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rax-writes · 1 year

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I went looking for trouble… and boy, I found her.

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

warnings: reader is a member of the Frump family (Morticia’s twin’s daughter) but no physical description is given, SMUT (MINORS DNI), slightly dom!Xavier, blood kink, unprotected sex, public sex / slight exhibitionism (but no one is around), brief choking, oral and fingering (f!receiving), p in v sex, porn with a bit of plot

Being the daughter of a pastel-loving, effervescent flower child such as Ophelia Frump was exhausting. Truth be told, she was a good mother – always doing her best to indulge in your macabre interests, or phoning her twin sister for some assistance in such endeavors – but the disconnect born from your polar opposite demeanors was ever-present.

After an incident in kindergarten that left you banned from all the local schools, you were homeschooled by private tutors. (Oh, how proud your Uncle Gomez and Aunt Morticia were – and oh, how horrified your mother was.) You had always dreamed of attending Nevermore Academy like your aunt and uncle, and being around other “outcasts,” but being that you somehow managed to always return from summers at their house even kookier and creepier than before, your mother feared what a stay at such a place would do to you. However, upon hearing that your dear cousin Wednesday would be attending the school, you had the leverage to work up some fake tears and a compelling argument to your mother about how it would benefit the poor girl to have a familiar face there with her, and off to Nevermore you went.

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“Uh, Wednesday…?” Enid began, momentarily ignoring her breakfast to stare over her roommate’s shoulder with furrowed brows. “Do you happen to have a family member coming to visit?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because a goth version of Stevie Nicks with the same creepy, calculating look as you just walked in.”

Wednesday’s eyes widened a fraction, and she breathed your name in realization as she turned in her seat to lock eyes with you from across the Quad. Considering the bright, elated smile that crossed your face as Wednesday rushed to greet you, Enid noted then that you must be a bit more in the realm of “normal” than your pigtail-wearing family member. Although, Enid doubted that anyone in Wednesday’s family could truly be considered as such.

Determined to ensure that you got a positive perspective on Nevermore, being that Wednesday would undoubtedly give a grim depiction of the school, Enid insisted on joining the two of you for the introductory tour. Enid delighted in the way you smiled at her jokes, and even told a few jokes and anecdotes of your own, some of which even brought the faintest of smiles to Wednesday’s face. By the time the group returned to the Quad, it was lunchtime, and there were twice as many students as before.

In the midst of Enid’s thorough explanation of all the trouble Wednesday had already gotten herself into in less than a fortnight at Nevermore, the conversation was interrupted.

“Hey, Enid, have you seen – woah.”

The stunned whisper marked the abrupt end of the sentence of the young man who had jogged over to your table as you turned to face him. He just stared at you with wide, sage green eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul. And you stared right back, taking in the deep emerald hue of his irises, how pretty his lips looked, the light brown hair that brushed against his shoulders.

“Whenever you two are done mentally undressing one another, I would suggest introducing yourselves.”

Wednesday’s deadpan interruption of the tense silence caused him to look away, and shake his head as though to clear his mind, which brought a smirk to your face. He found you just as attractive as you found him. How delightful.

“Uh, sorry. I’m Xavier Thorpe,” he stated, reaching out to shake your hand. You did the same, but he then appeared confused. “Frump? I thought you’d be an Addams, judging from how similar you seem to Wednesday.”

“She’s a cousin from my mother’s side. Her mother is my Aunt Ophelia, the white sheep of the family,” Wednesday explained.

“Don’t you mean ‘black sheep’?” Xavier inquired.

“No,” you and Wednesday both replied in unison.

“My mother is exceptionally fond of… color,” you explained, saying the word as though it were something morally reprehensible. “She decorates with the most abrasive array of bright, colorful maximalism you can possibly imagine. Wednesday visited once, and went into anaphylactic shock the moment she walked in the door. She spent three days in the hospital.”

“It was deeply unpleasant,” the grayscale girl added earnestly, then shuddered as one typically does after seeing a repulsive insect.

“Ah,” Xavier said with a chuckle. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Hopefully you’re more fond of Nevermore than your cousin, and hopefully we’ll be friends.”

A devilish smile spread across your lips. “We’re not going to be friends.”

From anyone else, it would have sounded insulting. But the way you said it sounded more like a promise, and fuck, did it thrill Xavier.

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Naturally, you were right.

Which is how you found yourself desecrating the perfectly manicured lawn in the Nevermore gardens, Xavier’s head between your thighs, his soft hair tied back as his hands, mouth, and tongue caused you to see stars despite the cloudy night sky.

Although the arms keeping you propped up was weak, it was worth fighting the ache in your biceps to see him devour you. He did it so ravenously, yet with so much intention; always mindful of which motions brought out the shrillest whines or sharpest gasps, and doing them repeatedly, until you were a panting, whimpering mess.

When Xavier could tell you were getting close, from how ragged your breathing was and the incoherent muttering of “gods, please, please, Xavier, please,” he spared a glance at you to take in the positively wrecked look on your face. The way his emerald eyes bore into yours, just as they had the very first time you met him – you were a goner. You bit your lip so hard you tasted the familiar metallic taste of blood, to avoid waking the entire castle with your cries of pleasure.

The groan that left Xavier at the taste of you sent vibrations through your overstimulated flesh, causing you to jerk violently, and he then took pity on you and leaned back on his heels with a wicked grin. Seeing him leaning back like that, smirking as he unbuckled his belt, was truly a sight you never wanted to forget.

“God, I love that you’re always so pretty and put-together, and everything you do or say is so poised and perfect – but every single time I get my hands on you, I get to see this fucked-out version of you,” Xavier mused, shoving his pants and boxers down past his knees as you stared at his pretty cock with glassy, hungry eyes. He leaned down then, caging you in with his arms, before one hand reached up to grab your jaw – a bit forcefully, just the way he knew you liked it. “All for me. All mine. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his tip at your entrance. “All yours, my darling.”

“Good girl,” Xavier replied with a grin, before releasing your jaw to guide himself into you. He eased himself in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him, but once he was all the way inside, he drew his hips back, then thrust himself in again, fast and hard. Thankfully, he had the foresight to clamp his free hand over your mouth, muffling the loud, obscene moan that tumbled from your lips.

The psychic set an unrelenting pace, having been too turned on while eating you out to take his time with you. He had become far too addicted to getting you off to be selfish about it, though. So, in stark contrast to the fast pace of his hips slamming into yours, he slowly trailed his hand down from your mouth to your throat, giving it a firm squeeze and earning a moan from you, before continuing the descent until his arm wound itself around your lower back. Xavier used it to prop up your hips just a bit – enough to hit that particular spot deep inside you that had you biting your lip again, the taste of blood momentarily flooding your senses again.

As you wrapped your legs around him and hooked your high heel-clad ankles behind his back – knowing full well how much he adored that – he groaned, low in his throat, and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, not minding that they were covered in crimson. When Xavier broke the kiss, and you saw your blood coating his plump lips, the burning intensity in his eyes, all while his cock hit your sweet spot again and again and again – your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you came with a soft, breathless cry of his name and your sharp black nails raking down his back.

“Oh, fuck,” Xavier moaned, low and gravely, immediately following suit, and the sensation of his release filling you up was nearly enough to make you come again.

The arm under your back released you to help Xavier prop himself up, and he was a vision. Eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed, lips still tinted red with the blood from the cuts on your lips, and a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, neck, and chest as he basked in the afterglow, still buried inside of you.

Unable to resist, you simultaneously squeezed his cock with your lower muscles and gingerly raked your nails along his sides. Xavier shuddered from over-sensitivity and pulled out of you with a hiss, unable to handle the feeling. He leveled you with a glare, only to be met with a sinister smile.

“You’re evil.”

“Thank you.”

Xavier chuckled breathlessly, before standing to quickly fix his boxers, pants, and belt. He then grabbed the hoodie he’d worn to your rendezvous, and kneeled in front of you to tidy you up with it. Always the gentleman, you thought with another smile as he balled the hoodie up to hide the mess from anyone you may encounter on the walk back, then extended his hand to you. He hoisted you up off the ground without much effort, and as you both moved to fix your dress, you noticed in unison that your legs were still shaking from your orgasm.

Xavier merely held up his hands in surrender and said nothing as he reached down to grab his t-shirt, but that shit-eating grin was still on his pretty lips – along with the blood.

The two of you locked eyes, and just as Xavier smiled and opened his mouth to make an undoubtedly cocky, smart-ass comment, you held up a finger and warned, “Silence, or I’ll hex you.”

“Oh, but my love, you’ve already bewitched me,” Xavier said dramatically, holding a hand over his heart to further his theatrics.

“Mhmm,” you replied dryly, although you failed to fully hide your smile. “How about you just put your shirt on and walk me back to my room, Shakespeare. I’ve got a potion to brew.”

“I would also advise you to wipe your mouth. You look more like a vampire than a psychic at the moment.”

He appeared confused, but did as you bade him, and the implication of your words dawned on him as he saw the blood on the back of his hand. Evidently, in his lust-fueled haze, he hadn’t even realized he was kissing your bloody lips. Then, a lightbulb visibly went off in his mind.

“Wait, you liked that, didn’t you?” he asked, stunned. He had seemingly pieced together that you finished right after he kissed you and you saw the blood on his lips.

“Indeed.”

As you so often did, you somewhat expected him to shun you – to be appalled or horrified by you, as most typically were, for some reason or another. It was a very common experience for members of your family.

But, as always, he did nothing of the sort. He was entirely unphased. In fact, the corner of his lips turned up slightly, and Xavier merely replied, “Noted. Just promise you won’t dump me for a vamp. Since, you know, they’ve usually got blood on them, and it’s more of a rare occurrence for me.”

“You have my word,” you responded with a warm smile.

Xavier draped his arm over your shoulders, and the two of you began walking back to the academy, leaving the newly-christened gardens behind you.

“Have I told you how much I love those contraceptive potions of yours?” Xavier mused, with a happy sigh only a man who’d just finished inside a woman could produce.

“Every time we have intercourse, yes.”

“Hm…. Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Also yes, but I never tire of hearing that one.”

“Good, because I love you.”

“And I love you, Xavier.”

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➼ this fic could be considered a part two

#if you know what the title is referencing i love u #xavier thorpe #wednesday #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #my writing #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe fan fiction #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe fan fic #xavier thorpe fanfiction #my writing is rusty so bear with me

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sgdlr-asdfghjkl · 4 months

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Link Click Musical lyrics translation ✨🎶

@chocolatexiaoshi brought to my attention that Qiao Ling's actress, Cai Lu, posted a video from rehearsal where she's singing a part of QL's solo song that doesn't appear in the encore, only in main plot (rare!). Here's the video:

And by courtesy of chocolatexiaoshi, here's the full translation (plot context below the lyrics) 🙏🌟

M11 尼克和马修 'Nick and Matthew' sung by Qiao Ling

七岁那年遇见一个倒霉朋友 When I was seven years old, I met an unlucky friend. 我的笑料都来自他出丑 I get all my laughs when he makes a fool of himself. 没穿过耐克 (He) never wore Nike. 自己画个倒钩 Drew himself a barb (tick line, to pretend to wear Nike). 羡慕同学有爸妈开车接送 He envied his classmates when their parents drove them around. 他吹牛家里游艇正在维修 He bragged that his family's yacht was being repaired. 这个蠢货幻想有两个朋友 This douchebag fantasizes about having two friends. 一个叫尼克 One's name is Nick. 另一个叫马修 The other is Matthew. 还以为是他国外的笔友 I thought they're his pen pals from abroad. 所谓的朋友全都是他虚构 He's making up all his friends. 尼克是狮子 Nick was a lion. 马修是条狗 Matthew was a dog. 用秘密威胁他做我朋友 Threatened him with this secret to be my friend. 他提了个要求 He made a request. 家长会我爸 PTA meeting with my dad. (PTA - routine meetings between the parents and teachers of students, to discuss a child's progress at school) 装他大舅 Pretend to be his great-uncle.

Here starts the part Cai Lu is singing in the video (and it's 😭💔):

尼克马修其实是孤独的魔咒 Nick and Matthew are actually a curse of loneliness. 若有人陪伴怎会如此荒谬 How can it be so absurd if he has company? 所有的情绪靠幻想找个出口 All his emotions find an outlet in his fantasies. 喜怒哀愁去和故事书交流 He'd go to a storybook for his sorrows and his joys. 自我欺骗才能排解烦忧 The only way to get rid of them is to lie to himself. 这个倒霉蛋我认识十五年之久 I've known this unfortunate man for 15 years. 你是除了我以外，他唯一的朋友 You're the only friend he's got besides me. 看过了彼此的伤痛 You guys've seen each other's pain. 应该更宽容 You should be more forgiving. 别被情绪左右 Don't let your emotions get the best of you. 一起向前走 Let's move forward together. 如果我是尼克 If I'm Nick. 你来做马修 You'd be Matthew. 他渴望的两个朋友 The two friends he craves. 你和我送他拥有 You and I will give him the two friends he longs for.

The clip ends here, but there are a few more verses 🎶

尼克和马修他童年的缺口 Nick and Matthew, the gaping hole in his childhood 填补了他的梦 Filled his dreams. 你我别放手 You and I, don't let go. 尼克和马修吹过最离谱的牛 Nick and Matthew is the most outrageous thing he's ever bragged about. 能不能和我一起 Will you join me? 将他心愿保留 To keep his heart's desire alive

ಥωಥ yeah.

🌟Context: after the earthquake arc dive, Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang have a fight where CXS says he doesn't want to see Lu Guang anymore. Qiao Ling tries to ask LG what happened but doesn't get an answer. Then she goes to comfort CXS:

Eventually LG goes to sulk on a basketball court:

Qiao Ling finds him and tells him about Xiaoshi's childhood (her song starts) :'>

These are drawings of Nick and Matthew (tho they seem to change, you can they're different in pics above^). QL shows them while singing:

My dear shiguang nation... how are we feeling about QL and LG stepping into Xiaoshi's life filling a place of his imaginary childhood friends born out of loneliness? Bc I-

Again huge thanks to @chocolatexiaoshi for basically translating everything and adding context to this song 🙏 I just checked english grammar and helped to put it together 🤝 We're keeping in touch and they've actually seen LC musical live, so if you have more in depth questions about the play or specific actors, let us know 😘

#link click #shiguang dailiren #link click musical #qiao ling #text post #song lyrics #english translation #lyrics translation

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rebelliousstories · 5 months

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Cranberry

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Death, Light Angst

Word Count: 2,100

Masterlist: Here

Summary: A certain unusual flavor that has held a special spot in the Mitchell and Bradshaw family every Christmas.

Christmas 1985

“Alright! I’m here! I’m here! I’ve got the goods!” Pete’s loud voice rang out into the government issued housing known as, the Bradshaw abode. A two foot tall blur came barreling towards his knees, and it was only a split second decision that still kept them in tack. He grabbed the youngest Bradshaw and hoisted him hip on to his hip.

“Uncle Pete!” Bradley exclaimed, hugging his favorite uncle. The man hugged him close, never once letting go of the boy or the bags in his hand.

“Hey bud! Oh, I missed you.” His words were music to the woman’s ears as a certain blonde haired lady rounded the corner.

“Pete!” Carol exclaimed, piling on to the hug that was started without her. Maverick took one arm and wrapped it around her, while pressing a brotherly kiss to her cheek.

“Hey Carol.” Pete took a deep breath in, finally enjoying being able to relax a bit with his closest friends.

“Oh, so this is where everyone went.” One more set of arms piled on to the group hug and encompassed them all.

“Hi sweetie.” Pete teased at his taller friend.

“Hiya hun.” Nick threw back at him. The one great thing about their friendship, is that each one could give as good as they got. But they were there to enjoy time as a family. Slowly but surely, each layer peeled away to reveal the bags that were still in Pete’s hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Should’ve taken these first, Pete. Here let me get those.” Carol tried to reach for the bags, but Maverick went head and stepped towards the kitchen to set them down. As he did, he felt Bradley being pulled from his arms by Goose, allowing him to move freely.

“I got it, Carol. Just tell me where you want stuff.” He offered, watching the woman fight every bone in her body not to take over.

“I just… well, alright.” While Carol and Maverick were busy in the kitchen, Bradley and Goose were busy playing with each other in the living room. A huge tree sat in the corner, complete with lights, ornaments, garland and other pretty decorations. It provided endless hours of entertainment as Bradley was still so little. He was amazed by the lights and colors coming from the tree.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Pete and Carol were having a blast doing the last minute preparations for their big Christmas dinner. Turning the giant turkey in the oven and basting it, toasting up some Hawaiian rolls, making the side dishes, and most importantly making the cranberry sauce. It was the one thing that Carol always insisted on making from scratch herself. An old family recipe that had been passed down for generations. It had become a staple of any holiday meal, or even one made on special occasions.

The family sat down for their meal, and Carol set the cranberry sauce delicately down on their table. For the rest of the night, there was conversation, laughter and entertainment in general. The cranberry sauce was always the highlight of the meal. No one was allowed to know exactly what or how much of anything was put into the sauce, but none of them cared. No one cared what she put in the sauce, only that it was delicious and a staple of their table.

Christmas 2020

“Babe! I’m back from the store. I got everything you needed.” A feminine voice rang out, carrying bags into the home. Pete wiped his hands down on a rag before stepping out into the foyer to help her with them.

“Thank you for getting these, dear. It really helped.” Maverick grabbed majority of the bags and pressed a loving kiss to his partners lips, before moving to the kitchen to prepare the very last thing they had to make. An old, and worn recipe card laid on the counter amongst all the ingredients that they needed for this particular dish.

“You’re welcome, Mav. Do you need or want any help?” She wrapped her arms around his body and pressed another kiss in between his shoulder blades. Maverick pressed his hands to her arms, yet shook his head.

“No, I got this. You go ahead and get ready for company. I’ll take care of this.” And with that, Maverick stayed in the kitchen while his lover went off to go get ready. He tried to follow the recipe as closely as he could, but these were written in not quite so accurate measurements. Finally, he understood when she used to say, “southern measurements.” It confused him to no end. A pinch, a smidge, a helping; these did not make sense. How much were each of them? By the time he finished the batch, his lover appeared from their bedroom, looking refreshed and festive in her brilliant red sweater.

“Mav, you okay honey?” Her hands trailed up his arms while he was standing over the pot on the stove.

“Will you taste this?” Pete gave the spoon with a small helping of the sauce to her lips. When she tasted it though, her face scrunched up in displeasure.

“How is it both too sweet and too salty?” She questioned, staring at the offensive cranberry sauce.

“I don’t know. I can’t understand these measurements so it didn’t turn out like I had hoped.” Maverick admitted, thrusting the card in front of her eyes. They scanned over the card and turned to her partner with a certain mischievous grin.

“Would you like me to help?” She teased, already getting to work on restarting their work station.

“If you think you can do better, be my guest.” He waved his arm to the mess he had made. She worked to first clean and dispose of the cranberries that had been used already, before setting up to try again.

As she read the recipe card, and followed the corresponding instructions, Pete was suddenly thrust back to all those years ago. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving where he watched Carol move around the kitchen to make this simple dish. He had a hard time shaking the memories of Carol and her loud, obnoxious singing that would inevitably bring him and Goose into. The way she would dance with Nick in the kitchen as she finished up their meals, or after them.

His mind blended them together, unable to discern one from the next. It brought him a sense of comfort that he had not felt since her untimely death. She seemed to understand the writings on the small piece of paper, as her movements never slowed preparing the dish. Turning off the stove, she set the pot off to the side to cool and grabbed a new spoon to scoop out a bit of the sauce to try. She blew on it to cool it down even faster and after several attempts to eat it, it was finally the perfect temperature for her to sample. Letting out a pleased hum, she grabbed another spoon and gave it to Maverick. He, too, stuck it in the cooling pot, and blew on it a few times before bringing it to his lips to enjoy. But he could not enjoy it. All that he could do was keep tears at bay. Noticing her lover bent over the counter with the heels of his palms in his eyes, she set her spoon down and wrapped her arms around the pilot.

“Mav, what’s wrong?” She asked, and he heard, but he could not bring any words to his lips.

“Pete?” She pried once more, and got an embrace in return. The man had turned around and brought her into his arms, while placing his head into the crook of her neck. There was no noise from the man, but there was a wet spot slowly forming on her sweater from where his head laid. She did not try to get him to talk anymore, just stroked a hand through his hair and over his back as he worked through whatever he was feeling at the moment. His tears slowed, as did the shake in his shoulders, to a point where he felt comfortable enough to pull his head from her neck. Pete wiped his hands across his face, trying desperately to remove the evidence of tears, however her hands caught the few stragglers that were still falling.

“I’m sorry. That just… that tastes exactly like how Carol made it every year. And your mannerisms are so similar in the kitchen. I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in Maverick’s eyes, but none dared fall. That was until she returned her hands to his face to cup it so gingerly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mav. It’s okay to miss her. It’s okay to still hurt when you think about her.” She assured him, stroking gently over his cheeks. Pete grabbed her hands in his, and turned to place a soft kiss to each palm, before taking the hands from his face and holding her close.

“Thank you.” He whispered, leaning in to steal a kiss straight from the source. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, and enjoyed the feeling of closeness with her lover before they both were drawn away by the sound of a door opening. Turning in his arms, the couple watched a young mustachioed pilot walk through the door, taking off his boots, and removing his sunglasses.

“Mav?” He called out. The couple turned back to each other, and disengaged to go greet the man. Bradley stood in a Christmas patterned Hawaiian shirt, which Maverick was shocked he could even find but he guessed anything was possible with the internet now. Once the couple came into view, the woman ran up and greeted him.

“Bradley! So good to have you here.” She hugged him close, and he allowed himself the small bit of affection.

“Good to be here, Mrs. M.” He responded, only drawing back when she did.

“Bradley.” Pete now greeted, with a handshake, but that quite got drawn into a hug as well.

“Uncle Pete.” Both men knew what he said, but neither dwelled on it for too long. They pulled away as well, and went to the table. Both men grabbed plates of food, and set them down on the table. However, Bradley was stunned to notice the homemade cranberry sauce on the table. It looked so similar to-

“Alright, boys. Dig in.” Everyone went to work plating and serving themselves the bountiful feast before them. The couple placed a little bit of cranberry sauce on their plates, but when Pete passed the dish to Bradley, he refused.

“Sorry. I don’t like cranberry sauce.” He dismissed the plate that was still in the older pilot’s grip.

“Just try it, Bradley. Trust me.” Thy stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, before the younger pilot took the dish from Maverick, and dished some onto his plate. The couple watched Rooster as he tore off a chunk of bread and reluctantly ate the cranberry sauce on his plate; wanting to get it out of the way to hopefully wash down the store bought taste with the rest of his food. But this did not taste store bought. This tasted homemade. This tasted exactly like the cranberry sauce he ate growing up when his mom was still alive.

He could not believe what was in front of him now. In disbelief, he stared at Pete, who simply nodded his head with a wide grin plastered on his face. Turning, Pete’s lover was staring nervously at the man, hoping she did it justice.

“Did you make this?” Rooster whispered, fearing if he raised his voice even a little bit, that he would break whatever spell this one little dish had over him.

“Mav found an old recipe card that your mom had when she would make this. He tried to make it but he can’t read southern measurements like a woman can.” She joked, jabbing her eyes towards said man teasingly. Bradley vaguely heard a, “they’re so confusing,” and “not real measurements,” from the man, but his ears were rushing, drowning out all sound. Eventually, he took another bite, and another, and another, till there was no more sauce on his plate. It tasted like home. A home he had lost and never found his way back to yet.

“Thank you.” Bradley looked the woman in the eyes, hoping that his sincerity came across as much as he felt it. She rubbed his shoulder from here she sat, and everyone turned back to their meal.

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callsignthirsty · 2 years

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Stuck in the Middle — Chapter 3 — Both

Co-written with a friend who isn't on tumblr. Pairing: Ron “Slider” Kerner x Reader x Tom “Iceman” Kazansky Summary: The one where Maverick’s sister is on a mission to give her brother a heart attack by sleeping with not one, but two of his colleagues. Word Count: 6400 Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, threesome, creampie(s) Chapter: 3/3 Read Previous Minors DNI

Pete returned home some hours later to find you in a very… festive scarf. Unfortunately for Goose, who had opted to stay with you until Pete arrived, it had done little to hide the hickeys littering your neck. That had been an interesting night.

Little did any of you know that hickeys, unseasonal scarves, and the Iceman would be the least of your worries in the coming days.

A hop gone wrong had you and Carole scrambling to get to the hospital.

They were alive, but it had been a close thing.

Pete was released that same day after a thorough evaluation. Goose was still unconscious. As tears leaked from his eyes, you knew that your brother was blaming himself, but there was little he could’ve done to avoid flying through Ice’s jetwash — Viper had stopped by the hospital to say as much.

You spent one, then two days in the hospital. Classes continued — fly long enough and it happens, they said, but Pete wasn’t ready to go up again. Not without Goose. And on the third day, like a miracle, Goose’s eyes blinked open. “Holy shit.” His voice was scratchy from disuse.

Carole sat upright at his side. “Nick?”

“Mav, where’s my camera?” Goose croaked, ignoring his wife. “There’s an angel by my bed. The guys ‘ll never believe it if I don’t take a picture.” When a nurse entered the room, relieved tears were tracking down a laughing Carole’s face, Bradley smiling in his Uncle Mav’s arms.

On the fourth day, Goose encouraged Pete to return to class because “You can’t let Ice and that big oaf run away with our trophy. They’ll never let us live it down.” Pete had reluctantly agreed when Goose gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll do great.”

Pete smiled. “Thanks, dear.”

So the summer continued: hot days spent on the tarmac and by Goose’s side. And then, graduation was just a day away. Goose, unfortunately, wouldn’t be able to attend, but he had enough points to graduate, and Pete planned on going for both of them. You, Pete knew, would be in the audience, and there lay his current predicament:

Iceman.

Well, more accurately: Slider. After he’d returned home from his date with Charlie, Pete got an eyeful of hickeys and Goose’s side of the story. Namely, everything had been fine until Kerner opened his big mouth and burrowed beneath Goose’s skin so that Ice could steal you away.

If Pete had any hopes of keeping you and Ice separated after the commencement ceremony, he needed Slider.

* * *

Classes wrap and Slider is cleaning out his locker when he becomes acutely aware that he's one of two people left in the room. And even though Mitchell's back is to him, years of training and locker room antics mean that Slider knows when he's being watched. But the silence grows long and goes stale to the point that he's almost convinced that Maverick isn't going to say anything — which is a surprise because Maverick always has something to say.

"Kerner."

There it is.

"Mitchell."

"Congrats on the trophy." It must be killing Maverick to say it, and Slider smiles because, yeah, the trophy is his. It feels fucking good. But that's not what Maverick stuck around to say. It isn’t what he’s after.

Slider doesn’t want to drag this out longer than it has to be, so he gets to the point. "What do you want?"

The question hangs while Maverick takes a second to think before speaking — and isn’t that a scary thought? — when he finally spits out: “I have a proposition for you.”

"I don't swing that way."

"What? No." And Maverick spins to shoot Slider a dirty look. "I want your help keeping Ice away from my sister. At graduation."

"Why me?" The million-dollar question, though Maverick doesn't realize it.

"If you're helping me, you aren't helping him," Maverick says like it should be obvious. And, okay, yeah, that’s fair.

"What makes you so sure I'll help you?" Slider can’t tamp down the Cheshire grin at the way Maverick squirms. But besides being his pilot, Ice is his friend, and… well, they aren’t putting labels on whatever this thing is with Mitchell’s sister. "Besides, I think he's earned a little celebration." Hadn't they both? From the look on Maverick’s face, Slider would say his answer is ‘no.’

"I can pay you."

“No, you can’t.” Because even if Mav did have money, which Slider’s sure he doesn’t, his price would be too high. The trophy and a fuck? Pete Mitchell would have to be the richest man alive.

“I heard the guys say you got yourself a girl.” It’s a reach at best, but it shocks Slider into silence. Briefly, he wonders if someone had, in fact, seen the two of you in or on his car. But if that were the case, he doubts Maverick would be talking with him now. “She coming to the ceremony?” Maverick tries as Slider collects himself, trying to come off cool and collected like Ice always manages to.

“She hasn’t decided yet.” A lie. You’ll be there. You wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hadn’t let Maverick and Goose come to Fightertown without you in the first place.

Maverick smiles as if he’s got an idea. An in. “If you help me out,” he says, “you can borrow my bike.”

“Why would I—”

“Ladies love it,” Maverick insists, and Slider ignores him in favor of clearing out his locker. “Even you’d look good on a bike, Kerner,” Maverick tries again. “Everyone does.”

“Hey.”

“Think about it,” Maverick’s voice drops as he sets the scene. “She’s clinging to you as you speed down the road. Wind in your hair. Her arms wrapped around your waist. Tight body pressed all up against your back. And the adrenaline rush—” Mav’s eyebrows raise as if he’s remembering something fondly or really trying to sell the idea “—makes for amazing sex.”

Slider can’t help the smug grin that overtakes him — ice-cold, no mistakes was never his schtick. “Is that right?”

Mav’s smiling too, his head nodding lightly like they’re on the same wavelength. And maybe they are because Slider’s thinking about it. “Mind-blowing.”

Well, if Mav insists. “Alright.”

“So you’ll do it?” Maverick seems almost surprised that it’s worked. Like he hadn’t imagined Slider was, in fact, a man who could be reasoned with.

“Yeah,” Slider confirms, zipping up his bag and knocking his locker shut one last time. “Don’t make me regret this.” He wouldn’t.

* * *

“Gentlemen,” Viper says from the podium with a proud smile. “You came here the best of the best. We made you better.” You sit near the front of the audience, smiling and clapping with everyone else as the speeches finish, and the Top Gun trophy is presented to Lt. Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and Lt. Ron “Slider” Kerner. The new nameplate shines brighter than the others, but maybe you’re biased.

As soon as you can, you’re up from your seat. You go to Pete first; give him a hug and a heartfelt congratulations. Then, when he’s distracted by another graduate asking after Goose, you slip away. You’ve successfully snuck up on Ice’s six and are seconds from giving him a congratulatory kiss when Slider moves to intercept. Time freezes for a moment, and you’re worried that Slider intends to kiss you in front of this crowd — Top Gun trophy still in the hands of the man most of his class knows you to be with. When the moment passes, however, that worry twists into deep-seated confusion.

Ice frowns. “What gives?” Because he’s never known Slider to be a cock-block.

“I’ve got orders.”

“From?” And you can see Pete smirking into his drink as Ice all but demands an answer.

“Mitchell.” You and Ice look at Slider as if he’s grown a second head. “With Mother Goose still in the hospital, he needed some help keeping the Iceman away from his baby sister.”

“And you accepted?” Ice’s jaw clenches.

“Deal’s a deal.” Ice scowls, the look wholly out of place considering the trophy still in his grasp.

“What did he offer you?” you can’t help but ask.

“Not important.” Somehow you doubt that.

The rest of the graduation party is… well, not what you’d expected or hoped for. For one, you’re still there. Every time you try to get close to Ice, either Slider or Pete gets in your way. And this is worse than Pete and Goose because Slider is intimately aware of all your evasion maneuvers — he’d helped you come up with a good number of them.

You’re positive you’re going to scream when Viper swoops in with actual orders. Jester hands envelopes to Ice, Slider, Hollywood, and Wolfman. And Pete.

Before anyone can stop you, you wrap Ice in a hug. You throw your arms around Slider next, then Pete, who can’t be mad when you’re squeezing him like this might be the last time you get to. The “be safe” you whisper into his ear means more after Goose’s accident, but you don’t have time to talk about it before they’re all whisked away.

* * *

Maverick doesn’t want to give Slider his bike when they return to Fightertown. Says he’d barely had to work for it since they’d left the graduation party early.

“A deal’s a deal, Mav,” Slider says, but it’s gentler than it would’ve been a week ago. Mav and Ice are wingmen now, so Slider’s trying to be nice. Not too nice. Not I’ll-stop-fucking-your-sister nice — and Slider supposes that’s the one that counts the most — but nice-nice.

It’s a start.

You’d received no fewer than three phone calls, so you’re not surprised to hear the motorcycle roll up to the curb. What does surprise you is Slider at your door with Pete’s keys in his hand.

“Come on,” he says as he gathers you in his arms until you can feel the solid ba-dum of his heart on your cheek. “We’re going for a ride.”

It feels strange climbing onto Pete’s Kawasaki behind Slider, but as the engine roars to life and you wrap your arms around his middle, you’re confident you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

Slider pulls over at a roadside diner. Ice is already inside, fingers drumming against a table in the corner and Academy ring glinting in the sun when Slider holds the door open for you. He beams when he sees you and makes room beside him at the booth. It seems only fitting to sit beside him since you’d been clinging to Slider moments ago.

The three of you catch up over food and a shared milkshake. Ice and Slider tell you what they can about the mission: the tight bunks, the awful food, the budding friendship with your brother. In exchange, you give them the latest on Goose’s progress in physical therapy. It’ll be a long road to recovery, but if anyone can do it, you know it’s Goose.

When you’re ready to leave, Slider wants to take you out for a spin — after all, he’s been assured that the ladies dig a man on a bike, and he wants to test that theory.

Slider would rather swallow glass or wait in line at the DMV than admit it out loud, but Mav’s right. The warm press of you along his back, small hands clutching at his waist as the engine hums between your thighs, is something else. Ice isn’t thrilled to see him climb onto the bike with you, both sans helmet, and insists on trailing behind the bike in case something goes wrong. It won’t, but whatever makes Ice feel better, Slider supposes.

And although his tailing had started as a protective compulsion, Ice quite likes the way you look wrapped around Slider — your hair a wind-tousled mess and jacket snapping in the wind.

It’s purely coincidence when you spot Charlie’s Porsche at a stoplight; its top down and a familiar head of cropped black-brown hair behind the wheel. At first, Pete offers Slider a cheeky grin, a friendly wave, and then — out of curiosity, you’re sure — his eyes slide to the back of his bike. You can’t bring yourself to hide your face, frozen when Pete’s eyes lock on you and almost bug out of his head, his smile dropping and face ashen with sudden realization. Slider’s laughter reverberates through your chest. The light chooses that moment to turn green, and Slider takes off.

Over your shoulder, Ice honks when Pete refuses to move, a smug smile on his lips as he zips after you.

When you return to Ice and Slider’s place, you rest your cheek in the space between Slider’s shoulder blades, your own shoulders shaking as your mirth bubbles over, and soon you’re shaking from the rush of it all.

Cat’s definitely out of the bag now.

Once the door is open, Slider gets to work. By the time Ice walks in, Slider already has your back against the wall, lips taking yours in a bruising kiss as adrenaline courses through your veins. His big hands slide beneath your shirt to cup you over your bra. Damn Mav, but he’s right. And, as your fingers catch in his shirt-back and pull him closer, Slider has zero intentions of letting you go anytime soon. Not when he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Definitely not when each slide of his tongue over yours teases cute noises from the back of your throat.

Ice must be thinking something similar because he’s quick to join you. His fingers find yours tangled in Slider’s shirt to help you lift it until the RIO has to break your kiss to take the offending garment off. It’s a mistake that Ice takes full advantage of, stealing your lips in a kiss of his own.

Hands resting on your hips, Ice guides you around until he’s the one leaning against the wall. He’d wrap an arm around your waist to tug you closer, but Slider is already plastering himself to your back, so Ice settles for a deep kiss and revels in the wanton noise it earns him.

Without the sweet distraction of a kiss, Slider works your jacket down your arms and into a heap on the floor. He takes your hands in his and leads one into his hair; the other he guides down until it’s slipping under the loose hem of Ice’s shirt. Ice jolts at the skin-to-skin contact and your answering moan gets lost between the slick slide of lips and tongues. Your teeth clack against Ice’s when Slider presses his hips into yours with a sinful grind that drags his cock against the swell of your ass as he finally sucks a mark into your neck — consequences be damned. But instead of pulling him away, the hand in Slider’s hair encourages him. You tilt your head to the side and re-slot your lips against Ice’s while giving Slider more room to work a deep bruise into smooth skin.

One of Ice’s hands cradles the back of your head, his lips working insistently against yours as your hand trails fire over his abs and up to his chest. Perfect teeth catch on your bottom lip and you break apart panting, but then Ice pulls you back for more greedy kisses. His other hand grabs one of your belt loops and uses it to pull your hips away from Slider’s so they’re flush with his own.

While Ice keeps your mouth occupied, Slider’s hands return to the thin material of your bra. He’s growing more impatient with each of your whimpers, the steady roll of Ice’s hips pushing your ass back against his erection which, to Slider’s exasperation, is still trapped uncomfortably beneath the rough denim of his pants. With a barely-there nip that erupts goosebumps across your shoulders, Slider rucks your shirt up until it’s bunched beneath your arm, but Ice refuses to stop kissing you — whether because he’s a greedy bastard or because he’s skeptical that Slider will steal your lips away the way Ice had was anyone’s guess.

The sharp rip of tearing fabric wrenches your lips from Ice faster than anything else Slider could’ve thought up, your nipples pebbling as cold air assaults your heated skin. “Hey!” you scold as the fabric falls limp to the floor.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Slider promises as he unhooks your bra with deft fingers and grabs your chin to pull you in, licking at your lips before taking them in another harsh kiss. You let yourself be turned from Ice to chase the feeling of Slider’s lips claiming yours. Behind you, Ice flings your bra to the side and hastily removes his own shirt.

Slider may be driving, what with the way he has both you and Ice trapped against the wall, but Ice is far from passive. The two join forces in an all-out assault on you from both sides. Hands bumping as they knead and tease and take you apart piece by delicious piece. Teeth scraping against your collarbone. Your nipples pebbling between calloused fingers. Chests heaving. Lips smacking. The sweet friction of denim dragging over denim as you all move together. Sighs, growls, and groans lost between teeth and tongues. The mixing taste of them on your tongue as they push and pull, give and take.

You shiver, moaning into Ice’s mouth as he plays with your tits. Not to be ignored, Slider shoves a hand down the front of your jeans, two fingers working deep into your dripping cunt. Then Slider’s fingers are gone, and before you can say something in protest, you squeal as he throws you over his shoulder. “Ron!” you giggle, another excited shout leaving you as one of Slider’s hands lands playfully on your ass and he turns to bite at your hip just above the line of your jeans as he moves the party to the bedroom.

Slider throws you onto the bed, and you bounce before settling tousled among the pillows. Your thighs fall open in a wanton display, and you crook a finger to reel Slider in until he’s licking a path from your open zipper and up to nibble at your jaw until he’s stretched over you. You moan at how he fits so snugly between your legs and his chest rubs against your own.

“How do you want to do this?” Ice asks, leaning against the doorframe, his arms flexing none-too-subtly when your eyes find him over Slider’s shoulder. He’s a sight to behold — cheeks a slight, breathless pink, arms crossed beneath his chest, belt buckle weighing down the open flap of his pants to reveal more smooth skin and the tented white of his briefs. You lose sight of him when Slider turns his head.

“You can take her mouth since you’ve been hogging it all night.” Slider kisses your cheek, his dark eyes on your as he crawls back down your body. “I’ve been thinking about this pussy for days.”

Ice crosses the room with unhurried steps, long fingers caressing your jaw. “Is that what you want?” he asks, thumb tracing your full bottom lip while Slider mouths at your hip bones. The RIO’s hands slowly pull your jeans and panties down to savor the moment. You bite your lip, briefly catching Ice’s thumb before he pulls it back. A flush of heat travels through you as Slider’s eyes meet your own and he presses a final kiss to your hip bones before he ventures lower.

When you nod, Ice pulls his cock free, eyes never leaving yours as he pumps himself lazily and kicks the rest of his clothes all the way off. Opposite him, Slider grips your leg behind the knee and raises it, revealing the diamond of your cunt. You keen, fingers threading through Slider’s hair and hips jerking as his tongue drags over your core. Lightly stubbled cheeks rub against your sensitive thighs and set them aflame as Slider’s eyes blow wide, his breath fanning over your clit before he gets to work.

Not to be forgotten, Ice’s fingers return to your jaw, light but with enough pressure to turn you back to him. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs as the bed dips to accommodate him. As he rubs the head across the seam of your lips, Slider pushes his tongue against your slick folds with a groan. You’re buzzing, jaw falling open with a sweet noise, and Ice gives into the temptation to tap his cock to your tongue before pulling back and smearing saliva and precum across your cheek.

Unprompted, you take the tip between your lips, tonguing at the slit to savor Ice’s taste before trying to work more of him into your mouth. Slider watches from between your thighs as Ice lets out a low groan, his hand falling into your hair as you work his cock in and out of your mouth. All the while, Slider’s tongue continues to fuck into you, a finger coming to rub spit and arousal into your clit until you’re trembling, hips seeking out the slick press. Slider slips a finger into you alongside his tongue, reveling in the way that Ice’s cock slips from between your lips as you unabashedly moan, thoroughly distracted from your current task.

Distantly, Slider thinks that the real surprise isn’t that Hollywood and Wolf had heard you; it’s that it took them so long.

Ice brings one of your hands up to fist around his cock, his eyes glued to Slider as he continues to wring more wanton cries from you.

Slider smacks his lips. “She tastes good.”

“Yeah?” Ice’s Adam’s apple bobs.

Slider takes another lick that’s purely for show, his chin covered in your juices. “Sweetest pussy there ever was.” Ice groans as he imagines it, cock twitching as he thrusts into your fist, and Slider ducks down to suck on your clit before he asks: “Want a taste?”

“Fuck yes.”

Slider stands back and practically rips his pants off while Ice takes his place between your thighs. Ice throws your legs over his shoulders before diving in and drinking his fill. He groans as the tang of your sex explodes across his tongue, your heels digging into his back. Slurps at your dripping cunt with a fervor that makes your back arch off the bed.

“Please,” you cry.

“What do you want, sweetheart,” Slider asks, suddenly at your side and taking one of your nipples into his hot mouth.

You whine, arching up into Slider and down against Ice’s face. “Fuck me. Please.”

“Well, when you ask so pretty.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Ice soothes. He scrambles up, already running the leaking tip of his cock through your spit-slick folds. “I’ll fuck you real good.”

Slider raises a brow. “Why do you get to fuck her first?”

“Because I’m here.”

For a moment, you’re worried they’re going to break into rock, paper, scissors. Slider looks ready to get up and do something about Ice taking advantage of his generosity — he’d said Ice could have your mouth, dammit. But before he does, or you can whine for someone to hurry up and fuck you already, Ice’s hand settles on the curve of your waist, and he pushes in. You groan. Slider drops back against the bed and rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised; Ice always gets what he wants.

As the jut of Ice’s hips settle against you, Slider takes your lips in another kiss, his hands kneading at your tits. It isn’t his first choice, but Slider can be content with this — swallowing your needy moans, tracing the outline of your lips with his tongue. Making up for the time he’s lost with your mouth to Ice’s greed.

Each rock of Ice’s hips causes your tits to jump the slightest bit within Slider’s large palms and against his tongue as he sucks on a perky bud and applies gentle pressure with his teeth. Before his lips find yours again, his hand trails up your chest and applies gentle pressure to your neck. You shiver, arching into the touch. Slider loves the dazed expression, the slack ‘o’ of your spit-glazed lips when you wear his hand like a necklace, and your eyes brim with rampant desire. He dives in to leave a mark just below your jaw, reveling in the way that you dig your nails into his hair and the way your head is thrown back, and the way you must be clenching around Ice from the strained “fuck” he hears coming from the foot of the bed.

Slider lets out his own punched-out “fuck” when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes. It’s uncoordinated with the way Ice is trying to take you apart and awkward due to the angle, but that’s more than fine. Slider needs something to take the edge off, and your touch is just that. He doesn’t want to finish in your hand. Not tonight.

You bring your lips to Slider’s and let him take the lead while Ice turns his attention to your legs. He lifts one up to his shoulder, and you hum into your kiss at the stretch. Progressively sloppier kisses are pressed from your ankle up your calf. Ice’s new angle has him sinking deeper into you, but he keeps his thrusts slow, the cadence so different from the one you’d had on the beach, but one that — if kept up — he knows will have your legs shaking, back arching, nails scratching. Especially if he keeps hitting that spot.

As it is, your cunt is clenching around him with each forward shove of his hips into yours. Squeezing around him as if to keep him inside of you. Milking him.

With a curse, Ice pulls out, and you break from Slider to whine at the sudden empty feeling. Ice gropes at your hip and offers it a pat before he’s encouraging you to roll over. As you move to accommodate the change in position, Slider grabs you, and you yelp as he manhandles you onto your knees.

“Hey,” Ice says.

Slider just turns you so you’re facing Ice and enters you with a harsh snap of his hips. “My turn.” You want to chastise them, tell them to play nice, but all that comes out is a pathetic mewl. Slider’s smile is haughty. “Still so tight even after Ice fucked you,” he groans as your walls suck him in. Your jaw falls slack, and a pleasured noise tumbles free into the night. When Slider has you screaming, one of his hands fists in your hair. “Come on,” he growls. “Open that pretty little mouth for Ice.” And you do, tongue lolling out over your bottom lip as you look up from beneath thick lashes.

Every time Slider’s hips crash into yours, you’re pushed further down Ice’s cock. Your taste is heavy on his skin, an intoxicating mixture of tang and his musk. Sweet. Salty. You suck more vigorously, hollowing your cheeks as your head swims. When Ice’s hips jerk forward and his cock tickles the back of your throat, you moan long and low. The vibration pulls a shiver from Ice, his fingers whispering across your flushed cheeks and attempting to card through your hair where Slider has it pulled tight.

When Slider nails your sweet spot, you pull off of Ice. “Ah, fuck!”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Slider preens, releasing your hair to smack your ass. “Want you to let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.” He holds your hips still and grinds torturously into you when you don’t comply.

“God, Ron,” you gasp. “Don’t stop!”

“That’s it, baby,” Slider says. You bite your lip self-consciously, wanting to keep your pleasure from the ears of any passersby.

Ice thumbs your lip free of your teeth. Rubs over the indents left behind until you let out another pathetic whine. “Don’t hold back,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We want to hear you. Everyone already knows.”

Slider’s hips slam forward. “Now let them all know how good you feel.”

Ice catches you as your arms give out and lifts you up until you’re clutching his shoulders. You kiss him desperately as Slider picks up the pace, the clap of skin on skin filling the bedroom. Slider buries himself in your neck to leave another bruise as you cling to Ice. Your kisses are less lips and more teeth and tongues now, but you couldn’t care less. Ice’s palms caress your sides while Slider’s hands anchor themselves on your hips to pull you back against him with each increasingly desperate thrust. The kisses Ice gives you do little to shut you up at this point, to neither man’s disappointment. You’re stuck between them. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere you’d rather be when Ice’s hand leaves your side to play with your clit, delicately circles it as Slider continues to hammer into you.

In the end, that’s what does you in, your head thrown back against Slider’s shoulder as both men work together to take you apart.

Distantly, you’re aware of Slider’s grip tightening enough to bruise, the stutter of his hips, and the garbled curses as he presses tight between your quivering thighs and cums.

Gentle fingers turn your head to the side, and Slider captures your lips in a kiss. Simple. Passionate. His tongue rolls over yours as his hands smooth over your hip bones and down your thighs. He shakes as he soaks in the closeness, your highs still crashing through you.

He pulls you with him as he half lays back against the headboard, cum dribbling from your cunt as his spent cock slips free. You melt back against his broad chest and hum as you settle against him. Slider feels warm, and you still tingle everywhere he touches you.

The bed dips as Ice crawls forward until he’s knelt between your knees, his hands planted against the duvet on either side of Slider’s thighs. “You still up for round two?” Your pussy pulses at the thought, more of Slider’s cum trailing down the crack of your ass. Ice gathers the cum on his middle and ring finger and pushes it back into you with a wet squelch. You can’t help but clench around his long fingers, back arching when one of Slider’s hands presses flat against your lower abdomen and encourages more of his pearly essence to leak out around Ice’s fingers, both of them entranced by the sight.

“Words, baby,” Slider whispers breathless and sated against your ear. “You need him to fuck you?” Ice closes his eyes and groans, his cock twitching red and heavy where it leaks against your thigh. “Need Ice to fill up that pretty pussy?”

“She’s already so full.”

“I can take it.” Your legs circle Ice’s trim waist and drag him closer still. You feel hot as you imagine him spilling within you. Being so full of Ice and Slider both that you can’t possibly keep it all inside. “I want it.”

That’s all that Ice needs to hear. He wastes no time sinking into you right up to the hilt with a sinful groan. Trembles when you cry out, soft and exquisite, your eyes already blissed out but your cunt still so wet and needy, gripping him tight as if you were the one who hadn’t cum mere minutes ago.

Each rock drives you into Slider’s chest. Not to be left out, the RIO’s arms lazily snake around to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples, his lips subdued but no less sizzling as they skim over the marks he left on you earlier.

Ice leans close, his glacial eyes dark and blown wide, lids at half-mast. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and worries at it until you gasp, releasing it with a slick pop. “Tom.” It’s not a scream like earlier, more a frantic, heady pant, your voice rough as it washes over Ice in all the right ways. It tingles low in his spine and raises goosebumps along his arms until his shoulders bunch with the feeling.

You arch up, away from Slider’s chest but into fingers clamped over your nipples as Ice’s rhythm falters. The wet clapping of your sex is loud between your ears compared to the heavy sighs and the continuous squeak of old bed springs.

Ice gulps. “You’re so sensitive.” It’s true. Every touch feels like fire. Like straight electricity. Like pleasedon’tletgodon’tstop! and Ice’s dentist won’t be pleased with how he’s clenching his jaw. Drawing in ragged breaths and grinding his teeth to make this last even the slightest bit longer. But you’re right there with him.

Slider’s calloused fingers tap against your clit, and you’re gone. A silent scream passes your lips as you pull tight like a bow and release, and Ice snaps with you.

The three of you lie together in a pile of sweaty limbs. Cum and arousal leak thickly down your thigh and onto the bed. Despite the mess, none of you are willing to move. This is the most comfortable you’ve been in weeks. Floating somewhere high above the bed. Ice is your blanket, and Slider your pillow. At least for a couple blissful minutes.

“Alright,” Slider says, nudging none too gently at Ice’s shoulder, “get off. You’re heavy.”

Instead of telling Slider to go fuck himself, Ice rolls his shoulders and peels himself off of you. He marvels at the mess they’ve made between your legs, then moves to get off the bed and start the shower.

The shower, it turns out, is a waste.

You don’t get much sleep that night.

* * *

After breakfast, Ice helps you into his car and drives you to the hospital while Slider wheels Pete’s bike to his housing assignment just a couple doors down. Ice pulls the car to a smooth stop right in front of the visitor’s entrance. He gives you a sweet kiss on the lips, then leans up to place one on your forehead. You breathe him in — spearmint, sunscreen, aftershave.

“Will we see you tonight?” You shrug, resting your forehead against Ice’s shoulder as his hand gently massages the back of your neck. “I’m just a call away if you need me to pick you up.”

“I know,” you say, giving Ice a quick peck before opening the car door and stepping out.

As you get closer to your destination, you become increasingly aware that you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes and one of Slider’s definitely-too-big-for-you shirts. But that doesn’t stop you from slipping into Goose’s room with a knock.

“Look who decided to show up.” Pete’s arms are crossed over his chest, brows furrowed in his patent big brother scowl, but Carole is smiling where she sits at her husband’s bedside, Bradley sitting on his lap. When you don’t say anything, Pete continues: “You didn’t come home last night.”

Goose turns to you, wide-eyed and head bobbing, before falling back against his stacked pillows. They must have already given him his post-PT drugs. “Wait, where were you, then?” Pete glares at his best friend; it takes a minute for Goose's drug-addled mind to catch up. “Oh.” Goose covers Bradley’s ears, then loudly whispers to his wife, “She was having sex with The Iceman.”

“Thank you, Goose,” Pete bites in frustrated exasperation while Carole giggles.

“He wouldn’t have found out if she wore the scarf I bought her,” Goose insists before turning back to you. “Did you show Carole the scarf?” Back to his wife. “It’s a great scarf, hun.” Great was a relative term. He’d bought it from a 7-Eleven.

Carole nods, Goose dopily nodding along with her. “I bet it is.”

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Pete asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Eventually, you’ll have to accept that this is a thing, Pete,” you say. It comes out strong, but internally you’re a quivering mess. You love your brother, but you can’t live your life for him; you have to live it for yourself.

Pete sighs. “I know, it’s just… a lot.” And... yeah.

“I know,” you say. Because it is a lot, and that’s okay. It can be a lot. You just need him to be okay with it. Okay with you.

“It’s just…” Pete shakes his head. “Kerner? Really? Ice, I get, but Slider?” Your cheeks heat, but you refuse to look away even if you’re sure the floor looks incredibly interesting right about now.

“Oh my god,” Goose gasps. “Carole?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Did you know she was sleeping with Slider, too?”

Carole grins, shaking her head. “No.”

“Mav.”

Pete sighs. “What, Goose?”

“Did you know—”

“I’m the one who just told you.” You can’t help but smile at your brother’s displeasure.

“So when we were keeping her away from Ice… was she just off with Slider?”

Pete’s head whips from Goose to you, and this time you give into temptation and study the floor. “Well, we Mitchells aren’t exactly known for our good decisions, are we?” you mumble. Pete can’t help but laugh at that.

“No, we’re not.” And with that, some of the tension bleeds out of the room.

Until Goose bolts upright, almost knocking Bradley from his lap. “We’re at a hospital.” Everyone gives Goose a confused look. He’s known he’s been at the hospital since he woke up — had the doctors switched up his meds? But Goose is staring intently at you now. “Do you need to take a pregnancy test? The nurses gave me this button that I can push to bring them in and– Mav, you okay?”

Pete does not look okay. His face is ashen, eyes wide but unseeing as he slowly slides down the hospital wall.

“Goose, dear,” Carole says with a hand on her husband’s arm as she watches Pete with a careful eye, “you can press the button now.”

“Ahh yisss,” Goose slurs, hugging Bradley close and spamming the nurse-call button.

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loving08 · 10 months

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Love or Pain

Nicholas leister x reader

summary: Y/N and Nicholas has been best friends since childhood but Y/N started to have feelings for Nick. will she confess her feelings to him or the entry of Noah in their life will change everything??

Part 8

Next morning came, Nick's eyes fluttered to open up, the little sun rays shining through his balcony, he sat up with a groaned and ruffled his hair. He didn't wanted to wake up to be honest, after the exhausting day he had yesterday he just wanted to lay in his bed and just sleep but he knows he had to go to Y/N, they need to talk and clear all the misunderstanding.

He looked up at the clock in the wall and see its already 10 in the morning, he got up and get freshen up and goes downstairs to have some breakfast despite not having any appetite. He let out a long sigh at the sight of Noah, he just want to go to Y/N's as soon as possible and was slightly hoping to not see Noah at all if possible but guess that will not happen.

He just dragged himself to the table and greeted everyone except Noah, he didn't even acknowledge her and arranged his breakfast. He can sense Noah intense eyes on him but refuse to acknowledge her and hurriedly finished his food and gets up to leave. He was just about to open his car's door when a hand stopped him. he turned around to face Noah who was pouting at him trying to look as innocent as possible.

"I don't have time for your bullshit Noah, leave I have to go to Y/N's" Nick said, all the innocent act lefts Noah as soon as Y/N name was mentioned, she glared and yelled at him "WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHATEVER I DID WAS JUST FOR YOU, SO THAT WE CAN BE TOGETHER, WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LOOK AT ME THE WAY YOU LOOK AT HER", Nick scoff and roughly removed her hands from him and said "stop yelling Noah or it will not be my problem if our parents got to know what's actually going on, and I have already told you and I will tell you once again that we can never have anything together, first of all I never even accepted you as my step sister and you are dreaming about us being something more than that" and let out an sarcastic laugh.

"I don't have time for all this nonsense, I just need to go, atleast away from you" and get inside his car and drove off leaving Noah dumbfounded. When Nick reached Y/N's house he saw her car and let out a relief sigh, thinking she's home, not knowing the most heartbreaking news awaiting for him. He pressed the door bell and looked down at his feet, when the door opens he saw Mr. Pitterson, Y/N's family's butler, who gave him a smile and let him inside, he told Nick to take a sit and goes upstairs to inform Y/N's parents.

Her parents came downstairs as soon as they got the news, they already knows that its gonna break him too but it was the only way. Nick got up when he saw them and just by one look, he knew they already knows about everything, still they don't seems hostile towards him. Y/N's mom was the first one to hug him and he let himself be relaxed a little. she stepped back and asked "how have you been Nick, its been a long time since we have seen you". Nick looked at them guiltily and said "I'm sorry Aunt and Uncle...., I'm sorry for all the things I have done to Y/N but I really didn't knew Noah was like that I swear.... I just want to talk to Y/N and clear everything between us...., where she's by the way" and looked around for her.

Y/N's parents both sighed and her mom took one of Nick's hand and hold it tightly and said "whatever I'm going to tell you Nick know that it was what was best for both of you but mainly for Y/N okay" Nick looked confused and started to panic "what is it, is everything okay, is she alright", Y/N's mom shook her head and said "everything's alright dear, it's just.... Y/N's not here anymore". Nick didn't understand and raised his brows and asked "what do you mean she's not here, where is she then I will go there and talk with her". Y/N's mom sighed and looked him in the eyes and said "no dear she's not here...., what I really meant to say is she left, she's not in the country at the moment".

Hearing that Nick felt like his soul left his body, a lump was forming in his mouth, he can't believe it no he doesn't want to believe it, Y/N promised him she would never leave him then why...., why would she do that, he shook his head in disbelief and said "no, no it can't be true, she promised me she will always be there for me, she would never leave me, no she wouldn't do that ". her parents just looked at him with sympathy and pity, they know he didn't wanted to hurt Y/N, he would never do that to her but he did, even if unknowingly but still their daughter was hurt by him.

"she needed to go away for sometime, just to clear her mind and a change of scenery, she will come back at some point Nickolas" Y/N's father said, wanting to lessen his pain. Nick looked at her dad and asked "where have she has gone, I will go there, I need to go where she is please...., please just tell me", at that point he was a crying mess. "I can't tell you where she is Nickolas, she wants time for herself, she needs time to heal the wounds and the pain she's feeling right now, I'm sorry son I can't help you". Nick knows he can't get anything out of them anymore and sadly nodded his head while trying to wipe his tears.

Y/N's mom gently brushes his hair aside and asked him "You love her, don't you" Nick just simply nodded his head, Y/N's parents looked at each other with small smiles and her mom softly hugged him and said "it's okay darling, everything's gonna be alright, I assure you Y/N will come back, to us, to you, but right now you both need time, and when she comes back tell her your feelings, everything clearly, I actually don't wanna admit it but she's a little dumb to understand something regarding love, she's very slow there, something she has gotten from her father" and winked at Nick. They both had a small laugh when Y/N's father let out a offended 'hey' and rolled his eyes at them.

Nick gave them a small smile and said "I will wait for her no matter how long I will have to wait and.....when she comes back I will not let her go, never". they just nodded their heads at him, happy that their daughter's love is not unrequired but they will not tell her now, she needs to heal right now. Nick gave them a little nod and left their house still with a heavy heart. he knows Y/N will come back but still it hurts him that he had gave her so much pain that she had to leave him..... but no it doesn't matter anymore, he will wait for her even if he had to wait for a millennium.

And just like that...., 5 months past

Part 9

#nicholas leister #nicholas leister x reader #nicholas leister x y/n

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frostandflamesfanfic · 1 year

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Santa Who? (Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Santa Who? (Rated G)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: None, just Christmas cuteness and toddler hijinks! Dad Steve is back, everyone!

Summary: Amy and Emery Harrington are three years old and cannot wait for Christmas! When your husband tries to keep up a tradition, they begin to question who this mysterious man in a red suit is. Can Uncle Dustin save the day?

“Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen!” your husband read out dramatically, glancing up excitedly at the two little girls sat comfortably on either of your legs. Only one had managed to stay awake the entire way through, whereas the other was watching him read with rapt attention. It was officially the Christmas season and Steve was beyond excited to be able to continue his tradition of reading the beloved holiday poem to your twins.

“On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!  To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!  Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!” You couldn’t help but giggle at Steve’s attempt to deepen his voice similar to that of the man in red. He gave a jolly laugh which woke Amy up before continuing with the story in his normal voice. “And I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight, ‘Merry Christmas to all! And to all, a good night!’”

As he closed the hardcover book and moved to set it on the side table, little Emery Harrington reached over to tug on his shirtsleeve. “What dat ‘bout, Daddy?”

Steve smiled down at his little princess. “It’s about Christmas, babe,” he explained gently. “When Saint Nick comes to visit.”

He was met with an adorable head tilt. “Daint….Nick?”

You pecked the soft tufts of light brown copper locks upon her head. “Santa, squirt,” you tried to help. “Remember Santa?”

To your surprise, both girls shook their heads in your lap.

“You never taught your children about Santa?!” Dustin’s voice cracked in disbelief from his position on the floor. It was your brother’s last Christmas in Hawkins before he would be moving to New York for college next summer. You had made the terrible decision to offer for him to stay with you and your family for a few days during the break. “You really are a disgrace to the Henderson name. I mean, honestly….”

“Hey!” Steve reached around your waist and pulled you closer toward his lap protectively. “It’s Harrington now, you little shiiiiiitake mushroom.” He smiled sheepishly at the eye roll you gave in response to his terrible cover-up of a swear in front of the kids. “Besides, we told them about Santa last year. I think they were just too young to remember.”

“Sure, Steve.” Dustin sighed and straightened his back as he stood up, eyes now locked onto yours. “I have to make a call.”

He was already halfway to the receiver before you even gave a nod, the phone cord soon stretched under the guest bedroom door.

“Sure, go ahead,” you remarked under your breath. “Use our phone. What’s mine is yours, dear brother. Not that you even care.”

Steve laughed at your remark, reaching over to pull Em into his lap. “You should have known this was going to happen if you invited him over for the break,” he said, bouncing the dark haired three-year-old up and down for her amusement.

“Yeah, I know, but-“

“Who Fanta?” Em interrupted you with an innocent pout.

Your husband glanced down at her small frame in his hold. She almost looked like a miniature grown-up, big brown eyes serious, stare evident. “Santa?” Steve asked her.

She nodded. “Yesh. Who dat?”

“Well, you kind of know who he is, babe,” he explained. “Remember we got yours and Amy’s picture taken at the mall the other day?” A fond smile lit up both of your faces at the memory. It had been a literal fight with the devil to get the girls in their holiday outfits and to the mall before close. You had told Steve you were going to just take the day off of work to get them prepped, but he had insisted upon helping after work — a mistake that caused a total race to the finish at seven o’clock on the dot. The girls were nearly asleep by the time you got them situated with the kind man in red, but to the two of you, it was a well-earned victory that left you driving home with ten copies of images in your bags.

“Well, Santa knows the names of every little girl and boy in the world and brings presents to the ones who are especially good,” your husband continued to explain. “And on Christmas Eve, he visits everyone’s houses with his reindeer and leaves presents for the good kids and coal for the naughty ones.”

Amy whimpered in your lap and pressed her face against your stomach. Concerned, you frowned and stroked a hand through her short hair. “Whatsa matter, bean?” you cooed.

“Dun want Fanna!!” The light haired angel sobbed into your shirt.

Sharing a confused glance with Steve, you lifted Amy up in your arms to gently wipe at her tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong with Santa, bean, hm?”

Amy only continued to sob, small hands grabbing onto your shirt.

“Babe, you have nothing to worry about,” Steve tried to console her next. He reached over to run three of his fingers up and down her small back. You felt her shiver against you and give a small shake of her head. “You’ve been such a good girl this year. Santa’s not going to give you coal.”

This only made Amy howl more.

What happened? Your gaze silently questioned Steve. Your husband merely gave a shrug in response. Your guess was clearly as good as his.

“I think it’s time for a bit of a nap, don’t you?” he proposed softly. “Then we can have dinner and watch a movie.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫

Aside from the earlier confusion, the rest of the evening went on as most did within the Harrington house. You and Steve worked together to make dinner. Actually, that was a lie. Steve mostly made dinner. You sat at the kitchen counter, eyes locked onto the way a smile wormed its way across his face and how his body swayed to the faint melody of whatever Christmas Carol he had been humming. It had taken the two of you a while, but before long, a warm home cooked meal was ready to be eaten at the kitchen table.

Dustin sat between Amy and Em, at the former’s request. It wasn’t surprising. Uncle Dustin was her idol and everything he did was interesting to her. Amy herself seemed much better after her nap. She had apparently forgotten about the whole Santa conversation and was quick to lose herself in the mashed potatoes on her plate. Much to your chagrin, she discovered how her spoon could be used as the perfect catapult (something you felt sure you could blame Dustin for teaching her at some point). Fortunately, said brother appeared the target of the projectiles, so perhaps he already had his just desserts moment.

“Amy, bean, don’t play with your food,” you pleaded as you reached over to wipe her hands free of the starchy side dish. The next task you busied yourself with was cleaning up the spoon, which you planned on using to help feed her, should her escapades get out of hand.

“My paddews!!” Amy howled sadly. She reached her arms out toward you as you wiped at the utensil before ultimately deciding to swap it for a new one.

“….your what?” Steve couldn’t hide his smile at her antics.

“Her paddles, obviously,” Dustin came to his faithful niece’s aid. He looked far too proud in your opinion, aside from the glob of potatoes still stuck in his curly hair. “Her paddles to guide her on her latest curiosity journey.”

You sighed, and were about to chide your brother for providing the spark for too much curiosity, when there was a knock on the door. Confused, you turned to Steve with a knit brow and frown. “Were you expecting anyone else?”

Your husband shook his head. “No,” he replied. “Could be carolers, though. It’s around that time.”

The knock sounded again — three short ones to be exact, separated with a brief pause each time. It continued two more times before a quick double tap. When the cycle repeated, you could almost make out the familiar beat of jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way….

“Maybe the girls should answer it!” Dustin supplied suddenly. “I think it might be a good idea to start teaching them some independence during this wonderful time we call the holiday season, don’t you?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at your brother in suspicion. “What are you up to, Henderson?”

“Me? Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing at all! Can’t an uncle want to teach his nieces some life skills during Christmas?!”

When the knocking repeated its rhythm for a third time, you heard the low mumble of laughter coming from outside. “Ho Ho Ho,” a deep voice let out. “Is this the Harrington residence?”

You blinked and looked from the door in the hallway over to your brother, who merely smirked and gave a small shrug. “I told you. I had to make a call.”

Without another word, you and Steve got up from the table and picked up a daughter each. As you neared the front door, you could see the shadow of a very familiar looking hat. Turning the doorknob and opening the door, you were surprised. Sporting a belly as jiggly as a bowl full of jelly and nose as red as a cherry was the man in red himself: Santa Claus. You felt your heart swell as you glanced up at his sparkling eyes and incredibly bushy white beard.

Jim Hopper gave you a small wink as he leaned down to smile at both of your girls. “Well, hello here, Amelia and Emery,” he said in an overly deep voice. “Merry Christmas. Do you know who I am?”

Em could hardly keep herself from flying out of Steve’s arms. “FANTA!” she exclaimed. “FANTA CLAWS!”

Amy, on the other hand, was as frozen as an icicle in your hold. She blinked at the man before her in fear. Your heart broke to see her lower lip quiver in what you could only assume was an indication of an upcoming tantrum — something you rarely experienced with your typically quiet child.

As though he could sense the impending doom, “Santa” turned his attention over to Amy. “I heard from my elves at the North Pole that you two were some of the first kids on the nice list this year,” he said in a jolly tone. “That’s pretty impressive, so I thought I might drop by and give you a little something special early.”

With a wink, he turned behind him to brandish a red and gold embroidered sack. You let out a small snort at his antics, wiggling his white-gloved fingers before reaching dramatically into the bag to pull out a small mailbox outfitted in red and green paper. Along the side of the box in gold lettering was written, For Santa’s Eyes Only. With a smile, he held it out to you and Amy. “No one else has one quite like this,” he exaggerated his whisper. “You and your sister are the only ones that’ll be able to have direct contact with us up in the North Pole. You can be my little helpers, okay? Can I count on you two?”

Em grinned. “YESH!” she shouted in excitement.

“Santa” returned her grin in a similar fashion. “Why thank you, Miss Emery,” he replied, turning to face you and Amy. “Now, what about you, Miss Amelia?”

Almost in deep thought, Amy hesitated before waving her hand in a “come hither” motion. With a confused smile, “Santa” obeyed and leaned his ear closer to hear her whispers. After a moment, he grinned and gave a jolly laugh. “Oh, I think we can definitely manage that,” he replied with a smile. “You two take care of that special mailbox for me, alright? I have to head back to the North Pole to help the elves get ready for Christmas. I heard Rudolph may have gotten loose in the kitchen again.”

After saying your goodbyes and sending a silent thanks to Hopper, your little family made your way back inside. Em was far too excited and eager to tell Dustin about their latest visitor, jumping around the mailbox you had set on the living room coffee table as she shared the story. Even Amy was in far better spirits. Later that night, she asked for your help to write her first original letter to Santa, thanking him for stopping by and keeping their little secret.

When you asked Dustin what she meant by that the next day, he only smiled and gave you a wink. “Never trust an uncle and his nieces around a cookie jar, my dear sibling,” he responded rather dramatically, “for it only leads to temptation.”

==================

Author's Note: Dad Steve is back everyone and he brought his adorable little munchkins alongside him. You all seemed to love Amy and Emery so much with my thanksgiving fic, Recipe for Family, I just had to bring them back. They are absolutely adorable and I would be lying if I said I didn't squeal several times whilst writing this fic!

If you want to see more dad!Steve fics on my blog or during Stevemas, make sure to leave a comment or reblog! These two interactions really help me understand what you all like to see from me -- plus it gives me the motivation to keep writing/posting. I'm not sure if it's Tumblr eating my posts or if I'm just picking the wrong times, but it would really make my day to see how many people are enjoying my first Tumblr event! If you have any suggestions for future fics, send me an ask or DM and I would love to chat with you about it. Who knows...maybe it'll end up on the fic schedule ;)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

(Want to join the taglist? Let me know! :) )

#frostandflamesfanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington #christmas fluff #domestic fluff #steve x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joe keery imagines #joe keery #twelve days of stevemas #ficmas 2022

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blackjackkent · 5 months

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Poking at Jaheira and Rasaad dialogue from Baldur's Gate 2 to get their voices more in my head for fic writing... some of my favorite bits from the wiki that I didn't get in Caden's playthrough:

Jaheira: You musn't let yourself get so wounded, Aerie. I won't always be around to bandage you, you know. Aerie: I'm a healer too, Jaheira. Jaheira: And what good are your spells now? You should be more frugal and not cast them all at once. Aerie: Y-yes, ma'am. Jaheira: And don't stutter; it doesn't become you.

Jaheira: I see you are hurt, child. I will carry what extra I can if it will lighten your load. Aerie: I am not weak, Jaheira, and you were as likely to be hurt as I! Jaheira: I have more experience in battle, Aerie. Any wound I received might have killed you comparatively. Aerie: So you say, but I shall not learn avoidance of such by cowering behind you.

Dorn: You have fire. I respect that. But I warn you, druid: Attempt to poison me again and you will not see the next sunrise. Jaheira: What nonsense are you babbling? Dorn: This concoction. You neglected to account for my orc blood. Next time, try something more potent. Jaheira: Do not be ridiculous. I am a druid, not an assassin. Dorn: Then how do you explain this vile brew? Jaheira: It is a mixture of myrtle and willow— Dorn: IT IS POISON. Jaheira: Drink it, Il-Khan. Or next time I will leave your wounds untended.

Jan: You know, Jaheira, in all our travels, your smile has eluded me. Jaheira: Oh, come now. Certainly I reserve my emotions for matters of great import, but... Jan: That is the thing. Perhaps I have moved you on occasion, but any fleeting glimmer of a smile is gone before it properly lights the room. Jaheira: Well, have you a relative that might remedy the situation Jan: Eh, perhaps illustrating the horror of unappreciated storytelling? Well... I had an Uncle Richard that tried to bring nude theater to a festival in Waterdeep...Exposure is usually good for an actor's career, but even so, a cold reception for the play caused the cast to shrink steadily. Blackballed, my uncle tried to recruit from the thieves' guild, but they wouldn't let their nick-ers go."Just bare with me," he would say, but they were afraid of being stripped of their dignity. He gave up the lead to attract new members, and eventually the production's genius was uncovered, even with his part left out. Jaheira: Ah... Jan: Verdict? Jaheira: Not... one of your best. *snicker* Jan: They can't all take the brass ring. Jaheira: Keep trying? Jan: I will if you will, my dear.

Keldorn: So this is home to your mysterious Harpers, is it Jaheira: Less and less mysterious with every day of your scrutiny, Lord Keldorn. Had I my choice, I would rather none but me were here at all. Keldorn: Then I thank the gods you do not have your choice more often. Your opinions run often towards the brash, my dear. Jaheira: I am Harper, Keldorn, I am discreet when I wish. I just find other methods to be... more effective. Now, may I suggest you keep your next thoughts to yourself? Keldorn: Ah... yes... aye, m'lady.

Korgan: That's a fine wooden staff you've there, woman. Tell me, ye crack acorns with it? Or call some rarebit friends to frolic with ye? Jaheira: Nature's servant makes no judgment on the woodlands. Your tone betrays you, Korgan. Korgan: Perhaps ye could summon a horde of squirrels to take the day, or make a lovely leaf stew? Make sure ye and yer twig be of some use, though that use be lost on me. Jaheira: A great many things are lost to you, I would think.

Jaheira: My injuries sting, but I think it is mostly my pride that hurts. But we did well enough in our last battle, did we not? I'll wager we may outlive the season if we are careful. Mazzy: That we might, though this was surely but a small scuffle. Our battles will loom larger as we garner more enemies. Jaheira: You do not seem worried at this prospect. Mazzy: Our virtue will guide the way. We shall not falter.

Minsc: Oh! Squirrels, Boo! I know I saw them! Quick, throw nuts! Jaheira: Minsc, could you please maintain a little grace while in nature's presence? Sometimes I simply do not know how you came by your title of ranger. Minsc: Do you wish me dour and sour like most others? No, I say not. The animals run and play without care, and I would too... if such a thing would not squish Boo flat. Jaheira: But your duties are serious things, Minsc. Do you realize that? Minsc: I am very serious! Boo would not let me shirk my duties! I would not want to shirk anything! No, ma'am, no shirking! Jaheira: Admirable, Minsc, but you use that word like you don't know what it means. Minsc: Eh, well... no... but it sounds sharp and painful, and I always reserve such things for freaks that might steal those squirrels' nuts! Jaheira: Good job, Minsc. You keep it up.

Jaheira: Well, little Nalia, it would seem you have grown quite accustomed to the power you now wield. Nalia: Why do you bring this up now, Jaheira? You have that tone in your voice again. Jaheira: "That" tone? I do not understand what you mean. Nalia: Yes, you do. It's that "time for an unnecessary lecture" tone that means you are about to caution me on the use of the power I have earned. Jaheira: I see. And what do you think the outcome of such a conversation would be? Nalia: Well, I believe that I would tell you I have found my true calling, that you should probably butt out, and that I would really prefer you to refrain from calling me "little Nalia." Jaheira: Determined to do good works no matter what the world thinks, is that the gist of it? Nalia: Yes, that would be the gist of it. Jaheira: Then I agree that the lecture would be unnecessary. I need say nothing. Nalia: You... what? Thank you, Jaheira.

Jaheira: I am curious, Neera. What does a wild surge feel like? Neera: It depends. I never know what to expect. The surges are all different from each other. How does it feel when you cast spells? Jaheira: Not the same, I am sure. I may feel wrath if the nature of my spell is violent, or calm if it is for healing. Beneath it all, I feel a oneness with nature that never changes. Neera: Maybe it's not so different after all. Jaheira: Why? You have this sense of oneness when you use magic? Neera: Sort of. My mind becomes part of... something. What, I don't know—I don't think it's nature. The Weave, I guess? Or maybe chaos? But yeah, it's kind of like "oneness," except it seems more like I'm looking at it through a window. When my magic is working properly, anyway. Jaheira: And when it's not? Neera: A wild surge is like that window shattering into a million pieces of glass. Jaheira: That sounds... unsafe. Neera: I don't mind. If you've been indoors a long time, sometimes you like the feel of a cold gust of wind. Jaheira: We are not talking about wind and windows. We are talking about power and your mind. Be careful of that glass.

Neera: Ohmigosh. Oh, Jaheira, I am so, so sorry! Jaheira: What have you to apologize for? Neera: A lot of things, actually, like the time I lit your hair on fire or the time I elbowed you in the stomach trying to get out of your way or— Jaheira: What have you to apologize for NOW? Neera: I just realized—I never said I was sorry about Khalid. Jaheira: Thank you, Neera. I appreciate that. Neera: I liked Khalid; he was nice. He made me soup once, when we were in Bridgefort.Come to think of it, it was REALLY GOOD soup. You wouldn't happen to know the recipe, would you?Er. Never mind. Not the time.

Viconia: Tell me, Harper, who was who with your parentage? Father the darthiir, mother the rivvil? Or father human, mother elven? It's always confusing with crossbred mongrels. Jaheira: Two people in love, swine. A rain not likely to soak your parade of scabbed obscenity anytime soon.

Voghiln: Come on. Just a little peck on the cheek. What's the harm in that? Jaheira: It'll be in my husband's fists if he finds out about it. Voghiln: Vot? Your husband raises his hand to you? This is not acceptable. Jaheira: No, you idiot. He'll raise his hand to you. And then bring it down on you, over and over again, like a hammer from the heavens. Voghiln: Oh, he'd hit ME? Ja, this makes more sense.

Rasaad: Forgive me, Jaheira, but I do not understand. I thought you a champion of goodness. You say you are not? Jaheira: There is no good in nature, nor evil, either. The wolf devours the rabbit. Is this good or evil, do you think? Rasaad: Well... neither, I suppose. Jaheira: You monks sit in libraries, perusing musty tomes about good and evil. I do not make such distinctions. My world - the natural world - simply is. Rasaad: An... interesting perspective. I shall have to think upon it. Jaheira: Perhaps you could find a book to help clear the matter up. Rasaad: An excellent idea. Have you any suggest... oh. You are teasing me now, yes? Jaheira: There may be hope for you yet, Rasaad.

Aerie: The weather is turning. Rasaad: It is a little chilly. Aerie: If we didn't have bad weather, we'd never appreciate it when it was good. You taught me that. Rasaad: I did? Aerie: Without the dark, how does one recognize the light?

Rasaad: I admire your devotion, Cernd. Cernd: My devotion? Rasaad: To nature. Has your faith in the Mother ever been tested? Cernd: Winds may sway the trunk, but this oak's roots are buried deep. Rasaad: What happens when the storm tears the tree from its holdings? What then? Cernd: When it happens—if it happens—another tree will take its place. Life goes on, Rasaad. Forever and always.

Edwin: Your head is very smooth, monk. Tell me, are you naturally bald? Rasaad: No. I shave it each day. Edwin: You shave it yourself, do you? Tell me, how do you do that? Rasaad: Surely you know how to shave. Edwin: Of course I know how to shave my own head, you impudent baboon!Uh, I merely seek to add to my considerable knowledge on the subject. So tell me—how do you shave your head? Rasaad: Having the correct tools helps. Come, I'll show you what I use.

Haer'Dalis: Yours is a story as old as time, but still as enthralling as the first time it was told. Rasaad: I am fairly sure my story is mine and mine alone. How could you have heard of it before? Haer'Dalis: The narrative shares many similarities with great plays and poems from times past. A stalwart soldier of light, his beliefs thrown into question by forces beyond his control, seeking revenge against those forces in an attempt to right that which was wronged. Classic. Rasaad: I see. And how do these other stories end? Haer'Dalis: The endings are many and varied, Rasaad, but all share one element. Rasaad: Which is? Haer'Dalis: Tragedy.

Hexxat: Still suspicious, Rasaad? Don't you think if I wanted your blood, I'd have taken it by now? Rasaad: Perhaps you are just biding your time, waiting for the right moment to strike. Hexxat: Rest easy. I would never partake of a friend of <CHARNAME>—at least, not uninvited. It would be... discourteous. Rasaad: Courtesy is not something I'd expect from a vampire. Hexxat: It is, however, something I'd expect from a Selûnite monk. Expectations are such slippery things, aren't they?

Imoen: What do you think? Rasaad: About what, Imoen? Imoen: My hair, dummy. What do you think? Rasaad: Has it changed? Imoen: YES! Look at it. Does it LOOK the same? Rasaad: I... yes? Imoen: You could at least TRY lying convincingly. Rasaad: You would have me lie to you? Imoen: Forget it. Don't worry about it. Rasaad: Have I done something wrong? Imoen: If you have to ask, then yeah, you probably have.

Mazzy: Take heart, Rasaad! The day is fine and our victories plentiful. Melancholy ill suits you. Rasaad: You mistake contemplation for melancholy. Do not be deceived. I am glad of our success. Mazzy: Your eyes tell a different story. Whatever demons you wrestle with, my friend, know that we stand steadfast behind you. Rasaad: I appreciate that, Mazzy, truly. But there is nothing to worry about.

Rasaad: You are always impeccably dressed, Nalia, yet I rarely see you shop for clothes. Nalia: I've always been good with a needle—one of the few skills Aunt Delcia managed to successfully impart, much to her chagrin. Rasaad: You sew your own garments? Nalia: Do not sound so surprised. Sewing relaxes me. It keeps the hands busy while letting the mind work. It's really not all that hard, once you get the basics down. The rest is just practice. Rasaad: And a little magic, I presume? Nalia: Here and there, Rasaad. Here and there.

Minsc: Friend Rasaad, I have a question, and Boo is being most uncooperative. What is a honeymoon? Rasaad: After two people are joined in marriage, they are provided with mead for a month in order to... ah... grow comfortable with one another. Minsc: So there are no bees? Rasaad: I have never been married, so I would not know. Jaheira: I can assure you, children, there are no bees on a honeymoon. Minsc: I shall take your word for it. Boo's answer involved both bees and birds. It was... confusing.

#bjk talks #baldur's gate 2 #jaheira #rasaad #that last one with minsc omg lmao #minsc buddy no #this has made me more interested in some of the companions i didn't hang out with previously though #also pretty much everyone here needs a couple hugs

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dragon-kazansky · 2 years

Text

I get a kick out of you

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x Reader

Platonic! Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x Reader

[Masterlist]

[Next Chapter]

Warnings: None. This chapter will focus on Rooster as he is important to Maverick’s side of the story.

30 years later and Maverick is back in Top Gun. This time to teach it. It’s his turn to deal with his past, but it’s going to be OK. You’re there to help him. Both of you have someone to look out for.

Admiral Tom Kazansky and yourself are still going strong. Married life is treating you well, but his health is taking a turn. Tom wants to do his best by Pete, but some things are out of his hands.

They both need you now more than ever.

Word count: 1.9k

Chapter One - Rooster

♡♡♡

In the next 24 hours, Bradley Bradshaw will be in Fightertown USA for Top Gun. It’s been a lifelong goal of his, ever since he was old enough to know what it is. All he ever wanted to do was be a naval aviator life his father was.

Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw was a kind hearted loving man with a sense of humour. He loved flying with the Navy, but he loved his family more. Bradley looked up to his father. He was only a young boy when his father died, but he knows him through tales from his mother and his two dear friends.

You, who he knew for years before joining the academy. You and Goose were dear friends, and Bradley had pretty much grown up with you in his life. Though your visits were far between, you always looked out for him and made him feel loved and happy.

Bradley adored you all his life, even now as he sets off for Top Gun. When he told you, you replied telling him you were proud of him, and he held out onto hope he would see you out there. You didn’t live far from the base.

Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, or uncle Pete as he once was, is another one of Goose’s dear friends. Bradley used to have a good relationship with the man. Pete had stepped in where Goose would have been needed. Bradley used to look up to Maverick. Another pilot who did what Bradley wanted to do.

When Bradley was old enough to know what happened to his father, he couldn’t help but hold some resentment for Maverick. Though Pete had long been cleared of any fault in the accident, Bradley couldn’t help his thoughts and feelings. Though they were still good at the time.

It was what Maverick did to Bradley that ruined everything. Pulling his papers and delaying his career by about 4 years. That was unforgivable. His father may have been his friend, but Bradley would not be. That was the end of any relationship they could have had.

However, Bradley still called and wrote to you on many occasions. He didn’t let your connection to Maverick hinder the relationship he had with you.

Bradley packed his things away and put his case off to the side. It was growing late and he needed to head out early in the morning to make the trip in his Bronco. As he gets ready to turn in for the night, he stops to look at the photos on his wall. He smiled at them. He doesn’t have lots, but they each mean more than anyone could imagine.

Photos from his time in the academy. A couple of photos of his parents, most of them being of him and his mother. There were some with you in them. Some where you’re holding him when his was younger, a photo he has from your wedding day, a couple from the odd Christmases he spent at your home. He smiles softly at the thought of seeing familiar faces tomorrow.

Bradley turns in for the night.

The day Bradley first attended the academy, you had been there. You had been insistent that you see him off before he went. You had come alone, which part of him was glad about. He had wondered if Maverick would appear, but he hadn’t. Bradley had been so happy to see you.

You had greeted him with a big hug. He was happy to return it, feeling so proud of himself. You had always looked out for him, so having you here on one of the most important days of his life meant the world to him.

“God, look at you! Your parents would be so proud,” you tell him.

Bradley grew a little sheepish at that. Both his parents were gone now. Carole had done her very best by him and he loved her so much. He wished he could tell her again just so he knew she knew.

When the photo of him in his uniform was printed, he sent you a copy. You told him you had placed it on your table with the all the others. As far as you were concerned, Bradley was family. You had always made him feel as much. Knowing his photo was there amongst the rest of them made him feel so proud.

He didn’t know you had sent a copy to Maverick. Pete wanted to know that Bradley was alright. He didn’t see him much any more and he knew why. Bradley would always hate him for what he did and he couldn’t change it.

“Are you proud of me?” He asked.

You looked at him with such love and care, he knew your answer before you said it. Bradley was already smiling at you before you told him.

“Of course I am, Bradley.”

You hugged him again before he left. Bradley promised he would be in touch and you told him not to worry too much about it. You wanted him to work hard if this what he wanted to do. He told you it was. You reminded him you were never too far away if he needed anything.

Bradley wastes no time in the morning in getting his things in his truck and heading out. A quick breakfast and a coffee would keep him going for a while. He could stop to eat later.

While driving, Bradley had the radio on to keep him company. His fingers tapped on the wheel as he drove.

As excited as he was to get into Top Gun and show them what he was made of, he was also very excited to see you again. He hadn’t told you when he was driving over, wanting to surprise you. He had told you he had got into Top Gun when he first found out, but he never mentioned exactly when he was leaving.

You had been so happy for him down the phone, it once again filled him with pride. No matter what happened, he had you looking out for him.

When Bradley got into high school, Carole had you over. She had told you that you helped Bradley out a lot. You made him feel better when things got tough. He was nervous about his new school and Carole thought you could help him through it.

You had sat down with Bradley and just talked to him. Not about school, but about you. You had told him of times you were nervous in situations, but you were always OK because you had someone supporting you somewhere.

Bradley had asked you how that could be when they weren’t with you. Obviously you can’t go to school with him. You smiled and told him, “I don’t need them to be with me, I just need to know they’re thinking about me while I do it. I’ll be thinking about while you’re gone. So, do me a favour and make some new friends and enjoy your first day. It gets easier after that.”

Bradley took your words to heart and faced his new school with the thought that you were thinking of him and you wanted to know everything when he finished. He did just that. When he got home from school, you were waiting for him. He would tell you everything and it became exciting. He looked forward to each day because then he would have lots of cool things to share.

You were always so proud of him.

Bradley pulls up to the house he was staying in during his here and unpacked his things. He made him self comfortable before deciding to go ahead and call you. He couldn’t help himself from smiling as he picked up his phone and called you.

You picked up after a few rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Bradley! How are you?” You sounded cheerful. That made him smile all the more.

“I’m good. I’m really good. I, uh, I’m in Fighertown. Top Gun starts in a couple of days.”

“Oh, Bradley! You should have said. I would have come to meet you!”

Bradley chuckles.

“No, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you succeeded. It’s good to hear from you. Did you have a safe trip? Did you arrive alright? What are your plans for the night?” You ask him.

He laughs again.

“The trip was long, but I’m here. I arrived safely. No plans tonight, but I know the others are arriving tomorrow. They’ll all be at The Hard Deck.”

“It’s so good to hear from you, Bradley. Gosh, Top Gun, eh? You’ve come a long way, Rooster.”

Hearing you use his callsign made him smile.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll leave you to your evening now. I just wanted you to know I was here.”

“I’m glad you called. I’ll see you soon, Bradley.”

“See ya,” he replied, smiling softly. He hangs up the phone soon after.

As Bradley puts away his things, he takes out a photo he brought with him and places it on the bedside table. He looks at it with fondness as he sits on his bed. His eyes wander over the figure of his father standing in the middle with his mother. You’re standing on the other side of Carole, smiling at the camera. Maverick is on the other side of Goose, but Bradley’s gaze doesn’t linger on him for long.

He lies back on the bed and sighs, looking up at the ceiling.

He was going to make his parents proud, he swore to himself. He would show everyone what he was capable of. He would work hard to prove he was he pilot you knew he was.

Top Gun was going to push him to his limits. He was ready for whatever came.

“Talk to me, dad,” he whispers.

The day Bradley told you he was joining the Navy, you had been so happy for him. You threw a little celebration, telling Tom he deserved nothing less for going down this road. You had spoken to him before if he was sure about this, and he was certain.

You knew how Carole had felt, but you couldn’t say anything. Bradley didn’t know. All you could do was support him, but Maverick took it into his own hands. When he pulled Bradley’s papers, he hadn’t told you he had done it. You found out through Bradley who had come to you and demanded to know if you knew anything about it.

It was the look on your face that told him you had no idea. This was the first time you were hearing this. You pulled Bradley into a hug and let him stay over, letting him get all his feelings out. Maverick had done something he couldn’t ever take back. He had delayed Bradley’s Navy career by 4 years.

This only spurred him to work harder.

You had called Pete almost instantly after you found out. You have given him a piece of your mind down the phone. Maverick knew what he had done, and knew it would hurt Bradley, but he did what thought was right. Pete reminded you what Carole had said, and you fell quiet. You knew. Still, you reminded Pete that this wasn’t his choice to make.

Maverick didn’t contact you for quite some time after that.

Bradley stopped talking to Maverick all together.

You were stuck in the middle.

You never mentioned Mav to Rooster, and only told Mav a few things about Rooster, just to keep in him in the loop a little. You didn’t tell him everything though.

Knowing he has your support, Bradley was confidant he could handle this Top Gun training. You believed in him, and that’s enough for him.

You’re all he has.

♡♡♡

@callsignscupcake - @topgun-imagines - @sitkafay - @theghostofshadows - @shianshian4315 - @mischief-siriusly-managed - @sarahissilent - @mackycat11 - @alphabetsalad - @byebyebreezywrites - @nyx2021 - @alanadetigy - @luckyladycreator2 - @fxngsfxgxrty - @snubug - @almondtofu1 - @criminalmindsandmarvel -

#i get a kick out of you #head in the clouds #iceman kazansky #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x reader #iceman #platonic pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x reader #platonic maverick x reader #maverick #rooster #top gun: maverick #top gun #sequel

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persephonesportal · 1 year

Text

Fighter Town Calls

A/N: Guess who has a laptop again! Yes I know it's been a while and I am so sorry. Please enjoy this new chapter of Family Line.

Taglist: @khaylin27 - @renajimaa - @dempy - @peakascum - @luckyladycreator2 - @starkleila - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @havlindzk

Warnings: Fluff, talk of canon character death, a little angst

Characters: Reader / Y/N Seresin nee Bradshaw, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Nicholas ‘baby goose’ Seresin, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, Sarah Kazansky, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw (mentioned), Dagger Squad (Present but not involved)

Summary: Upon your return to Fighter Town, you decide to take baby Goose to see your godfather while Jake and Javy head on over to the Hard Deck. While you play catch up with Uncle Ice, 2 figures from your past can’t help but show up, causing Jake to butt heads with one and embarrass himself in front of the other.

Part 1. Previous Part Next Part

Returning to Fighter Town was both a joyous occasion but also a heart wrenching moment. This was the very town that you grew up in for some time and it was the same town the training accident where your father died in occurred. But since you and Jake were both in the navy, you knew you couldn’t disobey the orders to return.

You arrived a day earlier so you could get used to the house that the navy provided off base for you three and get Nick used to the new change in his life. You managed to unpack majority of your boxes but you figured you could leave the rest for another time.

“Y/N!” suddenly rings out from the lounge room.

“Yes Jake?” You reply, sticking your head out of the kitchen.

“Javy and I are going to head to the Hard Deck to suss out who else is here” Jake informs you, heading in your direction.

“Oh that’s fine, I think I’m going to take Nick to see Uncle Ice” thinking of your godfather.

And with that, Jake kisses you a gentle goodbye before he heads off to meet Javy at the bar. You head up to Nick’s room to wake your napping baby and change him for the trip. While Nick slowly comes out of his sleeping daze, you text Uncle Ice to see if it’s alright for you to come over.

Uncle Ice: Come for dinner, Sarah would love to see you both

Grabbing your keys, you place Nick in his car seat and head on over to the Kazansky residence, a place of your most fond childhood memories. Thinking about how Jake and Javy are going, but with in that split moment Bradley also passes your mind. Shaking your head, it’s never a good thing to bring up the past.

Arriving at Uncle Ice’s, you spot Aunt Sarah at the front door steps as you unbuckle Nick and get him out of the car.

“Oh it is so good to see you dear, and hello little man” Aunt Sarah greets you with a kiss on the cheek and takes Nick out of your arms.

“It’s good to be home Aunt Sarah” you respond back, giving Aunt Sarah a side hug as you both head inside the house.

Looking around, you remember all the times you spent holidays here before the fight with Bradley.

“He’s up in his office if you wanna go see him first” comes from Aunt Sarah, snapping you out of your memories.

Thanking Aunt Sarah, you head on up and knock twice on Uncle Ice’s door. Hearing a rasped “Come in”, you quietly open the door to step through before closing it behind you.

“Hi Uncle Ice” You greet, heading over to give your godfather a kiss on the cheek before sitting on the opposite side of the desk. It hurts your heart to see Uncle Ice suffering from battling throat cancer and the effects on him, but you knew he was a fighter and always has been.

You and Ice spend a few minutes catching up before heading downstairs for him to see mini Goose and have dinner. You talk about what has been happening and if he can give you any details about the upcoming mission, to no surprise he keeps tight lipped about. Continuing eating dinner and spending time with them, you wonder what chaos Jake is up to.

At the Hard Deck

Jake manages to land another bullseye on the dart board causing Javy to groan in annoyance at his friend winning again. While this is happening, there’s a patron sitting at the bar, observing the 2 men. Jake lets out a chuckle before taking a sip of his beer before finishing the game. They both head over to a free pool table where Javy proceeds to rack the balls. While Javy sets up, Jake heads over to the bar to get more drinks courtesy of the patron who caused the free drink bell to ring.

“Penny m’dear,” Jake drawls out leaning on the bartop, “2 beers on the old timer” sending a wink.

Once receiving his order, Jake turns around and heads back for Javy, a slight chuckle leaving his lips at the thought of the man being Maverick, your supposed uncle who caused you heart break one too many times.

Javy and Jake play a few rounds of pool, before the evening rush comes in and things start to pick. Looking up as three people make their way across the bar floor, Jake chuckles.

“What do we have here?” Jake calls out, “Well if it ain’t Phoenix”

“And here I thought we were special Coyote, turns out the invite went to anyone” Jake says with a smirk on his face, waiting for Phoenix’s so loved nickname for him to come.

“Fellas, this here’s Bag man” and there it is, Jake thinks to himself.

It is 10 minutes later while Phoenix is playing a round against her new WSO, BOB,when the bane of Jake Seresin’s entire life strolls through the door without a care in the world.

Now Jake didn’t always have an issue with Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, sure he thought he was a bit of a flight risk, taking too long to make decisions in the air. But as soon as he met and married you, the love of his life, Bradshaw became a lot worse in his books especially because he cut you out of his life and hurt you beyond belief.

Jake clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before he nearly made a comment, or punch the fellow pilot.

“Bradshaw as I live and breath” Hangman strolls around the pool table taking the poolstick off of Bob.

“Hangman” Bradley greets.

Rooster and Hangman exchange a bit of rivalry banter, before Jake decides to move on.

While the juke box cuts out, Maverick's card declines causing Penny to ring the bell once more leading to customers to yell out "Overboard" repeatedly.

Jake and one of the other boys head on over, hooking their arms under Pete's armpits leading him out and tossing him onto the sand.

"thanks for the beers! Come back anytime" Jake salutes the older man, with a cheeky grin on his face.

During Bradley’s ‘famous’ piano piece, Jake decides to head on home hoping to get home and spend some time with you and Nick before tomorrow. Nodding his head to Coyote, he drives out of the car park.

By time Jake gets home, Nick is washed and put into bed asleep while you lay in your bed waiting for Jake to get home. On the drive over, Jake decides not to tell you about Rooster’s appearance in Fighter Town, wanting to spare you the old heartbreak.

You spend some time together in bed, knowing Jake has a very long day the next morning. Only you don’t know what is lying around the corner.

#jake seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw

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lovebillyhargrove · 8 months

Text

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 7

Chapter 8/?

Billy knows he's not the luckiest guy in the world when it comes to family matters. However, he's also aware that people have it worse, so he's not complaining.

Especially, when once in a million of years the sun shines down on him,

and when it does, Billy truly appreciates it. Turns out, having Susan's relatives living in a nearby town can be a blessing

Cause guess what

Neil and Susan are going to visit Aunt Shirley and Uncle Dean this weekend, with Max and

Drum roll

They are not taking Billy on this little family trip because Neil doesn't want to undergo the shame of his "imbecile of a son" interacting with his wife's respectable relatives again. Seriously, does dad really think he's punishing Billy like that, does he believe it is going to make him feel bad?

Cause Billy would take such punishment any day. Gladly.

He can't believe his luck. He is willing to behave in a more imbecilic way in the future if it gets him free passes out of family situations like that.

Max is upset, heheehe, of course she is, she'd rather stay here and hang out with her friends from that stupid AV club. On Thursday evening Billy overhears her asking Susan, voice full of bitter spite

"Why do I have to come? Why isn't Billy coming?"

What now? He wants to strangle her. If Neil and Susan change their minds and decide to drag Billy along, he'll definitely commit a crime, he can't be held responsible for his actions. Just shut up, Max, it's not your fucking business why he's not coming.

"It was dad's decision."

Max snaps

"His dad's, he's not my dad! Don't say it like he's our dad!"

Susan tells her to be quiet and "we talked about it, honey."

Susan is deranged if she still believes Max is willingly going to call Neil "dad".

Billy can't help but smile gleefully at his stepsister and give her a little wave when he sees her stomping to her room.

Max flips him off and slams the door.

Wait, it's getting better. Neil, Susan and the little rat are leaving on Friday evening and coming back late on Sunday. Dear parents and beloved sister are gonna be away for two whole fucking days. Uncle Dean wants to show them the farm which is, apparently, huge, and they are also gonna visit Susan's 100-year-old nana or something.

Billy's so happy, he's afraid of jinxing his luck. It happens so seldom, when he gets the house all to himself. When just the two of them - his dad and he - lived in pre-Mayfield era, Billy got plenty of time alone at home, and he couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand the emptiness, the silence. He used to go to Nick or his other buddies, stay out late on the beach or the streets. He never invited any of his friends over because Neil never welcomed it.

When the Mayfield ladies moved in, instead of feeling better cause he was never alone at home anymore, Billy hated the intruders with all the hatred his teenage heart could summon.

So hell to the fucking yes, he's getting a breath of freedom this weekend. Billy does have work on Saturday and Sunday, but he can do whatever the fuck he wants to on Friday and Saturday evenings.

After he says "Have a great trip!" and closes the door at 5 pm on Friday

He takes the weights out to the living room, turns on the tv, and the music, opens the windows - it's going to be chilly but he wants to smoke inside, and cracks a can of beer open after a hard-working day at school.

Heaven.

The entire weekend is fucking his.

He's home absolutely alone.

He spends the whole Friday evening like that, working out, watching car programs on tv, making something quick to eat, smoking, drinking beer when he feels like it. At some point he takes out a porn video tape hidden in his suitcase that's in his closet, puts it in the VCR in the living room and ends up jerking off to porn multiple times till his balls run dry, right on the family couch.

He then rolls a joint and smokes it sitting in his car blasting the speakers at midnight.

When Billy goes to bed at around 1.30 am, his head is blissfully empty.

On Saturday he gets up late, ignores the mess he's left in the kitchen and living room, - he's gonna have plenty of time to clean up tomorrow morning, - has breakfast watching MTV on the couch and drives to work. Old Joe makes a note of Billy's good mood and invites him to share lunch together in his little office in the garage. The old man is okay, knows a lot about cars. Been in this business his whole life. Billy thinks he misses his son who got married and moved to Indianapolis, he sure likes talking about him. Mr. Daley also seems to like Billy. What's there not to like? Billy's work ethic is excellent. He's never late, he's smart, quick and knows what he's doing.

When he gets home at four in the afternoon, he takes a long shower, throws a sandwich together, rewinds the porn tape he's left in the VCR and goes to his room to look for another one.

Billy then changes his mind, digs into his school bag and finds a copybook with Vicky's number scribbled on it.

***

On Monday, through quiet whispers, gossip, like spiderwebs, is spreading all over Hawkins High.

Rumor has it, Hargrove and Vicky have fucked.

Rumor has it, Vicky's in love with him. She's walking around the school with her girlfriends, having private conversations, blushing slightly and exchanging eloquent glances

Her eyes always on the search for Billy.

Vicky's sitting in classes with a dreamy look on her face

Languidly examining Billy's profile while he's busy writing stuff down from the blackboard.

Judging from the way she's staring at him, it's probably true.

She's in love.

Hargrove, on the other hand, seems his usual self, only much calmer. Sex with Vicky did him good.

During lunch break he's sucking on a straw of the juice-box and listening to Tina talking about the absolute must-be-there of a party she's having this Friday night for Halloween.

"I hope everyone has figured out their costumes!"

Vicky is watching Billy's lips and tongue play with the straw.

She's not the only one whose eyes are following the movements of Billy's pretty mouth

Apart from some other girls, Harrington who is sitting two tables over and seems to be all lovey-dovey with his girlfriend -

what was it? A nice dinner with the princess's family followed by a timid and unskilled blowjob up in her room at the weekend? -

shoots an occasional glance at Billy, now and again

Harrington did have a quite pleasant Friday dinner, thank you very much, but not at Nancy's, although Mrs. Wheeler wouldn't have minded. No, he spent the whole evening with his parents, miraculously dodging all the questions about his future that he didn't and still doesn't have answers for. Well, mom and dad drank wine and were in good spirits, Dad was mostly preaching the wisdom, so Steve was just stuffing his belly.

On Saturday morning while Steve was still in bed, parents went to Indianapolis for a couple of days to visit mom's sister. Harrington drove to Tommy's place and they hung out in his room dishing about the people they know.

Steve told his mom and dad he didn't want to go to Indianapolis cause he had plans to study, and he indeed opened some school books. For a couple of hours. He also had a very nice Sunday with Nancy. They went to a diner, and spent the night at his place, and yes, they had sex which started with a timid blowjob which lasted a minute, and led to missionary. Steve has been meaning to spice up their sex life a bit, but he feels it's not the right time now with everything Nance has been going through, so he's happy with whatever he's given.

Harrington's eyes fall on Billy's tongue again -

the hell he's doing with that straw? -

and he's losing the trail of their conversation with Tommy.

All of a sudden there's an uneasy feeling in Steve's inside, simmering, lurking. It feels like calm before the storm. He can't explain it. The sex was good and tender, although Nancy seemed a bit distant but when hasn't she lately?

Maybe it's asshole Hargrove who's been minding his business and it is strange? Steve's probably overthinking things that might have actually just settled down. It's quite likely their stupid rivalry with Hargrove has somehow dissolved. He's got a girlfriend now - if Vicky has been honoured which is still a big question, - his own circle of buddies to hang out with, he's got a job, he's got off Steve's back.

Feels strange.

Hargrove was the one who fixed Andy's yellow camaro. The guy must be good with his hands, huh. Steve's never fixed anything. Has had everything done for him. Never worked a day in his entire life.

Speaking of cars, his beamer needs an oil change, and just uh .. a check up. Just a thought, for later.

As for their relationship with Nancy, Steve will keep on trying to bring it back to the way it was.

Calm before the storm? Nah, it's most definitely bullshit.

He shrugs the feeling off, hugs his girlfriend tighter and resumes listening to Tommy rambling about him wanting to dress as the Karate Kid for the upcoming party.

***

Tina wasn't lying when she told everyone the party is going to be massive. The trees on the front lawn and the house are toilet papered, cars are parked haphazardly near the house and down the street, there's Steve's BMW, Tommy's Ford, Andy's and Billy's camaros .. Drunk up to various degrees teenagers are everywhere, outside and inside, talking, dancing, shouting, making out, drinking some more. Hawkins High students went wild with costumes, and with alcohol. There's a huge bowl of punch which Roy still needs to come up with a name for, endless beer and vodka bottles and a keg.

"Shout at the devil" by Mötley Crüe is ripping the night up. The party in in full swing. Tina welcomes everyone dressed in Madonna's "Like a virgin" costume. The outside crowd is counting

" .. forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two !!"

All are cheering and Billy is brought down from the keg, beer foam flowing out of his mouth and down his well-defined pecs and abs. He's dressed as a .. Terminator? Black leather jacket, black fingerless gloves. Chest out for everyone to see and drool over, help yourselves.

The crowd is going insane

"Yeah! Fifty-two!"

Tommy - in a Cobra Kai Dojo costume - is sticking a lit cigarette in Hargrove's mouth

"We got ourselves a new keg king, everybody!"

Billy's holding a cigarette with trembling fingers, taking a shaky drag, yelling

"That's how you do it, Hawkins! That's how you do it!"

He is so wasted, god please help him.

People start chanting

"Bil-ly! Bil-ly! Bil-ly!"

Hagan is putting his arm around his shoulder and they get inside the house. The place is trashed. Toilet paper gets in Billy's face and he wants to .. what, lick it?? It's so soft .. He's fucking plastered.

Hargrove spots King Steve leaning on a wall with his prissy princess and without giving it a second thought starts walking towards him, through the crowd, climbing over the couch, which he doesn't really register cause his legs seem to move on their own, and

when he comes face to face with the King

Harrington takes his sunglasses off, like .. like he doesn't want to hide from Billy's intense stare

Why? What is this smoldering animosity between them?

Tommy's again materializing by Billy's side

"We got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington! Fifty-two!"

Mike, who happens to stand nearby, cuts in although no-one asked for this dude's opinion

"Yeah. Eat it, Harrington!"

Steve just stares back at Hargrove, holds the gaze

Is Hargrove back at it again? Just when Steve thought that the guy found something better to do.

Nancy who was standing by Steve's side, suddenly walks away, and Harrington has to go

"Yeah, whatever, Tommy. Not now."

I've got something else going on here.

Nancy walks into the kitchen and curiously smells the red liquid in a huge bowl

"What's in this?"

Roy who's been hanging around the bowl practically the whole evening provides the necessary information

"Pure fuel, pure fuel! Whoo!!"

Burps loudly and goes on pumping more fuel into his system. He's totally going to end up puking all over the kitchen

Nancy fills a plastic cup with punch and takes a big sip. When Steve catches up with her, she's already drunk half the cup

"Hey .. Who, whoa, take it easy, Nance? Take it easy!""

"We're just being stupid teenagers for the night. Wasn't that the deal?"

***

Steve knows he dragged her to this party, she didn't want to go. Nothing new.

Today at school Nancy thought that she had seen Barb in the library. It wasn't Barb, of course, but the silhouette and the hair colour reminded Nancy of her missing friend.

"Steve, I can't keep doing this." She told him behind the closed door of a small library room

"Doing what?"

"Pretending like everything is okay."

"What are you talking about?"

"Barbara. It's like everyone forgot. It's like no-one cares. Did you hear her parents want to hire a private detective and they'll have to sell their house to scrape the money?"

"Their house ..? How much does this detective actually cost? Are they sure it's not a scam?"

"I .. I don't know about the money, but they are going to spend the rest of their lives looking for her. It's destroying them."

"Nance, I know it's terrible. But .. I don't understand what we can do about it."

Nancy looked as though she wanted to tell Steve something but stopped herself midway. It wasn't the first time when Steve got the feeling that she was hiding something from him.

She fell quiet and Steve decided to use the same strategy - distraction.

"Hey, it's hard but .. but let's just go to Tina's stupid party .. wear our stupid costumes that we've been working on for a stupid amount of time and just pretend that we're stupid teenagers, okay? Can we just do that, just for tonight?"

"Okay." Nancy sure sounded super excited about it.

"Come here." Steve pulled her into a hug.

Nancy sighed and laid her head on her boyfriend's shoulder.

***

Steve remembers their conversation now, it happened about eight hours ago and backfired pretty quickly. Looks like Nancy took his words as a guide to act exactly like Steve said but multiplied it by a hundred.

Why can't things just be easy?

The thing is, Nance has already had enough. The girl isn't experienced enough when it comes to alcohol, and a couple of bottles of beer she had earlier have done their job. Still, she willfully fills her cup with punch again.

"No, no no, Nance!"

"Get off!"

"No, you've had enough, okay?"

"Screw you!"

"Nance, I'm serious. Stop. Hey, hey .. stop. No, I'm serious! Put it down!" Steve's trying to snatch the cup from his drunk girlfriend's hands

"No."

"Nance, put it down!"

"Steve, stop!"

He doesn't stop because what the hell? It's enough! Nancy is not letting go of her drink, but he's still trying to grab it. They look like kids. It's hands moving chaotically and

Oh shit, one wrong movement, and she's spilling the blood red punch all over herself, all over the white dress

People around them gasp

"What the hell?" Of course, it's Steve's fault.

Everything is his fault, according to Ms. Wheeler.

"Nance, I'm sorry."

Nancy probably wants to wash the stain off, so she goes to the bathroom, and Steve's trotting behind her. Because that's what a good boyfriend does, right? She opens the tap and starts rubbing the stain with a wet cloth but it's useless

"That's not coming off, Nance." Steve just wants her to stop being so stubborn, what has he done, where's his mistake?

"It's coming."

"Come on. Let me just take you home, okay?"

It's not gonna come off, the dress it ruined.

"Let me take you home, Nance."

His girlfriend looks at him eyes full of anger, slurring the words

"You wanted this."

What does she mean? He only wanted them to have a nice time together, jesus, is that so awful?

"No, I didn't want this. I told you to stop drinking."

"Bullshit. It's bullshit."

Steve doesn't like the way Nancy's saying the word. It .. it doesn't make sense

"No, it's not bullshit. Okay? It's not bullshit."

"What? You're pretending like everything is okay. Like my friend didn't disappear in your backyard."

Pretending? .. Steve's not ..

"Pretending like we're partying. Like we didn't kill Barb."

"We .. what? I didn't kill anybody. Did you kill her?"

"Not with our hands, Steve."

"Whoa whoa hold on, Nance. I didn't kill her. You didn't kill her."

"Oh yeah? We shouldn't have left her alone there, near your .. pool."

"Nance, she wasn't even my friend! You brought her there!"

"Are you saying I killed her? It's all my fault?"

"Nance, it's nobody's fault. Also, why shouldn't we have left her alone? Were we supposed to babysit her the whole evening? How did we know something like this was going to happen?"

"I don't know, Steve! But she's gone now, and it's all bullshit, all of it, I'm so sick of pretending!"

The way she's looking at Steve, there's no love. There's only frustration and guilt.

"I told her to go home, so that I could spend the night with you!"

"Nance .. you didn't know .."

"It's all bullshit. Let's just party, let's pretend .. pretending like we're in love and we're partying."

Wait, what?

"Like we're in love?" Steve can feel his own voice breaking

"We're partying. Party. Let's party."

Maybe he misheard her, maybe she didn't mean it.

"Like we're .. you don't love me?"

"It's bullshit." Nancy turns off the water. The dress is definitely ruined. The evening is ruined.

She spins around and walks out of the bathroom, Steve is standing near the sink

"Nance! Nance wait!"

He knows that he has to follow her again, she's drunk and he has to take her home, and he will, he just needs to .. needs a moment to pull himself together.

He only wanted to have a good time.

It's all bullshit, apparently. He is bullshit. Their love is bullshit.

Is it for real?

Steve's alone in the bathroom.

He's looking at himself in the mirror.

Steve didn't kill anyone. He invited Nancy that night in June cause he wanted to spend time with her, he wanted to sleep with her, okay? He was, and still is, in love. Jesus fucking christ, they shouldn't have left Barb alone? Who would have thought something like this was going to happen??

Why is Nancy putting the blame on them, on him ? He didn't do anything bad. Steve can understand Nancy is feeling guilty, but .. he doesn't know how to help her. It's not their fault.

Distraction as a way to make her feel better doesn't seem to be working. It has only made everything worse.

Ffffuck.

He doesn't .. he doesn't know what to do.

The door of the bathroom opens wide and an absolutely wasted Billy Hargrove stumbles inside.

His heavy gaze is landing on Steve's face, hand going up slowly, and grabbing Steve by the collar of his jacket.

Almost gently.

The fuck?

There is no force.

"Haarrringtn .. Course it's you." Billy's snickering

"Can a guy piss? Or you're gonna throw a tantrum again and start shouting this is your fucking bathroom?"

He's such an idiot. It doesn't even make sense. It's Tina's house.

Hargrove's grin is obnoxious, Steve wants to punch it off the dumb drunk face. Bet one punch is going to be enough to knock him off his feet. He is so fucking hammered. Barely standing straight, slurring every word, and his eyes are so glassy, it looks like they're fake.

"You gonna stand here and watch me piss, Harrington?"

The grip on the collar tightens, and Billy starts getting closer, but Steve shakes Billy's hand off and shoulders past him.

When their shoulders collide for a second, Steve can't help it, there's something .. the force, the strength, Hargrove's body feels like a rock, big and solid.

He walks out of the bathroom but doesn't know where to go. The word bullshit echoes in his head, and he's suddenly so tired of this freaky night.

Let's make it freakier.

Steve turns around and opens the door to the goddamn bathroom again. If he can't distract Nancy, he can try distracting himself.

Hargrove's standing near the sink, washing his hands. He's swaying slightly, turns off the tap and is about to start on his way out when Harrington pushes him back inside. Slams the door shut without turning his back.

Something sweet and deadly is spreading through his veins. He wants to shove Hargrove further, wants to make him fall, nevermind that the guy's drunk, Steve doesn't care. There it is, a glimpse of weakness, and Steve wants to probe it, how deep it's gonna go.

Hargrove seems taken aback. Confused. Steve looks at him like crazy. What does he want? He's not so sure anymore. He wants everything to be the way it was before the summer, before the fall. His heart is turned inside out at Nancy's words, and anger is mixed with pain, because what the fuck?? Why is it his fault anyway? He didn't do anything bad, and now he's shit? He runs after her like a fool in love, but according to her it's bullshit?

And there's Hargrove, with his fucking basketball skills and badass car and he's so tough, so cool, so fucking macho, swaying his ass in those jeans in the school hallways, hanging out with Steve's friends and stealing his keg king title. Getting on Harrington's nerves by simply existing.

It can all go to hell, for all Steve cares. If it's bullshit, let it all blow up.

Billy is not the only one who's unhinged. Whatever it's called. Steve's hurting inside. She doesn't love him? Why, why not? What has he done wrong?

Both Hargrove and Harrington are staring at each other with wide open eyes. The trajectory is short and simple, eyes - lips, lips - eyes. Hargrove's eyelashes are too long, too thick, too fucking thick, it's annoying. Steve can hear them rustling.

He feels Billy's hot breath somewhere near his mouth, it smells like beer and cigarettes and a hint of mint gum. These smells are mixed with a barely audible scent of sweat coming off Hargrove's body and also some delicious perfume .. Steve knows this smell, he knows its name, he's sampled it in perfume stores

He notices that Billy's eyes are becoming predatory and wild. Unpredictable.

However, is it so hard to predict what's gonna happen if they stare at each other's lips like that?

Their lips are so close. A flash of a second, and it's Billy who goes for it

Stopping only an inch away. What the fuck, he's not gonna do it? Steve sees that Hargrove is slipping away from this, so he grabs Billy by the back of the neck, his grip feels like it's made of iron, fingers digging in that messy mullet. He pulls. He has to pull because Hargrove's balking like a stubborn donkey.

Fuck no, you're not getting away from me.

Steve locks their mouths together. Hargrove's lips are soft and .. and unexpectedly tender.

The kiss - cause that's what it is, right? - feels fucking weird. It's not gross, it's just weird but the kind of weird you wanna explore. They are looking into each other's eyes, Hargrove is narrowing his stare at Steve even more, like he's trying to figure out his game and then he pushes him away muttering a quiet

"The fuck .."

But the strength is not there really, so Steve pulls him back and kisses him again

Maybe I like it

Flashing lights at the back of his mind

He feels hot all over, feverish. It must be the alcohol, it must be the pain of Nancy's words still ringing in his head

Bullshit bullshit you are bullshit what we have is bullshit your love is bullshit

This time, Steve's lips stay on Billy's a couple of seconds longer, and when a low mmmm leaves his throat, he slides his tongue between Hargrove's lips. Billy is not making it easy, cause he attempts to shove Steve away again, but it's weak, and Harrington is holding him tighter, one hand still gripping the back of his head, the other slithering around Billy's waist. It's like Hargrove surrenders, opens his mouth more, but the moment his own tongue touches Harrington's,

Steve is pulling away as if he touched something hot, as if he got burnt.

Afraid to get burnt more.

Enough.

Everything is a rollercoaster together with a joyous and vile feeling blooming inside Steve - he now knows what Hargrove's deal is. He's cracked the Californian sun on hot wheels.

If someone, say, Tommy or .. or any other guy tried to kiss Harrington, he'd shove him hard, the hell you think you're doing? He wouldn't want it. He'd probably rinse his mouth after.

Hargrove didn't push him away. To be fair, he did, at first. But then, when Steve showed persistence? Billy kissed him back. He wanted more, didn't want to stop.

Steve knows his secret now.

There's a satisfied smile flickering on his lips.

You sure seemed to enjoy kissing a guy, Billy boy.

Steve swings the door wide and walks out, leaving Hargrove alone in the bathroom

As a matter of fact, Steve's got a drunk girlfriend here somewhere. Though it's not clear anymore if they're still together or not.

Steve goes to look for Nancy but can't find her.

He spots Tommy and Carol dancing and making out in the middle of the crowd. The party is still on and getting louder.

"Hey, Tommy, you seen Nancy?"

"Yeah, she went home."

Carol is smiling and Steve doesn't like her smile or her tone

"She's okay, Steve, she went home. She's probably in her bed already all tucked up."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Did you have a fight or something?"

"Uh .. kinda. Okay, I'm .."

"Hey man, everything alright?"

No, Tommy, fucking everything is fucked up.

"Yeah. I'm going home. You guys have fun."

***

Steve gets home after midnight, falls on the bed. His mind's on fire.

Nancy, what the fuck was that with Nancy? Are they still together? Is their whole relationship bullshit, that's what it is for her ??

Steve's wounded, Steve's hurting.

What has he done wrong?

He kissed Hargrove, that was definitely wrong.

He has him figured out now though.

There's a burning tingling sensation on his lips that won't go away

It's not gonna happen again, but deep down ..? If he's completely drunkenly honest with himself?

He liked the feeling of his lips on Billy's.

Tomorrow in the daylight his mind's gonna be set straight. Now in the darkness, Steve can secretly relish the feeling

Steve's burying his hot face in the cool of his pillow.

Is it the storm? Or it is only the first gusts of wind rising and the first raindrops falling from the sky?

#reblogging cause I did a little rewrite #after having messed up October and November #Thanksgiving and Halloween #like 🙄🙄🙄#harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove fic #harringrove slow burn #mean s1 steve vs mean billy

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radioprinz · 4 months

Text

It's so easy to convince Uncle Nick that he's playing by the rules, but Darius is clearly uncomfortable.

#darius tanz #santiago cabrera #salvation #cbs salvation #salvation cbs #salvation season 2 #tanz tuesday #salvation 2x09 #dear uncle nick #uncle nick #pesident tanz #john noble #nicholas tanz #nothing like you

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xmcu-fietro · 4 months

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Some Thoughts on Ralph + His Deleted Scene

Warning ahead for Wandavision and Mare of Easttown spoilers, as well as rumors about the Agatha spin-off!

Here's my initial thoughts on the scene! I kept pushing off posting this since I was worried I'd forget stuff that I'd want to mention, but I think at this point I just need to post it, and I can always repost/add stuff later xD

First Thoughts

Not to sound hyperbolic, but the costume/hair and makeup departments choosing to put Ralph (a very non-serious stoner surfer bro) in a button-up and for him to have the "police detective Colin Zabel" haircut is fascinating to me. This is the last thing I would expect him to look like outside of the hex--I'd been assuming that Ralph's haircut looked like Evan's in the behind the scenes Wandavision interview, or at least a little longer like his headshot. I guess they chose to just not give him a wig when they filmed, and that was right after shooting Mare of Easttown (but why? what was the reasoning behind that choice? because presumably they put some thought into it if they put so much thought into the hair/costuming for the rest of the show). Instead they gave him a much more formal, rule-follower type of haircut, not something more messy and laidback like he'd had in the show as Pietro/Ralph.

I also think it's really interesting that they made him wear a tucked in button-up shirt, because that feels weird for Ralph too. The hoodie/button-up combo is interesting because--at least as far as I know--that's an unusual combination (casual and formal, laid-back and serious, hex-Ralph and post-Hex-Ralph, who is rumored to be pretty affected by the Hex).

(also, sidenote: Ralph's outfit gets me because I had a strong Dear Evan Hansen phase in highschool and it looks like someone combined Connor and Evan's fashion choices in this photo xD)

The Agatha Spin-Off

Anyways, back to Mare of Easttown. I think there's some possibility that they kept this hairstyle as an intentional nod to Colin because we already know that the Agatha spin-off is partially inspired by Mare of Easttown. (and who is Mare's kind-of-but-it's-complicated sidekick and love interest? Colin. And who is Agatha's kind-of-but-it's-complicated sidekick and (fake) love interest? Ralph. Checkmate, he has to be in the spin-off to make the reference complete! /half-joking). but he'd better not die this time or else

Is “Ralph” important?

From a character standpoint, regardless of whether "Ralph" ends up being Peter or being in the spin-off at all, I find it interesting that Ralph is a meta character referencing nine other characters: Ralph Kramden (The Honeymooners), Darrin Stephens (Bewitched), Nick Moore (Family Ties), Richard Stabone (Growing Pains), Uncle Jesse (Full House), Joey* (Friends), Pietro Maximoff (Age of Ultron), Peter Maximoff (X-Men movies), and now, with the Agatha rumors and the haircut, seemingly Colin Zabel (Mare of Easttown)—the latter two also being played by Evan Peters, which is extra meta.

All of this to say—there's a weird amount of meta referencing going on here, and you don't give a weird amount of meta references to a character who you’re not supposed to pay much attention to. If he was purely meant as a throwaway gag/joke character, trying to layer so many references would be putting a hat on a hat—trying to do too many things with one joke, overwhelming it and, in this case, causing Ralph to seem confusing and unnecessary rather than funny.

While I can't prove that him being important means he'll end up being Peter or that he'll end up in the Agatha spin-off, I definitely think that him referencing so many characters, being the missing person in the case that led to SWORD going to Westview, and all of the other weird things about him (the 60's flashback from Halloween, the P8M license plate, his hair in episode 5) has to mean something--even if the more Peter-ish clues do end up being more of a red herring than hints of truth (although I still think he's Peter, so I'm not giving up on that yet).

And for what it's worth, I think if Marvel was trying to introduce a new, relevant to the story but totally-not-Quicksilver character, they wouldn't have practically had a big "THIS IS QUICKSILVER" sign above him until the finale. Because ultimately that would hurt a completely separate character, since that new character would just live in Peter's/Pietro's shadows instead of getting to be their own character--I mean, we know Ralph is important, but we don't even know his real name, since Ralph was his hex name. So if he is important--and he certainly seems to be--I think he'd have to be Peter.

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

*note: Ralph may also be referencing Chandler, which makes for 10 references instead of 9.

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #mare of easttown #mare of easttown spoilers #agatha spin off #agatha darkhold diaries #agatha coven of chaos #agatha house of harkness #what title do i use for the spinoff 😭#peter maximoff #quicksilver #ralph bohner #ralph wandavision #peter maximoff truther #fake pietro #wandavision deleted scene

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margridarnauds · 9 months

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top three period dramas?

Not counting musicals, because it would be a rigged game then:

(1) I, Claudius. Yes, it's inaccurate. Yes, its portrayal of the women of the Julio-Claudian dynasty is undoubtedly sexist, not helped by the fact that Robert Graves was a massive sexist. Yes, it's based on something by Robert Graves, who, as a Celticist, I am professionally obliged to have a strong hatred for.

But it's also well done, the actors are all phenomenal, I quote things from it every day ("WHERE ARE MY EAGLES?" "Don't eat the figs, dear" "You may kiss me and go" "Uncle CLAAAAAAUDDDDDIIIUUUUSSSS" "IS THERE ANYONE IN ROME WHO HAS NOT SLEPT WITH MY DAUGGGHHHHHTAAAAHHHH"), and for something that was made with a limited budget, I think they actually do a good job of showing the intimate world of the dynasty in a way that a lot of more recent series (Rome) failed to do with bigger sets, and the scriptwriters deserve credit for dusting off Graves' incredibly dry prose and making an adaptation that's crackling with wit in just about every scene for all of its six episode run length.

(2) Pride and Prejudice (1995). Such a shame that there hasn't been one made since then, but I can't blame them, given this set such a high standard. As a child, me and my mom were up to 2 AM watching it because we had no idea how it was going to end and we kept going "just one more episode!" until we'd reached the end.

And sharing third place: The Man in the Iron Mask (1998) and Ladyhawke (1985) -- Both of them were formative for me. The Man in the Iron Mask is very much putting multiple experienced actors together and letting them ham it up alongside Leonardo DiCaprio alongside gorgeous sets and costumes with a great score by Nick Glennie-Smith. It has next to no accuracy to the OG novel, it's wildly historically inaccurate, but my god it's *fun*. Ladyhawke, meanwhile, is probably one of my favorite depictions of the Middle Ages, specifically because it doesn't go into either the extreme of the Dung Ages or the extreme of, say, the 1950s where everyone is looking absolutely pristine. I think it's a nice compromise between the two of them. The plot itself, of two lovers forced to change shape, always together, never apart, by the machinations of a wicked bishop, reads like something from a medieval romance, even though I know, logically, that it isn't, just because it really does capture the *feeling* of the era. (And I will not hear a bad word against the soundtrack.)

Bonus round: Brennus, Enemy of Rome. This film is not good, but it IS the only film adaptation of Brennus' Invasion of Rome to date and...believe me, it being good would ruin the fun of it. ("KILL THE ROMANSSSSS ARRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH" Best introduction to an antagonist ever.)

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daughterofthereaper02 · 2 years

Note

This is 4th of July request 😂 ♥️

Could you please write a fluff where Fem shyreader and Bradley “Rooster”Bradshaw are dating. Both of them have twin infant baby sons who are mommy boys and the twins happily squealing and clinging their mom for their dear life about the fireworks. Bonus: godparents Phoenix and Bob & Grandfather figure Maverick.

A/N: I know it said infant but truthfully I wanted to change it a little so I made them like 18 months old, just to have a different speech development. Hope that's okay 😊

You held onto your boys, one on each hip as you carried them onto the beach. It was getting dark and for once the boys were not sleepy in the slightest. They clung to you, your little Pete and Nick. "You both ready to see the fireworks?" You asked them with a grin. "All the big pretty colors?" You said, kissing their foreheads. They squealed "Pretty!" Nick said happily. You adjusted them, the backpack hitting your back. You were carrying the boys and the snack, Bradley was carrying the beach chairs and cooler.

"Ma!" Pete called, tugging on your tank top, pointing to the group that was coming towards you all. "Pa Mav! Pa Mav!" Nick squealed "T Tash! Cl Bob!" They yelled. At he moment the struggled with ‘Grandpa Mav’ ‘Aunt Natasha’ and ‘Uncle Bob’. They refused to call Robert anything but Uncle Bob. You looked at Bradley as he came back over "I think they're more loved then us!" You chuckled. "Trust me baby, they are momma's boys through and through" he grinned, kissing your forehead and grabbing Nick.

You smiled shyly at everyone when they came over and bounced Pete on your hip a little. He squealed "More mommy!!!" And you continued as you put the stuff down. Natasha and Robert started to help set everything up as Maverick took Nick from Bradley. He pulled out little sunglasses that matched both his and Bradley's. You cooed at them "Look at my handsome little boys!" You grinned. "Figured you would want to see them. I found them when I was out with Penny and I just couldn't wait for you to see them" Maverick told you. You nodded "That you Pete, really. You spoil our boys so much. They're lucky to have a grandfather in their life like you" you smiled. It was crazy how much of a father figure he had become to you since you no longer spoke to your family. He put an arm around your shoulder "It's my pleasure kid. Now, let's go sit. Fireworks will be starting any minute" he murmured. While you were still shy near Bradley's other friends, you weren’t around Maverick, Natasha, or Robert.

You both went to get a seat, you sat on Roosters lap and held both your boys. You giggled as Bradley kissed your neck, his mustache tickling at the skin. You had a perfect view of the fireworks but they were far enough away your boys wouldn't overwhelmed from them.

They started slow and you pointed to them, your boys watching with big eyes, mouths open. As they grew bigger, the boys squealed and clung to you, they pointed at them excitedly "Pretty!" Nick yelled. Pete looked on in awe and you grinned "You like the pretty colors boys?" You asked, kissing their blonde hair. It still amazed you that they looked identical to Rooster when he was a baby.

Bradley held you closer, grinning at how happy you all looked. You didn't know Phoenix and Bob were being the best godparents as they took pictures of you four. You and Bradley kept pointing out what the different colors and effects were. The show continued for a half an hour and the boys had fallen asleep by the end of it. You held them close, smiling at your friends and family.

It wasn't much but it was to take the time to honor people like Mavericks father and Goose. It was also to honor your boyfriend and friends as well who fought to protect the ones they loved and the innocent.

#top gun: maverick #top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #pete 'maverick' mitchell #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #maverick #rooster x reader

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stilemawillow · 2 months

Text

MTIJ | Ch.29 Dear Diary, Why Do I Have Feelings?

|mtij masterlist|

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

word count: 7.9k

summary: a girl with a variety of hidden complexes has to live with a french asshole for nine months. easy? on the surface. problematic? definitely. romantic? not too much, or at least they’d make it a point to say so everytime when asked. the end? please, their dynamic isn’t as simple as that.

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will mean some falling and she's afraid of heights r.i.d

Vacations. Something so planned yet at the same time unplanned. Going to the beach was one thing, something unexpected happening as a result of that – another altogether. Vacations were meant to please, excite, aid the successful achievement of relaxation and all sorts of good things, only good things, good things all over. Mountains were fresh air, beautiful landscapes and so so many opportunities to stargaze. Beaches were sand, breeze, cocktails, hot girls in bikinis and seagulls all around. None of that sounded like it could do any harm, no? Of course not. Vacations were meant to create memories and be fun, a break from a dreadful 9-5 routine. So why wasn’t I having fun?

I got it! I got it! Asshole-me piped in an overzealous manner inside my throbbing head. It’s because who you like to think of as our asshole is in this picture with his hand around this blonde bimbo’s bare waist. Bingo. Jackpot. Bullseye. All those pleasant victories in life. A million dollars in cash falling out of a slot in a casino. Somebody winning a poker game. An old lady in a godforsaken village with too much time on her hands getting a check for half a billion. World peace. A child saying its first word, making its parents cry out of happiness. All my overdramatic self and I could do was cheer till my throat hurt. Inwardly, of course. Because you’ll never ever admit you’re jealous, asshole-me remarked. Well, no, but I couldn’t embarrass myself by throwing a tantrum in public either – I was Rolland Raven’s daughter and, in his presence or not, wouldn’t allow disgrace to befall our manipulative family and its name.

I stared at my phone’s screen with pursed lips and fervent eyes. The image my shrunken pupils couldn’t unglue themselves from featured a small beach bar. Palms in the far back, a child on its way to trip in the bottom left corner and a seagull eyeing its inanimate victim in the upper left one. They seemed like good pizza rolls. In the centre, like a Renaissance painting, stood Uncle Nick and Uncle Terry, George Tanner Senior – the bearer of the pizza rolls, my obviously sunburnt father, Natalie, a guy who I guessed was IT based on how dreadfully skinny he was and of course, Levi. The intern was on a small stool with a drink in one hand and a pretty little girl pushed into the other. Her bikini-clad breasts were pressed against his naked chest and her bright smile struck me as immensely fake all the way from New Jersey through the phone I was gazing at. Levi’s twitchy fingers were hesitantly ghosting over her skin, but had I not paid attention to the detail, I would’ve immediately assumed they were pretty close if not straight-up dating.

You’ll wonder what of that wasn’t fun for my pretentious highness and I’ll tell you that maybe it’s the one where my father was the one to send me this picture instead of the intern who I’d been texting for the past two days non-stop. Or maybe the part where the raven-haired asshole hadn’t once mentioned the blondie to his right during those two days. Not wishing to be overdramatic, I kept looking at my phone with a listless expression instead of scowling for being held in the dark about some random chick the intern had met on their vacation, but I could feel my stare growing emptier as my interest in today’s good weather and opportunities to have fun gradually evaporated.

“I ordered the drinks,” Adam said while sitting down across from me. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” His voice snapped me out of the trance. I placed my phone face-down on the table. There were no benefits whatsoever to us looking at the stupid picture so there was no use in showing it to the world either. I smiled as a nasty ball of phrases got stuck in the back of my throat. Ignoring it, I tried to be as benevolent as possible considering I had literally nothing to be mad about. Levi was just an intern, just a friend. The girl next to him and their relationship were none of my business. I wasn’t his girlfriend or secretary.

“I’m sure.” I nodded. Adam huffed, tucking a wavy lock of his ebony hair behind his ear and making me sigh on the inside. Usually, I’d make fun of Levi for not sending me the picture himself, tease him about the blonde and feel absolutely nothing because that’s how it’d been between us. We did things and whether the other liked them or not was unimportant because we didn’t feel much for each other. Now, of course, here came this thing – I didn’t want to ask and tease, too fearful of ruining his vacation by repeating all over again past mistakes of shoving my nose in personal matters.

“You don’t look too well,” Adam remarked, icy blue orbs scanning my face. I kept smiling and it might’ve made him uncomfortable enough to dismiss the topic altogether. He didn’t make a second comment on it. My hands played with the silver on my ring finger, cold and reassuring. As if.

The next day, to nobody’s surprise it would seem, my mother took her leave with a bang grand and startling enough to make my eyelids snap open faster than the speed of sound. A grunt left my parted lips and I slapped a hand to my face to use as a comb. My bladder called for release, but my body decided not to function, so I ended up tumbling to the floor and greeting it with a kiss. Not a good start to any day. My eyes teared up and my wrist hurt, and I could feel my left leg was still on the bed, strangled by the sheets. It took me a minute and a few curses to get up and make an appearance in front of the bathroom mirror.

I washed my face and combed my hair, then approached Levi’s room with a nonchalant call of his nickname only to choke on a horrified gasp at the sight of the empty interior. Half-asleep mind going back to the strange dream I’d had, I stared at the dust coating the parquet and the pristine bed covers with vacant eyes. I closed the door slowly, heavy sigh slipping out as I reached the conclusion there’d be no need to make Earl Grey today along with my coffee. It left a bitter taste in my mouth to break a routine like that. Felt weird, too. Weirder even than the fact I’d made both drinks instinctively this Tuesday after they’d already left.

I would’ve taken my phone to the kitchen if it hadn’t been for the disappointingly low battery percentage that forced me to leave it to charge in my room. In five minutes, I was sitting at the marble counter with a steaming coffee in front of me, zoning out and pondering the fractions of my dream I could recollect. My bedroom had been stuffy and the hallway had been glowing with early sunlight. An instinctual turn to the guest room. Empty insides. I’d looked through the wardrobe for his clothes, searched for the books he stacked by the desk, the paperwork he always assembled neatly on top. There had been only dust.

I could recall sitting on the bed and opening the nightstand’s first drawer to find a glistening silver ring inside. Not the one I wore. The one he’d been supposed to wear and had probably thrown out. Then there was my father materialising at the doorstep, telling me to get out, breakfast was ready, my boyfriend was waiting downstairs (not Eren), my lecture was starting in an hour. No intern. He’d left long ago. He’d left long long ago. No trace of him anywhere.

I put down my coffee with a snort, letting the cryptic paranoia win. My feet padded up the stairs to the guest room despite the raw cynicism begging to spill from my mouth. I barged into Levi’s room and opened the wardrobe. It was full of suits and long-sleeved shirts, pants and T-shirts folded neatly and laid at the bottom. Half of his books were stacked in alphabetical order by the desk and there was no paperwork on top of it, but the pedantic color-coordinated arrangement of pens made up for it. I sat on the bed and looked around – the golden glow matched that of my faded dream, but the air was still heavy with Levi’s lavender shampoo and strong cologne. My hand reached for the nightstand. I didn’t know what I was expecting or hoping for, but the theatrical display was cut off by my own coarse laughter. The derision in it was great enough to make my fingers withdraw.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. I’m going fucking crazy. I tumbled sideways onto the pillow and sighed. God, so we finally agree on something! Asshole-me made me scoff. I stayed just long enough to feel the immense need to leave, overborne by the realisation the intern wouldn’t enter and scold me for invading his privacy or question the whereabouts of his morning cup of tea. With all my insolence, I took a brook from the pile by the desk and returned to the kitchen, ready to start the day with some French lessons and a dose of caffeine. I was in the middle of the second chapter, where the main heroine was telling the story of how she’d gotten smitten with her late husband, when I heard my muffled ringtone echo in the empty house. My memory served as a bookmark and I rushed upstairs to answer the call without checking the ID. I expected Adam, Annie, Melinda or even my father, but asshole-me insisted otherwise. Neither of us believed he’d be calling.

“How’s my princess doing at six in the morning? I hope I woke you up.” It was weird. Weird, refreshing and warm somehow. He sounded bored. No other way for it to go. I bit my bottom lip and snorted. I had a role to play here.

“You did, asshole, much like you do every other day.” My white lie probably went unnoticed because he only huffed, satisfied with himself. I faked a grumpy voice while asking: “What are you doing up this early?” It wasn’t curiosity. It was carrying the conversation.

“Making myself a tea and your father – a coffee. He’ll need it after yesterday’s cocktails.” His heavy sigh signalled to me who’d been the responsible babysitter while everybody else had been drinking. Uncle Terry and Nick loved to get carried away. Levi had enough experience with babysitting anyway. I wondered whether he’d tucked any of them into bed and whether they’d been wasted enough to commit atrocities, but asshole-me put the questions to rest by taking the wheel.

“On the topic of cocktails, my caring father didn’t forget to inform me of the White Woman you drowned. Tasty or is blonde not for you?” My back was leaning against the wall as the raven on the other end of the line clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. I imagined his face – sunburnt, scowling and tired. Maybe the lilac crescents would still be visible. If they were, had the pretty blonde noticed?

“Hold back the malice, princess. The cocktail was a Grasshopper, whatever that means, and the girl is an intern that flew in from Germany. Your father probably forgot to tell you that.” I felt the irrational need to roll my eyes so hard they got stuck in the back of my head and saved my all future conversations about this other intern we’d most certainly lead. I attempted, failed and fixed my gaze on the TV.

“Like he forgets to tell me he loves me. Both still seem pretty significant,” I shot out condescendingly, making Levi sigh. 6 a.m. or not, I wouldn’t let go of my demeaning confidence. I paused, thought of the tiredness in his voice and gave a sigh of my own. “Since I don’t want to ruin anything for you this early in the morning, I’m just going to say I hope you’re having fun. Don’t think about work. It’s not what you’re there for.”

“Interesting you should mention work. How’s the job at the supermarket going?” I decided not to take it personally after the conversation we’d led this Monday. I knew at least one passive joke awaited.

“Balanaces out as always. Okay paycheck and a not okay boss.” I shrugged, avoiding the mention of Adam’s name and waiting for my raven-haired friend to slip him into the conversation himself. We hadn’t talked about it properly. Maybe we had to at some point. Or maybe not, I squeaked mentally. A serious talk about Adam and I would result in nothing at all. Worse, likely an argument.

“And your suitor?” It was expected, light-hearted and unbothered as could be. I tried to picture his face but something hindered the image. I concluded the less I reacted, the less he would make such comments, hence why I refrained from sighing or making a sour face at the wall for fear he’d sense.

“Adam’s also fine, thank you for asking. He took me out yesterday,” I informed casually. Then again, I hadn’t meant to. I panicked about it, asshole-me shrugged her shoulders in oblivion and we both anticipated the intern’s reaction, knowing the spoiled princess points might’ve been boosted to a 40/100. Levi, however, did exactly what was expected of him – no more and no less.

“So now I get to call him your boyfriend?” The mocking inquiry didn’t harm my pride, but it made my defences rise. Maybe it was the unreasonable dislike for the word I harboured, still considering it a title only Eren was worthy enough of.

“You’re insufferable. No, you don’t get to call him anything besides his name because we’re not together.” My tone was spiteful, I was shaking my head, struggling not to glare or overreact. The joke didn’t deserve a temper tantrum, much less actual anger. As the mind-reader he was (or simple a good judge of conversations’ quality), Levi sensed my tone and took a risk by diving into unexplored territory.

“Maybe you should be. I don’t think even Leonheardt would blame you if you started dating. In most cases, you need a new guy to forget the old one.” The calming voice over the line I matched to a pair of beautiful narrowed eyes, ashen hues pinned to the floor. The advice towards the end had been strangely soft, almost knowing, as if having been tested, failed, succeeded and acknowledged. My heart clenched but I didn’t let it show.

“Thanks for enlightening me, Sherlock, I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I sassed sarcastically, making the raven sigh. Alongside the sound I imagined a pale hand going up to his hair to brush it away from his face. I moved the phone away from my ear to huff before pursing my lips with a half-hearted glare. “Also, you’re literally the last person I want to hear this from. I could start pushing you into getting with every girl that hits on you, but I don’t because I’m a good friend,” I boasted fakely, making the raven-haired intern snort in mild condescension.

“A best friend, rather. Only a friend wouldn’t comfort me as passionately as you have.” It was an accident, I could tell, but it made my windpipe constrict. My mouth clamped shut in shame so similar to fear it was uncanny. On the one hand, he was clueless how his albeit correct grammar in English added a nuanced subtext to the sentence. On the other hand, he was right. “Sorry. I know you don’t like it when I---” He tried hitting the pause and restarting but it was too late. I’d already turned into a ball of insecurity and I’d rather resent myself than him for it.

“Yes, I don’t. It’s whatever, no need for apologies, asshole. It happens, we slip. If I apologised for every time you didn’t like something I said we wouldn’t be talking at all.” My voice was nonchalant and it spoke of benevolent forgiveness but I could feel my resolve crumble while looking at the wall our rooms shared. A slimy ball of distaste formed in the back of my throat, crawling up to the tip of my tongue when I heard an ecstatic female voice call Levi’s name in the background. I spat the ball out and it hit the phone before dropping in my lap. “Sounds like better company has made an appearance. My highness better go.”

I hung up before he could respond, heart hammering and eyes closing in exhaustion. This wasn’t how the call should’ve gone, but it was inevitable, as with every other conversation we’d led. My shoulders slouched as I tried not to think about the happening at the hotel they were staying over at where the beautiful blonde had called Levi’s name in a way I’d never get the guts to. I remembered the photo and my shoulders tensed. She looked like a supermodel, just shorter. The perfect girl you come across randomly. You pass her on the street and hate yourself for not talking to her, but know you would’ve fumbled it even if you did. You see her in the background of a selfie your best friend sends you from the airport – a stranger that’s gorgeous in and out of the picture. You wonder what her name is. You remember her from time to time, give her without her consent as an example of the fact God has favourites. That type of looker. If attraction overruled duty, I might take second to last spot by the end of this vacation. Then again, why should I care?

“We need to talk.” Annie’s gaze was made of steel and her resolve had chained me to the table before she’d even spoken. My eyes briefly darted up from my phone to observe her somber countenance prior to dipping again in impatience. Levi hadn’t texted me once today after the phone call. I’d been sure he would. Now I was starting to doubt my judgement.

“What about?” The little icons on the screen pissed me off. The lack of notifications pissed me off. Why? I wasn’t sure. The fact I was frustrated pissed me off too. I put the phone on the table face-down. My best friend’s eyes were an icy hue I seldom enjoyed crossing paths with and her arms were folded across her chest, like a strict mother about to scold her child.

“Ackerman.” The surname immediately made me think of Mikasa, which, in turn, brought Eren to mind, but before I could say anything, Annie cut straight to the chase: “Do you like him?” The pronoun made me switch gears, but while I was busy processing, asshole-me took the reigns and spoke instead.

“Excuse me? Do I like him? Annie, have you gone mad?” My tone told the long tale of how offended I was to be asked that. I blinked at the blonde across from me, hoping to have misheard her but it was a petty attempt at avoidance – there was nothing wrong with my hearing and Annie hadn’t stuttered. She rolled her eyes before brushing her bangs behind her ear with a scoff.

“I’m perfectly sane and my question is logical when you think of all that’s happened between you two in the past few months,” she reasoned calmly, almost coldly so, in a manner I recognised as impatient to get this whole topic over with. She crossed her legs and stared at me with a self-assured pout. “Now give me an answer.” The command was imperative enough to mak me bite back whatever I’d planned on saying. Attacking her and dodging the question would prove her point, so I took a deep breath and resorted to the truth. How humiliating.

“… I don’t.” The pause made the blonde quirk a skeptical eyebrow, but maybe it hadn’t been the pause at all – no, it had been the words after it. My gaze locked with hers and my composure didn’t falter once. “I mean it. I thought I did for some time. Even back when Eren and I were together. It was a fear of mine, that I might like him, but I was proven time and time again that it wasn’t like that. It hit me hard around my birthday but…” My eyes dipped to the table as I stopped my hands from impulsitvely reaching to fidget with the pendant of the necklace Levi had given me.

“But?” Annie pushed, gentle and cold, not exactly willing to believe just yet. I understood her. Truly, I did. I’d be the same in her place, but I had the unfortunate luck of being in my own, confused but adamant to give her a satisfactory honest answer. No, I didn’t like Levi. I liked to think I did, but Eren was still on my mind. Levi was the perfect thing to keep him away. I was manipulative and disheartened, needing a way out of the emotional tangle I’d gotten myself into. A pitiful smile crawled over my lips.

“But I can’t like him. I mean, I don’t. I’m not jealous of Petra or Natalie, or his current blondie. I’m sad because I enjoy his attention. I got used to it and when it’s not there, I get frustrated. That hardly translates as liking him. If anything, I’m using him, which is, again, pretty villain-y of me.” I bit back a sour chuckle and looked up at Annie with her elbows propped on the table – she’d picked it up from Erwin. Her expression was worried.

“Are you sure?” She inquired softly, but I was capable of sensing the urgency in her tone, like she couldn’t hold back her latent joy. This had been the answer she’d hoped for, not the one she’d expected, and she didn’t like that it was too good to be true, too cold to be me, too easy to get to be honest. I had no way or intention of making her doubts dissolve.

“Why wouldn’t I be?�� A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. There was a stir in my chest. Guilty conscience. Or something. I didn’t know.

“Because you just avoided answering me,” she retorted, making my smile widen as I snorted in satisfaction. I loved it when Annie tried to be all clever and insightful with me, and I had to admit it worked most of the time, but now she was following a gut feeling she couldn’t back with proof.

“I have Adam to distract me and I’m still sad when Eren gets mentioned, so I don’t think I have the emotional capacity to fall for my father’s intern at the moment, much less when he’ll be leaving in four months. I’m neither that dumb nor masochistic,” I explained as plainly as I could, hoping to get through to her and save us further worries and questioning. My smile had tamed its smugness but Annie was clearly set on pushing me into a confession of something I’d hardly considered a possibility.

“And you still make out with him and act like you’re a couple.” The statement, in a world where I was raised by Jared Raven, would’ve left my mouth and slapped Levi across the face. But this wasn’t that world and I was the one who got slapped. Unfortunately, it was insulting of Annie to say it but, fortunately, it didn’t upset as much as I’d anticipated it would. Maybe I’d accustomed to thinking it, too and having asshole-me rebuff it completely, much like she’d rebuffed the whole concept of me having romantic feelings for Levi. The same mean voice that told me I had weeks, in the beginning, before falling for him. A brain of her own, always going against me.

“We’re not a couple and the physical contact is because I don’t have Eren and I don’t want to be whoring around, throwing myself at Adam,” I justified with an innocent expression. Annie’s resolve was shaken to the point she reclined in her chair and groaned in obvious defeat, making me bite back a smirk.

“Fine, you’re my best friend and I choose to believe you, but I assure you nobody else would, no matter how convincingly detached your arguments are.” I threw her a conceited look and she snorted prior to meeting my gaze, a new question at the tip of her tongue. “On a similar topic, Ackerman’s somebody who can get chicks wherever he goes, but he only has eyes and ears for you. Sounds like love to me.” Her nonchalant manner of stating it only proved she was yet to change the topic and went about pursuing answers a different way.

“Sounds like care to me. He’s told me he cares and just this morning we re-established our friend labels, so I’m hardly inclined to believe he has feelings for me other than that.” I shrugged, reluctantly leaning back and tilting my head at Annie challengingly. She was far from manipulating me into admitting anything, but she thought otherwise, as shown by the next argument she blurted out.

“So what’s his excuse for kissing you?” Oh, how sardonic a question. She was smirking and I tried not to give the reaction she awaited – embarrassment and being flustered on the topic of something I myself considered confusing. I took a big breath and flashed a big benevolent smile before licking my lips in mild spite. Innocent until proven guilty, so please let me be innocent despite the evidence.

“Ask him, not me,” I countered calmly, knowing Annie was bluffing to check how vigorously I’d defend myself in case I’d been lying for the past few minutes. She was disappointed, to say the least, almost making me smile at the weird reaction. Any person in her stead would beam in exultation.

“All I’m saying is,” she began diplomatically,” you’re oblivious dumbasses and you need to start noticing it, taking into account how intelligent you are otherwise.” Her position remained in the same spot. Levi and I were idiots, who, in her opinion, liked each other. How stupid a notion. I might’ve had my period of infatuation, but my father’s intern would never get to his and that was something I believed as unconditionally as I’d believed in the Tooth Fairy as a kid.

“Oh, shut up. I don’t want to hear this from you, Miss No-I-Won’t-Accept-Erwin-Likes-Me-Until-He-Straight-Up-Offers-Me-Marriage,” I drawled mockingly, making the blonde snort so violently my nostrils gave hers their condolences.

“Go suck a dick.” My best friend’s love confession came in its usual harsh manner, so cordial and forced it made me laugh before I shot it down.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to teach me how first.” She threw herself across the table at me, pretending to choke me while seething with embarrassment. I cackled and the bullet was dodged when she joined me. Some questions were answered. I only hoped I’d given the appropriate answers, not the versions best suited to my pitiful nature. But manipulating myself into believing something I knew was a lie wasn’t possible. Right?

Later the same night, I received the following message:

I need a break from this vacation.

If it wasn’t obvious enough who it was from, clearly enough attention was not being paid to the whole of this. When my father’s intern texted me, I was brought back to my conversation with Annie. I’d been honest with her. I knew the signs of liking somebody and they were nowhere to be found. No butterflies, no heart palpitations, no obsessiveness, even normal things like a healthy pinch of jealousy were absent.

You’re a fucking idiot, asshole. Who gets tired from relaxation? I pressed send, absent-minded and thoughtful, trying to compare my feelings for Eren to those for Levi. I wasn’t dumb – I knew different kinds of love existed, but if I had to measure scores and grade my own feelings, those for Eren – albeit faded – still won. Strange.

I obviously do. I don’t feel comfortable wasting my time like this. I picked up my phone when it dinged, letting me read the ridiculous reply. How introverted and workaholic of him. Both traits were justfied, though. Everything about him was justified by past experiences whereas with Eren the unexplainable was also unexpected, always a surprise. The spurts of rage in our junior year, his unreasonable obsession with boxing, his fits of suspicion and accusations, the tic he developed back in middle school – all things I couldn’t explain no matter how much I analysed them.

What do you say about a movie marathon when you come back? I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to rid you of even more work. I sent the text and dropped the phone on my stomach, plopping back on my bed with a sigh. Levi was different from Eren – his whole character was a set of action-reaction workings. I was poor as a child with a mother who worked too much to clean – so let’s be obsessed with everything being clean. My mother’s my reason for living, she’s sick and money’s the solution – so let’s work myself to the bone. Attachments hurt because I’ve gotten burned and I dislike them – so let’s be hostile to everybody to prevent them. If I do it, it’ll be done right and it’ll succeed and if not, only I’ll be to blame – so let’s be a control-freak. Petra’s death and Kuchel’s condition were things he blamed himself for despite that.

It’s a deal if you leave the organisation to me. The message snapped me out of my daze. I was thankful he hadn’t called me because he’d most certainly ask why I sounded weird and I didn’t want to explain it was because I was admiring the way in which a machine with so many broken parts worked flawlessly enough to deceive the majority.

Oh, no! I don’t know what I’ll do without my right to make popcorn and pick the movies. The sarcastic reply didn’t match the expression on my face. You know mom and dad will be visiting their usual hotel around that time, right? Double-texting – oh, the humiliation.

Doesn’t make a difference. First, there was something warm in my chest. It was cute how, bit by bit, native English speakers were corrupting the strict Subject-Verb-Object structure he’d been taught at school. Then, there was that other thing. He was lying. I wondered if he also felt a little pinch when I lied to him as well. I doubted it. Wouldn’t have an inch of skin left to pinch.

It will for me because I’ll be able to scream at the TV. The short reasoning left me staring at the ceiling mindlessly. The buzz of Levi’s reply distracted me. I processed now what we’d been texting about. A movie marathon sounded good. The fact he’d agreed was good too, slightly suspicious taking into account he’d most likely want to work instead, but still good.

Fine. Day of return or the one after? It was unlike Like, this question. I didn’t dwell it on and hummed in thought before deciding I didn’t want to think anymore at all. My head was about to blow up with all these feelings I was trying to decipher.

We’ll decide on the move. I think you should be going to bed now. A headache was pushing at my temples. The best course of action was to cut this short. He’d rest and I’d fetch myself an aspirin from my father’s office. Sweet dreams, asshole. I was staring at the message, characteristic but not sarcasic, when his reply popped up – longer than expected. Also wittier and slightly flirtatious, upon further observation.

Make sure yours have me in them. I have to babysit you constantly, after all. Goodnight, princess. I blinked at my phone for the overall of ten seconds before turning it off and pressing it against my chest. A wondrous grin pulled at the corners of my mouth. No signs of love – no butterflies, no giddiness, no accelerated heartbeat. Why the smile though? I buried my face in my pillow. My feet kicked around.

“(Y/N), stop squealing in the middle of the night! I don’t need this six hours before my alarm rings!” My mother’s reproachful shriek made my feet halt in the air as if held up by invisible strings. I hadn’t realised I’d squealed. I propped myself up and clamped my mouth shut in shame. I didn’t know what got into me, acting like… like this, whatever this was.

“Sorry, mom!” I called sheepishly, having done the damage already. I plopped down but there was no squealing this time. There was only more of that grinning I didn’t understand. No lies there. It frustrated me that I didn’t know myself well enough, wasn’t smart enough to understand it. Pointing out the many things I lacked, however, didn’t help me understand it either.

“I watered the garden, baked a fucking batch of cookies, roasted a whole-ass chicken, cleaned the whole house and I’m still bored,” I groaned into the speaker and Levi took some time to process everything I’d said. True to my words, I’d started the day with a shower and a deep-clean of the house. Once all the germs had been annihilated, I’d decided to cook, then when the house stank of food and I’d opened the door to the backyard, I’d seen the rose bushes were in need of watering, which was exactly what I’d handled next. Now I was bored out of my mind, a pair of sunglasses perched atop the bridge of my nose as I lied in the grass, looking like I was about to invent a new kind of snow angel without the snow.

“Good afternoon to you as well,” the raven-haired intern greeted flatly. I only groaned again, eyes straying towards the roses surrounding me and the pool to my left – beautiful but not entertaining. I pushed my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose and scratched the back of my neck where the grass tickled it.

“Good afternoon, asshole. I want you to tell me a story.” The command was met with silence, muffled waves crashing into sand, some clearing of the throat, a single sigh devoid of positive emotions and the cry of a hungry seagull. I cringed, nose scrunching up at the noise before it made me realise Levi was on the beach, probably lying on a towel and dealing with me instead of having fun.

“There was once an eighteen-year-old princess who---”

“An actual story,” I cut off quickly, not appreciating the sarcasm. The raven snorted in that specific way I knew was always accompanied by a narrow of his eyes. I wondered if he had sunglasses on and if he did – would they leave a ridiculous mask while the rest of his face reddened in the sun? Maybe he’d put on sunscreen. I couldn’t help smiling at the image of his red nose and on top of it – a thick layer of white cream. The thought – logical even in being unreasonable – that followed made my smile turn upside down. It went like this:

If he’d applied sunscreen, who’d been the one to get his back? The pretty German blondie?

“It is an actual story. I thought your highness liked being the main character.” His mockery put my train of thought back on track only so it coud then start a self-deprecating game of Cards Against Humanity with asshole-me. Funny how I was isolated to the point I had to listen to my own conscience insult me.

“I get tired of being me. I don’t want to listen about myself right now,” I said pointedly. Maybe I was jealous he was on vacation with my father when I had to stay at home and be a self-taught maid on minimum wage of zero dollars per hour, but I couldn’t help it – the intern had gradually shifted our family’s dynamic and it frustrated me that he’d managed it in less than six months without even trying.

“Fine, something else is it then,” he concluded with a sign of defeat. I listened intently, pressing the phone closer to my ear. “I really wanted a pet when I was younger, but my mother said we couldn’t afford it. One day, there was a downpour and I was returning from high school. Tucked by the entrance was a drenched kitten. Meeting you reminded me of that.” The small addition made my eyes close in mild bashfulness at the expected softness in his voice. He cleared his throat and proceeded while I imagined him in the grass next to me though he’d refuse to sit down. “Anyways. I took pity on it and took it inside. I kept it a secret for a whole week before it took a shit in the middle of the living room and blew our cover.”

“And Kuchel?” I bit back a chuckle at the conclusion of the story. I could imagine a young Levi bathing and taking care of a little black kitten (no other colour made sense), having to shush its meowing as he went to sleep because his mother could hear. It was a cute little picture, an ebony-haired teenager feeding a charcoal-coloured ball of fur in secret. The notion seemed simple and pure. A small act of kindness which had formed a bond.

“What do you think?” He asked, voice devoid of snark. As brief as my conversation with Kuchel had been, I gathered she was probably the kindest and most selfless person I’d ever talked to. Needless to say, she’d passed down a big part of that to her son, but he, defensive and skeptical, had decided to cover it in multiple layers of indifference and reluctance. He saved it up, but his mother gave it away like she had an endless reserve.

“I think she agreed to keep it. She probably pulled the usual parent-speech and said it would help you become more responsible,” I said, confident in my logic but earger to receive confirmation. It reminded of a childhood memory. Hitch and I had been arguing and I’d run to my father for support, only to be told I’d been wrong. Bawling in outrage, I’d felt my father’s hands take mine as he prompted me (“Come on, princess. Anything at all.”) to say something. The only thing six-year-old me had come up with (“I love you.”) had been typical and childish. His smile had turned into a grin, soft and ground and his response (“That’s right. And I love you, (Y/N), because you’re my most important thing, not because you can subtract numbers.”) had made it one of my fondest memories of my father, so uncharacteristically loving it could make me laugh now.

“It doesn’t take a lot to figure out my mother. Yes, we kept the fur ball and I took care of it for a while until Isabel’s allergies made us give it away. My best friend – Farlan – took it in.” The explanation prompted a mental note of the name I hadn’t heard until now.

“What did you name it?” I piped, realising I’d missed the most important part of the story. Levi kept silent – strangely so. He was hesitant, I realised, probably because he didn’t want me to hear it. If I had luck, it would be something stupid and cute, like Mr. Snuggles or Fufu.

“… Pluie.” The pitiful yet stoic utterance came as a shock, the rude awakening that he, too, had been a naïve teenager once upon a time. I laughed so loudly I heard a bird take flight from the branch of a tree a few feet away. My stomach twisted in amusement.

“You seriously named the cat rain?” I spoke between fits of giggles, sensing Levi’s annoyance rise to boil on the other end of the line, like a kettle threatening to burst. My ear became collateral damage as a result of the spillage.

“I was a fucking fourteen-year-old, don’t give me shit about that,” he scolded, imperative tone with an embarrassed tinge that only made me laugh harder. I rolled around the grass, clutching my phone with one hand and my abdomen with the other. I imagined Levi’s constipated expression – tired and as far from amused as a face could go – with his sunglasses on his nose and the breeze making his locks sway slightly. I wondered if he’d give up on me completely and end the call, but he waited for me to calm down and speak again instead.

“… I love it,” I concluded warmly after a small pause. He sighed but I couldn’t pinpoint the kind of face that went with it. A smile stretched my lips when an idea hit me – so innocent and naïve it couldn’t go unspoken. “If I visit France someday, I want to see him.”

“He’s a really vicious cat, but I’m sure you’ll get along since you’re both spoiled,” he hummed, nonchalant and in the mood to humour me. I snorted, a bitter smile surfacing as I gazed up at the sky – so beautiful it annoyed me to look at. It was a strange logic, but the blue reminded of the specks and thinking of them reminded of the fact I couldn’t see them, wouldn’t see them for four more days. I let my lids drop to avoid the sight.

“Very funny,” I stated, a scornful type of ice dripping off my tongue – as fake as my Aunt Petunia’s smiles if not directed at darling George. I paused, reaching for my sunglasses and let my thoughts drift in a brand new direction. “If you had your own house one day,” my voice was curious like a child’s, “would you take Pluie back?” I needn’t ponder the answer because he’d give it any second now.

“Of course. He might be an annoying fur ball I’ll constantly have to clean up after, but he’s a good companion.” I imagined him still lying on his towel, warm sand tickling his feet like the grass tickled mine, with his firm gaze glued to the horizon. His expression wouldn’t fit the sunscreen smeared on his face, making it almost comical. I wished to bear witness to it. Alas, I was in my backyard, rolling around in the grass like a dog and praying not to die of boredom. The roses and the empty pool kept me company, but neither provided comfort – Levi’s voice was there for that.

“I don’t know why but imagining you with an animal is nearly impossible,” I half-mocked, half-admitted, hoping he would come to notice neither. Instead, he noticed both and, as always, wasn’t one bit moved by the lack of subtlety in the tactless display.

“That’s because Pluie is the only animal I tolerate. Others require too much care and effort. Some are also exceptionally nasty,” he explained, simple and succinct, and him to the point it made my smile like he’d told a joke. My lids fluttered open and I lifted my left hand to my face. The silver band reflected the sun into my narrowed eyes.

“You sound like a terrible person when you talk like that, asshole. Thank God for Pluie,” I joked, mesmerised by the ring’s sheen. Holding the phone between my ear and shoulder, I took it off and held it up. When I squinted, the miniature circle seemed to encapsulate the great blue sky and all its clouds. I speculated, like a scientist on the brink of a great discovery, if this was how majestic everything would look as seen thought the silver band. The house would be a palace with sculptured and paintings, the garden – a vast field of exotic flowers, the roses – whole worlds of aroma, the plain grass – God’s rendition of the most simplistic of loveliness. It was either the wonder of happiness borne of marriage or just a hallucination my mind graced me with prior to a stroke.

“I hear you judging, but you’re not an ardent animal lover yourself.” Levi’s words made me blink like somebody had clapped their hands in front of my face, waking me from a trance. The silver ring slipped from my hold and rolled in the grass. I mindlessly propped myself on my elbows to look for it.

“That one wasn’t up to me. I wanted a dog when I was little, but my parents were too busy almost getting divorced to care and when that died down, they didn’t trust me enough with a pet. By the time I got into high school, I got used to the idea. That’s that.” My hands roamed the ground, feverishly seeking the ring. My panic dissipated when I felt it – an instant sedative.

“If you come to France, I could let you take care of Pluie,” the intern suggested ever so kindly. I collapsed next to my fallen sunglasses, slipping the ring back on my finger with a huff. The urge to be leading this conversation with him face to face was burning, insistent and annoying.

“Your offer is too generous. I doubt there’s a future for me in France besides being Pluie’s caretaker and that wouldn’t pay much, would it now?” I mocked weakly, voice soft and casual.

“I’ll make sure I support you properly, princess. It’s only my duty as your friend.” The stiffness in his timbre was odd, like something having found shelter in the wrong place. Maybe the universe was laughing at my expression or maybe it was just the echo of asshole-me cackling so hysterically she almost choked. Served her right. I was silent and tense all over and the intern was attempting to become the one snack I couldn’t afford to have. I was on a fucking diet for fuck’s sake. Then there was that voice again – the perfect blondie – calling his name.

“And I can hear your new friend calling in the back. We should probably---”

“Hold up. Don’t you dare hang up like last time,” he cut off my haste, threatening without actually telling me what the consequences would be. “We’ll talk about this when I get back. Don’t jump to conclusions, princess. Understood?” He was the strict babysitter and I was the child, even though I didn’t feel like one. I felt like I did that one time Eren told me (“I don’t see the point in me flirting with others when I have you.”) not to worry about other girls, when he held my hand and looked into my eyes, promising (“I love you so fucking much you have no idea.” “Die for me and all that jazz, yeah?” “No. I’ll live for you because that’s way harder.”) he loved nobody but me. Only me.

“Understood, asshole. Have fun.” I smiled despite the little gnawing feeling at the back of my mind. I felt calm and at ease when he hung up even when the blondie kept calling his name. I trusted him like I trusted Eren because he’d had eyes only for me. Little spoiled me. How I’d fucked us both over. How mean. Levi, I was sure, didn’t have eyes only for me even if Annie would argue herself to the moon and back disproving it, but I trusted him just as unconditionally. That part was my own duty.

tag list: @unloved-cadillac ; @donaldthrts

#mtij #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #been ages since i posted an update here #editing got the best of me #the word count of this went dooooooown #but here we go a filler episode in the life of an abandoned confused teenager who thinks she's very smart #i'm frothing at the mouth thinking of what's to come lol #until then enjoy

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