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danniburgh · 4 years ago

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A million little times. (Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: You scourged yourself for starting it and then having the audacity of asking for more.

You fell in love, he didn’t love you, yet you were willing to let him ruin you a million little times.

Word count: +5.2k

Warnings: welp this IS Dave York, but somehow came out softer than we’re used to lmao, SMUT SMUT SMUT minors BEGONE, some dirty talk, infidelity (not condoning it), some of reader’s and Dave’s dialogues may get you uncomfortable as they talk about possessiveness and HINTS of doing things against one’s will.

A/N: look guys, i don’t know what came onto me but i wanted two things, to write about our dear suburban murder daddy (because i love him and i love the dave york pit) and write something HEAVILY based on illicit affairs by my dearest ty ty. So here it is, this is more based on the bridge and the chorus of the song because those lines just do stuff to me, hope you like it :)

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

“I’m going out” you said, zipping up your hoodie, heading for the door.

“Where the fuck are you going? it’s pouring outside,” your roommate questioned from the sofa she was lounging on, looking at you then at the window, she could see a lightning at the distance.

You grabbed your car keys and an umbrella from the small rack you kept by the door, more to make her stop questioning you than to actually use it outside.

“Somewhere” you replied without looking at her.

“Are you gonna see him? again?” she stood up and walked towards you, you rolled your eyes, she knew you too well “I thought you… dumped him”

“I did” you muttered, looking at your running shoes, knowing that if you held her really heavy judging gaze she would pull out the truth from you. You never left him, but you were about to.

“Then why the fuck are you going to see him?” she crossed her arms on her chest and you felt a tug on your stomach and bit your lip “holy shit” she made you look at her by grabbing your chin with her fingers and lifting your face “oh c’mon dude, seriously?”

“I’m gonna break up with him today!” you told her, almost whining.

“There’s nothing to break up!” she dropped her hand and let out an exasperated sigh, you knew she was right “he’s married! he’s older!”

“Don’t you think I don’t fucking know that?” you spat at her. She rolled her eyes.

“You had tried to end things with that man four times now,” she sounded tired, she wasn’t scolding you anymore, she was trying to remind you “what is he doing to you? Fuck, you’re not like this!”

You dropped your eyes to the floor again. He was doing so much; he was a lot to take. That man was killing you inside and taking away everything you were, he was eating your soul and you were letting him.

He was incredibly overwhelming, astonishingly overpowering, he suffocated you in the most delicious way; he was exhausting and demanding and knew you thoroughly, inside and out. He was too much and not enough. He was never nearly enough. And that was consuming you.

“You don’t really wanna know,” you said “but I’m gonna end things... today, I promise”

“Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep,” she murmured, going around you to open the door “I really hope you know what you’re doing”

“I am” you turned around and walked out. She called your name before closing the door.

“Please, be careful” you nodded instantly, not knowing if she knew something else you hadn’t told her or if she was just referring to the terrible weather outside. “good luck,” and she closed the door.

You stood in the hallway for a few seconds. Her last two words were weighing heavily in your mind, and you wondered again if she knew something. She couldn’t, but it wouldn’t be at all surprising. But you were grateful, you needed good luck. With Dave York, you always needed the luck on your side.

You parked the car and turned off the ignition. It was already dark, the only light that softly illuminated the inside of the car was the pink and blue led lights of the motel’s signboard, and the thick raindrops hitting the windshield made a gloomy, unsettling symphony that invaded your ears and was starting to drill inside your brain.

You hesitated to send him a text that read im here, but did it anyway, and waited there for his text back as you always did, he would tell you which room you needed to go to and how long you had to wait for him.

Because he always made you wait. He made sure you knew he was the one making time for you in his so full schedule and you had to be available for him at any time, any day he wanted.

You wanted to leave; you were considering just turning back on the ignition, reverse the car out of the parking lot and go back home.

Were you seriously thinking about standing him up?, you couldn’t do that, not to him. You knew he was capable of driving all the way to your apartment, kick off the door and fuck you senseless as a punishment.

He was too much and you couldn’t take it, that’s why you wanted it to stop.

Yet you received his text almost right away, he was already waiting for you inside. That made you anxious, because he never did that.

You got out of the car and ran to the stairs, not minding getting wet as the distance from the parking lot to the covered hallway was not very long. You tried to control your breathing as it hitched when you reached the room with the number 2B on the white door and you failed.

The door opened before you could even raise your hand to knock, and there he was. In all his clean, broad, stiff glory.

“Hi” was the only thing you could breathe out, his eyes wandered through your body from the running shoes you slipped on when you got his i want to see you text, to the black leggings you were already wearing that he liked too much and your crimson hoodie you grabbed from the laundry pile on the floor of your room.

His face was unreadable as always, but somehow after all the time you’ve been… what you were, you knew he wasn’t very fond of the ensemble you had put together.

“Dave?” you broke the silence, he looked back at you and moved to the side to let you into the room. Once you got in, he swiftly closed and locked the door and in one long step he was pressing his chest against your back and his half hardened cock against your ass, ripping a whimper out of your throat.

“I missed you, baby,” his voice was deep and hungry in your ear, his hands were hot and heavy roaming around your hips and your stomach, one of them traveled quickly under your hoodie and the tank top you were wearing and cupped your breast, he liked you better when you weren’t wearing a bra “I missed these tits” he pressed an open mouthed kiss on your jaw and a moan left your body without your permission, his other hand was about to snake inside your leggins when you grabbed his wrist and stopped it.

“Dave” you breathed, feeling his smirk on the skin of your neck, his hand on your chest kneaded the flesh and his fingers played with your nipple. You were wet and for the first time in god knows how long you didn’t like it.

“Say my name again” he ordered. You shook your head trying to focus.

“Dave, stop” your voice was thin but sharp and stung into him exactly like a needle. He stopped his movements but didn’t remove his hands from your body.

“What do you mean stop?” he grunted, still in your ear you tried to move your head away from his lips, to move your body away from him but his embrace was tight and it was too overwhelming for you to form a coherent sentence.

“I want this to stop” the words left your mouth before you could really measure the weight of them.

Then and only then Dave broke all contact with you, and even there, your body shivered at the loss of his heat.

“Again with that shit?” he grunted out, you looked down and tried to regain your composure “you need to understand something, baby” he grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to face him “you’re mine” he cupped your face with both hands and pressed his mouth with yours hoarsely, your hands instinctively placed themselves on his chest and you tried to push him away “your mouth is mine” he growled, his lips traveled to your neck and he bit the tender flesh over the jugular, making you whine “this neck is mine” one of his hands snaked down and he cupped your breast over the thick fabric of the hoodie “these tits are mine” that same hand traveled further down and around your body and he fisted your buttcheek, you started trembling “this ass in mine” you shook your head again, his hand gripped your chin and you felt his fingers digging on your cheek, a shaky moan escaped you when he palmed your pussy over the leggings “this cunt is mine” he moved your head and made you look at him in the eyes. Lust and anger had darkened his brown hard eyes “you’re all mine and you’re not leaving me”.

“I’m not yours” you breathed out on his hand and when you thought his eyes couldn’t look at you worse, they hardened even more.

“No?” he pulled your head, making your forehead clash with his “are you telling me you’re not?”

When had you become so scared of him?

You felt a familiar sting on your throat and your lower lip started trembling.

“Don’t even think about crying right now” he spat, his voice was two octaves lower than it normally is and a tear slipped out. He grumbled and lick it away off your cheek “even your tears are mine”

“Please,” you pleaded “Dave, please”

“Dave please” he mocked you and his hand moved to your neck, your breath hitched and you closed your eyes, waiting for him to squeeze “why do you wanna leave me?”

The question lingered in the tight space between your faces and you gulped hard, trying to understand if it was just a rhetorical or an actual question. The silence fell heavy and the gloomy symphony the rain was making had stopped outside.

He stood there, crazily close to you, his hand around your neck and the other grabbing your wrist. He was waiting for you to respond and you were trying to gather all your thoughts. You weren’t sure if your reasons were going to be enough for him, but you needed to try.

“Can you please let go of me?” you asked him softly, opening your eyes to meet his. “please”

His hands left your body, and he sighed, visibly tired, and you knew you had little time to try to explain to him everything you wanted before he got desperate and tried to fuck you again.

“Sit” he ordered, you stepped backwards and the back of your knees hit the mattress, you sat and he stood in front of you, crossing his arms on his chest, just waiting for you to begin.

“I–I want more” you mumbled, dropping your gaze yet again to avoid his heavy eyes on you “and you can’t give it to me”

“What more do you want?” he walked to you and his body heat made your eyes close

“You” you let out, feeling your eyes fill with tears again and your chest stung when he let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’ve got me” his voice was rough, you shook your head.

“No, I don’t” you stood up “fuck, Dave, you’re married!” you panted, his arms dropped and he just stared at you.

“Sit down!”

“Drop it!” you cut him off “you have kids!” and the sudden realization that he didn’t care about that as he looked at you with a serious but blank expression made you want to scream “and I’m what? your relief?”

“Listen to me–” he started, you shook your head.

“No, stop!” you blinked your tears away “and I think I might be sick because I–I think I love you”

You saw his eyes shift, his strong, inexpressive facade fell for a few seconds as his brow furrowed slightly. And against your will, it gave you the smallest hint of hope.

No, he doesn’t love you, he will never love you.

“And you’re consuming me, Dave,” you let out “I don’t like the person I am when I’m with you”

“Baby–”

“Don’t call me that” you begged, wiping the tears that had fallen down your cheeks “I’m a mess, Dave” you sobbed out “I let you take over my life!”

He gave a step towards you and you lifted your palm to make him stop.

“I let you control every single aspect of my life, I’m such an idiot,” he shook his head “yes! I am be–because I’m still here! I’m letting you ruin me yet another time!”

He called your name roughly, and you shivered at the sound of it in his voice. There had been a long time since he last used your name.

“I’m not gonna let you leave,” he drawled, his voice still low. He walked towards you again and grabbed your wrists “you’re not walking out on me, you hear me?” your face quirked in pain and he let go of one of your wrists and moved his hand up to wipe your tears with the back of his fingers “you knew what you were getting into,” he cupped your face “I’m not letting you go and you will take what I give you,” he closed the distance between you.

You knew this would happen; you knew he wouldn’t accept it; you were tired. He was exhausting.

His lips were soft and warm against yours and for a moment, his touch on your face made you feel cared for.

“For how long?” you asked on his lips, he moved back to look at you with a frown “how long will you keep me?”

Were you really agreeing to this? Were you just about to take it? He was basically forcing you at that point and you were really just… embracing it?

“You really want out?” you saw him studying your face, his eyes traveled around your pained expression and you saw them flash in front of you, you blinked away the tears that had gathered in your eyes and nodded.

“You’re destroying me,” you whispered.

“How am I destroying you?” his question sounded genuine, as if he was surprised at your revelation.

“Don’t you know?” you saw him shaking his head slowly “think about it Dave, you’re too overwhelming, too apprehensive, too rough, too much,”

“You like it” he let out, almost as if he was reminding you of it.

“That’s the thing, I love it,” you whined out “I love you and you don’t love me and all thi–”

“Who says I don’t?” he cut you off, you widened your eyes.

“What?” your voice roughened and his jaw tightened.

“Don’t think for me,” he spat, his hands moved to your shoulders “if I’m telling you I won’t let you leave it’s not because I want to keep you against your will,” you sighed “it’s because I just want you,” he licked his lips and breathed out heavily “I get it, it’s not fair, I won’t leave my family,” you felt your lids drop and a whimper left your body “I can’t give you what I already gave to them,” you felt your legs weaken and his hands slid from your shoulders to your waist as he held you “I can just give you this, and if you won’t take it, then go and I won’t bother you again”

“Fuck,” you breathed out, he broke the embrace he had you in and you sat on the bed slowly, hand resting on your thighs, head hanging low, tears slipping out. He kneeled in front of you. His face was blank again, but there was something behind his eyes that told you he didn’t want you to leave him.

For a moment you let yourself remember how everything had started. It was an autumn night, months and months before that felt like years.

You were getting into a coffee shop and he was heading out; you bumped into each other and he spilled his black coffee all over your beige coat. You had giggled, and he was almost mortified, rambling about paying the dry cleaning and buying you another coat, he even gave you his card and offered to pay for your coffee order. You told him over and over not to worry and accepted his drink offer with the condition of drinking it with him. He introduced himself and asked for your name; you had seen the golden ring in his left hand right away and yet you still flirted with him because you didn’t think he would take onto your advances; he told you he had enjoyed your company and asked for your number when you were saying goodbye.

He called you for the first time the next day and asked you out. He proposed it as two new friends getting to know each other, but the whole dinner he was eating you with his eyes. You were enjoying the way he was looking at you and talking to you and how his hand slid on the table to brush your knuckles, and when he asked you if you wanted to go somewhere else you didn’t hesitate in saying yes.

That night he fucked your brains out in a nice hotel suite he had previously reserved, because he knew you wouldn’t say no.

And from there you opened up to him, he taught you new things about your body you had never known; he made you cum in so many ways you never knew were possible; he kissed you and took your breath away; he ate you out like a thirsty man drinking a glass of water after three days on the dessert; he fucked you like it was the first and the last time.

He had memorized every single thing you liked; he knew your body in ways you didn't and he let you get to know his so you could give him as much pleasure as he wanted.

Dave soon enough became the owner of every single thought and free hour you had.

He invaded your mind and your body in the most delicious way; he took over and appropriated your whispers, your sighs, your shudders, your orgasms and every gasp and moan that came out of your mouth. He was rough and broad and hard, and he praised you as you liked it, and he gave into your demands and kinks as much as you gave into his.

He became everything you wanted, and he possessed you in so many ways you stopped going out with friends to meet with him. You changed your schedule as he asked and accommodated yourself to please his needs. Dave occupied your life and you let him.

Yet you knew nothing about him.

Of course he told you he was married. But you found out he had two daughters when you picked up his wallet from the floor and saw the picture of them he had inside. He never told you their names or their ages. He never told you what he did for a living or where he lived.

And after some time he stopped taking you into nice hotel suites and started meeting you in cheap motels. He started being rougher, and you started loving him.

And every orgasm he took out of you and every sigh and moan and whimper and gasp came out of you with so much love you knew he could feel it, yet he said nothing and made sure you didn’t ask for more.

You didn’t know at what point it became unbearable, unsustainable, incredibly hard to meet him. You started thinking about his wife, about his daughters, about the things he had with them and not with you.

You scourged yourself for starting it and then having the audacity of asking for more.

Then you asked him to stop all of it for the first time, and he just brushed it off and fucked you with his fingers and his mouth and his cock until you forgot the idea.

The second time you asked, he took you to dinner after having you ride him for two hours and ripped out of you so much pleasure you thought it was going to change something.

But it didn’t.

And so on.

And now he was kneeling in front of you while you sobbed your eyes out and he was still as overwhelming and overpowering as he always was, yet his body radiated so much heat you wanted to rip his clothes off and show him how much he had made you love him.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he muttered, taking your hands and intertwining them with his “you keep roaming around my mind like it’s your job to invade my every thought,” you looked at him and his eyes pulled something inside you that didn’t have a name until that same moment “I think about you when I’m fucking my wife, and I have to stop myself from calling her by your name,” two thick tears escaped your eyes and he took a hand out of the entanglement on your lap to brush them off softly “I need you,”

He said he needed you and you believed him. You needed him too, even though he was never going to fully be yours, even though he would never give you what you wanted and the cheap motels or the nice hotel suites and the sporadic dinner dates would never be nearly enough.

He said he needed you and you needed him more. More than he could ever need you. You needed him and wanted him and loved him so bad you were willing to take in whatever he wanted to give you from himself, even if it was scraps and crumbles of an already taken and loved man.

“Fuck, Dave,” you looked at him, his eyes deep and mysteriously bewitching, and you knew instantly, you would let that man break you in infinite pieces, you would let him use you and manhandle you as he pleased and you would let him ruin you over and over again.

“I need you” he repeated, with another connotation. He needed your body, and you needed his. You let out a heavy sigh and lifted your hands to cup his face, he immediately pushed himself up and took your lips on his.

His kiss was eager, anxious and hungry. His hands moved to your waist, and he slowly made you lay on the bed, leaning down with you to hover over your body with his knees on each side of your thighs on the mattress, without breaking the kiss.

Dave slid a hand inside your hoodie and started wandering around the skin of your belly and your chest. His hand was still warm and his touch was softer than it had been the last few dozen times he had touched you.

You let out a soft whimper when his tongue licked your lower lip and gained access to your mouth; he let you put your hands around his neck and your fingers started playing with the short hair on his nape.

“Your lips are mine” he whispered against your lips, you smiled softly. Of course.

“Yours, ”

His hand inside your hoodie moved to your breast, and he started playing softly with your nipple, you felt your arousal gathering inside your thighs.

You felt a tug inside your lower belly when he moved his mouth to your neck and started leaving kisses on the soft skin, Dave hadn’t kissed your neck like that since the first time he had fucked you.

“Your neck is mine” his breathing hit the wet spot he had kissed, and you moaned.

“Yours,”

His other hand played with the hem of your leggings, and he licked your earlobe.

“Stand up, let me take off your clothes,” he whispered into your ear, it wasn’t an order but it wasn’t a plea, you moaned and he moved back to help you stand off the bed.

You stood in front of him and he grabbed the hem of the hoodie; he lifted it up, and you raised your arms for him to remove it from your body; he dropped it on the floor next to him and did the same with the tank top you were wearing underneath. His eyes stayed glued to your breasts, and he raised his hands to cup both of them. He walked to you and kissed you again, kneading the flesh softly as he breathed in the sighs you were letting out.

“Your tits are mine” he whispered on your lips.

“Yours” your hands moved to his chest, and you started to unbutton his shirt nimbly.

He let you slide his shirt off and drop it on the floor. You moved to his belt and unbuckled it.

Dave snaked his hands from your chest to your waist and then around your body to caress both buttcheeks over the fabric of the leggings.

“Your ass is mine” he whispered, you nodded as you unzipped his pants and slid your hands from his waist through his briefs to his own ass and knead him for a second. Dave looked at your face and you smiled at him softly, he saw your puffy red eyes from crying and leaned down to kiss you again.

For a moment you let yourself forget all the powerfully negative things you had felt about the whole situation. His lips being soft and warm enough for you to blank your mind.

You wanted to ask him why was he being so soft with you, but you didn’t want him to stop.

He moved his hands from your ass back to the waistband of your leggings and pulled down along with your underwear, breaking the kiss only to help you get out of them and out of your shoes.

“Lay down” he murmured, again not ordering yet not pleading. And you did as you were told.

Dave removed the rest of his clothes and grabbed your knees, spreading you open in front of him, he saw you wet and his hand trailed all the way up your thigh; he slid two fingers across your slit; you gasped at the contact and your hips circled, trying to get closer to his hand.

He leaned down and supported himself on one hand, his knees between your legs, while bringing the hand in between your legs to your mouth and spread your arousal on your lips.

You were about to lick them to taste yourself when his lips clashed into yours, hungrier than before, both of you tasting your juices in the kiss.

Your hand reached down between your bodies to grab his hardened cock and pump him a few times, his kiss became sloppy and wet as you played with the pre semen on the tip, he let out a grumble when you choked the head with your thumb and your index around it and he bit your lower lip when you squeezed it.

He took your wrist as he broke the contact of your lips and removed your hand from his cock; you knew what was coming and you spread your legs wider to give him space.

Dave lined himself up to your slit and played the tip up and down from your entrance to your clit and pressed it on the bundle of nerves, ripping a loud moan out of you.

“Dave, please,” you whispered, he was looking at you, his brown eyes were less hard and less dark and you moved your hips to try to get him closer to you.

“What, baby,” he asked, low voiced.

“Fuck me,” you said, he gave you half a smile as he slid himself into your core, his hand gripping your hip. You let out a sigh in relief as he painfully slowly bottomed up.

He stayed inside for a few seconds for your walls to stretch and get used to his thickness.

“Your cunt is mine” he whispered, looking into your eyes, you nodded and he kissed your temple “you’re still so tight, baby,” he pulled out almost entirely and thrusted into you slowly “so tight and wet as the first time I fucked you”

You curled your arms around his shoulders when he hid his face in the crook of your neck and let out a moan when he circled his hips inside you and hit ever so slowly that sweet spot that only his cock could find.

“Dave, shit,” you gasped when he thrusted into you harder “no–nobody could,” he pounded into you again “e–ever fuck me like you do,”

You felt his smirk on your skin and he licked and kissed the skin that was within reach of his mouth, moving his hips faster until he found a pace that made you squirm and whine under him.

“You’re all mine, baby,” he breathed on your ear “say you’re mine,”

“I’m yours, Dave,” his hand snaked from your hip to the spot you were joined and he gathered some of your arousal with his fingers, he started circling his wet fingers on your clit and you whimpered “oh my–god, Da–Dave,”

“Fucking say you’re mine,” he moaned again in your ear as his hips moved faster “you’re mine to take, mine to use mine and only mine,” his thrust became deeper, “your body and your mind are mine, say it,” his fingers played your clit nimbly.

“Shit,” you hissed out, closing your eyes and clenching around him, he moaned your name “I’m yours, Dave, I’m all yours,” you cried out as you felt your core on fire and the known tide of sensations drowned you from the inside of your lower belly “I’m so close,” you panted.

“Cum around my cock, baby,” he moved faster and his fingers slid into your pussy almost by themselves and you felt so full by his cock and his hand you felt your orgasm hit you like a giant wave in the middle of a storm.

You cried out his name once, twice, three times as he fucked you through your high chasing his own orgasm.

He moaned your name again, and he lifted his head from your neck to kiss you. His fingers were still inside you along with his cock and he was so close he could see white spots behind his closed eyes.

“Dave please come inside me,” you whispered against his lips, he kissed you again and you bit his lower lip, he opened his eyes to see your post orgasmic smile and your glassy eyes “claim me, fill me up, baby,” you pleaded “please, I want to feel your cum,” he moaned again and pounded deep once, twice and you felt his hot seed spilling inside your core.

“Fuck,” his breath hitched “holy shit, baby,” he pulled out his hand out of your pussy as his cock finished spurting and he licked his fingers clean. You smiled at him and he stuffed them into your mouth. You giggled, licking his saliva and the rest of your juices off.

He watched you recover your breath, and you traced his clean shaven jawline with your fingers. He moved his head to kiss your palm without losing eye contact.

“You’re not getting rid of me,” he muttered against your hand.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I’m gonna make some changes,” he breathed. You nodded, “but you're not leaving,”

“I'm not leaving,”

“Good,”

#Dave York #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york might be the love of my life #again dave york can fucking wreck me and id say thanks #dave york fanfic #dave york fanfiction #dave york the equalizer #the equalizer #the equalizer fanfic #david york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters

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lxvestxned · 3 years ago

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y/n is massively afraid of toads, but tries to at least touch trevor for the first time with the graceful help of her best friend neville. while also in complete denial about the feelings they are starting to have for neville. fluff + gender neutral reader! 2500 words.

side note: please don’t make fun of me if i got toad-logic wrong in this one — the fear is real bro. LMAO.

Neville talks about Trevor nearly the same way one might talk about a younger brother. Mildly annoying, but also so very important to the point that he could not even remember his life before him.

Trevor couldn’t be a better gardening pal for him, save for when he disappears while Neville is deepest in concentration with his plants. He always entertains Neville’s miniature hat creations, sitting still and proper while Neville has a good laugh.

I could not be happier about his connection to Trevor. I haven’t brought it up to him yet, but Trevor seemed to be an important figure of worthiness to Neville. I also had to appreciate that Neville had the company of a pet in his quiet house on breaks.

I only wish I would have wised up and got on better with the toad.

Amphibians and reptiles are a bit of a sore spot. To put it gently, they are a thing of nightmares to touch or even to look at. Trevor’s skin was bumpy, coarse, and loose looking. Eyes bulging, dark, and unblinkingly horrifying.

Was his skin rough? Was he heavy? Was he slimy? Oh god, and what would his bones feels like? Could Neville feel him breathing in his hands?

My stomach swam to my throat with every thought. However, the guilt from my fear of Neville’s beloved pet made me feel much worse.

I can’t help recalling from years ago, the way I once jumped a foot away from Neville’s attempt at a lighthearted pat on my shoulder. Simply because I was hyper aware that he had held Trevor in that same hand not even five seconds before.

Neville recoiled too, shock washing off his features only while I frantically showered him in embarrassed apologies. He then promptly washed his hands for a full two minutes to make me feel better. The memory was one of those that frequently replayed in my head when I laid in bed trying my best to sleep over the wailing thoughts of regret.

In place of physical adoration for the toad, I bombarded Neville with questions about him any time they struck me. Each was gratefully met with a patient and particularly-amused response from the proud toad owner.

“Trevor is bumpy and all, he sort of feels like really extreme goose pimples— no, acne.” Neville spoke while lovingly stroking his pointer finger down Trevor’s back in the Gryffindor common room.

“He isn’t heavy at all actually. One time I had him in my hand, looked away for a moment, and when I looked back he was gone. I didn’t even realize.” He whispered to me, just as Professor Binns rambled back toward their side of the classroom.

“Trevor’s not slimy!” He said whilst playfully pointing the prongs of his accusatory fork at me, “you’re thinking of frogs! And even then, I’ve read that they only look it and don’t feel it.”

“I don’t know what his bones feel like?!” Neville laughed incredulously, “seriously, where do you come up with these questions?”

Turned out my latest inquiry was the one that lead me to my doom.

The clump of red, yellow, green, and blue students travelled up the snow-white hill, returning from a full and chilly Magical Creatures lesson. I walked alongside Neville on the trek, body automatically crawling with shivers on the thought of toads once again.

“When you’re holding him, can you feel him breathing?”

Neville let out a huff of laughter between pants for air against the hill’s incline. “I suppose so, I mostly notice his heart beat normally.”

“His heartbeat?!” My gloved hands squeezed into tight fists to resist my overreactive imagination from taking over. The ghost of a toad pumping it’s lungs and beating it’s heart in my palms was enough to make me visibly cringe— which I was determined to suppress at all costs.

Hermione, who was a bit ahead of us, slowed to join our pace, “Yes, Y/N, toads have hearts too, y’know.” She said.

“You’re joking!” I announced sarcastically.

“Why don’t you just hold Trevor once, then you’ll have all the answers you need?” Hermione laughed.

“I’ve asked her and she doesn’t want to.” Neville said.

“I do want to!” I sighed, “I just can’t.”

“Yeah, she said she can’t.” Neville reiterated.

“And why not?” If Hermione was anything, she was a problem solver. And I was suddenly determined to prove that I did, in fact, have a plan of action.

“I’m scared,” I said, “but, I figured if I could gather enough information about what exactly to expect... then, maybe I could do it eventually.”

Neville finally lifted his gaze away from the trail at our feet to smile at me. His smile was open-mouthed almost like he had words on the tip of his tongue ready to fall out. But, Hermione spoke up again.

“Honestly, it’s not as bad as you might think. I think you may even be over thinking all of this. Holding Trevor is almost like... like a leather pouch.”

I muttered, “sure, a living, breathing, beloved leather pouch.”

“You should probably try touching him first before you start carrying him around,” Hermione said right as we reached the plateau level with the archway back into castle walls.

Neville and I hung by the archway like we usually do, recapturing our breaths through the rigid air. I did not expect Hermione to stand with us, allowing Ron and Harry to be carried away with the crowd entering the hall.

Her determination loomed over the silence and I felt the need to accept that solution. After all, Hermione was bound to have another seven loaded up and ready to be dispensed. And not to mention, Neville’s eyes had an unwavering sort of gleam in them that I could not quite put a finger on.

I was suddenly and weirdly diagonal with one palm against the brick arch, the other on my hip, and the toe of my boot scuffing the snow. “I could probably do that,” I had to wonder whether I was at all convincing.

“I can help you,” Neville peered into my soul, to which I decided the gleam was, at the least, highly influential.

I gulped, “yeah, I can do it.”

— — —

There Trevor was, 15 centimeters of pure, mind-numbing terror.

I felt like I had only blinked since we were standing out in the pure white snow. Except, Hermione, Neville, and I were very much in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. Comfortable in my casual change of clothes after dinner, but also filled to the brim with dread as the reds of the room edged in my vision.

“Are you ready?” Hermione smiled as encouragingly as she could.

I finally tore my eyes away from the toad perched on the couch’s arm that Neville was half-blocking with his body.

“Yeah, of course! It’s not that serious!” I gave my best snarky smirk, as if I hadn’t just gnawed a small tear into my bottom lip.

I didn’t want to refuse Hermione the opportunity to be a part of her own solution to the problem that wasn’t hers. But, then again, I wish I did only for the sake of privacy.

Hermione’s presence was a bit heavy to endure. She conjured a very deep desire to prove myself a good friend to Neville with her eyes alone. Which meant false bravery was all I could manage to show at the moment. True feelings buried not-so-deep below that crumbling surface.

“You can do it, Y/N, don’t think.” Hermione relayed that unhelpful bit of information atleast a hundred times within the span of the last fifteen minutes. Although, I did entertain it every time.

With the sudden distraction of Neville turning to pick up his pet, I managed to squeeze a “Thank you, Hermione! I got it!” through the corner of my lips.

Unfortunately, every statement of bravery was like a mating call when among Gryffindors. I could feel sets of interested eyes triple upon our little gathering without even lifting my head. In fact, I was almost positive that Dean had made his way from across the room to lean over the couch cushions from behind.

I wasn’t ready for Neville to stand from his spot on the couch, nor was I ready for him settle down in a kneel in front of me. I could’ve forgotten Trevor entirely with the way I was focused in on Neville’s face. He hadn’t looked one bit nervous, which was a rare and reassuring sight. I had to smile at the thought that, for once, I was the one emitting enough nervous energy for the both of us.

He was pretty quiet up until that point, so his voice made my breath quicken as finality closed in around me. “I’m going to help you, alright?”

That was it, no going back. My face felt as though it was glowing redder than the room. The fluttering in my stomach clashed awfully against the dread that was already shacked up there. I clenched my jaw tight, trying desperately for a look of certainty as I nodded.

Trevor sat comfortably still between Neville’s palms, face nearly pressed into Neville’s chest. I almost wanted to joke that it looked like I was about to be proposed to with the arse of a toad, but Neville brought some humor of his own.

A mischievous grin crept over his lips first, “and you can wash your hands right after.”

I grinned despite the huff of sorrowful air that escaped me. The horrid memory filled me with a brand new sense of urgency to right my wrongs. I held him by his shoulders, “I’m really, really, really sorry about that!”

Neville almost bent forward in hearty laughter, until he realized that he shouldn’t bring Trevor any closer. “No, I know, I know! I was trying to lighten the air.” He shook his head gently, “Come on now.”

I scooted forward in my seat to plant my feet flat on the carpet, fists already balled up tight. “Yeah, come on now,” I echoed, perfectly-thoughtless, as Hermione instructed.

“I’m going to hold him right here, and he’s not going to move. All you have to do is put your fingertips on mine, okay?” Neville instructed so gently that I was ironically totally overwhelmed.

I took the look around the room that I was avoiding, and sure enough, Gryffindors were gawking from every angle. Hermione nodded and Dean was smiling extra wide.

I couldn’t find words. Instead a single shaky hand of mine unwound itself and reached forward. It very unhelpfully occurred to me at that second that I had never even touched Neville’s hands before. And you know what, it shouldn’t be strange to admit your best friend has nice hands. Because he does. Not helpful information, but definitely information.

I was almost worried that my aim was so shaky that I would miss his nails altogether and jab Trevor.

But before I knew it, I was touching the hand that was touching Trevor. Which, of course, reintroduced the smile to my face when reminded of Neville’s joke.

“Yes! Now, I’m just going to pet Trevor, and you can keep your fingers on mine until you’re ready, alright?”

I was too nervous to move my gaze from Trevor any more, but I presumed from the cheer in Neville’s voice that he was smiling hard.

He slowly moved his fingertips to the top of Trevor’s head, and I had to press harder to keep from slipping astray. Then, Neville did exactly as he explained.

My upper lip began to furl up as my imagination ran buck wild in my mind. The worst of all textures invaded my senses and made me want to cringe out of existence. My eyes squinted at the seemingly violent breathing and heart beating that bumped against his warty surface. Our fingertips stroked down his back so many times that my movements felt robotic.

It was automatic enough to break my stare away from it when Neville called my name, “are you breathing?”

I blinked a few times, and let in a gasp of air that I hadn’t even realized I needed. “Apparently, not.” I laughed, surprised by my hushed volume.

“Merlin, so much suspense for this?” a Gryffindor near the windows was met with a brief glare from Neville, but he concentrated on me.

“Why don’t you take a big breath, and then try putting your fingers in front of mine?”

I loosened up my face, as I took a deep breath in. The long breath out allowed my other hand to unwind as well. I parted my teeth, while my fingertips eased on to the very tip of his nails. “Okay,” I tried another deep, thoughtless breath.

“You can do it, Y/N.” He whispered.

I blinded myself with my unoccupied hand.

Trevor felt gravelly.

Like extreme acne.

His breathing was not nearly as noticeable as the racing heart, beating at the top of his body.

He had a spine.

Noticeable only because the several wobbly scribbles of a line that I tried to draw was not nearly as straight as the subtle ridge at the center of his back.

I eased the hand off of my eyes. Sure to embarrass myself as the sting of tears felt closer than ever. When I looked between us, the room felt a little bit bigger. Almost like we weren’t surrounded by onlookers awaiting my first true reaction.

Our knees were resting so carelessly against each others. Neville’s hand was no longer stroking Trevor with me, it was upright exactly the way someone would hold a ring box ajar. His face was flushed pink, a dopey smile on full display.

My heart floated up and out of my body, drifting high above my head like a balloon. A smile of my own lit up my entire face, while I cupped my palm on Trevor’s back like Neville did minutes before.

Dean and Hermione congratulated me on my fierce battle versus a backwards toad.

But then Trevor made an awful noise that made me jump to attention.

“Okay, Trevor’s done for... the rest of the year.” Neville hurriedly placed the toad on the table behind him.

When he turned to face me, the tiny bit of nerves that infinitely plagued his features returned while he was very caught up between continuing to kneel or standing up.

I hopped to my feet, helping Neville choose to straighten himself up as well.

“That was amazing, Y/N!”

“You’re, you’re— amazing, Nev!” I must have forgotten to resume thinking because I trapped him in a hug. His arms pressed against his sides and all.

After a burst of his nervous laughter rattled through the air, he tried to hug me in return. When only able to bend at his elbows, he hovered his hands over the edges of my back for a moment. Until finally he placed his hands even softer than the touch I just shared with Trevor.

Dean and Hermione swapped looks then, and I had to shut my eyes to pretend I didn’t notice.

#Neville Longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n #neville longbottom x you #harry potter imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom fluff #neville x reader #neville x you

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twink-appreciation-posts · 4 years ago

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Simple Victimology (Spencer Reid x Reader)

chapter one of “all bets are off”

“An agent of the BAU is exactly the unsub's type. Pretty convenient, right? Well, turns out she's exactly Dr. Spencer Reid's type as well. All it took for him to admit it was a bit of... performative seduction.”

{notes: sorry if this was is bit too dialogue heavy! i just needed to get all the groundwork/backstory laid out lmao. anyway action and NSFW content is coming up next chapter.}

"So our unsub's victimology is quite clear, right? I mean, almost to an irrational degree. All the women he's attacked have been dressed similarly, with similar body types, similar makeup." Dr. Spencer Reid mused, his eyes scanning the photographs up on the wall. "And he just doesn't seem to strike women who are alone. He enjoys the thrill of stealing his victims away from other men."

You let out a sigh. The case you and the rest BAU had been working on was fairly straight cut: psychotic sexual sadist who abducts his victim from parties, tortures them for months, then dumps the bodies in the woods.

"But it just doesn't make sense. With such a specific MO, he must rarely find a target that's suitable for him to strike." You shook your head. "It's not a trait that lends itself well to a serial killer."

"That's probably why he spends so much time with each of his victims. An attempt to keep him satisfied between hunts." Derek agreed.

Rossi piped up next. "The specificity leads me to believe he's chasing after a very certain high.. trying to recreate a specific person or moment through his delusions." He continued. "Our best chance of drawing him out is to send out the perfect victim. He's the type who can't afford to pass up the opportunity when he sees one."

Silence. Everyone on the team knew what happened last time they had sent an agent out as bait. No one was sure they were ready to take that type of chance again.

Spencer's eyes continued to scan the pictures and then, suddenly, you felt the weight of his eyes on you. "Y/N looks pretty close to the unsubs type.." He said hesitantly.

"No," Hotch began "We're not sending our own agent out into the field of a sexual sadist as bait."

You stood up quickly. "No, it's okay." You spoke firmly, your own gaze fixated on the previous victims' images. "All we need to do is draw him out, right? You guys will be with me the whole time. I'm not a risk. I can do it."

Silence befell the room again, until Hotch broke it. "Alright. Reid, Prentiss, go over the victimology one more time. Make sure we get this right. We'll send Y/N out tonight."

"That still leaves the issue of the male companion, sir." Emily piped up.

"I'll do it." Morgan volunteered. "I feel at home on the dance floor anyway. Easy cover." He chuckled.

"No..." Rossi thought out loud. " We need someone who's not threatening. Someone who has zero chance of jeopardizing this mission. Zero chance of scaring our unsub off."

Everyone almost instantly turned to Reid. It was almost comical. He blinked a few times, processing the implications of everyone's stare. "Oh. Yeah. I guess I fit that description." He smiled weakly.

"So it's settled then. Get to work agents."

And without another word, you each followed Hotch's orders. You remained in the conference room with Spencer and Emily, psyching yourself up for your first mission as bait.

"The women that our unsub target are all dressed..." Spencer trailed off.

"Provocatively." You finished for him. "They're all wearing short dresses. Lots of skin exposed. And, from what we've gathered, they all seem to be a fan of the party life. Witnesses at the sight of the abduction told us that the girls don't shy away from the taboo. Drugs, drinking, dancing, you name it."

Emily nodded. "You up for that, Y/N?" She questioned half-jokingly.

"You should be asking Spencer if he's up for dealing with that side of me." You jested, glancing up at him. He gave you a reassuring shrug, one that could've been mistaken for a wince, and you shoved him gently. "Don't worry Spence. I won't go too wild. Anyway, I should probably get home and grab a change of clothes. They'll want to have as much time as possible to wire me." You turned on your heel, walking out of the conference room.

"I'll be back!" You announced to the rest of the team.

"Y/N, wait!" Spencer jogged up behind you. "I, uh, I should probably get changed too, right? I mean, I don't want to look too out of place."

You gave him the good ol' once over and pondered for a moment.

"Do you own anything that doesn't look like a TA would wear on his first day of class?" Derick teased from his desk.

"I have some dress shirts, at least." Spencer replied seriously.

"Well I'll give you a ride, then." You offered. "Your place is pretty close to mine." Spencer nodded and followed you out the door.

"Do I really dress like a TA?" He questioned, partially to himself.

"Maybe, but like a TA that all the freshman girls would have a crush on." You patted his shoulder reassuringly.

The car ride to Spencer's place was a relatively quiet one. You discussed the case, you asked Spencer if he thought the plan would work. He seemed pretty confident it would.

"If you want you can just wait here for a second. I really just need to grab the clothes and we can head to your place." He explained once you had parked.

"Go for it." You replied.

He came back, a couple of shirts and ties in hand, and shut the car door. You began driving once again.

"So, Y/N, did you um, used to party a lot back in college?" He asked you. You smiled.

"A bit. I had some fun, that's for sure. I was always pretty focused on my academics, though. Not as much as you were though, I'm sure. A few of my friends used to call me "the fortune teller". I had a habit of making guesses on what would happen at the parties we went to. Who would hook up with who, who would black out first, stuff like that." You reminisced.

"Profiling your fellow party-goers." Reid chuckled.

"I suppose so."

You escorted Reid up to your apartment when you arrived. He commented that it seemed like a nice place. You thanked him. Casual small-talk was made. You began to dig through your closet, searching for a dress that would entice the unsub. "What color shirts did you bring?" You asked.

He quickly shuffled through his options. "Black, grey, white.. why?"

"Just wanted to make sure we wouldn't clash. Can't have a red dress with a blue shirt, right? We're supposed to be going to this party together."

"Oh, smart."

You pulled out two dresses, both of which were from your younger days. You prayed they would still fit. "Which one do you think?" You held them up to Spencer.

"Well, they're both.. they're both pretty. I like them both." He replied, analyzing them.

"Well, yeah . But I mean, which one do you think the unsub would prefer?" You chuckled.

He flushed. "Right. I'd say the dark red one. It reminds me of the dress from the first victim."

You nodded. The dress crushed velvet. Tight. Short. Exposing. But oh well, you figured, this was your job. "I'm gonna change in the bathroom. Feel free to change out here."

You exited the bedroom, leaving him alone. When you had finished slipping on the dress, which fortunately had fit perfectly, you slipped back into the bedroom. Spencer was buttoning up the last few buttons of his shirt. Your eyes followed his fingers, the way they methodically worked, and when he was done he looked up at you.

You both took a beat.

"You look great, Y/N." He coughed a bit, eyeing you up and down. "Ready to catch our unsub." He added quickly.

"You too, Doctor." You grinned. "I think we'll make quite a convincing pair." You grabbed some heels from your closet and motioned for him to follow you back out of the apartment. "Back to work we go!" You sing-songed, starting up the engine.

Almost the instant you stepped into the door of the BAU offices you were bombarded by Hotch a few additional FBI agents. Hotch began to go over the plan meticulously:

Make it appear like you've been drinking. Reid will leave to "go to the bathroom". You go outside for a "smoke break". The unsub will follow you from inside the club. The rest of the team will be staked out in a car near by. Keep the unsub talking. He'll offer to buy you a drink. Accept. He'll go back inside and bring it to you. It's drugged. Do not drink it. Keep the cup as evidence. That's when the others will come to put the guy in cuffs. Reid will be just inside if things seem like they're going to go sideways.

"Jeez, Hotch, I may not have an eidetic memory, but I can remember this. I promise."

Once you were wired up, JJ and Emily began the proccess of your hair and makeup. For a moment, it was almost cute. It was like you were getting ready for a girls night. Except, you supposed, that it was all in the name of baiting a serial killer.

When the clock hit 9pm you and Reid were shuffled off back into your car and given directions to the bar that you would be staking out.

"We didn't have much time to talk in there, what with Hotch being up our asses about the plan. How are you feeling?" You asked.

Spencer didn't reply. Nerves, you figured. "Spence?"

He shook his head, almost as if he had snapped out of a trance. "Ah, yeah sorry. I feel pretty good. I mean, I'm confident we'll catch our unsub." A moment of hesitation. "JJ and Emily did a great job on your makeup. You look... great."

You felt your face heat up. Why was a compliment from Spencer Reid making you nervous? "Thanks."

At 10pm you were pulling into the parking lot of the bar. It was almost full. Tons of people must've been inside. Your unsub included. You took a moment of pause. "Time to get into character." You wiped your sweaty hands on the crushed velvet fabric of your dress.

"The rest of the team must be down the block." Reid nodded.

You looked towards him anxiously and stepped out of the car. He followed suit, coming around to the passenger side and grabbing your hand. You squeezed it gently, not sure if it was to calm your nerves or his, or just because you wanted to.

"Come on, babe!" You exclaimed, pulling him towards the entrance.

It must've caught him off gaurd, but he just chuckled. "I've been waiting for this night all week."

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #all bets are off

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weirdlyfitting · 2 years ago

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Okay so yesterday i watched love and thunder and i think it's okay (and yes definitely way better than mom)

Spoilers btw

I think it has a tone problem tho, i like the comedy stuff there should be less jokes in this one

Gorr is amazing as a villain holy shit, the time he appears when he's already corrupted i got chills down my spine! The camera works are *chef kiss

But....

With him being the villain, back to the tone problem i think that's what made this story didn't turn well. Gorr literally wanted to eradicate ALL GODS, that's probably the highest stake in every thor movie ever had.

And gotta admit, i'm thinking a lot to moon knight's story. As in i tried to search for the connections yk but i'll talk abt this later

I feel like there should be some infinity war element kind of tone in here, it's not that in the end the gang's supposed to loose tho but make it as if they're actually going to loose

When gorr almost got to the eternity i feel a bit dissapointed cause yea i knew he'll change his mind/heart or prob not succeeded

Compare this in ragnarok tho, i feel like the stakes with hela was much bigger/higher cause ragnarok pretty much showed a lot of the damages hela has done to the gang from act 1

The screaming goats ruined the scene when the gang just arrived in shadow-realm-planet(???) sorry i forgot the name lmao, anyway i love the goats in other scenes but i hate them in here only, cause seriously it didn't match the gloomy, dark, corrupted tone of the place itself

And i miss loki being in here, i get that the loki that thor knew is gone-actually-gone but i wish there's more of him talking about his bro :(

Aight moving on to stuff that i liked about the movie :

MOON KNIGHT IN THE MARVEL INTRO. I REPEAT MOON KNIGHT IN THE MARVEL INTRO AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! This is the actual reason i want to watch love and thunder lmao, i'm afraid if this is the first yet last time i'm able to see mk in the big screen of this year so yeah

i love the dynamic between the gang tho, and the shenanigans between thor and guardians aweee!!

the kids getting thor's power just pure awesomeness aaaaaaaa!!!!

Val and jane being such awesome sisters in here hehe, i love their energy 🥺

The battle in shadow-realm-planet. JUST LOOK AT THOSE CINEMATOGRAPHY HOLY SHIT!!!

Gorr. Yea only gorr because he's that cool as villain seriously, no other words can explain how i love his character so much

The "just look at the eyes of people that you loved" line aweee, peter's looking at the other guardians and my heart really melted

Mjolnir and stormbreaker lmaooooo, i feel like strombreaker should meet dr strange's cloak???? The chaos from these two omg

Okay now that's sorta everything now i wanna talk about the moon knight connections

When gorr said he'll kill all the gods OH SHIT I'M WORRIED FOR KHONSHU 😔😭

He's a bad as a god and just a pigeon w angry issue yeah but- BUT goddamn i'm actually worried????? Not to mention with jake now serving him so.....the moon bois are technically not safe either SHIT-

Okay maybe they are safe actually? Cause khonshu's the one that'll die

Anyway anyway

Does this makes the whole ammit & harrow trying to eradicate the bad ones POINTLESS in moon knight? Maybe???

Like imagine gorr arrives on earth while ammit vs khonsu stuff is happening, THEY'RE BIG AND WHAT'S HE GONNA DO HUH???? Then even if he's able to kill ammit (and khonshu) this only makes moon knight's journey more pointless and i hate it! A nobody (on mk's perspective) just popped out and finished what marc, steven and layla were trying to do what the hell- >:(

Luckily gorr haven't kill the enneads yet tho, but still this bothered me

Oh and yk we could've had jake joining the gang to kill this god butcher right? Like come onnn (ignore me i'm desperate for more mk lmao)

And- AND

If gorr ever meets harrow i think they would've had a very interesting convo. Harrow is a fanatic while Gorr is a non-beliver, just imagine how clashed these two would be holy shit!!!

Amd I think there's a line that said "eradicating" and all i could think about was harrow, he too was trying to eradicate something tho

#thor love and thunder #also #moon knight #mcu

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aromantic-romance-writer · 5 years ago

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Tengen Uzui x Fem! Pillar! Reader

[I Value You The Most]

How many times have this gorgeous man made me jealous and straight at the same time, I have no idea-

So I made this to let those emotions all out lmao.

Pretty much self-indlugent though :((( sorry. And Tengen isn't married to his three unbelievably hot wives here too so double sorry-

Hopefully though, you would still be able to enjoy!

Tengen almost can't believe it. There you stood, in a pillar's demon slayer uniform (nothing really changed except the buttons were gold now, but still-), your legs wrapped in bandages. He remembers that day two years ago. He saved a certain girl whose rank was Kanoe from a Lower Moon demon.

"[L/N] [Y/N]. I'll do my very best." you say with a grin. After the Pillar Meeting, Tengen comes up to you.

"Congratulations on being a pillar!" he exclaims with proud eyes. You crane your neck to look up at him, your eyes wide with surprise.

"Y-you remember me?" You ask in disbelief.

He smiles broadly with a wink. "I do."

"Really?! Someone like me?" you ask yourself, feeling giddy. "Wow..."

"You've come a long way. We may be of the same rank, but you're not of the same flamboyant level as I am."

You laugh. "It's nice to see you haven't changed one bit, Uzui-san."

That fateful day, when the Sound Hashira have saved you and finished fighting off that demon, he gave you a proud smile.

"You did a flamboyant job staying alive all this time."

And he let you decapitate the demon's head.

Ever since, you worked harder than ever. He was your inspiration these past 24 months of relentless training and experimenting, until you yourself was able to defeat a demon from the 12 Kizuki.

And here you are now. Called the Blood Pillar.

° ° °

After every Pillar Meeting, Tengen gets more and more disturbed by the sight of you.

Almost after every meeting, you would have new bandages wrapped around your legs. And that was just your legs. He's sure that there could be more under that uniform. While some of the old ones were replaced with scars. At first, he doesn't mind. He thought that you were new to your position as a pillar and have some wounds from your missions, but it's been such a long time now. Why do you always have these new wounds and scars?

Then he remembers. Blood Pillar. Now that he thinks about it, what the hell? Blood Pillar? Exactly from what Breath is that derived from? Does that explain all these new injuires you keep getting?

After the meeting, you see him march up to you, looking all serious. Honestly scared the heck out of you. Did you do something wrong? But you aren't really interacting with him lately, much to your disappointment.

"[L/N]." he crouches to your eye level, giving you an intense stare. "Are you okay?"

You blink. "H-huh? Why wouldn't I be...?"

He frowns. Oh no, is that the wrong response? He straightens up and grabs your wrist, pulling you away. You weren't able to react correctly and even say anything as you stared at his grip on your wrist. You're not sure what to feel about it, but you can feel your cheeks grow hot.

"Where are we going?"

"I just want to have a little chat."

"Oh!" you exclaim as you understood what was the deal earlier back at the Ubuyashiki Estate. You were in an empty field, sitting on the fresh grass of spring. Tengen asked all about your breath style and wounds. You were seriously admiring how confident he is to just ask that to you when he knew you weren't really close. You can't even ask Sanemi about his own scars and where he got them.

"Actually, my father was a very skilled doctor." you start as he listened to you intently. "He taught me how to handle medicines and how this certain tool should be used, and the like. After the day you saved me, I wanted to become more useful as a slayer at the same time be an unexpected enemy to the demons."

"You see, I'm a marechi. And I met a demon whose Blood Demon Art makes their own blood explode or burn. And it gave me the idea, and started to experiment on my own blood. It was a painful process, but it was worth it. After I became a pillar, I learned some tricks from Shinobu-san since I spend a lot of my time getting treated at the Butterfly Estate. I learned how to make poisons painful to scabbard but painless to humans and stocked it in the sheath of my sword. But it's really pretty useless unless my blood is mixed with the poison."

You finish. You stare up at the cloudless sky, adoring the pure blue color of it. Tengen just stares at you for a moment.

"So basically, you have to cut yourself for each form you make with your sword covered in poison..." he concludes ismn a mutter. Why would you make such a breath style? And isn't it too dangerous for your wounds to get exposed all the time or for too long? Plus, demons' favorite food is marechi. Then there's also the threat of blood loss.

This was all irritating him for some reason. He never realized how he deeply cares for you. Every time he sees you with yet again a new bandage, he can't help but feela tightness in his chest.

"[L/N]." he says, making you look at him with a hum. You were taken aback at the soft expression he gave you. "Tell me every time you have a mission."

"Why though?" you ask with a curious look.

He averts his gaze, feeling sheepish. It was a first for Tengen to feel like this. He's never shied away before. In frustration, he abrputly stands. "Just because." and he scratches his head. He walks away, leaving you alone on the field.

"U-Uzui-san...?" you wore such a dumbfounded expression. Was that an order?

° ° °

You sigh in relief. You've finally managed to go on a mission without Tengen on your tail.

These past few months, he's been 'accompanying' you on your missions and it's been annoying you lately. You don't even tell him when that you'll go on a mission. You just get surprised that he's already waiting by your house. He's also doing most of the fighting as well. He wouldn't let you draw your sword sometimes. Somehow, you were able to escape from him today.

Although in those times, you enjoy his company. He doesn't really talk much and seems like he'd rather listen to you. From stories to things Shinobu tells you, to even your problems. He was always there, listening. You've noticed that the way he smiles at you have changed. He always had that reassuring smile. A smile that would tell you "I'm here, always". It reminded you of how your father would occasionally treat your wounds after playing outside. But your father have passed, and no one else would be there for you anymore.

Until Tengen came.

Truthfully, you didn't mind being lonely for a while. Your pride as a demon slayer would allow you to sacrifice your own life to save others. You believed that you lived a contented life already. Nothing more is going to make you happy nor sad. It's okay for you to die protecting others.

Again, until Tengen came.

It's always because of him, these beliefs and thoughts keep changing. He changed you to become stronger, to feel secured and reassured around him, and that something was missing in your life. You weren't sure what it was, but you refuse to pass away without it in your life.

You stop walking. The sun was setting, shedding its final rays of light on the surface from the horizon. The wind have become eerily cold. The scent of human blood was strong, but a stronger smell was coating it. You cover your nose in reflex. What a sinister smell. Pompous and confidence was strongly flowing in this demon's blood.

A 12 Kizuki?

But this scent was more disturbing than the last two Kizukis that you faced from the last two years.

You rushed to the scene, following the scent as it grew stronger and stronger. Soon, you find a distorted white figure growing from what it seems like a vase. His back were lined with infant-like arms and was humming to himself until he felt your presence.

He turns to you, widening your eyes in horror. His face was even more distorted.

"My, I think I smell a marechi." He seems to smile, though you really can't tell. "Fufu, and a pillar?"

You unsheathe your sword and took a stance. You read the kanji on his eyes that were placed vertically on his face.

Upper Moon Five.

All you've encoutered so far were Lower Moon demons, so you expect that this battle will be tough.

"Say, would you like me to show you a piece I've recently finished?" he asks, his tone sounding conceited.

You grit your teeth. "I am not interested." you cut your arm with your blade, making sure the edge is fully coated in blood.

The demon bobs his head to the side. "Since you caught my attention, I'll ignore your rudeness just this once." he grins. "What is the point of slicing your own flesh? To provoke me?"

"You'll find out soon enough." You say before charging at him.

° ° °

Tengen was running as fast as he can, and the closer he gets, the louder he can hear your sword clanging. Although he's a shinobi, so his speed is quite enhanced, he fears that he's too late. It took him this much time to figure out where you were.

He may have realized this later than he should, but you were precious to him. You gave him a reason to be stronger - to live. He won't allow himself to be weak and die before you. You were now his top priority, then the people, then himself. If he can, he'll force you out of the demon slayer corps. Oh, but he can, he just won't. Other than your safety, your happiness was also top priority.

After all those times you've talked together, fought together, he starts to cherish every single moment he spends with you. And he can tell that, although undeservedly, it was him who drove you to be who you are today.

The Blood Pillar.

Just a few more hours, the sun will start to rise. He was finally getting close, until he hears silence. The sounds of clanging and clashing stopped. His heart was practically beating out of his chest in suspense. What happened?

You were breathing deep and hard from exhaustion. Your body was littered with wounds and blood. You've ripped off your uniform's torso, showing a blood-stained bandage wrapped around your breasts. Gashes made by the demon were slowing you down up to the point where you couldn't swing your sword anymore.

"How foolish." he starts. "Your Breath of Blood will kill you. I can just wait here as you die from blood loss, you know."

You smirk. You shouldn't be underestimated. You spent two years shaping and creating a body immune to such threats like that. You can go for another 10 hours or more, if limitations didn't exist, of course. You were only human. You may be weak for a pillar at the time, but you'll get stronger. You have to. You might lose this battle, but you refuse to die.

Win or lose, you will abstain yourself from passing out. You won't die. Not yet.

"But then the sun will rise soon, and I should have a feast. A feast fit for a fine artist such as myself."

He attacks you, you dodge barely. He was taken aback at the fact that you can still move. He keeos attacking, and you just kept dodging until you were finally worn out.

He takes notice as a sinister smile becomes visible on his features. Just when his attack was about to land a blow on you, you felt broad arms wrap around you as you were taken away.

"Didn't I tell you to always inform me of your missions?" You start to tear up. You see Tengen's irked and perturbed expression. He was able to snatch your haori and covers you with the clothing. As he was about to stand, you clutch unto him. He just smiles that reassuring smile. "I'll be back with the same flamboyance." he winks.

As he starts fighting in your stead, you watch him with anxiety bubbling in your chest. As you watch him, you found out what was missing. Even if it was just for a day, just for a few hours, what was missing in your life was Tengen. Now that he's come into your life, he can't come out. You need him. You can't die yet. You still want to spend your life with him. He doesn't have to feel the same way, as long as he's alive and well.

The demon cussed under his breath in frustration and was able to escape just before the sun's rays hit him. Tengen quickly ran to you to see if you're still breathing. Fortunately, you were alive as you gave him a smile.

"[Y/N]..." he whispers as he carries you. He starts walking. "...don't scare me like that."

All you could do was hum in response, your eyes closed and just fully giving in to his warmth.

"Don't be stubborn next time and tell me when you'll go on a mission. I can't breathe easy knowing that my girl is out there cutting herself to kill a demon."

You open your eyes in surprise. "'My girl'...?"

He smiles slightly. "Mhm. Whether you feel the same or not, you're my girl and no one else's right now. You're the most valuable to me in my life. And if someone steals you from me..."

He gives it a thought. "...he has to be way better than me in every way so I have to approve, 'kay?"

You giggle lightly and snuggled against him. You didn't need to say anything to tell him that you also feel the same way, as he can hear your heart beating solely for him.

Tengen watches your sleeping face. He felt truly blessed as something as precious as your heart was beating for him. His heart was beating for you as well.

As if blessing your new-found love, the sun's blinding rays followed both of you walking home, feeling safe and secured and valued with each other.

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birb-tangleblog · 4 years ago

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I mean... it's possible for Cassandra’s feelings to make sense and for her to be justified in some ways, AND for her to have treated Adira poorly too? And actually, these two ideas are complementary and kind of go together?

In S2, Cass is defensive and assumes the worst about Adira. But her instincts aren't entirely wrong- Adira does withhold information, and she sometimes endangers the group.

I think Cass’ attitude there is understandable as a response to this in combination with her own insecurities and internal conflicts.

So starting from the top, I think that on the most basic level, Adira and Cassandra have a pretty big personality clash. Cass is guarded, slow to trust, and insecure. Adira isn't dishonest, but she is very cryptic, and socially she's extremely blunt. Cass is hot-blooded while Adira is... cool. This isn't the only reason for their conflicts, but it definitely contributes; the high stakes of the quest they're on just exacerbates the tension and their differences.

That said, their first meeting is kind of a trainwreck, and I do put that one squarely on Cass. It IS reasonable that she's suspicious of Adira and doesn't want her to be alone with Rapunzel, but she actively escalates that situation into a full blown fight. Adira asks her twice not to touch her so they can do things "the nice way", and Cass' response to this simple request is to ask "where's the fun in that" with a smile- she's raring to go.

(Let's also note that Raps doesn't handle this situation fantastically either: she says they should hear Adira out, but her attempts to deescalate the situation are pretty feeble. She joins the fray, then lassos Adira's wrist when she tries to make peace with Cass.)

But beyond that, I think there's more ambiguity. Like a lot of discussion centers around Cass and Adira butting heads in RatGT, and her hostility towards Adira in that episode.

But honestly? Going through the Tree was a terrible judgment call. Adira led them there because of her overconfidence as a guide. Camping out in the Tree when they’re being actively pursued, as Adira suggests, was also a bad decision with disastrous consequences.

Cass is the only one who speaks up that these are bad ideas, increasingly aggressively because no one is listening to her or acknowledging her valid concerns, and she’s the one who ends up paying the price for their choices when Hector inevitably catches up like she’d warned.

Her being justified, feeling like the group (Rapunzel) isn’t listening to her, and lashing out at Adira/resenting her are connected.

Going back to Adira being cryptic and that being dangerous- objectively, she doesn’t tell the party that the Great Tree is associated with ZT, or warn them about the possibility of Hector (or Edmund) being a threat until he shows up. She also doesn’t tell any of them that Rapunzel could die from uniting with the moonstone until they're already at the DK. (Tbf, Rapunzel thought not returning was a possibility as early as Freebird- but it's still something Adira fails to disclose.)

And S3 Cass is a victim... of bad writing lmao. The mind trap is the big thing there, and yeah obviously it's bad.

The writing in the show does not treat Cass mind controlling her enemies seriously or give it the gravity it deserves as a plot point, we know this and I've talked about it before. A lot of problems come back to that.

Notably, in the series finale, there's a moment where Rapunzel mentions Adira in the context of the moonstone and Cass just kind of scoffs.

To us in the fandom, it seems a bit insulting that Cass would roll her eyes and not express any remorse at the mention of the woman she's been using as her puppet (and it's equally bad that Rapunzel wouldn't say anything!), but it's consistent w/ the show's treatment of the mind trap plot.

So while I enjoy taking that plot at face value in some ways, the writing being iffy and the consequent characterization wonk is smth I think is good to keep in mind when considering stuff like Cass’ treatment of Adira- just as it’s good to keep that in mind w/ S3′s treatment of the Brotherhood, or Edmund, or Quirin, or Lance.

Anwyay TL;DR my takes:

S2: Solidly written, poor communication skills and personality conflicts at work. There’s a lot of interesting greyness.

S3: Messy writing in some respects, and the characterization on almost everyone suffers. Grey but in a muddled way.

#pls read this I spent like 1 million years on my reply I'm dying #and ofc understandable doesn't equal excusable #I just don't think it's totally black and white #anyway #I don't think Adira actively antagonizes Cass #but she does say things that are objectively true but rly insensitive and hurtful to anyone with tact #ask #text post #my post #discussion and theories

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lesbianrobin · 4 years ago

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What do you think of steve and robin and Jonathan amd nancy sharing a storyline together? I dont think its actually gonna happen, but hypothetically how do you think it would go?

God, I wish the four of them would have a storyline together! I think that it would be incredibly fun to see them investigating some sort of mystery, especially if it had something to do with the Russian plot from S3. I think that a Steve/Robin/Nancy/Jonathan team would be SO full of interesting relationship dynamics that I’ll try and explore really quick.

Robin and Nancy: Nancy’s canonically a little hostile to Robin during their brief interaction in the mall, Robin canonically thinks Nancy is a bit of a priss, and they’re both rather headstrong, so I think there’s a good chance that they’d clash pretty spectacularly if they were working together and disagreed on something. There’s also the fact that Robin is canonically rather protective of Steve, and Nancy “broke his heart.” If he’s told her about what happened in S2, then I could see her vague “hm she’s a priss” feelings about Nancy growing into genuine dislike. Then again, Robin was being pretty friendly to Nancy when they met in the mall, and she saw Nancy staying in place and firing at Billy before Steve rammed the car, so she might actually respect her! Nancy didn’t recognize Robin at the mall even though they’re in the same grade at school and likely have classes together. This might contribute to some potential issues, as Robin’s clearly a little upset about Steve overlooking her in high school and she’s insecure about being “invisible.” There are a lot of unknowns between the two of them, and I personally like to write them as being pretty passive-aggressive with each other and sharing a mutual dislike because I think it’s funny, but in canon they could go in a lot of different directions!

Robin and Jonathan: God, I just know these two would be GOLD together. There’s honestly a good chance that they already know each other, considering that they’re the same age, go to the same school, and are both sorta social outcasts. Maybe they’ve worked on group projects together before, or sat at the same lunch table. They’re almost certainly aware of each other, which provides the potential for some interesting messing around with perceptions vs reality. Like, all Robin probably knows about Jonathan before S3 is that he’s the weird kid, he’s poor, his little brother went missing for a while and miraculously turned up alive when they thought he had died, and one time he beat Steve Harrington’s ass. She probably liked him after that lmao. After S3, she knows that Jonathan is all of the above, PLUS he “stole” Steve’s girlfriend, he’s fought monsters before, and he cut into a girl’s leg on a moment’s notice without any real hesitation. She probably thinks he’s some kind of stone-cold badass! It would be super fun to watch them get to know each other beyond those surface-level impressions, and I think they’d probably have a lot to talk about, seeing as they’re both canonically pretty into “alternative” music and obscure/cult films! I think that they’d probably end up getting into some intense debates about shit that Nancy and Steve don’t understand and it would be fun. Nancy and Steve might end up getting a little offended or jealous that their respective People are getting along so well, and that dynamic could be fun to see. I like writing Robin and Jonathan as having a pretty antagonistic friendship, where they rip on each other’s taste in music, movies, literature, etc, and toss around casual insults, but genuinely enjoy spending time together, but since they haven’t interacted really at all, canon could take them in any direction. Also, they’re both gay.

Robin and Steve: y’all know... y’all know!!! Steve and Robin would be in full best friend mode, working perfectly in tandem, and Nancy and Jonathan might even be intimidated by how “on the same page” they are. They’d also likely assume Steve and Robin were dating, which could lead to some funny interactions. Steve and Robin would provide a sturdy base of friendship and cooperation, allowing the rest of the group to have all the arguments and interpersonal drama that they want.

Steve and Nancy: GOD, I want to see how Steve and Nancy interact post-breakup! I think they’d be so awkward and funny. More than that, though, I think it would be fun to see how Robin and Jonathan factor into things. For example, Robin absolutely functions better with Steve than Nancy ever did, and it could be interesting for Nancy to watch the two of them together and see how Steve has changed since they dated. I also think that it would be interesting to see whether they fall back into familiar patterns or whether they’ve grown totally apart from each other. Do they casually touch each other and then pull back self-consciously when they remember? Do they avoid speaking to each other unless they have to, or do they play it cool? Does Steve recognize things from his own past while watching Nancy and Jonathan interact? They tend to approach things rather differently, so might they get into an argument about how to proceed with the mission? How would it escalate if they did? Would one of them bring up past transgressions? There’s SO MUCH left unsaid between the two of them, and Robin and Jonathan are the perfect people to have around to drive them to confront and discuss these things.

Steve and Jonathan: So, I ship Stonathan. Let’s just get that out of the way. I would love to see them bond and fall in love. Beyond that, though, speaking in terms of canon, I think that they would be a little awkward at first, but ultimately end up working really well together. Unlike Nancy and Robin who both tend to run headfirst into danger for fun, they both like to mind their own business until some shit comes up, and then they’ll do what they have to do to keep themselves and the people they care about safe. If they were united behind a common goal, I think they’d focus on that goal. There also isn’t really much for them to butt heads over, at this point, when you consider that their plans of action in emergency situations both tend to prioritize safety above all else and they’d probably not disagree over anything mission-related. Jonathan let out his frustrations over Steve’s S1 behavior, Steve apologized and saved Jonathan’s life, so that’s all cool between them. Steve doesn’t seem to harbor any hard feelings towards Jonathan after S2, even encouraging Nancy to go with Jonathan and support him when he and Joyce are headed to the cabin to burn the Mind Flayer out of Will, and he’s over Nancy now, so I don’t think that would really be an issue. Their interactions would be free of malice, and I think it could be fun to watch them bond and progress from awkward acquaintances to true friends!

Jonathan and Nancy: We already know that their relationship doesn’t fare too well under pressure, as evidenced by S3. Steve and Robin being in the mix would absolutely add to the pressure of whatever serious Russian/Upside-Down situation was at hand, so I think there’s a good chance they’d end up arguing again, and it would be INCREDIBLY uncomfortable for Steve and Robin! They would probably try to limit their romantic interactions in front of Steve, because that shit’s awkward, Jonathan is shy, and he and Nancy probably both still feel a little guilty about how things went down in S2. This would, of course, be weird, and Steve would be like “guys, seriously, I’m over it, you can kiss or whatever and I don’t care,” which would make things SO much more uncomfortable. It would be a mess! A fun one!

So, TL;DR, I think there would be a lot of drama, a lot of discomfort, but also a lot of opportunity for characters who haven’t interacted yet much to bond! There would definitely be a blowout argument or two, most likely between Robin/Nancy or Nancy/Jonathan, with Steve attempting to mediate or break it up so they can focus on their mission. Robin and Jonathan would more or less get along. Steve would be extremely stressed the entire time, and it would be extremely fun (for us, not him). Overall, they would all have unique relationships with each other, and despite any drama they would certainly all risk their lives to keep the others safe, which I think would make for an incredibly dynamic and interesting group!

#long post #em talks #asks #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #lesbianrobin.canon

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inkforhumanhands · 4 years ago

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1, 5, 7, 8, 11, 12, 13, 14, 20, 24, 29?

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Good questionnnn. I guess slightly ridiculous? But also slightly angsty? Also gay lol i can’t write het stuff ‘cause i ain’t one, RIP straight people (lol)

5. Share one of your strengths.

I don’t know if this is actually a strength since I’m sure like nobody else notices it but I have a weird habit of (maybe coincidentally) choosing words near each other with either nice alliteration or assonance lmao

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Okay this whole one-shot was really fun and chaotic, and part of the premise is that the two main characters meet for the first time at a punk show and one of them has his hair dyed red and the other his hair green and the colors clash. Anyway I Iike how I treated the colors as representing each character as he was unknown to the other one, yet they were both attracted to the other for some reason. These paragraphs don’t run together but I like them both as parallels:

A moment before he shrugs away from the action, that bit of green catches his eye again from somewhere in the thick of all the movement. He stalls. The color was on the kid’s hair, or it was the kid’s hair, or the kid’s hair is the color. Green, green, sour but not too sour, like the lovechild of a lime and a kiwi. Billie Joe kind of wants to taste that color, kind of wouldn’t mind tasting that kid’s lips, either.

and

He sees the back of his head first. The color irritates him before he can come up with a reason, but then he remembers that his own hair is green. There’s a bad joke to be made here somewhere, yadda yadda Christmas.

And then the asshole with the bright red, the Atomic Fireball candy red fucking red hair turns around and Tré maybe rethinks his position. The guy has a nice face. Tré digs the nose ring, digs the bold eyebrows framing soft, yet potentially devious eyes. Heck, he digs it so much he’s having trouble looking at him straight on, like the guy is some sort of eclipse. Or maybe he doesn’t want to be caught with his mouth open. He averts his eyes and brushes past him like he fucking hates baby Jesus. Time to seek out another joint.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

lol okay I like this dialogue that my Magnus Archives ficlet ‘Poptimism’ is based around. this like 80% of the fic because it’s short so sorry but:

“Sorry to interrupt, but Tim asked me to hand you the copy of the police report for State—hang on, is that Billie Eilish?”

Jon did a grumpy thing with his mouth. He had been hoping Martin would stick to business. This was one of the things he liked least about his assistant: too friendly.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Martin said, and blinked in a way that affected surprise.

“Is there a problem?” Jon’s scowl deepened.

“No, no. It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“Just you don’t…seem like the type to listen to popular music is all.”

Jon moved out from behind his desk and snatched the folder from Martin’s hands. “It’s called poptimism, Martin.”

“Popti-what?” Martin laughed, and Jon found his irritation deflating somewhat. Clearly he was too tired to waste emotions on this idiot any longer.

“What kind of music did you think I listen to, then?”

“Hmm, something a bit more indie maybe? Old-school emo?”

Jon snorted. “You would have me be some hipster, then.”

“Yeah, basically,” Martin agreed like it was nothing. “But now I know not to be surprised if next time I walk into the archive you have Lil Nas X blaring.”

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Somewhere in between? I used to want to be a writer of some sort and now I just do academic writing which is.....not fun. Maybe someday I will actually like write a book or something though. I would like to take it more seriously again.

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

This isn’t direct inspiration but just like The Vibes from the scene where Matt loses his hearing for a bit in season 2 and then season 3 depression Matt are where it’s at.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

I’m biased because this is a huge pet peeve of mine when reading fic, but “don’t use epithets unless it’s called for” is great advice. It’s okay to repeat names and pronouns, it’s not repetitive, I promise. “The man” though, when you and the narrator both know who “the man” is? That’s awful.

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

This one isn’t the worst, in fact it’s Good advice, but a lot of people don’t seem to actually understand it: “Don’t use purple prose.” Purple prose is by its nature unnecessary and clogs up a story, especially one that might have an otherwise faster pace. Purple prose is NOT, however, the same as just having a writing style that’s on the descriptive or metaphorical side. You wouldn’t say Virginia Woolfe’s entire body of work was purple prose; that’s just her writing style.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Writing on a better laptop than this piece of shit, that’s for sure. I would say maybe with a cup of tea beside me but then I’d have to keep getting up to empty my bladder, so... I don’t know, I guess just being comfortable (like a good chair that doesn’t kill my back) + being able to get down ideas fast before I forget them and/or being able to change/edit sentences easily so good technology are musts. Also like air temperature should not be too hot or too cold.

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Nope, HOWEVER I did get banned from a website when I was 15 (LOL) and I recently did a web search to make sure the fic I had on it doesn’t exist online still because it was really bad (unrelated to the reason I was banned). Anyway it’s gone now and will never see the light of day again so if that counts as fic deletion then yes. Otherwise no, I would be too sad if someone liked one of my fics and I accidentally took that away from them.

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Okay not technically a sequel or prequel but I think it would be very fun to poke around in a_silver_sun’s Time Traveler’s Wife AU “Always Crashing in the Same Car”

#ask games #writing #happybeans #asks

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makeste · 5 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 239: We’re Fucked

Previously on BnHA: Actually it’s been two weeks, so I barely even remember. Let me just... take another... Ah, right. So Tomura brought it up a notch to Goth Level x20 and destroyed all of his Surplus Hands in a fit of independence, and Re-Destro was like “!!!” and then turned himself into a giant robot as a counter-flex. Meanwhile Gigantomachia continued to smash shit and also defeated Orange Leaf because lord knows Dabi was never actually going to get around to it. Compress called Ujiko and was all “hey can you please stop your guy because I’m afraid he’s going to smash us once he’s done smashing everything else,” but Ujiko was all, “listen if Shigaraki dies then he dies!!” But I’m pretty sure Shigaraki isn’t actually going to die. Re-Destro, though? He might be dead. Guess we’ll find out.

Today on BnHA: Nope, Re-Destro isn’t dead. So it goes like this: Tomura, who is now incredibly hot by the way, annihilates the entire fucking town leaving only bits of rubble, basically. Everyone is all, “LOOK AT THIS ARE YOU FUCKING SEEING THIS HOLY SHIT” and basically just watching in awe. Re-Destro chops off his own fucking feet so as not to be disintegrated himself, something which everyone is way too fucking calm about tbh. And in the aftermath Tomura stands there all “lol I won,” and RD is like, “yeah you sure did,” and I was expecting Tomura to be all “well anyways, [kill]” but instead RD is like, “HERE’S THE KEYS TO YOUR NEW ARMY” and Tomura is “HEY COOL” and SOMEHOW THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER AND WORSE ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Heh. Anyways where’s that comic with the dog in the house that’s on fire. That about sums it all up.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, but aside from that there are no changes, and even that was a rush job since I was late in reading the chapter this week. I basically have not edited this at all lulz.)

sounds like someone is about to get the official Gigantomachia Seal of Approval at long last! sure did take this boy a while to get accredited, but he kept at it! there’s a lesson there, folks. if at first you don’t succeed, stop sleeping for two months and then power-hallucinate your way to success

so we’re opening with Hanabata and his van! I sure hope this mofo is about to die, because mofos need to start dying already. I’ve loved this arc and we’ve had some really great times, but I never did have much patience for this particular point of any given arc. side villains need to know when to die. respect for Kizuki, at least she had the right idea

on the other hand we are being gifted with some pretty fun panels, such as this

wah, his shoes. heh

oh my god

did he slam into the van when it hit the brakes to avoid Tomura’s Destruction Radius. ouch

so he’s narrating about how some crazy shit is going down over where Tomura is. and that “our story was at a standstill, but now...”

listen, that “but now” had better mean that you’re about to de-standstill and wrap things up

-- holy shit

I’m not -- Tomura, what!?! you’re hot?! is it just me?? am I fucking losing it?? what the fuck. can you seriously just cut off anyone’s fingers and they’ll magically grow 40x hotter!? somebody count Aizawa’s fingers for me

shit. this isn’t even my normal aesthetic! Tomura you’re crossing genre barriers here. I can’t speak for everyone, but I deeply suspect that you’re appealing very widely right now

the moral of this story is, eyeliner. that’s it. that’s the moral

in other news, Twice shouting “hang in there, Giran!” speaks for all of us, I think, and he had better get a medal for being VIP of this fucking arc. and Giran, it’s good to get some exercise

so who is this monologuing now?

is this a flashback to All for One? or RD getting all philosophical as the countdown inches ever closer to his doom?

like, this could seriously go either way here. huh. full disclosure, I’m doing my best to speedread here since this recap is late, so I’m not taking much time to think real deeply or try and process every little thing this week

now RD is going “guh!” and failing to get with the times

yeah dude, we established this already. Tomura is doing a lot of things he shouldn’t fucking be able to do. because he’s awakening. you’re the one who fucking said it just last chapter. quit being so damn shocked

lol now he’s thinking “if I can just get out of range...” ha, good luck. does he even have a fucking range now

omfg. you guys

being on the villains’ team for an arc is so much fun. so nice to be able to shamelessly appreciate the senseless destruction

okay, not quite as hot now. but from the right angle, though. damn

anyways. he cray. we get it lol

now he’s shouting “I’ll break you to pieces!” all gleefully and, like. destroying the entire town, it looks like. possibly

okay but seriously I think he really is. he really fucking is, you guys

I’m simultaneously grinning at how badass it is and thinking in the back of my mind about how our actual heroes are so!! fucked!! once this arc is over and done with sob

like, hey Tomura, what was your overall goal again? destroy the entire world? oh, yes, right. and what exactly is stopping you, again? literally nothing but a handful of sixteen-year-old heroes in training? whom I’m deeply attached to? yes, that’s surely going to end well

sobbbbbbbb

we’re so. goddamn. fucked

also, when did RD transform back into his little guy form? why do I suddenly almost feel sorry for him. well maybe not sorry so much as I feel pity. though once again, weekly reminder that he invited them himself, and they probably would never have clashed had he not decided to start shit for absolutely no fucking reason

let this be a lesson to all other villains! if you’re still thinking the League is an easy mark now that AFO is ~out of the picture~, let Overhaul and Re-Destro serve as examples of what happens when you underestimate the new boy in charge

and when I think of it that way, it makes me want to warn Tomura not to get too cocky and make the same fucking mistake. AFO and All Might may not have much in common, but one thing they do share is a knack for choosing worthy successors. though I still think that in AFO’s case, “placeholder” would be a more accurate word

anyway so where were we. -- oh yes

I wonder how many pages do we need of Tomura cheerfully decimating shit and RD watching in terror. this is a manga-only complaint though, just to be clear. in the anime? this shit is going to be fucking amazing. Tomura cackling maniacally while the world crumbles to pieces around him. metal af

by the way I love how RD has gone pants-only now that he’s back in his Bruce Banner form

I really shouldn’t be complaining that this chapter is going by so quickly, given that I’m trying to race through it, but literally the next two pages are just more of the same shit

town: destroyed. RD status: defeated and pants-only. plots advanced in the last three pages: none that I can actually see

oh shit. wait

what the -- holy --

okay lol. nevermind. here I thought that was Tomura’s foot on the previous page. and I didn’t notice RD’s feet had been chopped off on account of I thought the BLOODY STUMPS OF HIS FEET were his shoes, I guess. despite the manga establishing multiple times that he was only wearing pants. I only pointed it out specifically twice myself. wowwww

just. I’m running on four hours’ sleep here but feeling pretty all right considering, so I thought I was doing pretty good, but I GUESS NOT lol. one of these days I’ll learn that if a giant two-page spread appears to be a waste, it’s far more likely that I’ve just completely failed to see some very obvious thing of critical importance

anyways. ohhhhh yesssss

[raises hand] me! I know!! it was him calling you up out of the blue and being all “hey come here I want to start a whole battle”!!

heeeeeeeh

god I’m living for this. the brief swell of pity is gone as quickly as it arose lol. finish him off boiiiii

OH FOR FUCK’S --

DID YOU GUYS SOMEHOW FAIL TO GET THE MEMO. DID THE ENTIRE TOWN CRUMBLING APART NOT CLUE YOU IN THAT IT WAS TIME TO HEAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION

jesus. I would be impressed by their loyalty, except that none of them have given a fuck about the 100,000 hapless redshirts who’ve died fighting for them, so it seems pretty damn hypocritical for them to care so much about this one fucking guy. especially when his stupid plan singlehandedly destroyed everything your organization has spent their entire lives working for. in, like, an hour

anyway, Tomura is back to being hot again guys

motherfucker is fully aware of just how much everything is lining up his way right now. finally his childlike self-assuredness actually has some sort of basis in fact. you are exactly as badass as you think you are, sir. must be nice. you enjoy this; you deserve some nice things just this once before everything goes to shit again after this arc

holy shit, even Hanabata’s quirk is failing in the wake of that see-you-in-hell grin

I’m telling you dude, you should have been driving the other way. not that there’s any point now. enjoy your final seconds on this earth

LOL

“meaningless casualties” lmao that is the most pompous variation on “DON’T YOU GET IT, WE’RE ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE” I’ve ever heard

wow, so wait, is RD trying to beg for their lives now??

that’s a surprisingly classy move. unfortunately I’m fairly sure Tomura is going to show you exactly as much mercy as you were prepared to show him just a few minutes earlier. well maybe a little more mercy, since you were going to take your sweet time and he’ll probably end things quickly in comparison

anyway so now RD is having an internal dialogue with his dead great-grandpa about how Tomura turned out to be the living embodiment of everything they were fighting for

and actually, he’s not wrong when you think about it. which just goes to show you how deeply flawed their philosophy really was. there’s a hugely important distinction between “freedom to be who you are” and “freedom to do whatever the fuck you want, including hurting and oppressing others”

anyway, so in the end he didn’t ask for mercy. “I picked a fight with you and lost. if you mean to kill me, then get it over with.” well I guess that is still classy in its own way though

also, Machia is staring at Tomura and seeing this

which is an awesome visual, and I love that Horikoshi went with that instead of more internal monologuing. nothing else even needs to be said

-- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT

SDFSLDKJFLJS HOLY SHIT

yooooooooooo. oh shit

I did not see that coming. should have, probably. there was a lot of buildup to it in hindsight. Tomura and the gang started out the arc flat-out broke, and now at the end of things they acquire a company with precisely the resources they need. manpower, cash, and technological innovations. oh shit. oh shit

oh my god the look on Ujiko’s face. this worked out better than he ever could have hoped

pausing it here because I did in fact laugh and I love it. [pats]

this boy has a 5/5 intelligence score in the character databook. he’s a genius. nothing gets past him. his reflexes are too fast

aaaaaand that’s the end of the chapter. well, then. to reiterate: we are well and truly fucked y’all

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 239 #shigaraki tomura #re-destro #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #well that's just great #now he has an army *and* a hulk #on the bright side #having seen what this army is capable of #I don't think we need to worry too much about that particular new asset

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raylee-kai · 5 years ago

Text

When You Love Someone - Park Jae Hyung Chpt. 1 (Part 1/2)

Here's the thing.

You hated playing the guitar.

You were clearly a keyboard/piano person but when you heard that Jae had volunteered himself at the local music shop, you barely hesitate to put your name down on the form for the guitar lessons. It might have got something got to do with the crush you harbor on the guy.

Your hate of the guitar was mostly because of the fact that your fingers were never flexible enough to press on the strings, how loud and gritty the sounds of an electric guitar echoes and also how there were different ways to play with different songs.

Like what on earth was plucking?

Why are there different ways to play one instrument?

It didn't help that there were different ways to tune a guitar. The amount of time you struggled with the tuner was making you regret the decision but as soon as Jae smiles at you and helped you out, you found yourself back in the studio, practicing yet another song on the guitar.

"Have you been practicing your chords?"

You nod, totally forgetting that he was actually asking about guitar chords and not keyboard. He gave a small chuckle and settled in front of you.

"Great, let's see it!"

The next few minutes consisted of;

"Did you tune your guitar? It sounds a little weird.."

"That's the G chord."

"Bring that finger here and this one here..."

"Show me A chord..... Uh... That's C chord."

"That's not even a chord."

It was amazing how Jae was never frustrated with your inability to learn the chords because your limit was approaching fast.

Every mistake you made, you simply want to throw the guitar down and leave but Jae was always there to stop you from doing that. With his kind smile and carefree attitude, you could not stop yourself from falling for him even more. He was honestly your only motivation to learn the guitar.Your frustration was clear on your face but once he ruffles your hair, you can't help it but to come back for the next session.

"You did great! Just need a little more practice."

Jae flashed a proud smile when you get a chord right was the highlight of the entire lesson.

"That's it for today!"

Jae clapped his hands and pats your shoulder, as if signing to you that you did a good job. Your shy smile made its appearance along with a slight blush but luckily, his attention was on the notification of his phone. He briefly read through and perked up, catching you before you leave.

"Before I forget, here!"

He held out a shiny silver ticket out to you and grinned.

"Umm... What is this?"

"There's a gig, tomorrow at Club Eclipse. Thought that maybe it would be nice for you to see a few live performances."

You eyed the ticket for a bit before you glance up at him.

"You'll be playing?"

"Not this time but I'll be sure to invite you next time! Pinky promise!"

He stuck out his pinky, wiggling childishly to which you curled with a small giggle. Jae gave you a ruffle on your hair before looking at his watch.

"I'll pick you up at about 7 at the cafe near school?"

"You have a license?"

"Only one way to find out right?"

He winked, smiling while you tried to bite back your smile.

You might have went all out in trying to find the perfect outfit which had Seungmin groaning in pure annoyance at the fact that you just practically dumped a bunch of clothes infront of him. The amount of times that you ran into his bedroom's toilet and came out with a new outfit had him regretting his friendship with you.

As if he could break a childhood friendship that easy.

You and Seungmin met each other at a piano recital when the two of you were younger. Ever since then, it was as if it was fated for the two of you to be friends. Both of you kept getting into the same classes, courses and school with or without planning on it. Plus, it did not help that Wonpil, Seungmin's brother, was your partner for a piano recital which made the two of you even closer.

"Are you seriously doing this at my house?"

"I need fashion advice."

You pouted, turning away from the mirror for Seungmin's view. He barely gave you a glance and scoffed.

"Stop pouting. You ain't cute."

You pouted even more at his harsh words but it was just a Seungmin thing to do so you weren't offended in the slightest.

"Why aren't you asking Hyunjin for fashion advice? He is better than the rest of us at fashion."

"YOU'RE A GENIUS, SEUNG!"

You immediately grabbed your phone and called Hyunjin over to Seungmin's house. It didn't take long for him to arrive but not alone.

"Who invited the sunshine twins here?"

"We are here for mental support!"

"Get out of my house."

"Why do you like Jae anyways?"

Felix's question threw you to a state of flabbergast.

"Why Jae?"

Jisung added on, while Hyunjin was picking up outfits and trying to pair them together.

You sat on Seungmin's mattress much to the other's displeasure and thought about it to yourself.

At first, it was the smile. You always thought that Jae had a cute smile with how he smiles with his eyes. He had a variety of smiles from the playful mischievous grin to the tired yet blessed smirk. It stays in your mind every time and you could not help feeling warm seeing his smile.

"Who's that?"

You asked Seungmin, who had been re-reading his script for the tenth time that day. Your dear friend was a part of the MC line up for some after school event which he was extremely nervous for which was why you, his dear friend, was there to cheer him on.

"What?"

"That blonde? I don't think I had seen him before."

"Oh, Jae?"

You raised a brow as if trying to get him to explain more. "He was a student here, my brother's senior. They called him back to help us with the event."

Your attention went to the blonde who was joking around with some of the MCs to calm their stage nerves. The way he threw his head back to laugh caused you to smile a little.

"Cute."

Then, you fell for his personality. How friendly and welcoming he was with everyone, how thoughtful to those he held those dear and how mature and gives the best advice at times. He was like a canvas with similar yet different shades that you would only realize after looking closely.

Jae was not close to Wonpil by any means.

It did not mean that they hated each other or anything but it is just that their friend circles never really clashed. So, Jae had no reason to protect Wonpil like he did that one time during his third recital.

During his third recital, the seniors had Wonpil running around, forcing him to do stuff which would make him late to the recital. They went as far as to cut his formal clothes causing him to turn up with red slick back hair and blue button up which had caused a ruckus among the audience and judges for not being professional. But without a doubt, he was able to pull a performance that had the audience crying and reaching out for their tissues.

Unfortunately, Wonpil was disqualified and was banned from joining in another recital in the event hall for not being "professional" and was reported for "harassing" the seniors that he had helped.

That had caused you and Seungmin to fume in pure anger with how you had seen Wonpil going around to help the seniors, even going as far as to cut his practice time.

It was the first time you saw Wonpil getting upset that he walked away.

You and Seungmin were about to storm into the judges when Jae reached before the two of you could and provided them with evidence and eyewitnesses of the seniors bullying Wonpil and forcing him on errands. You watched in pure amazement at how the older glared the seniors down.

When you asked why would he stand up for a total stranger, his reply would always be the same.

"Why not?"

After, you just could not help but pay attention to him no matter where he goes. It's like your eyes would constantly be searching for him. There was just something about his presence that made you look at him in amazement.

What do you like about Jae?

"I don't know. I just like him."

You should probably trust Hyunjin more than you did because the outfit he put together really looked good. Not only you looked good but you also feel good in the outfit. So there you were with nervous jitters waiting outside the cafe for Jae, typing at your phone furiously, trying to calm yourself down.

Millennium Line Unite (5)

Memelix : Still cant believe u got boss to give u today off

Memelix : On short notice

J.ONE : Not fair :(

SeungSky : I dont get y u guys complaining

SeungSky : M covering her shift

SeungSky : If anyone want complain it be me

lmao he saw my ticket

he just send me off

Dramallama : boss said you need friends

Dramallama : hes sad Minnie is ur only friend

Dramallama : WHO TF CHANGE MY USER NAME

Memelix changed Dramallama to PrettyJinnie

PrettyJinnie : Aww

PrettyJinnie : Thanks baby

Memelix : Anything for my Prince

J. ONE : my eyes

J. ONE : NEED BLEACH

SeungSky : No flirting

SeungSky : Not in this christian household

Memelix : jokes on you

Memelix : im catholic

SeungSky : And Jisungs a rapper

Memelix : ???

J. ONE : ???

PrettyJinnie : ???

???

SeungSky : it means idgaf

Ouch

taht got to hurt

SeungSky : Idgaf bout ur date either

SeungSky : u made me work on my off day

SeungSky : u officially out of my friend list

J. ONE : at least u were in his list

SeungSky : Han

SeungSky : stfu

Oh shit oh shit oh shit

Jae here gtg

wish me lcuk

Memelix : Stay safe

PrettyJinnie : Use protection

J. ONE : good lcuk

Private Chat : SeungSky

SeungSky : Text me ASAP if somethings wrong

SeungSky : Don't accept drinks from strangers

SeungSky : Stay close to Jae hyung

Must u do this everytime

SeungSky : U only have one braincell

SeungSky : It worries me that u dont have common sense

I do have

hope I dont make a fool of myself

SeungSky : Tough words for a clown like u

f u

"Coming in?"

Jae's voice hollered from the car as you look up from your phone. You darted into the car taking the seat next to the driver's and greeted him casually. You tried to avoid his look, considering how he actually put effort in looking good and you could barely stop yourself from combusting at the sight.

"Looking good today."

"Thanks. You too, Jae. It's been awhile since I saw you in something other than a shirt."

"That's cause I'm usually half awake and late for work."

"Well, does that mean that you are late everyday?"

"Hush now little one."

Laughing quietly at his words, you guys started talking about random things and before you know it, you were already there in the club.

"Nervous?"

He asked, seeing how you hesitate after parking the car nearby. An arm over your shoulder had you calming down almost instantly. It was as if just knowing that Jae was there brought you calmer.

"Is this the wrong time to tell you that this is my first time going to a club?"

"You mean to tell me… you're a club fetus?!"

You giggle at his dramatic scandalised face and playfully pushed him away. He laughed and placed his hands on your shoulder leading the way.

"Don't worry and just stay close."

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lokidiabolus · 5 years ago

Text

Actors

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Newtmas

(Jonipony: So this idea just came to me out of thin air, Thomas and Newt are actors who don't get along well together, but they have to do a love scene together for their characters and end up falling in love in real life. I was thinking maybe they forced themselves to spend time together in order to make their character's relationship seem more real and once they fall for the other person they can't tell if it's real or just their characters. And of course you can put your own twist or interpretation on it, you don't have to do just that. I think it could work for a longer fic or just a one shot depending on how you want to do it. Thank you so much for considering it!

Holy shit, I'm so sorry it took foreverrrr. I started writing it, then suddenly didn't know HOW to approach it, so I scrapped it, started again, scrapped it, wrote first 10 pages and stopped. Then returned to it after several months, wrote another set of pages, stopped. And now I FINALLY finished it, aaaaaaaaaa. Seriously, sorry it took ages lmao. Not even sure if it's what you've wanted, they seriously started to live their own life in there :'D)

Ao3 Version.

Maybe it would do you good if you spent a little more time together, off set.

In retrospect Thomas should have known it meant bad business, because as much as he liked his job and the series he was in, spending more time with Newt out of all people was not the best idea. Not that he could do anything about it – their producer and writer Jorge simply decided their characters needed to become less flat and also had the guts to say he was planning it all along, because representation. So Thomas’ until then completely straight character Stephen who liked parkour and Chinese food became miraculously captivated by a scientist Isaac, even though up until then they didn’t really have much screen time together.

When the morning read-through of the new episode revealed Jorge’s masterplan, Thomas didn’t know what to say or how to act. Him and Newt – they were like water and fire, and even though they didn’t clash loudly or made scenes, their civil behaviour had pretty low borders and they simply couldn’t be bothered to raise it. Up until today they didn’t even need to, because hey, one, two scenes per episode were only necessary evil and they usually didn’t even have the space to glare at each other much.

Thomas wasn’t sure how exactly it started – there wasn’t a girl they were both interested in involved, no role they both wanted and one of them got it, no pranks they played on each other that embarrassed them in public. There was nothing wrong with their interactions up until there was and Thomas couldn’t point a finger at it. The animosity was just there, sitting on the perch like a duck, ready to strike when they got into few meters wide vicinity of each other.

He didn’t know what exactly bothered him about that thin, blond nobody either. His appearance was pretty normal, maybe he just needed to gain a pound or two, and he had kind of unreal baby face, but apart from the lankiness and blond hair ruffled all the time, his looks were not that notable to irritate him. Neither did his British accent he usually concealed anyway or the way he talked to people. He just didn’t sit well with him, and quite frankly the antipathies were mutual and Newt wasn’t shy from showing him. So they kept their distances and interactions to minimum and everybody was happy.

Until Jorge fucked it up. And by fucking it up Thomas meant he started an apocalypse. Basically the series’ new couple was fancying each other because why the hell not, precisely after meeting in the university infirmary where Stephen ended after rather risky parkour manoeuvre that ended in few bruises, his friends who studied on the university thought it was a good idea to use the infirmary to patch him up, and then wild Isaac appeared, and his white coat and glasses apparently did it for Stephen.

As much as Thomas was concerned, he would say the plot was weak as morning coffee they had in cafeteria. But apparently where representation mattered, it was basically much better when no annoying drama got involved and it had a carefree flow, apart from the usual society problems Thomas kind expected to jump at them in the upcoming episodes somewhere.

“There are going to be snogging scenes.”

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the exasperated voice, and then once more when Newt sat heavily next to him and the chair squeaked.

“I just asked Jorge,” the blond added with a deep sigh and Thomas mentally ticked it in his to do list. He knew there were conditions like stunts and possible romantic storyline with physical exposure when he signed the contract for the series, but he had no idea his partner would be a guy he couldn’t stand even on his good day. Was this Jorge’s version of the get-along shirt?

“Amazing,” he commented and Newt hummed in agreement. Jorge recommended a solution for their antipathy – which naturally included more contact – but Thomas had a feeling it would only worsen their current relationship. So far he had no idea what Newt’s bad habits were because he never spent time with him, but if he added something seriously annoying to the already bothersome mix, murder would sound like a good solution.

“Let’s grab lunch together,” Newt stood up while glancing at his watch. “We can talk about it there.”

“Lunch,” Thomas repeated, because man, hearing that from Newt was seriously unreal. The blond looked at him with furrowed brows and took Thomas a second before he realized it was his way of saying: okay, we gotta work on our attitudes, so this is where it starts.

“Ye, you know. A place where they serve food for money,” Newt deadpanned. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept, at least from TV.”

“Just thinking if I want to ruin my day by spending it with you, is all,” Thomas shot back and it made Newt snort and shook his head.

“Great start, mop head,” he commented and started walking to the exit. “And they say I am defensive.”

Thomas wasn’t defensive, but maybe a little desperate.

***

“Look, I’m sure we both are professionals,” Thomas started when they finally found a free spot in a restaurant that led them to a secluded corner with small table and a candle in the middle. Thomas kind of thought this was on purpose, but he kept it to himself.

“Well, one of us definitely is,” Newt retorted without even looking at him, his eyes fixated onto a menu. Thomas wished he would order beer, so the waiter could tell him they are not serving alcohol to kids and he would have to give them his ID. “Your point?”

“We don’t need this torture,” Thomas decided not to snap at him for the time being. “It’s gonna be fine on set.”

That finally made Newt to glance at him.

“You think so?” he put down the menu and leaned a bit forward, his elbows on the desk. “So Jorge shouting at us because there is no chemistry whatsoever and it looks more like we want to kill each other, that’s fine by you?”

“He never said that,” Thomas disagreed stubbornly.

“He did,” Newt shrugged. “Sure, it was a year ago, but mate, I still feel like kicking your shin most of the time I see you, it kinda shows.”

“For you maybe-,”

“It shows for both of us,” Newt stopped him mid-sentence and sighed before getting back to the menu. “If you don’t believe me, ask the rest of the cast. Or the crew.”

Thomas didn’t need hear it from other sources to be able to tell Newt was right. The glares they occasionally sent to each other spoke volumes and he knew that, but he was almost sure it didn’t really show when they were on the set together, filming a scene. They were actors, it was their job to pretend to love people they didn’t fancy as much or at all, they were taking money for that kind of shit.

“So what’s your problem then?” he crossed his arms on his chest, looking at Newt expectantly. “Why am I on your shit list?”

“Why am I on yours?” Newt uttered lazily.

“I asked first.”

“It’s exactly this,” Newt finally stopped paying attention to the menu completely and closed it, then leaned back to the chair. “That thing you do all the time.”

“What thing?” Thomas raised an eyebrow and Newt gestured towards him with click of his tongue.

“That overbearing and unhealthy competitiveness,” the blond elaborated. “You hear an opinion and you immediately challenge it or you try to surpass it with me, me, me. Just talking to you about literally anything is a bloody waste of time because you’re unable to talk about anything else but you.”

Thomas blinked, then tilted his head to the side, and kept quiet. When nothing else from Newt came, he cleared his throat, just to be interrupted by a waiter asking for their orders and lighting up the candle between them with a weird smile.

Well, maybe not that weird, judging from where they were sitting. Thomas wondered what kind of bad karma was punishing him today, because he was slowly reaching his bullshit quota. Unhealthy competitiveness? Great! Maybe Newt could even make a whole psychological profile while at it!

“Don’t fry your brain, mop head,” Newt spoke up the moment the waiter left their table with orders. He reached for the candle and held his hand above the flame, changing heights like a kid that got a new toy. “I guess it’s just your thing. Rarely anybody acting like that realizes they are doing it. And if they do, they don’t care. Which is probably your case too.”

“Thanks, Dr. Freud,” Thomas forced out and pinched the bridge of his nose. The sole image of him having to pretend to be in love with this jerkface was making his blood boil. “I guess my reason is just that you’re such an insufferable brat I simply can’t stand you.”

“Well, it’s a start,” Newt uttered back and crossed his arms on his chest. “I propose to spend time together between sets, to go through the lines. If we won’t kill each other, I’m sure there is still hope for us to be able to survive the filming.”

“I refuse,” Thomas shot back without hesitation and it made Newt to bark out a laugh. “What.”

“Nothing, nothing,” the blond waved his hand, but kept on smiling and Thomas’ frown deepened. “It’s just that you’re such a kid all the time, it’s bloody hilarious.”

“If this is supposed to help me not to hate you, then you’re doing a very bad job,” Thomas warned him and then the waiter was back with their food, to which Thomas completely lost his appetite. Newt was still grinning at him like he won some sort of competition, and if it had been a race of who will get pissy first, Thomas had to admit he did lose.

“Hate is such a strong word though,” Newt commented with apparent amusement and pulled the plate with his lunch closer to him. “You shouldn’t use it so deliberately. What if there would be somebody you’d hate even more?”

“I don’t think it’s possible at this moment,” Thomas gritted through his teeth and it finally made Newt to stop with the nit-picking and his face turned a little more serious again.

“Alright, sorry,” the blond gestured with his fork. “Not going to push you anymore. Was just wondering how much you can take.”

“Not much more than this, I assure you,” Thomas said gruffly and Newt still had the nerve to smirk at him.

“Are you not going to eat?” he pointed at Thomas’ plate and when Thomas made a face, he insolently stole a fry and ate it. Thomas was sure one of them was not going to survive the filming at the end of the season.

***

“Can you stop glaring at me?”

Thomas groaned and put down the script with a loud bang against the table. Newt was in front of him, in his stupid oversized sweater and crazy hair and Thomas was literally on edge.

“Does it matter? It’s just a script reading,” he growled at him and heard Minho next to him laugh. Jorge on the other side of the table shook his head.

“Thomas, pull yourself together,” he said with a strict voice he usually reserved on sets when they kept on butchering the lines, and Thomas wanted to point at Newt and shout it’s all his fault! But he didn’t, because of course not, that would be childish and something Newt apparently wanted to provoke out of him. That little blond shit was taunting him from the first moment they sat down in the meeting room and he kept on smirking at him even when there were no lines they had together, and Thomas felt his blood pressure rising. Seriously, this couldn’t be healthy.

“Sorry,” he managed to bit out and looked back into the script where he was supposed to be flirting with Isaac, but it got out of him as a death sentence. Even he heard that, so naturally there was no denying it, and Newt just had to point it out in front of everybody.

“Minho, continue from the second paragraph,” Jorge commanded and the room grew quiet. Thomas wondered if he could fake a voice loss for a month or two, maybe it would help him get his shit together while avoiding his co-star like a plague.

***

“Oi, come here.”

Thomas almost did a pirouette when a hand stopped him from his march out of the building, and before he could properly react, he got dragged inside of the now empty meeting room by Newt. The cast was already gone and most of the crew as well, the studio was filled only by low hum from cameras not yet turned off.

“What now,” he sighed unhappily and the blond leaned against the table and crossed his arms on his chest.

“How did you get hurt?” he asked and Thomas stared at him like he lost his mind. Hurt? Him?

“What?”

“How. Did. You. Get. Hurt?”

Thomas opened his mouth to call him an idiot, but then it hit him. It was the line from the script. Newt’s character line from the dialogue the two of them had and kind of failed in the script reading this morning.

There was a small moment of him wanting to leave, because he was still bitter about the morning scene, but Newt was apparently trying to make amends and Thomas would be against himself if he just left without even giving it a chance.

He shook his head and reached for the door so he could close it while Newt watched him from his spot, and then took a deep breath.

“Tried to conquer the walls,” he finally responded with his line and it was easier without people staring at him, expecting to bite Newt’s head off. “They kind of won.”

“I can see that,” Newt continued, the exasperation easily believable. He pushed away from the table and took several cautious steps closer to Thomas, then lifted his chin and turned his head from one side to another.

Right, injuries from the fall. Isaac was supposed to check them and treat them.

“Huh, you have really long eyelashes,” he said then and Thomas blinked. That wasn’t in the script, he was sure of it.

“Are you improvising or is it just a statement?” he broke the character too, tilting his head to the side and Newt let his hand fall back again.

“A statement,” he answered with a shrug. “Sorry. Just never noticed that.” Then he looked Thomas up and down. “This should get treated.”

Is he back in the rehearsing scene? Jesus.

“Are you always this on and off?” Thomas asked instead and Newt’s lips curled up in a smile. For once it even looked genuine.

“I might be,” he admitted. He was almost the same height as Thomas, but definitely thinner and lankier. With the oversized sweater he reminded him of a kid that got lost in a filming studio, especially with his baby face. “And I might have an idea too.”

“An idea?” Thomas crossed his arms on his chest, because hey, so far Newt’s ideas were only making things worse, so he was right to be wary.

“Like, I’m aware you don’t like me, and that’s fine,” Newt made a vague gesture towards them both and Thomas only nodded in agreement. The antipathy was there and he would be lying if he tried to tell him the opposite all of sudden, especially after yesterday. “So consider this – stay in character.”

“I do stay in character-,”

“I mean stay in character all the time you’re around me,” Newt stopped his immediate defence swiftly. “And I’ll stay in mine. So every time we will interact, just let Stephen and Isaac do it.”

“I don’t follow,” Thomas sighed in exasperation. What was that supposed to be about? “What if I’m going to need something not work related or-?”

“Stay in character even for personal-related things, for work things, for all things, with me,” Newt proposed. “Think of it as a roleplay? Ever done that?”

“Roleplay,” Thomas repeated the word with raised eyebrows and all he could think of was Dungeons and Dragons or something really kinky. “Well, not outside of work, I guess.”

“It’s a perfect way how to get into the character and understand him better,” Newt explained with strange happiness around him and Thomas gulped down the comment he probably did it a bit too often. “And maybe it’s what we need as well. If you think of me as of Isaac?”

It was true Isaac was rather interesting character – the show portrayed him as smart, a little geeky, but fun, and with sharp sense of humour. Apart from Newt’s own stubbornness and nasty comments it could be a nice change.

“Okay then,” he agreed in the end, because what was there to lose? Apart from some dignity, he mused, because as much as being an actor made his living, playing the character outside of it sounded more like a chore than fun. Then again – if he had to do that only around Newt, it could work.

“Great, it’s settled then,” another genuine smile and it felt like aura around Newt changed somehow, it was almost eerie. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Thomas managed and Newt was out of the door in a second, leaving the brunet alone and confused. He was a little worried this state would be a norm around the guy from now on.

***

“Morning,” Thomas yawned on his way to the table, coffee in hand and several greetings echoed back at him, Newt’s included. It sounded friendly and Thomas had to do a double take before he reminded himself it was supposed to be that way because they weren’t them, but their friendlier counterparts. He seated himself across the blond and glanced at him out of curiosity, just to get another smile in response before he looked back at Jorge, leaving Thomas in slight stupor.

So this was how Newt interpreted Isaac? Thomas wasn’t sure if it made him uncomfortable more than his usual snide remarks for how big the change was, but at the end of the meeting he felt a little more relaxed around him at least, because apparently no verbal attack was coming. Newt behaved like there was no bad blood between them and the lines reading was easy and probably surprising for the rest of the cast. At least Jorge looked satisfied at the end, which was a small victory.

“Lunch?” Newt asked him at noon and Thomas thought it was fine to say sure more easily now.

They grabbed food and actually talked about non-work related things without any poison threw in, which made Thomas conflicted as hell. He felt like he was sitting on needles for about first 20 minutes in, during the menu studying and ordering and sipping his soda, like the attack could have happen anytime and he needed to be ready, but Newt sat on the opposite side of the table like a holy picture, smiling and telling him about a football game that happened last night (and Thomas missed it because sleep was too demanding) and not a single bad thing fell from his mouth. Not even a dirty comment about Thomas’ obvious lack of knowledge about football teams – Newt actually explained why he liked his own team (apparently family fixation, so he was a long-time fan) and what games have great moments in it and Thomas found himself relaxed and listening for the first time ever when in Newt’s company.

“You strike me as a sports fan,” Newt offered leisurely while poking in his food. He barely ate anything since he mostly talked, but somehow didn’t even look like he had the appetite.

“I’m more of a baseball fan,” Thomas responded easily and wondered if this was even allowed. Was he supposed to talk about himself or about Stephen? He made a mental note to ask Newt at some point, but so far it looked like the blond was talking about his own hobbies rather than about Isaac’s, but he couldn’t be sure. He knew Stephen was more into adrenaline sports, especially the ones he could do himself, rather than watching others to do it, but Thomas liked all his limbs intact and not broken, so he was mostly Stephen’s opposite. “Long time Mets supporter.”

“Nice. Watched baseball sometimes with my uncle,” Newt flashed him another oh-so-genuine smile and Thomas felt himself tensing again, alert and ready for a flip without any real means to. The difference from normal Newt and Isaac’s Newt was huge, to the point of worrying, and Thomas couldn’t help but wonder how much of a self-control it had to take for Newt to maintain this happy-to-go attitude with him when normally he was about to bite Thomas’ head off.

He took a breath to point it out, but then deflated when Newt finally started eating, relaxed and for the lack of better word vulnerable. Attacking him now in any way was low even for their normal interactions.

He kept his peace for the remainder of their break.

***

“You sound angry.”

Thomas stopped mid move when Newt’s words flew over to him, blinking in confusion. The scene was called cut a few seconds ago for another take and Thomas wasn’t really thinking about why, since Jorge didn’t really pinpoint anything being wrong. They were in Isaac’s lab, the crew around them busy as bees, preparing for another take, the cameras pointed at him and Newt with deadly accuracy.

“Angry?” he repeated and Newt walked towards him with thoughtful expression.

“Yeah, like. You’re mad about something,” he gesticulated between then while he stopped in front of Thomas. “I don’t know if it’s intentional. The script doesn’t really say he should be angry, but it’s kind of sharp from you?”

“Oh,” Thomas cleared his throat. It was actually a valid point. Not even an attack, more like an observation. Newt was trying to be helpful. Towards Thomas. Without malice. So weird.

“You’re right,” he admitted, taking the script to his hand from the table behind the scene, going through it. “I’ll try to soften it a bit.”

Newt nodded, still thoughtful, and retreated back to his spot. He was in the white lab coat and had thick, black glasses and wild hair and Thomas caught himself staring without any means to do that. He had seen him in his getup before, it was nothing new. Yet somehow it was like interacting with a completely different person and when Jorge came back and the scene played out again, he found himself talking softer and Newt’s eyes told him it hit the right spot.

The scene didn’t need to be repeated anymore and Jorge patted them happily on the back. Thomas pretended he didn’t see the smile Newt sent his way.

***

The days passed and the strange roleplay approach worked like a charm. Even the crew noticed and the cast was commenting on it at readings repeatedly, but without real heat. Neither Thomas or Newt elaborated though, and it was probably for the best to keep it at vague we talked it out.

He thought he was going to be much more opposed to the romance progression part in the story, but when the more intimate scenes started, Thomas didn’t have an urge to strangle Newt anymore, so he had to admit Newt’s idea wasn’t bad. The story romance was cheesy but slow and getting accustomed to Newt’s Isaac was no work, since they did that the whole time now.

“Gotta work on your stiffness,” Newt piped after the wrap up when the crew was packing up and they were putting costumes away. “You’re like a wooden board when we touch.”

“I guess that’s my default setting,” Thomas joked back because he had no idea what else to say. He was aware every time Newt touched him (and they weren’t even in the intimate part of touching yet), his body seized up and he moved like a robot for the remainder of the recording, mechanical and unattached. It wasn’t like he expected a punch or anything, but his brain didn’t get it yet. “I will work on it.”

He saw Newt nod in the corner of his eye when he was pulling the shirt over his head and then yelped when he got seized in a strong hug from behind, clutching him like a vice.

“What the-!”

“Practice.” Newt squeezed a bit more and then finally lost the strength Thomas would never believe he possessed in that lanky body of his. He still held on though and Thomas hung there helplessly like a doll. It was uncomfortable and weird angle too, but Newt didn’t look like he cared.

Well, when he ever did?

“This is not really helping though,” he commented with a huff, letting his arms fall and Newt barked out a laugh. He was plastered over half of Thomas’ back and his side, just holding him like a teddy bear, and his body was warm like a thermo blanket.

“Don’t worry, it will,” he assured him, gave him one last squeeze and then finally let go. Thomas wasn’t surprised by the big grin he had when he turned around to tell him off. So he let the words die in his throat and only shook his head.

Newt did the hugging thing every day after and Thomas resigned to his fate after a week (once he even leapt to Thomas’ arms without any warning except shouting sike! and Thomas had to praise himself for actually catching him properly while swearing like a sailor). He pointedly ignored Minho’s smartass commentary about it though.

***

It was usually Newt that approached Thomas on his own, either with some work-related questions or even a simple talk and for some reason Thomas started to expect their daily 15 minutes of freestyle since then. Maybe that was why today he was so weirded out when Newt didn’t really do that before the reading, or after reading, or for lunch. He saw him several times during the day usually staring into his phone or talking to somebody else, but he didn’t make a move towards Thomas at any given time. True, they there were no scenes involving them together scheduled, but normally it didn’t stop him.

Thomas, to his dismay, realized he grew restless.

When he saw Newt again in the hall, he decided to be a big boy and start conversation on his own, even though he had no idea why. He grabbed two cups of coffee on the way (one with milk and sugar, one purely black) and let his legs carry him all the way towards his blond nemesis, who was staring into his phone again.

On one note Thomas hoped nothing serious happened, and that care alone surprised him. Just a month ago he wouldn’t give a rat ass about Newt’s problems, so this was definitely new. And concerning, really.

Then again that’s what you get when you act like a decent being, I guess.

“You seem awfully quiet today,” he greeted him with an outstretched hand holding the cup and Newt glanced up from his phone with badly masked surprise. Thomas would even say it could equal a shock for a split second before he mastered it enough to hide it.

“Oh,” he let out, kind of lamely, and Thomas had to clear his throat for the blond to notice the coffee. When he finally took it, Thomas felt a wave of relief he wasn’t turned down. Somehow, he already dismantled most of his defence mechanisms against this guy; it would suck if he allowed being vulnerable now just for Newt to blew it out of blue.

“It’s black,” the blond commented when he sipped the coffee, his brows furrowed. Thomas made a humming noise.

“You drink it black, as far as I know?” he offered and Newt’s eyes searched for his. It was a weird look, like he didn’t know what to do or say.

It’s just a coffee though, sheesh.

“I do,” he replied after a moment.

“Okay.”

“You remembered,” Newt added a little more hesitantly. “That I drink it black.”

“Yes?” Thomas raised his eyebrows. “I mean you always drink black, it’s kind of easy to remember?”

“No, I mean…” he stared a bit more, but then averted his eyes. “Never mind. Thanks.”

The uneasy feeling of something being wrong creeped into Thomas’ stomach almost instantly. He stood there in complete stupor, no words coming out of his mouth, paralyzed of the sudden change he got so easily unaccustomed to in a span of several weeks. Newt was not looking at him and Thomas wanted to ask if the roleplay was over and they were about to be mean to each other again, but couldn’t get it past his lips.

“So, what do you want?” Newt finally asked and it was bizarre to hear now. What would Thomas want from his colleague he spent few weeks talking daily to about any possible thing? Gee, who knew. Was him doing the first step not allowed?

He didn’t say anything because he had no idea what would be an appropriate response Stephen would give. At this point he drew blank even for his own reactions. When Newt glanced at him worriedly, he wanted to ask why the hell was he making that face, but at the same time didn’t want to know.

“And here we can see two awkward roosters in their natural habitat,” came suddenly from behind them and an arm landed on Thomas’ shoulders, almost making him spill the coffee. Minho shook him like a rag doll, grinning from ear to ear. He didn’t even hear him coming. “Never saw courting so painful than with you two, I swear.”

Newt made a face and Thomas felt his stomach drop somewhere between his legs.

“Fuck off,” he shot out and shook off Minho’s arm unhappily, pushed his coffee to his hand and left the hall like a tidal wave.

He ignored his phone for the rest of the day. It was constantly beeping.

***

He had never seen anybody with deadlier puppy eyes than Newt had. The moment he arrived on set and before he could even greet anybody and get a cup of coffee, the blond was there, gazing at him with the ultimate weapon of mass destruction, and it didn’t get any better with time.

“Okay, I’ll bite, what’re you doing?” he finally confronted him, arms crossed on his chest, and Newt gave him almost a full body shrug. The meeting room was half empty and Newt was following him around the whole day like a sad dog. Thomas didn’t even read the messages from yesterday and already knew they were from him and what approximately they said.

“Trying to make you feel sorry for me, naturally,” he replied with ease. “Is it working?”

“Sorry for you,” Thomas repeated with raised eyebrows. “For what?”

“For being a target of somebody’s ire.”

Somebody as in Thomas, no manual needed.

“Shouldn’t you be doing that at them in that case?” he decided to play the game as well, because for some reason the Newt’s Isaac was back and yesterday’s Newt’s Newt departed once more like a glitch in Matrix. Thomas didn’t lose any sleep over it, but then again, he went to bed so late there was almost no sleep to be talking about.

It wasn’t because of Newt though. Why would it be, even?

Newt made a face at him, but the puppy eyes resumed right after.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged again. “They’re stubborn.”

“That so.”

“Yeah,” the blond took few steps closer. “Need them not to be mad. Want to kiss them.”

“Wait, what-,“ Thomas barely get the words out and Newt was already in his personal space, hands on his cheeks and leaning in and Thomas felt like he was losing balance for how much he was trying to avoid him, and would probably fall flat on his ass if Newt didn’t grab him around his waist to prop him back up.

“Nice gymnastics, you two!” Minho shouted from the table and Thomas felt the heat rising up in his cheeks, his body pressed against Newts’ from their chest to their knees while he heard others snapping pictures of them.

“Are you fucking nuts?!” he hissed at Newt in a hushed whisper and the blond grinned, not letting go.

“Nah, but I’m helping,” he had the audacity to squish Thomas’ cheeks and Thomas grabbed him by his wrists to stop him. Newt didn’t budge and that unnatural strength was beginning to make Thomas worry.

“To my grave, yeah, you are,” he growled and Newt laughed quietly while his hands finally let go of Thomas’ face.

“It’s today, you know,” he said with a smirk and Thomas frowned. “The snogging scene. It’s today.”

“It’s today?!”

“Today.”

Thomas blamed Newt for not knowing and not checking the plan yesterday and for the sleep and bad mood too – and quite frankly even for the spoiled food he found in the fridge because Newt was weird and out of what Thomas was used to and it threw him off more than he thought it would and it sucked.

The hands on his cheeks were back and then there were also lips on his own, smooching him like grandma visiting on Christmas along with obnoxiously loud mwuah and the cameras snapping were even louder now, throwing Thomas into a murderous spree.

“You-!”

“Meet me in five at the trailer and let me snog you right, dog,” Newt stopped him from the outburst and pinched his cheeks, then let go. “No homo.”

“Fuck you!” Thomas barked with his chest heaving at Newt’s retreat back, and the blond glanced back at him and smiled.

“No u.”

And left.

***

In retrospect coming after Newt to the designated meeting spot was a bad idea, but Thomas had seen red and didn’t care. He had no idea what the hell was the blondie thinking and he was about to shake it out of him if he had to, truce be damned.

“My, don’t you look ravishing,” Newt greeted him between the doors with a chuckle and if Thomas was just a bit angrier, he would probably greet him back with a fist in his face.

“I thought you said we’re going to be fucking civil with each other,” he barked instead and Newt tilted his head in silent question. “Your stupid roleplay shit! And then you pull this out?”

“What’s this?” the blond opposed calmly. “Don’t tell me you’re angry over one smooch. What’re you going to do after the rehearsals with the crew watching us make out? Kill me?”

“Listen-,”

“No, you listen,” Newt stopped with an exasperated sigh. He ran his hand through his hair, making it even messier than normally, and his shoulders sagged down as if he flipped a switch. “I’m sorry I was a dick yesterday. I guess it threw you off and it’s my fault, and I want to make amends.”

Thomas opened his mouth in opposition before it dawned on him that Newt was, in fact, apologizing. He had to do a double take and run it again in his head until he was sure he heard him right, and it still didn’t really make it as believable.

“Oh,” he let out.

“And also, I wasn’t lying about the snogging shooting, so,” the blond took a step away from the door and gestured for Thomas to enter. “I’m sorry and let’s try it before we look like complete idiots in front of everybody else.”

Let’s try to snog, that definitely wasn’t something he thought he would ever hear from this guy. It must have showed in his face since Newt’s mouth curved up in obvious amusement.

“I know right? What’s been happening to us lately,” he commented on it like he read Thomas’ mind and then reached for his shirt and pulled him in the trailer. Thomas wanted to comment on how damn stupid it must have looked to anybody outside, but Newt was already kissing him without even a word of warning and Thomas was too stunned to move.

There was a pressure and a hand on the back of Thomas’ neck, but other than that nothing else really happened and then Newt was pulling away, looking at him with mild annoyance.

“Can you do something better than the dead fish lips?” he asked and Thomas blinked, his vocal cords not working in the slightest. He could imagine all kind of things happening with Newt – a fist in his face, a vicious prank of sitting on a pin, but being kissed when not in front of a camera (since that’s where it was supposed to happen) was not one of them.

“Uh oh,” the blond stepped away. “Did I break you?”

“I think so,” Thomas heard himself saying. He couldn’t really recall much about the kiss, his brain drew a blissful blank, not even how long exactly it was, but he knew it happened. “Little warning next time?”

“Isn’t the shock value counting as a plus point though?” Newt‘s face relaxed and even smiled and Thomas shook his head.

“Not if you aren’t trying to cause me a heart-attack,” he commented sternly and then took a deep breath. “Fine, okay. I’m ready.”

“So clinical,” Newt rolled his eyes and took a step forward but Thomas’ hand flew up and spread in the middle of Newt’s chest, stopping him. “What now?”

“Is it supposed to be Isaac to take the lead?”

It was a valid question, because Thomas didn’t see Isaac as a leading man for this kind of thing. But then again, he purposely left the snogging scenes be so he couldn’t say.

“Yes,” Newt shrugged. “Think nerds don’t take initiative?”

Thomas rumbled but let his hand fall down.

“You didn’t even read it, did you,” the blond smirked. “You left those scenes alone.”

It’s not like Newt could read Thomas mind, but lately it felt like he did and it was terrifying.

“Maybe,” he let out grudgingly.

“You’re adorable.”

“Shut up, nerd.”

“That’s not very Stephen of you,” Newt commented with a grin and he looked so smug Thomas couldn’t stand that. He grabbed the blond by the collar of his stupid striped shirt and pulled him forward until their lips met in the middle, along with Newt’s yelp somewhere in between.

It was mostly just pressure with almost no movement of the lips, like proving a point he could do it as well without warning if he wanted to, and for a while it kind of worked, since Newt was standing on the spot like a frozen statue.

“Hmm,” Thomas pulled away with a cocky smile, drinking in Newt’s wide eyes. “Can you do something better than the dead fish lips?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the blond breathed out and quite frankly Thomas expected him to lean back in, since he presented it as a challenge, but still didn’t think it would be open mouthed and pushing and that there is going to be tongue involved right off the bat. He made a muffled noise when Newt stepped even closer and grabbed Thomas by his waist, bringing them chest to chest, kissing him so deeply it made his head spin.

Was it supposed to be like this? It didn’t even feel like simple kissing anymore, but make out with the way Newt’s hands started to travel over Thomas’ back and his sides and hips and even fucking squeezed his butt few times. He was tilting his head and pushing into Thomas so insistently it felt like he just wanted him horizontal in near future and Thomas felt his body moving backwards, step by step until his back hit the wall and he made another muffled noise that should have showed his discomfort but Newt probably didn’t even hear it.

It felt like forever before Newt finally pulled away, drawing in a shaking breath, his eyes still closed and lips almost red. Thomas couldn’t help but think he looked like he was ready to shoot a porn scene, with his ruffled hair and heavy breathing and like, everything, but quickly got rid of the thought. Newt, out of all people, definitely didn’t look erotic to him. No fucking way.

“You done?” he croaked out, cursing his own voice to be so weak in a situation like this, and Newt finally opened his eyes, almost black how his pupils were blown wide and had the audacity to shook his head.

“Not in the slightest,” he replied in a low voice, so low Thomas barely heard it, and his hands, up until now resting on Thomas’ hips, travelled up, dragging over Thomas’ shirt up to his neck, warm and sure. The silence in the trailer was almost suffocating, making Thomas hear his own heartbeat so clearly he was almost sure Newt had to hear it too.

“Newt-,”

“Not at all,” the blond didn’t let him speak, his thumbs started caressing Thomas’ jaw and before Thomas could at least ask him what the hell was wrong with him, he was already being kissed again, gentler this time, but not less lewd with all the tongue, and Thomas found out he couldn’t move, like his body rooted to the spot. The blood was now roaring in his ears and he was goddamn confused about it, because it was Newt kissing him, Newt being here, crowding him against the wall in the trailer, holding him on the spot by caressing his neck and his face and kissing him like he wanted to do it for ages and then some. The same Newt he hated to bits just a month ago, who was bitter and sarcastic and never said a nice word to Thomas.

Was this some sort of revenge, maybe? Some elaborate prank he played, maybe with a camera rolling from a hiding spot, so he could laugh about it later with others? His let’s try it before actually shooting the scene in front of the crew now blurred together with unreasonable making out and Thomas was damn sure they didn’t need to do this much up until who knew when in the shooting.

Yet he still didn’t push Newt away. Hell, he even participated in the kiss – slowly, maybe, hesitantly, but he wasn’t just taking it like a figurine either, no matter how hard he would try to deny that. So when Newt let go of him with a slow exhale and his hands slowly fell from Thomas’ neck, Thomas was at loss of what to say. He couldn’t really accuse him of anything, though maybe he sort of wanted to, but words simply didn’t come.

“Well,” Newt finally broke the silence, stepping away. “I think we’re good.”

He cleared his throat about three times and it felt awkward, like the reality caught up with him and now he was internally screaming. Thomas was surprised his own inner monologue stopped instead, only accompanied by a low hum of his thoughts.

“Right?” the blond finally looked up from the floor he was hypnotizing since the kiss ended and Thomas stared back at him in silence. He could still feel Newt’s mouth on his own and he licked his lower lip without even thinking about it and Newt’s eyes followed the movement with wide eyes.

“Right,” Thomas said eventually, refusing to try deciphering that particular look, and left before Newt could say anything else.

***

Hiding was a wrong word to use for Thomas’ current behaviour. He wasn’t hiding at all. He didn’t have a reason to hide, what happened was Newt’s initiative and Newt’s alone. If he ever wanted to make Thomas guilty about it, Thomas was ready to kick him back with something equally nasty, like you were the first who stuck his tongue into my throat or grabbing my ass or rubbing against me – which he was by the way, he totally was at some point but Thomas didn’t want to think about that. Hell, he tried to push it out of his mind the whole time between sets while reading the incriminated scene in the script (damn Newt being right about Isaac taking initiative, damn him), up until he couldn’t anymore because it was the scene, and Newt was standing in front of the camera already in the white lab coat and crazy hair and Jorge was talking to him about something and Thomas felt his legs turning to jelly.

“Oi, don’t look so scared,” Newt’s voice flew over to him, making Thomas’ stomach make a double flip. “We practiced, right?”

“If you call that a practice…” Thomas uttered under his breath, but at least he felt little less intimidated when the Newt in the trailer with almost black eyes and heaving chest and red lips bruised from kissing got replaced by this cocky shit again. Jorge was behind the camera and Thomas had to mentally praise him for not grinning at them like a loon and making it even more awkward.

Because if anything, awkward definitely fitted the description the best and probably even more so after the practice Newt put him through. At least most of the crew left, even though they usually only did when there were more intimate scenes involved, but Thomas was still grateful he didn’t need to try and ignore Minho making faces at him from behind the scene.

When the camera started rolling and their lines flowing in, Thomas was surprised he didn’t feel nervous as much as he thought he would. If anything, he was anticipating, because he knew how Newt felt already against him, so when the blond stepped close with the scripted line and touched Thomas’ chest in the middle, he was ready for the tongue and teeth and hands everywhere and maybe even the butt touching because Newt did that plenty.

But then there was pressure on his lips and a gentle touch of hand on his cheek for split second and then Newt was pulling away, eyes downcast, small smile playing on his, no, on Isaac’s lips, and it was over.

He couldn’t help but gawk at him, and quite frankly wasn’t even surprised when Jorge ended the scene and called him out for looking like somebody just told him he lost the raffle for a teddy bear and demanded a retake.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” he responded sheepishly and they started anew, the marks, the lines, the touch on his chest, the fucking innocent peck on his lips, the small smile scripted to a tiniest detail, the end. Thomas still gawked and Jorge let out a sigh, giving them ten minutes before trying again.

“What’s wrong with you?” Newt asked him like there was nothing wrong going on, like he didn’t just endlessly grope him in the trailer and then kiss him here like grandma on Christmas visit. Thomas wanted to tell him, he wanted to throw it in his face, but he just couldn’t bring himself to.

“Sorry,” he repeated, clearing his throat. Jorge didn’t say anything about the kiss, only about Thomas’ bewildered expression, so there probably wasn’t anything bad about it, but it still felt like… nothing. In comparison, at least.

“You really did look like somebody stole your cookie though,” the blond poured oil into the fire and had the audacity to smirk as well. “Didn’t we practice?”

“Not enough tongue here, I guess,” Thomas bit back and felt a small amount of satisfaction when Newt averted his eyes with small hitch of his breath.

“Well, it’s not really in the script,” he mumbled after, almost grudgingly and Thomas took a deep breath.

“Interesting,” he commented. Nothing else. Newt kept his eyes casted on the floor, looking stiff and uncomfortable and Thomas wondered if he kept quiet long enough, if he would elaborate. He did not, not until Jorge got back, sent Thomas questioning glance and he managed to muster a smile.

The camera rolled again, the lines, the touch, the kiss, Thomas forced himself to look happy and Jorge was looking satisfied at the end. He even praised him with a pat on his back and when Thomas turned back towards Newt, he realized the blond was already gone.

Typical.

***

They didn’t have any shooting together the next day and Thomas frankly wasn’t surprised he didn’t even catch a brief glance of Newt. Probably for the best too, since his mood was so bad, he would probably only bark at him and neither of them needed that. He barely slept, his thoughts kept on swirling around the weird intimacy Newt showed him and then proceeded to be shy about it, and it just didn’t make any sense.

“Newt called in sick,” Minho told him around lunch, sitting next to him when Thomas nursed his coffee and only nibbled his food with fork. He ordered Chinese and it was great but his appetite probably called in sick as well.

“Mhm,” he let out. No surprise there, probably. Thomas thought he should have been relieved but quite frankly nothing much came.

“Didn’t text you?” Minho asked, eyebrows raised and Thomas sipped his coffee.

“Nope,” he responded coldly. “Am I his mum or something?”

“No, but you do spend lots of time together lately,” his friend shrugged. He meant well, probably, but obviously wanted some gossip too. Thomas couldn’t blame him. “Thought you’d know.”

“Nah, he’s sulking now,” Thomas uttered and Minho’s expression changed to a surprised one. “Better leave him to it, I guess.”

“Sulking cuz of the snogging?” Came a question and Thomas had a fleeting panic reaction of Minho knowing about the trailer make out, but he squashed it fast. “I thought it went well?”

“Yeah, was fine,” Thomas waved his hand. “He’s just being weirder than normally about it.”

“Huh,” Minho propped his chin on his palm. “Thought you’d be the one freaking out, not him.”

“Same.”

“But maybe it’s cuz he likes you,” his colleague offered with an absolute calm. “So kissing you sorta flipped his switch?”

Thomas glanced at Minho with a sigh. It probably looked that way from outsider’s point of view, he mused. Newt suddenly being nice to him, asking him to go for lunch together and then having all those weird quirks like hugging all of sudden or smooching him in front of everybody and all in all being quite affectionate, so coming to a conclusion of falling in love was logical. They didn’t know it was Isaac’s character and Isaac’s quirks and Isaac’s affection that Newt played, that it was part of the deal between them. All fake and calculated, all according to plan… until the trailer. Or so Thomas thought, because even though Newt was so confident in there, in the aftermath he just looked vulnerable and guilty, as if he took it too far but didn’t know how to remedy that.

Thomas kind of wanted an explanation. Anything would do, really, but Newt didn’t say anything, so Thomas decided to ignore it as well. Not that it was possible to just forget about it, but not talking about it worked.

“You know what,” he pushed away the plate and put down the coffee. “You’re probably right. He’s totally in love with me and he stayed home cuz he has to think of an elaborate love confession that will sweep me off my feet.”

Minho made a face but left him alone. Thomas was really looking forward to his day off tomorrow.

***

NEWT: So now you’re sulking?

Thomas blearily looked at his phone, the clock showed something past nine in the morning and he would never believe a text alert could actually wake him up.

THOMAS: What

NEWT: You’re not here, so I’m asking if you’re sulking

THOMAS: Weren’t you the first one to sulk yesterday?

NEWT: Called in sick

THOMAS: Yeah, aka sulking.

NEWT: I was sick, not sulking

THOMAS: Convenient.

NEWT: Was throwing up

THOMAS: Sure you were.

NEWT: C’mon, were you lonely?

THOMAS: Just enjoyed some peace and quiet for a change.

NEWT: You were and now you’re sulking

THOMAS: It’s my day off, Romeo. Fuck off my DMs.

NEWT: Wait, what

THOMAS: DAY OFF. LET ME SLEEP. FUCK YOU.

NEWT: In that order?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned and plopped the phone next to him on the bed, ignoring how it beeped several more times. He planned to sleep the whole day.

***

NEWT: Jesus, it’s so boring here without you

THOMAS: You’ll live.

NEWT: You should stop by

THOMAS: I don’t want to get molested, so no.

NEWT: Molested? Preposterous

THOMAS: You’re an old pervert.

NEWT: I’m quite young tho

THOMAS: Still a pervert to the boot. Touching my butt and all, no manners.

NEWT: I never said I have manners

THOMAS: I already knew you didn’t have any manners, trust me. No illusions.

NEWT: See so don’t act surprised

THOMAS: I was hella surprised, but I admit not really about the practice kissing as I was about the scripted one.

NEWT: Oh yeah not enough tongue

THOMAS: Like you got all shy.

NEWT: I got all professional

THOMAS: So the practice was all personal?

Thomas wasn’t surprised when no reply came.

***

NEWT: Sorta was personal yeah

The clock showed something past 7 in the evening and Thomas didn’t expect Newt to reply anymore. It took him three hours, but the text actually came and Thomas was staring at it with Who framed Roger Rabbit playing in the background.

THOMAS: Took you three hours to come up with that?

NEWT: If you didn’t notice I’m at work

THOMAS: No, I didn’t, you’re bothering me the whole day.

NEWT: I’m making it more pleasant you mean

THOMAS: No, not really.

NEWT: Liar

THOMAS: So what was personal about it?

NEWT: Your butt was

“Fucker, you just can’t give me a straight answer, huh,” Thomas grumbled, debating with himself if he wanted to continue the pointless conversation or not. Newt was all bold over the phone which was frustrating – in person he would never tell him all these things.

THOMAS: So you decided to practice some French on me cuz of my butt.

NEWT: Huh that sounds like a better excuse than the one I had prepared

THOMAS: You’re so fucking annoying. Just tell me wtf it was already or I’m turning my phone off.

NEWT: Damn you so mean today

THOMAS: Turning it off.

NEWT: Nononono wait

Thomas frowned and sent a question mark instead. He would rather to hear it personally but if Newt needed to hide behind the texts, maybe it was for the best.

NEWT: I’m totally in love with you and wanted to kiss you and grope your butt cuz yolo

THOMAS: Fuck off.

NEWT: What it’s a legitimate reason and also totally believable cuz Minho said so

THOMAS: Maybe you need better friends.

NEWT: Please love me back baby

THOMAS: You’re not my type.

NEWT: Don’t break my heart :(

THOMAS: I don’t like blond people.

NEWT: You don’t like … WHAT

NEWT: ARE YOU FOR REAL

NEWT: YOU HEATEN

THOMAS: Blond people are meh. All stupid. No brains, ever. It’s the bleach.

NEWT: Bleach! But I’m natural c’mon

THOMAS: That’s even worse. You were born with small to none brain already. You’re doomed to be an idiot for the rest of your life.

NEWT: Oof you real mean now

THOMAS: Newt.

NEWT: Yes

THOMAS: Seriously. Be honest with me.

NEWT: I’m honest. I’m really a natural blond

THOMAS: Do you like me or something? Or you hate me and thought it was a good prank? Or you went with the flow and sort of didn’t think of consequences cuz the kissing was nice? Did you freak out after and did the lame kissing thing during the scene on purpose? Or did you want to throw me off by it?

NEWT: Yes

THOMAS: Yes which.

NEWT: Just yes you can pick the one you like the most

Thomas turned his phone off and left it that way for the rest of the day.

***

It was Newt’s day off, Thomas knew that. Maybe that was why he went to work less stressed than in an opposite situation, but hated it all the same. Stressing himself over Newt was never really a thing, but he was always somewhere on his mind even before, though only because he found him annoying. But now it was different, tugging in the back of his consciousness and demanding attention 24/7, which quite frankly started to be a problem. Yesterday text exchange didn’t help matters either – it actually only made it worse.

“Wasn’t it your day off? You look like shit.”

Thomas stopped abruptly when Newt’s voice came and then there was coffee in his field of vision and a veiny hand that was holding it, and Newt stood there in white shirt and jeans, offering him the cup.

“Whose fault you think it is?” he barked and didn’t take the coffee in defiance. Newt looked guilty and it served him right.

“Yeah, I know,” the blond admitted and Thomas heard the sound of the cup hitting the table while he was on his way to the changing room. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“You came here today to tell me that?” Thomas refused to look at him. “You could have sent a text. You’re good at that.”

“You turned your phone off,” Newt opposed and caught up with him enough to walk beside him now.

“I told you I would if you keep that up,” Thomas uttered and was glad nobody else was here yet, since hearing them arguing about this was honestly slightly embarrassing.

“I know.”

He didn’t say anything else and Thomas was at the end of his rope.

“Jesus, what else do you want from me?” he finally stopped and looked at the infuriating man next to him in anger. “I played your stupid roleplay game, your practice game, your texting game and your hugging spree and I just don’t want to anymore, I’ve had enough. So just tell me the punchline already so we can go back to hating each other without pretending we’re fine!”

Newt took a deep breath, then another and another and then gnawed on his lower lip for several seconds, keeping Thomas in painful suspense. It made him want to leave him be and just close this chapter of his life, but then Newt finally opened his mouth and said: “I think you’re a bloody prick.”

Thomas stared at him, not really sure how to react. It took several deeper breaths from Newt and then he was talking again, this time in a lower voice.

“I always disliked you,” he said gravely. “You were just so opinionated and stubborn. I thought we could never bloody get along and then Jorge decided to put our characters together and I thought it’s the end, that we’ll kill each other eventually and it’s going to suck-,”

“Why-,”

“Let me finish,” Newt stopped Thomas’ speech quickly. “You bloody wanker, jesus. You just. Made things so hard, so needlessly complicated, I just couldn’t take it. Even at the first lunch you were so full of yourself, so confident you were in the right, it was maddening.”

“Holy shit, why-,”

“Just let me!” This time Newt raised his voice and it echoed in an almost empty studio almost eerily. Thomas shut up. He felt his body shaking and couldn’t even say why, his nerves were like too tightly bound strings.

“You insufferable…” Newt took another deep breath. “I just don’t get it. I don’t fucking know who I love. You or Stephen. I just don’t know who of you two is the one I just can’t leave alone; it’s making me so bloody frustrated.”

Thomas opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Newt would probably tell him to shut up again anyway.

“I kissed you back there, in the trailer, because I thought we gotta, cuz if I did that without you getting used to it, we would fail so hard,” Newt continued and started pacing back and forth, back and forth. “I thought it was smart of me, to just bait you, to make you angry so you wouldn’t protest. But then I kissed you and it all went to shit.”

He stopped, glaring at Thomas from under his blond fringe. He looked angry but at the same time not really.

“You played your part and I played mine and we clicked. You were still struggling, but you were nice to me and I was nice to you and I think it was kind of fun to do that, to play around like that. But now I don’t know. Now you’re here and I know it’s you who is angry at me, but it was you who I texted as well and I’m still bloody attracted to you-,”

“You’re not making any sense,” Thomas finally managed to say, silencing Newt to a complete stupor. “Me or Stephen, what’s that even supposed to mean? I’m me, for fuck’s sake, nobody else.”

“The you that hates my guts,” Newt pointed out with arms crossed on his chest.

“You hate my guts too!” Thomas barked and took a step forward.

“Well not anymore!” Newt copied him and then they were standing in each other’s personal bubble and everything was hot and frustrating and Thomas wanted to punch his lights out so bad, but he grabbed his shirt instead and mashed their mouths together.

There was not even a fraction of second of hesitation on Newt’s end. He grabbed Thomas’ head between his hands and immediately deepened the kiss like he was drowning and Thomas was the only air supply, licking into his mouth so insistently and pulling them together from head to toe, every part of their body touching. Thomas couldn’t breathe but he didn’t even want to, falling into the same frenzy, the same heat and rhythm of tasting, tasting, tasting and more, more, more.

“You just piss me off so much,” Newt was growling against his lips, biting and sucking in between the words. “You always have your way to press all my buttons like you have manual somewhere-,”

“Oh come on,” Thomas pulled Newt’s hand that insistently grabbed his butt away, imprisoning it in a steel grip. “You think you’re hard to read, you spoiled brat?”

“Yes, I am,” Newt struggled to break free and succeeded after a moment, immediately returning his hand on the spot Thomas wanted to keep him from. He even squeezed as if in victory. “You were bloody begging me yesterday to tell you why I frenched you in the trailer-,”

“Begging?!”

“You were pleading-!” Newt devoured his mouth again and Thomas found himself pressed against the wall again but now with Newt’s knee between his thighs, pressing up, making him whine. “You wanted to know, you needed to know what’s going on, you were so cute-,”

“Jesus, I hate you so much,” Thomas struggled against the hold but he only made the friction more insistent and instead of a curse a moan escaped his lips, only to be swallowed by Newt’s mouth closing over his again.

“You don’t mean that,” Newt purred into his ear once he moved his lips to Thomas’ neck, biting it with an obvious intent to leave a mark. “You actually like me, don’t you~.”

Thomas, to his own horror and maybe also relief, realized that he actually did like the guy. And to add to his even worse revelation – it was Newt who he fancied – the foul mouthed and frustrating brat rather than the all likable Isaac persona he was using.

He decided to keep it to himself.

#the maze runner #tmr #newtmas #newmas #prompts #jonipony

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thefudge · 5 years ago

Text

scattered thoughts on sanditon so far

this is a fun romp from andrew davies and there’s a lot to like and be invested in

but i do have some observations/ gripes

obviously davies is going for a modern/sexed up adaptation of austen and i have mixed thoughts on that, cuz there’s a lot of interesting stuff you can do with that, but you can also botch it up big time (i’m glad he didn’t do this to p&p back in 1995...i wonder what that adaptation would’ve looked like today. probably full monty darcy, lol). so i think some elements verge on the ridiculous, for instance having almost every dude in this show strip naked in front of a crowded beach several times in a row. ditto for theo james. i don’t mind the view (hehe) but i think it’s inserted awkwardly at times. like okay, we get it, it’s a beach resort and we’re trying to make austen edgy in 2019.... just maybe indulge a little less and literally keep it in your pants.

this being a more modern adaptation i don’t mind hair and make-up anachronisms, but i DO mind the fact that rose williams sports this really weird shade of fuchsia lipstick in almost every single scene. stop iiiit

speaking of which, rose williams is a cutie and i loved her on reign, but i don’t understand what she’s doing with her face in this series. don’t get me wrong, she does a good job of making charlotte very likable, but the only way she can express...anything, really, is by making these confused faces, like a child practicing frowning in the mirror. it’s...really awkward. and she does this all the time, whether she’s happy or sulky or nervous, she just always looks like she’s trying to figure out the fibonacci sequence. i mean it’s hilarious when u have theo james going all gruff to her about his feelings and rose williams is that gif of the blond lady doing math in her head. her acting is pretty good otherwise, but those faceeeees.

esther denham is my goddamn FAVE, gosh i love a Disappointed Queen and i’m glad she’s getting away from that boring skeevy brother. for once the incestuous siblings didn’t do it for me at all (which is pretty much the point lol). there’s nary a dude more uninteresting than edward whatshisface, my gaaaawd (also, davies trying to ramp up the sexiness with those scenes of edward brushing her hair or doing her stays...lol, sir, this rly isn’t your strength i’m sorry)

but i have to say that i thought esther and clara would be a thing. because my gosh, the chemistry during their scenes! the way they’d glide past each other with utmost contempt, while being disquieted by each other @___@. i mean it’s an austen adaptation, so i guess they’d never go there but!!! i need fic (would’ve made clara more bearable at least. i appreciate her character objectively cuz she’s an interesting pseudo-antagonist and you don’t get many of those, but blerghh. she was insufferable)

i was kinda (actually very) disappointed that the relationship between sidney and his ward, georgiana, wasn’t really developed. like there’s one more episode to go (as far as i know?) and they’ve barely scratched the surface with them. i mean he’s halfway decent to her now.... but ehh. i feel like this was a missed opportunity. after all, this was austen’s unfinished novel, so andrew davies & co could have added more material between these two. this, to me, should have been the real heart of the series.

i like otis as a character, but georgiana/otis was zzzzzz. i suppose that they’ll end up together? zzzzzzzzzz (i frankly ship her way more with arthur! she finds him infuriating! he’s a sweetheart! the shenanigans!)

that German doctor is the real MVP, i feel like he should be sanditon’s no. 1 bachelor. i mean the shower rod??? providing pleasure to all the ladies in town, what a hero

the soundtrack is rly rad! and the cinematography

i love how the show captures austen’s growing interest in the industrialized modern world which was emerging in the twilight years of the regency and i feel like maybe the show should’ve invested more time in that modern aesthetic (steampunk!) rather the awkward sexual shenanigans

so....i can’t delay the inevitable anymore, can i? sigghh okay here i go

sidney/charlotte...annoys me.

HEAR ME OUT.

u know that i love LOVE “enemies to lovers” and hate/love stories, i LIVE FOR THIS SHIT.

and i was ready to gorge on this dynamic because it looked delish

��but i felt like michael bluth finding the dead pigeon in the paper bag.

from what i can gather, sidney is supposed to be a mixture of darcy and capt wentworth, “haughty” and proud, with a history of romantic disappointment, a brooding sexy hero with a heart of gold. but to me this dude just comes off as weird.

there’s legit no reason for him to be THIS mean to this young girl he just met. he is not just an asshole, he is ridiculously over the top about it, to the point where he makes a fool of himself. i am FINE with a man telling a woman off, believe me, but it has to have some kind of motivation, some kind of reasoning behind it. here, it just feels like the plot needs him to be utterly shitty to charlotte so that “sparks will fly”. that first ep convo on the balcony??? wtf???? it was genuinely bizarre. i got weird incel vibes. and every time he lashes out at charlotte (at least in the first 4 episodes) it’s fucking silly, because it’s not like he lashes out because she’s scratching the surface of his innermost painful memories. no!!! many of their arguments revolve around basic things that he could easily clarify!!! which he does eventually, so like whyyyyyyyyyy. charlotte keeps telling him he’s being vague for no good reason and he still does it. it doesn’t make sense he’d be this guarded and outspoken at the same time. like, fine, keep that shit to yourself, don’t tell ppl, but don’t also get pissed at them when they don’t guess your mind. again, i love an antagonist dynamic when it’s done right, but here many times it’s just pointless bullying, it’s not sexy or fun or challenging. the writers keep making charlotte apologize to him about how “wrong” she got him and how he makes her doubt her judgement but it sounds fake to me. like a) this dude went out of his way to be a total assface to you from day one, b) none of that bullying was him trying to coax you into having a more complicated view of the world. when darcy rebukes elizabeth, he is hinting at her limited point of view. he’s not blatantly negging her or calling her stupid as this dude does. AND U KNO WHAT.

i’d be absolutely fine with him calling her stupid IF IT MADE SENSE WITHIN THE STORY

like if charlotte had truly done smth stupid during the first episode, sure, fine, it’s somewhat warranted

but for him to decide she’s an idiot for no other reason than her making some honestly super nice remarks about his brothers when he asked for her opinion is THE HEIGHT OF NONSENSE

it’s even more nonsense when 2 episodes later he decides maybe she’s not that dumb after all FUCK U MR. EDGELORD

and it makes me pity charlotte cuz she’ll probably marry this dude and have to deal with him in his old age when he’ll be even more insufferable.

and i totally get the appeal. i do! i mean their scenes are manufactured to make you want more of them, i see the chemistry, it’s there (and we’re already at a point in the series where he’s trying to make amends) but at the same time i’m put off by this dude’s intensity, cuz it’s not the hot kind of intensity...it’s more like he’s a giant dumb baby who breaks things. meh. theo james is very pretty tho, and he is doing the most with his character (that voice def helps!). but i wish this antagonistic relationship had been written better, because it could’ve been glorious

this is why i think sidney/georgiana should’ve been so much more present. just like darcy has his georgiana we need the humanizing element, we need to see more variety from this dude than just “guy who clearly needs anger management classes”.

i’m pretty sure i’m in the minority or possibly one of two ppl not won over by this romance, and i can’t lie and say i don’t root for them. too much of this show is predicated on their clashes for them not to work it out and get together, but boyyyy do i wish they’d done it a bit better

i almost feel like a reylo anti lol, but at least kylo ren doesn’t neg rey every single time they talk

also, i go back to rose williams’ faces because they just rly enhance how clumsy this dynamic is. theo james is doing byronic asshole 2.0 and charlotte looks at him like he’s developed a smell lmao. i mean the scene where she catches him naked? she turns around and FROWNS in this rly bizarre way, almost like she noticed a growth on his dick lmao it’s that bad

anyway i totally get the appeal, but i also know what i want from this kind of dynamic and...this ain’t quite it

honestly i think i prefer charlotte/cute architect guy whose name i don’t remember right now!

that being said, my fave moments of this show are the most austen-esque, where ppl don’t take themselves so seriously. i mean the adventures of the perennially-ailing parker siblings (arthur & diana)? deeeelightful. the pineapple scene? glorious

also it makes me sad that sanditon was left unfinished because to see austen tackling georgiana’s character in depth would have been so, so interesting

in conclusion, the show’s a lot of fun but also frustrating in many ways

i hope davies doesn’t set his eyes on re-adapting p&p or other austen classics because ermmm i know i’m trash but i am kind of tired of these sexed-up “look how scandalous we are behind closed doors” adaptations. you can make the regency era feel modern and relatable without “shocking hand job in the estate park” pls and thank u. sure, the regency era was the inheritor of the sexually relaxed 18th-century, but it wasn’t that relaxed yall. ppl still kept their wits and bonnets about them.

still, i’m glad this show exists and that it tries to take risks, i just wish it took different kinds of risks, if that makes sense. like i am SO bummed i didn’t get into sidney/charlotte, u have no idea

#sanditon #my thoughts #the fudge watches #jane austen

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ryntaia · 6 years ago

Text

For the Dancing and the Dreaming

Title: For the Dancing and the Dreaming

Fandom: Rise of the Guardians

Rating: T (language)

Genre: Romance/Family

Pairing: E.Aster Bunnymund/Jack Frost, Nicholas St. North/Toothiana

Summary: Jack encounters Tooth and North refreshing their knowledge of the art of swordplay, and decides he wants to learn the skill for himself. He probably could not have predicted how intimate battle can truly be. (Oneshot)

A/N: I was listening to Valka and Stoick’s song from How to Train Your Dragon 2, and it got me really caught up in this idea. I’ve wanted to write a North/Tooth fic for a while that was focused on their swordplay, but I didn’t really have a good framework to work it around. When I did, it ended up being Christmas Cookie AND Jackrabbit. Because of course it did.

Don’t go looking into this looking for explicit confessions or anything. It’s all subtextual until the very damn end. And also Team Mom Tooth and Team Dad North.

I wrote this at like 4 in the morning I am so sorry lmao

To love and kiss, to sweetly hold

For the dancing and the dreaming

Through all life’s sorrows and delights

I’ll keep your laugh inside me.

Really, Jack had just gone to the Pole because he wanted to cause some standard havoc. Freeze an elf or twenty, something like that. It hadn’t been a particularly planned out excursion. Just a trip to the home of jolly old St. Nicholas himself to see what kind of trouble could be started there. The place was certainly big enough that any given place could become its own little disaster zone—with a chuckle he remembered the time he had iced all the hallways on the second floor, watching the jangling elves slide down them with shrieks catching in their throats. There had been quite a pileup by the time the day had rounded out. The little oddities had very lemming like tendencies to chase their companions off the metaphorical cliff.

Jack had expected to be yelled at; North had seemed to find it more amusing than anything, once the boy lifted the ice from the hallways. No matter the time of the year, Santa’s workshop was always teeming with activity and business. The sprite figured that its owner probably appreciated the break from all the work to have a little fun. Who else was better for it, really? He smiled broadly as he padded lightly down the long halls, cane twirling in his hand.

He paused at a distant sound. Pale chin tilted upwards as he listened carefully; with a start he recognized the sound of blades sharply clashing against others. A fight, it sounded like someone was having a fight. Immediately Jack leapt off his feet, careening off the walls and towards the racket. Bright blue eyes narrowed as his slim hands held the long staff affront him. All sorts of thoughts passed through his head—was it Pitch Black? Had the Nightmare King returned THAT quickly? Jack was sure they had put him down for longer than this.

The teenager barely noticed that he was curving down hallways with older designs, long out of use by the Yeti and the elves, dark and carved out in thick sturdy wood and deep reds. When Jack took a glance to the side he saw carvings of people in panels against the walls, worn ancient with time but carefully cared for nonetheless. He had no time to consider them as the clanging sound resonated again, so much closer than before.

With a shout, Jack burst through an imposing doorway with his crook facing forward and eyes narrowed. Immediately his stance loosened, looking up in confusion to the scene in front of him.

Staring back at him, equally confused, stood Nicholas St. North and Toothiana. North had his long sabers pulled from their holsters, firmly gripping one at his side and one in front of him. Both were trained in on the fluttering fairy in front of him. Yet she was not without defense; clutched in slim fingers were a large pair of elegant daggers. A line of bright white pearls shone from underneath the fingers covering the hilt. Both lacked cross-guards, with a slight but firm knuckle guard curving around the fist. One pointed at North’s face, while the other was trained against the saber curving by the woman’s neck.

Jack faltered for a moment; he wanted to ask why because he had been pretty sure that North and Tooth got along pretty well and he knew neither of them would betray their position of Guardianship. The sprite could think of no other reason the attack that was frozen before his eyes. The confusion and concern knit his brow as he slid one foot backwards. The tip of his staff shifted uneasily between the two.

“Jack! Why, you did not mention you were visiting today!” North dropped the sabers to a ground with a bellowing laugh, moving forward to clamp the spirit on his shoulders. A frown crossed his features when Jack’s shoulder’s stiffened under the touch, body almost instinctively moving away from the larger man. “Jack, what is wrong? You have look on your face like you are seeing death itself.”

“North.” Toothiana’s voice was firm but gentle, as if the voice of a mother. Which Jack supposed she was to her thousands of tooth fairies. Still, at the sound, the sprite’s shoulders instinctively calmed. His expression, however, remained perplexed and concerned. Violet eyes fixed on him sympathetically. “Jack, its good to see you. I’m…WE are sorry you saw this.”

“Why…are you fighting?” He asked, tone as flat as he could manage. From the look on Tooth’s face, it hadn’t work. His eyes travelled from her face to the shimmering daggers in her hand. “You, uh, you…have daggers?”

“Yes! Toothy is great warrior. A pride to all of the fae. That is what I tell her but she does not listen enough.” North announced, patting the boy’s chest as he caught onto the guarded tone in his voice. Tooth fluttered to Jack’s other side to pat his shoulder, rolling her eyes as North threw his arm out excitedly. “As Queen of the Fairy, Tooth is a glorious warrior trained by the best! She makes an excellent opponent when in a pinch, wouldn’t you say?”

“What?” Jack answered, raising a brow. He knew Tooth was tough; he didn’t know she was some sort of warrior princess. The fairy giggled nervously.

“Jack…did you think we were fighting?”

“Uh, yes? North had a sword at your throat.” The sprite said incredulously, pointing at the sabers that lay discarded in the middle of the bright room. Only now was he actually seeing it; a tiled room, three of the four walls covered in cathedral-esque windows to let in the bright sun. Behind him, on the wall by the door, was a selection of various swords and blunt weapons.

He didn’t have time to take it all in, though, because the fairy put his hands at his shoulders and spun him around, pushing him out the doors and into the hallway. The sprite threw his hands up in protest but the complaint died in his throat at the look in Tooth’s eyes.

“Let’s take a walk, Jack. Shall we?”

“Uh…sure, Tooth.”

North was left behind in the room, stroking his beard and shaking his head as he collected his sabers to place back in their holsters.

Toothiana had led Jack back down the carved hallways, the slower pace giving him more time to analyze his surroundings. The carving seemed to depict a village, numerous people sitting amount the olden buildings. His eyes trailed along the mystery faces, biting his lip to keep from laughing at the woman holding a large honking goose. She looked happy nonetheless. Nigh joyful, even.

“Jack.”

He looked away from the carved face into Tooth’s feathered one.

She looked almost apologetic. Sad, even.

“North and I were training.”

He blinked. What?

“He had his sword at your neck.”

“North and I train very seriously.” She bit her lip for a moment. “We are both at a level where we CAN train in such a way. Though…we haven’t, not in a long time. This is the first time I’ve met blades with him in almost a century and a half.”

Despite himself, Jack couldn’t help but ask. “Why?”

Tooth gave a huffing laugh. “The same reason I stopped collecting teeth in the field, I suppose. Business, business. When there’s so much to do and so little time, we all stopped making time for each other. But after Pitch…”

“You took up sparring with North again?” Jack supplied. The twists in his stomach from earlier had faded, replaced by a more cocky smirk. Tooth nodded exuberantly, then paused, sinking down from the air with a bit of a sordid smile on her features.

“I…was so out of practice that I could barely do anything when he took them.” Jack glanced at the fairy out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at her hands dejectedly. “A thousand years ago I would’ve slayed every one of Pitch’s lackeys and had the energy to go after him right afterwards. Instead I just flitted around like a frazzled little butterfly. Even when I attacked him with my own dagger, he smacked me away like I was a housefly.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Tooth.”

“Oh, but it was. It was just as much my fault as it was all of ours, for letting our guards down in brighter times. There was a time when was blade would’ve been expert enough to end that entire conflict then and there.” Tooth sighed, knuckles white as she gripped her hands together. “I knew right there and then that I was far, FAR too out of practice. So…I asked North if we could resume our practices. He was very surprised, let me tell you!”

“When was the last time you even practiced together?”

“Oh goodness, Jack, it had to have been at least five centuries ago. I’m still rather rusty. But don’t worry!” She hastily added. “I can definitely hold my own in practice, at the very least. And soon enough I’ll be back to the level I used to be!”

“Hmm.” Jack’s stiffened form had slacked completely; now he twirled his staff in his hands to let it finally come and rest on his shoulder. Bony hand ran up the hilt thoughtfully with blue eyes trained on the crooked wood. The fairy watched in confusion as the white haired teenager strolled casually down the hall—had it been something she had said? Did Jack object to this practice sparring THAT much? She knew it had probably shocked him…

“Tooth?”

“Yes? What is it, Jack?”

“Could, uh…” His tone had become quieter, almost bashful. “…do you think that he could train me too? North, I mean.”

“You…want to learn swordplay, Jack?” She said uncertainly. One delicate finger gestured at the ice covered staff resting on the boy’s shoulder. “But, your staff…”

“I know. My staff.” He stared down at it; the expression was nigh unreadable. Tooth didn’t pry; even if she had the ability to read memories, she knew it didn’t give her the right to pry into thoughts unshared. “You know what happened when I lost it? I was a freakin’ sitting duck. When it broke it was even worse. I might as well have been one of the little kids that we’re supposed to be protecting. And I mean…what the heck am I supposed to do if I don’t have it on hand? Wait for someone else to find me and motivate me, or wait for someone to save me?”

“Jack…” Whatever the fairy queen had to say died in her throat. There wasn’t much she could say to that. Really, all she could think of right now was that she wanted to cradle the poor boy’s head in her lap and tell him that everything would be alright. But she seriously doubted the motherly gesture would be appreciated; Jack was not a child, certainly not her child, and wasn’t looking for some sort of parental pity.

Ice blue eyes met violet ones, with an intensity the woman had not seen before in them.

“I don’t want to just rely on this staff. I’m not going to wait to be saved.”

“Keep stance firm, Jack. Swing blade with meaning. If you do not swing with meaning, then—” North paused, throwing out his own blade to block the razor sharp tips of Tooth’s daggers. With a strong push forward the fairy was thrown to the ground; fluttering wings brought her upwards for the attack again. Jack watched in fascination as the blades met, his own strokes forgotten. “—your opponent ALWAYS will win. Now practice stance! Is off!”

“Right, right.” Jack stumbled back into the correct position, holding the wooden weapon out in front of his body clumsily. One of the Yetis had quickly constructed a practice sword for the sprite; North had considered giving the boy a real metal sword but Tooth immediately objected. It was not safe, she had protested. Within the depths of his mind he thanked the fairy woman. Watching the way they went at it, Jack was pretty sure he wasn’t ready for that kind of combat yet.

“Jack, you have to remember that while being able to swing the sword is important, defense is just AS important!” Tooth added enthusiastically, eyes sparkling as her daggers crossed over each other to catch the sharp edge of North’s sword between them. With a quick flick of the wrist the sword was dislodged from the man’s hand, clattered across the floor and out of reach. North blinked then gave a hearty laugh. “A good defensive, you may have heard, is just as good as a good offensive. You are incomplete without it.”

“Tooth is right! You can know how to swing sword all you like, but if you have no sword then what is the good?” Jack averted his eyes for a moment, preferring to focus on whacking the straw dummy sat up across him. It couldn’t exactly provide him with any practice on defense so for now, he figured, he could focus on what he could do without a real opponent. His foot slid forward, slightly to the right, as the weapon resting by his ear slammed down precisely against the bale. It made a satisfying thunk.

“Ah-ha! That is the kind of response we like to hear from that dummy. That is the sound of power in the blow.” North commented as he jumped back to retrieve his lost weapon. Tooth was already charging at him, wings buzzing as violet eyes filled with excitement. Just in time to block the falling daggers, the bearded man pulled his arm above his head to meet her blow. “But try to be aiming a little higher, around where the neck would be. If you are fighting enemy, then you are wanting to go for the kill, da? Where you hit now is where you hit when you need something.”

“Need something?” Jack said curiously.

“When the person you fight has a secret you need, Jack, sometimes you cannot go for the kill. There will be a lot of times when you fight an opponent who is more useful alive than dead.” Tooth chirped in as she dive bombed North from the top of the room. The blades at her side curved inwards to meet her opponent’s neck on both sides; both sabers blocked her out and pushed back at her assault. With fervor she pushed back. To Jack’s surprise, North’s legs shook slightly, threatening to push back away from Tooth’s force. But with a quick slash he chased the bird away. Tooth landed elegantly on the tiled floor, eyes darting up and down the imposing form as if inspecting for any possible opening to take advantage of.

“I guess that makes sense.” Jack mused, absentmindedly whacking at the straw dummy again. North blocked one of Tooth’s precise blows with one saber and pointed the other at the young sprite.

“Never strike without meaning! Find thing in mind that you wish to strike, and strike it! Do not allow self to be distracted by other things. Dealing with more than one enemy, that is lesson for another day, I think.” Jack flushed violet at the statement. North had noticed his lack of focus.

But how could the man blame him? The glorious strike of Tooth’s gold lined daggers against the silver sabers, the glow of immaculately preened green feather circling and striking at a man best described as a behemoth, the expertise and precise nature of each and every slash of the blade—and to think he had been surprised when he found Tooth knew how to fight with such weaponry! It was a display impossible to tear his eyes away from, this practice that they indulged in.

It’s almost like a dance. Jack flushed again at the thought as he stepped forward to slam at the dummy again. A dance…? That’s a little intimate, isn’t it?

He watched from the corner of his eyes as he stepped forward this time, taking in the excitement on North’s face. It was met with equal vigorous passion as Tooth darted forward to pass between the twin blades. Her hand firmly grasped the man’s shoulder, dagger pointed away from his throat as she vaulted over his back and spun on her tiny feet to jab one of the sharp points against North’s back.

Jack stilled entirely, wide blue eyes watching enthralled at the motionless pair in front of him.

“Concede defeat.”

“You think so, already?”

“I do.”

“Ah, see, Jack, this is why you must practice. If you do not pay attention than opponent will have no trouble getting the upper hand, da?” North said with a silly grin. The boy cocked his head to one side. Tooth’s stance relaxed slightly to tilt her head, addressing Jack with a knowing nod. To her surprise, a hand came down on her wrist to knock the dagger against North’s back out of her hand. Something akin to a squawk spilled from her lips as North rounded on her to catch the other dagger in her hand. It toppled across the room and a saber rested on the fairy’s shoulder. She sat, shocked, on her knees at his feet.

“You should know better than any that I do not concede defeat, Toothiana.”

She was silent for a moment, then her thick lashes closed over her violet eyes and a smile spread over her face. North offered a hand and she pulled herself up aside him, smoothing out loose feathers from her crown using her thumb. Jack watched in shock at the reaction.

“Wait, he cheated!” Jack protested.

“That he did.” Tooth shot an amused glance at North.

“And, what, you’re okay with that?”

“Jack.” North clasped an arm down on the fairy’s shoulder and met Jack’s gaze. It was a far more serious one than he had given Tooth upon her defeat; it was closer to the severe face that the ice sprite had been given a glance of when the warrior had asked him about his core for the first time. “Do you think OPPONENT will fight fair?”

It had been about a month into North and Tooth’s sword training regime when, without any warning, they invited Bunnymund to join in on the whole secret training business. Though it wasn’t much of a secret with four of five guardians involved in it. And knowing Sandy, it was more than likely that the mysterious and silent man knew well about it. The Sandman had his ways to know just about any secret and it was no small task to keep it from him. Jack figured he mostly just wasn’t interested in sword training.

The rabbit, on the other hand, stood across from him rolling a shoulder and effortlessly sliding into the correct stance. Jack scowled as his own feet betrayed him, deciding that then of all times was the right one to not pay attention to the lessons lodged in his memories. Instead he found himself glancing repeatedly back at his feet to assure himself that he was where he needed to be. Even then it felt slightly off. The attentive daily training felt like farce when standing across from Bunnymund.

Still, he was not about to lose his façade. Instead he smirked at his opponent. “You know swords, Bunny? You never told me.”

“Ha. Don’t even try, Frost. I can see it in your eyes.”

See what? Jack wondered. Probably the trepidation eating away at his insides. The youth knew he wasn’t standing in front of a motionless hunk of hay this time. He was standing in front of a living, breathing, trained opponent with a practice sword like his own between his paws and a stance far more mature and refined than his own childish attempt. In the back of his mind he remembered something about the Easter Bunny bragging about knowing martial arts. At the time he hadn’t thought much of the blatant show of ego but now, on the other side of the rabbit’s blade, Jack was left wondering just how much Bunny knew about other fighting styles.

Don’t even try, Frost. He repeated Bunny’s words to himself humorlessly.

With that he stepped forward deftly to swing the sword towards the rabbit. But the doubt was obvious in his motions; he knew even before his arms moved that the rabbit would slam the sword up against his own. He didn’t expect for Bunny to pull downwards and force his entire upper body downwards, curving the blade in a circular motion. Both tips met with the ground. Jack’s arms shook with the effort to push back against the decidedly strong force that he pushed back against. Licking his lips, he looked up into his opponent’s eyes; bright green met icy blue and Bunny grinned as he pushed further against the sword. The strain was beginning to take its toll on the sprite’s arms and for a moment his smarmy expression faded to one of frustration.

“Y’can’t just keep yerself cornered, Frostbite.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow at the statement. Then, surprisingly quickly, his feet shifted underneath him and the wooden blade in his hand swung in the direction of the force Bunny was placing against it. Deftly, with more certain motions, Jack spun the weapon over the rabbit’s and slammed it against the other side of the blade. It slammed of Bunny’s grip and fell uselessly to the ground.

Not for a moment did his eyes leave his opponent’s, entranced with the view it served—an oppositional presence that Jack was so used to. Yet despite the familiarity it was a different sort of look than the sprite was used to the rabbit casting onto him. A year prior it would’ve been a look tainted with disgust and frustration. Now, though, it was filled with a sense of pride and trust.

It heated his normally ice cold form with a sense of determination. And a slight tinge of annoyance.

“You did that on purpose.” Jack stated matter-a-factly as the other went to retrieve the weapon. Bunny’s ear swiveled slightly towards him at the accusation.

“Wha’s yer point?”

Jack hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had just thought to the sense of determination in him elicited when fighting an opponent who wasn’t quite an opponent. Like a flash of lightning, clarity hit him: despite such a short period of a dance it had been, it still left him wrapped in that intimacy that he had seen in the practice of golden dagger against silver saber. For only a split second that experience that had been so personal as to make him flush while watching had been his own. And it had been his own. Not a green wing against dark red coat, but frost against blue-gray fur.

A smile spread his features again as he raised the practice blade again.

“Y’gonna answer me, ya little larrikin?”

“Sure.” Jack replied. His hands were firm on the surface of the sword now, unease boiling away from his mind. “When you make me concede defeat.”

Bunny barked out a laugh—a rough sound, a REAL sound, not like the laugh Jack was used to hearing from the other Guardian—and slid back into place across from the snow spirit. Vermillion green glinted back at the boy almost mischievously. And here Jack had been thinking that the other wasn’t capable of any such thing. Flashing back an equally tricky smile, he readied himself for the oncoming attack.

A good defensive, you may have heard, is just as good as a good offensive.

The Tooth Fairy’s words rung vibrantly in the back of his head.

The months continued to pass as he trained with the Guardians, sometimes with North and Tooth fighting each other at the same time. Jack was not surprised to realize that Bunny was holding back. Hell, he’d probably be dead if the ancient warrior wasn’t; the other was already a handful when he wasn’t putting his whole into it. Still, Jack could feel his control of the sword growing strong, the steps becoming less practiced and more subconscious. Yet at the end of every session with them, he returned to his staff, cradling it lovingly in his hands—memories flooding his being as a gentle reminder that it would always be part of him. Its icy touch was his true self, with the sword arts becoming something of a passion that developed far beyond what he anticipated.

He didn’t regret it, not even as a large bruise formed on his side from a particularly rough blow that he had failed to block from the rabbit one day. To his surprise, Bunny had halted immediately, eyes wide as Jack keeled down to his knees with a rough cough. He had leaned down next to the winter being, carefully checking on the forming bruise, asking him if he was okay, actually saying sorry to Jack Frost of all people…

Jack grinned.

“I didn’t concede.”

With that he pulled the wooden sword out of Bunny’s hand and, while the rabbit recovered from the shock, smacked him in the face with it. The hall was filled with loud and raucous Australian slang that day, all of which Jack was sure translated roughly to ‘you fucking little tricky bastard’. For once, Jack had a feeling that the irritable Guardian didn’t actually mean a word of it. Instead he had chuckled at the other, immediately grasping at his side when the shake of laughter shot pain through his bruised ribs. He got what he deserved, he supposed.

If you do not pay attention than opponent will have no trouble getting the upper hand, da?

Jack didn’t sleep often, so he didn’t dream often. Nowadays, though, when he did dream, they returned to the practices he had. It was preferable to the dreams about memories of old—as far as he was concerned the one memory from before his death that he had truly needed was the first one to come in his possession. He could wonder who Jackson Overland was with all his heart but in reality it only hurt to know what had once been. All he needed to know now WAS the now, and why he was where he was now. The rest was just cause for bitterness and frankly he wanted nothing to do with such feelings. He much preferred dreams of recent memories to dreams of olden memories.

The dreams he had were decidedly generous to his level of skill, his body moving at a pace that matched Bunnymund’s closer than reality. In them he had the strength and determination of North’s fine silver sabers coupled with the grace and elegance of Toothiana’s gold tipped daggers. The dance that had begun when they had started training was more evolved, closer, and more intimate. Their rhythm was matched and precise. Jack woke from that particular dream feeling almost embarrassed—and over nothing, none the less! It was just swordplay.

Still, his face would still turn that dark violet when he watched North and Tooth match blades. He hoped to learn from observing their practice more precisely but every time he tried, Jack just felt like he was intruding on something. Their eyes were lit with an emotion meant not just for the heat of battle but also for the heat of the other’s presence. Tooth had sparred with Bunny one day; the fire was there but the heat was not. They did everything the same, dodged just as precisely, but their eyes did not meet and hold as firmly as Tooth and North’s gazes when they locked weapons. There was not a completed bond of certainty that the other could raise their blade and fight back against the other. They practiced as allies and nothing more.

Jack wasn’t about to ask what the ‘something more’ was that missing from it, and why it was there in North and Tooth’s battles. He wasn’t exactly caught up on the ins and outs of more intimate emotions but he wasn’t stupid either. That gaze, the precise strikes, the absolute trust in the movements…and the smiles afterwards. Jack didn’t revisit his olden memories with haste, if at all, but in a flash second he was reminded of a plain looking man with his arm around the waist of a brunette woman, looking down at him when he was nothing but a overly curious toddler.

In his dream that night he had revisited that olden memory, the plain man replaced with ruddy featured and a thick beard and the brunette woman with green feathers and dark purple plumages. He woke up halfway through, blinking bleary eyes and looking up to a trail of quickly disappearing dream sand. In it sat a newly forming family with swords crossed above them. His eyes grew heavy as a content smile spread on his features.

Sure. He could live with that.

But as the intimate sword dance of his dream with Bunny became less fiction and more reality, Jack wondered if he was okay with THAT. He found himself averting his eyes now, missing the locking of green and blue eyes, breaking the concentration he had been building up. Instead he kept his head down in a concentrated effort to look at anything but his opponent, leading to him gaining more and more unexpected bruises. The rabbit had been predicting the spirit to block the strokes and Jack knew he COULD if only he could concentrate and meet the other in the dance.

It reached a fervor pitch when Jack and Bunny accidentally did lock eyes in that intimate dance of swords. The rabbit held his gaze firmly; Jack felt his entire face flush a deep violet as spikes of ice shot up from under his feet. He yelped in surprise, jumping back away from the small patch of frost that he had managed to summon without his staff. Such efforts were typically only possible when he was feeling much, much too much of an emotional rush. Jack was sure if he had been holding his staff that he would’ve accidentally buried them both under a snowdrift.

Jack hadn’t been able to meet Bunny’s gaze after that. He had just stared at the quickly melting cluster of ice, horrified and well aware of what he had just done. Instead he stayed on his knees, attention fully on his outburst until the soft touch of wood brushed against his ear. He didn’t look up, biting his lip harshly. But the sword tip was insistent, traveling from his ear to his chin to lift his face.

“Jack.”

An odd thrill coursed through his body. Even nowadays Bunny never called him by his first name. The nicknames had become less insulting and more affectionate but for some reason his name typically went unsaid. At that moment the sprite was glad of it, too; he wasn’t sure if he could handle that constant excited twist in his stomach. Instead he just stared up, lip jutted out obstinately, as his eyes were forced to once again meet with the one he fought.

“Do you concede?”

Jack twitched in surprise. “W…what?”

“Well? Do you concede defeat?” The rabbit knelt down next to Jack, face right up against the other’s. He could feel the heat radiating from Bunny’s fur, cerulean eyes lidding in the closely comforting defeat. It was the intimacy, he thought, with closed eyes, that he had seen in the battle between North and Tooth. It was that which had made him uncomfortable to watch. And it was uncomfortable, too, to force himself to concede into that same intimacy.

Chapped lips spoke.

“I concede defeat.”

The air caught in his throat as paws, rough from war and work, gently caressed the pale skin of his face. A nose pressed against his cheek, green eyes closing with the blue. They stayed there for what seemed like hours, Jack’s head rested against the furred shoulder as he was shrouded in that unusual sense of calm. And really, when was the last time he had ever truly felt calm? When had been the last time he had felt safe or protected?

Jack wasn’t familiar with intimacy. He wasn’t even all that familiar with affection, at least not the kind that didn’t come from family.

Now, though, he felt all of that—the calm, the protection, the affection that wasn’t really for family—and that previous worry seemed to melt away.

“So what’s m’answer, then? Y’said ya’d tell me when ya conceded defeat.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s ain’t no answer, Jack.”

“Hmm.” Jack was smiling now, that beat of mischief returning to his heart. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“…Cocky little shit.” Bunny groused, but there was a hint of humor in his tone. Jack laughed against the furred shoulder, craning his head downwards to hide the sound in his hands. The swords lay forgotten to the side, though not for long. Even when they rose again, though, they rose with a sense of mirth and a matched gaze.

And so they plunged back into the dancing and the dreaming.

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