passing down genes. Look at Miguel and Robby.

Unexpectedly, Johnny finds himself grinning.

“That reminds me – you know the ‘family stuff’ I talked about yesterday? I actually took your advice and you know what? It worked like a charm.”

Daniel’s eyes liven up again – from suspicion, but still, it’s a far cry from the earlier dull, unfocused look that’s so alien to him it spooked Johnny just a little.

“Remember you said that maybe, if we’d gotten the chance to really fight it out when we were kids, we might’ve gotten our shit together a lot sooner? You were right, man. I got Robby and Miguel to go all out on each other – no tournament rules, just beat each other up until they had enough. And after a while they just… stopped and talked. And now they’re okay.”

If Daniel had been his usual self, Johnny would have really enjoyed the various shades of What the hell that flit across his face at this. Confusion turns into alarm, then dismay, which fades into wariness. But the squint that follows is still a bit too narrow-eyed to not be chalked up to the headache, and that just spoils things.

“Are they?” Daniel ends up asking, obviously having put a lot of thought into these two words since long sentences are out for now.

“Yeah.” Johnny smiles, completely sincere this time. “They’re good kids, you know – they just had a lot of pent-up shit. Turns out they just needed the chance to clear the air and just talk. They only needed to… I don’t know. Tire themselves out first or something.”

Or scare themselves straight first. Johnny will never forget being rooted to the spot like an idiot as the fight escalated and the boys ended up on that balcony, torn between a growing fear and the voice in his head that repeated trust them trust them trust them like a broken record. He’d been right, in the end, but those terrifying few seconds just before Miguel and Robby came to their senses is something that he’ll never share with Daniel, or anyone else for that matter.

The look on Daniel’s face softens into an actual smile with a touch of the open fondness Johnny never quite knows what to do with when it’s directed at him.

“Told you you’d work it out,” he says in that too-hoarse voice that raises the hairs on Johnny’s arms, if only because he knows all too well what it feels like to sound like that.

But also it just might be the nicest I told you so he’s ever gotten, especially from Daniel LaRusso, so he shakes his head, amused and just a little touched.

Then he sobers up.

“I get it now, you know. Why you were so obsessed with taking down Cobra Kai even when it was just me and one nerd in a crappy lot in Reseda. You were afraid of what it’d do to kids if it took off. And… I guess you were right about that, too, look at how Hawk’s and Miguel’s first tournament went.”

Strike first, strike hard – Johnny thought he could twist that into something positive. And maybe he had, at least up to a point. But now he has enough hindsight to recognise there was no redeeming No mercy. That part was just fucked up.

“Don’t worry, though, I’ll be keeping an eye on the kids. Silver is not getting to them – not mine, and not yours. Not just Sam and the other one,” he adds, just to make himself really clear, “I mean all the kids.”

Something like fond annoyance flashes on Daniel’s face. For a second it makes him look almost normal.

“Anthony.”

“Whatever. I’ll make sure Silver stays the hell away from that little punk too.”

Daniel makes to shake his head, then freezes and screws his eyes shut again for a few seconds, breathing slowly. Johnny can sympathise. Concussions are no joke after all; between this and the throat thing, Daniel’s out of commission for the next couple of days at least.

But that’s not what worries Johnny the most.

“I’m gonna go. Rest up, okay? Then we’ll take Silver down. Give Kreese his bridge partner back, he’ll like that.”

This time Daniel doesn’t grab Johnny’s arm. He just stares at him, eyes still slightly unfocused, looking grimmer than Johnny’s seen him in a long time.

“Promise you won’t go after him.”

Johnny’s hackles rise. An old reflex.

“I can take him,” he snaps. “I just wasn’t ready last time. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting him get away with – with everything.”

“Promise,” Daniel insists in that raspy voice that hurts to hear.

While the reason behind that adds fuel to the fire of Johnny’s anger, it doesn’t turn into a blinding rage like it does sometimes. It’s deeper instead, slower, colder.

“All right, I promise,” says Johnny, mentally adding for now. It feels like one hell of a concession already.

That son of a bitch is going down, and sooner rather than later.

Daniel looks relieved, which makes Johnny irrationally angry. That’s not exactly a new feeling; their talent for getting under each other’s skin has only improved in the years they haven’t seen each other. Learning how to fit their own jagged edges against one another’s took hard work and many, many false starts. But being angry on Daniel’s behalf, now, that is new. The urge to punch someone’s teeth in feels the same, but also it doesn’t. Johnny has a feeling there’d be more weight behind his punch, and it has a lot to do with the unsettling impression of just plain wrong that follows him out of the bedroom.

Because Daniel LaRusso is a lot of things – he’s annoying, he’s compassionate, he’s self-righteous, he’s too damn smart for his own good, and no amount of cultivated car salesman smoothness or time spent in Encino country clubs can truly hide the mouthy Jersey twerp Johnny remembers – but what he is not is weak.

Whatever Silver did – whatever Silver said – it broke his spirit, and that is what is making Johnny’s fists itch to crash into that too-wide smile.

He has to clench and flex them a few times (a technique he learned from Miguel) and take a deep, controlled breath (a technique he learned from Daniel) before he steps back into the living room, where Amanda, Sam and the new guy are all sitting together, like a war council.

Johnny Lawrence is good at breaking things. But it turns out he also knows a thing or two about fixing them.

“So,” he asks in a low voice when all three pairs of eyes snap up to him, “what do we do?”

______________________

Give me ALL the former enemies turned rivals turned reluctant allies turned friends. Seriously 💜

#cobra kai #fanfiction #my stuff

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