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justkindalivin · 2 years

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Roommate trouble

summary: Your roommate Jesse and his girlfriend Dina fuck..a lot. loudly. When you finally get fed up after being woken up by their nightly “activities”, you go to Dina’s dorm for some peace and quiet only to run into her roommate, Ellie.

warnings: Smut (18+ PLZ), Language, modern!au, college!au, making out, thigh riding, fingering (r rec), oral (r rec), dom!ellie, teasing, sub!reader, not edited well (I can’t think of anything else but lmk if you find something I forgot!)

wc: 2.7k

an: HEY YALL!! It's been a hot minute, sorry about that! The shotgun series is still ongoing but this idea popped into my head and I just had to write it. I tried to activate my asks or whatever but I’m still kinda new to how tumblr works haha. I wanna meet people in the TLOU community and make friends so come say hi!! Anyhoo I hope you guys enjoy, have a great day I love you ♡ - Lottie

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You loved Jesse, you really did. Starting from move-in day, you guys did everything together, knew everything about each other, and he quickly became your absolute best friend. When he first introduced you to Dina, a girl he met during orientation, you were so happy he found someone as sweet and open as she was. She always greeted you with a hug and smile, even going as far as inviting you to hang out with her and Jesse on whatever date they had planned. Eventually, you and Dina also got very close, going on your own little “friend dates” as she called them where you would go to dinner or just watch a movie. You always joked that if she ever got tired of Jesse all she had to do was say the word and you would sweep her off her feet. As much as you loved them though, there was one thing about them that you couldn’t stand. They fucked like rabbits. Literally 24/7. You actually didn’t even know it was medically possible for two people to get it on this much. You come home from a class and boom- they’re in your dorm going at it. Trying to take a nap in your room? Think again, here comes Jesse and Dina tearing off each other's clothes. You tried to be cool about it at first because you didn’t want to seem bitchy, but you were quickly reaching your limit. And tonight was the night you lost it

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You had a long fucking day, filled with back-to-back classes that seemed to last an eternity and mountains of homework that took you hours in the library to complete. Practically as soon as you got to your dorm and your head hit the pillow you passed out, which is probably why you didn't hear Jesse and Dina come home. What you did hear, however, was a weird grating creaking noise that roused you from sleep. Blinking the blurriness from your eyes, you start to come to your surroundings. The creaking started to get louder and as you become more and more awake, you begin to notice soft moans and grunts coming from the direction of the creaking... - NO. FUCKING. WAY.

“You little fuck gremlins, you’re unbelievable!!!” You exclaim, hucking your pillow in their general direction. The sound of a startled grunt and scrambling from Jesse’s bed fills your ears as they try to cover themselves up, and finally, you turn your bedside lamp on to glare at them. Both of them sit on his bed, messily wrapped in blankets with a light pink dusting on their cheeks, chests heaving as they try to catch their breath. At least Dina looks apologetic, Jesse just looks annoyed you interrupted them.

“I’m so sorry, I-” Dina starts apologizing, but you hold up your hand to stop her.

“Jesse, you're like a brother to me and I love you, but I can’t deal with you right now. Like, just give me a heads up when you two are gonna fuck and I’ll leave, this is traumatizing.” Jesse slightly rolls his eyes but nods, and you can tell he does actually feel bad that they woke you. “and Dina, just give me a chance I’d treat you so right, just say the word. You’ve done nothing wrong ever, and I love you.”

Jesse shakes his head, throwing his hands up indignantly “Why do I get scolded like a toddler and Dina gets hit on?!? Where’s the justice?”. You shut him up with a glare, then focus back on Dina.

“Dina, where is your dorm and would your roommate mind me staying there? Y’all can finish what you started but I’m getting tf up outta here.” After getting the building name and room number, you quickly pack a small go bag with essentials, wrap a blanket over your shoulders, and begin to trudge across campus to Dina’s building. About halfway there you think about how crazy you’re going to look to her roommate, a girl you’ve never met before but Dina had mentioned in passing a few times. The only thing you knew about her was that her name was Ellie and she was an astronomy major. Fuck, what were you even going to say when you got there?? Hey! Our roommates were having a fuck fest in my room, mind if we have a sleepover? You spent the rest of the walk overthinking and trying to come up with something to say when you saw her until eventually, you found yourself on their floor. Wandering down the hallway, you finally stumble on a light wooden door that was decorated with colorful bits of paper cut into the shape of mushrooms that held both Dina and Ellie’s names. Keeping in mind the mini script you made of what to say when you were walking over, you take a deep breath and raise your hand to knock on the door.

After a moment of silence, clattering and distant swearing come from the other side of the door before it swings open. Your mouth goes dry, all the words you had rehearsed flying out the window as you take in Ellie for the first time. Her short auburn hair falls messily around her freckled face and as she lifts her hand up to rub the sleep from her eyes, you catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her forearm. Wearing just a white cotton tank top and black boxers, it was clear that she had been sleeping peacefully before your rude awakening. As you continue to check her out, you’re startled when her voice cuts through the quiet of the hallway.

“Dude, I was sleeping. The fuck do you want?” Ellie’s voice is still thick with sleep as her gaze falls on you. Oh shit, she must think you’re so creepy, just some rando waking her up in the middle of the night and then staring at her. You hastily blurt out your name trying to seem like less of a weirdo in front of Dina’s smoking-hot roommate

“Dina and Jesse woke me up with their... sex stuff? And they go at it all the time and I was kinda fed up so I asked Dina if I could sleep in her bed for tonight and she said yes so... now I'm here and-” Your awkward rambling was cut short by Ellie bursting out laughing, doubling over to clutch her stomach.

“No way dude that's fucking heinous! You poor thing get in here.” With that, Ellie grabs your arm and pulls you into the room, her hand finding the small of your back as she guides you in. “Welcome to our humble abode, that's Dina’s side so you can just dump your shit over there, and that's her bed.” She says, gesturing to the left side of the room. Shoving your backpack to the ground, you make your way to Dina’s bed, observing the room as you go. Ellie’s side is filled with drawings and posters, as well as a guitar that leans up against her bed rail. Pictures also litter the walls, some of her and Dina, some of her other friends, and a few of her with an older man you assume is her dad. Suddenly feeling the night catch up to you, a huge yawn leaves your lips and you crawl into Dina’s bed, letting your eyes fall closed.

“It's nice to finally meet you, Dina talks about you all the time. She didn’t tell me you were pretty though”. Your eyes fly open and you can feel your cheeks growing warm at the compliment.

“Dina talks about you too. It's weird we’ve never met before, Dina always said I would like you” You reply, rolling over to face her to see that she was already looking at you.

“Listen any time those two are annoying you, come over here. You’re always welcome” she tells you, a wide smile stretching across her face

“Thanks, Ellie”

“No problem pretty girl”

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“Ellie they’re doing it again!! They were literally eye fucking all over the room so I made my escape before my vision got assaulted. Again.” You yell, bursting into Ellie's room without so much as a knock. On that first night you stayed in Dina’s dorm, the two of you talked for hours, only stopping once daylight began to leak through the curtains on the windows. She talked about her adopted dad, Joel, what she wanted to do with her life, and her love of dinosaurs. With each word, you found yourself more and more enamored with her. You’d never met anyone like Ellie and from that day on you guys were close friends. Well... you don’t know if friends is the way to describe it. Ellie was almost always touching you, from wrapping an arm around your waist when you were walking together to pulling you down onto her lab when there was not enough room on the couch. At parties, she’d keep close to you, warding off creepy men with a snarl and her arm around your shoulders. You’d both shared countless kisses, some light and playful, others deep and passionate. There was something unspoken between the two of you, you saw it in the way she looked at you, the way she was protective over you like no one else in your life has ever been. You’d never labeled what you and Ellie had, too scared that if you talked about it, she’d get so weirded out by you reading too much into it that she would leave.

“I keep telling you babe, set boundaries with them. As much as I love having your gorgeous face here, you gotta tell them when you need the room.”

That was the other thing, the nicknames she gave you. You don’t think Ellie has called you by your name once since the night you met. It's always pretty girl, gorgeous, or your personal favorite, babe. Wandering over to where Ellie sat on the edge of her bed, tuning her guitar, you flop face down next to her. Hearing her place the guitar down with a dramatic sigh, you feel Ellie’s body moving toward where you lay on the bed. Rough hands grasp your waist, rolling you until you’re laying on your back. Ellie kneels over you, one hand stroking the skin of your waist while the other glides up the side of your body to brush your hair out of your eyes.

“I’ll beat the shit out of Jesse, will that help?” She offers, only half joking, earning a small giggle from you as she smiles.

“My hero” You joke, hand rising to cup the side of her face and squeeze the flesh there. “You don’t have to, I just have to stop being a pussy and tell them. Maybe we can make a schedule or something, I don't know.”

“Oo a fucking schedule, how romantic. I’m sure they’ll love that” She teases and you shove her away from you playfully. Before you can fully shove her away, she grips your arm, using the momentum to pull you onto her lap. Her back leans against the wall and she picks you up slightly by your hips so that she can slide her thigh between your legs.

“Shut up I’m trying okay?” You giggle raising your hand to push her once again. This time though, she catches it and laces your fingers together. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath from being WWE slammed into a cuddle session and you could have sworn you catch Ellie’s eyes flutter between your own and your chest. Did you wear a low-cut tank top and booty shorts on purpose?... maybe. Was it working? Hell yes.

When Ellie finally looks up from your chest, you raise an eyebrow mockingly at her and her face immediately flushes a dark red. You laugh as she averts her gaze and clears her throat, leaning down to rest your head in the crook of her neck. Her hands migrate to rub your back, moving the fabric of your shirt to rub soothing circles on your soft skin. From her neck you try to sneak a look at her face, only to find that her eyes are already locked on you. With a small smile, you once again bring your hand up to cup her face, this time just caressing the skin there instead of pinching. Ellie removes her hands from your back and uses them to grab the hair at the base of your neck, bringing your head up to face her. After only a brief look from your eyes to your lips, Ellie surges forward and meets your lips in a searing kiss.

She bites down on your lower lip playfully, taking advantage of the small gasp you let out to explore your mouth. Without realizing it, you begin to grind on Ellie’s thigh, desperate for friction. You only register you’re doing it when Ellie brings her hand down to grope your ass, forcing you further down on her thigh and quickening your pace. You break the kiss with a soft moan, getting lost in the pleasure until suddenly you find yourself on your back. Ellie slots her body fully over yours, eyeing you up and down with flush cheeks.

“Fuck, babe you’re so fucking beautiful.” She says, tracing her hand along the waistband of your shorts, toying with the fabric.

“Please Ellie” You whimper, practically writhing under her despite the fact that she's barely done anything yet

“Please what pretty girl? Use your words.”

“Touch me, Ellie, please! I-I need you!” You cry out and with a smug smirk, she slides her fingers under your waistband and between your folds

“It's okay baby shh, I got you. Fuck you’re so wet, is all this for me, gorgeous?” All you can do is nod pitifully as her fingers sink into you, a harsh moan tearing from your lips. Her fingers slide easily in and out, your slick walls clenching around her as her face moves to suck marks onto your neck. The pleasure is too much, clenching your eyes shut all you can focus on is the rough pounding of her fingers within you.

“Fuck, Ellie.. feels so good f-fuck” You incoherently babble as she curls her fingers, hitting your sweet spot and making your vision go dark. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your whole body clenching and shaking around Ellie’s fingers as she praises you.

“That's it pretty, you did so good for me. You’re so fucking hot, babe.” Ellie removes her fingers and immediately puts them in her mouth, sucking off your slick with a contented moan. “Fucking delicious, will you let me taste more baby? Please?”. Not finding yourself able to speak yet, all you can do is nod and Ellie wastes no time. Clambering off the bed, Ellie grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge, kneeling before you now bare core. Throwing your legs over her shoulders, Ellie dives in, attaching her lips to your swollen clit with a harsh suck. You loudly cry out, hands flying to the back of her head as her tongue begins to rapidly lick and suck all over. You feel your orgasm approaching more quickly than before and you unconsciously begin to grind down on Ellie's face to chase your release. However, your trance is interrupted by a loud shriek

“OH MY GOD! What the fuck guys, what are you doing?!?!” Dina yells from the now open door, shielding her eyes with her hand. You scramble to cover yourself with Ellie's comforter as the woman herself lets out an annoyed groan.

“Is this what it feels like!?! Jesus, it's like walking in on your parents. I’m so sorry, I’ll come back later!” Dina rushes out and slams the door behind her, leaving you and Ellie alone once again. After a moment of silence, Ellie starts to laugh

“Well, at least she knows what it's like now. I doubt they’ll be causing you problems again.” She says between her giggles, grabbing a pair of her boxers to dress you in. You shake off your embarrassment and begin to laugh as well, taking Ellie's hand and tugging her into bed with you. As Ellie wraps you in her arms, you can’t help but think you might have to thank Jesse and Dina for being such sex maniacs.

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an: I love you guys so much, thank you for all the comments, likes and reblogs on my previous posts. Let me know if you guys can access my asks, I wanna get to know yall!! this is my first time writing smut, yall can probably tell LMAO but all feedback is appreciated ☺︎

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader smut #college!ellie williams #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic

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vixstarria · 3 months

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Apples

Alright, so this is actually going to be included in a future chapter of my longfic as a flashback, but the readership of that is a small fraction of that on my one-shots, and I giggled too much writing it to not show it to the masses.

Astarion x Tav, Act 1

Humour, ponderings on the topic of vampire physiology, my Tav being a gremlin

Rated M, I guess.

Approx. 600 words

Somewhere along the Risen Road

Astarion sat with a book, trying to ignore Asmodea as she perched next to him, loudly crunching on an apple. It was proving to be impossible to concentrate under her inquisitive stare.

“Yes?” he said, sighing.

“So does pussy taste like ash to you?”

Astarion wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Must you be so crass?”

“You’re really going to continue the ‘uptight noble’ act after last night?” she said with a smirk. “And I’m actually being considerate, not crass – it was only after, that I remembered vampire taste buds have certain quirks.” She shifted where she sat. “I wouldn’t shove your face into an ash tray,” she said, sounding almost apologetic, before biting into the apple again.

“Very well,” Astarion said, shutting his book. “No, pussy tastes like pussy. And yours tastes like-”

“The finest nectar, divine ambrosia, blah blah,” she interrupted him with a dismissive wave of her hand, talking with her mouth full. “But why?”

“I... I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose it’s all similar to blood in that it’s still produced by the body. And-” he cut himself off, with a shake of his head. “Do you really want to talk about this?”

“Just trying to understand you better, that’s all,” she said, swallowing. “Hmm,” she hummed, before leaning towards him with a grin and beckoning him with a finger.

Astarion glanced in the direction Wyll and Karlach had walked off. The group was taking a short break. Their tryst in the night seemed to have gone unnoticed by anyone, and he didn’t want to make it known, at least not yet. Satisfied that they were alone, he pressed his lips against hers in a kiss. Her tongue cautiously sought his own, and he let it, before pulling away.

“Did that taste like ash?” she asked.

“No, that... tasted the way an apple smells,” he answered.

“So it tasted like apple.”

“No, it tasted like the smell.”

“That’s the same thing,” she argued. “And do you like the smell of apples?”

“No, it’s not the same thing,” he sighed. “And I suppose, but... Hells, how do I explain it? ...You enjoy the smell of roses, yes? But you wouldn’t want to eat one, now would you? And if you did – it would not taste the way it smelled anyway. ...Do you understand?”

Astarion supposed he should have been annoyed by her questioning, but something in her earnestness placated him.

Asmodea let out a prolonged “ahh” of comprehension, and he thought that would be the end of it, but then she extended her half-eaten apple towards him.

“Lick it.”

“What?” Now he was getting irritated.

“Don’t chew it, just lick it. Have you tried regular food since getting tadpoled, anyway?”

He had, and he had immediately regretted it, but he obliged her anyway.

“Ugh,” he grimaced. “Now it tastes like ash.”

“Fascinating,” she said, biting back into the apple. “Perhaps it’s the juice being mixed with human saliva that makes it palatable for you. I wonder if there is a minimum ratio of spit to plant liquid that is required...”

He opened his book again, determined to ignore her.

“I could feed you like a mama bird feeds her hatchlings,” she continued thoughtfully, looking off into the distance.

Astarion snapped the book shut again.

“I do not need to be fed apples!” he exclaimed. “And you are the most ridiculous person I have ever met.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

Series master list

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird

@brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna

@mj-bites @bardic-inspo

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #bloodbang chronicles #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion x asmodea

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rebelfell · 11 months

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✦ Stranger Things Masterlist ✦

My works feature a female reader with limited physical descriptors. Just by virtue of being written by me, they will likely be shy/inexperienced ‘cos I write what I know, y’know? There are individual warnings on each. If you do come across something you think needs a warning, please let me know (gently, I am but a fragile soufflé ready to sink)

🌶️ is marked with a*

Everything is 18+ MDNI for your sake and mine

The Third Date┃Part One┃Part Two~

eddie munson x anorgasmic!reader - 14k

Surrender┃Part One ┃Part Two*┃Part Three*

eddie munson x bi!reader x lesbian!chrissy cunningham - 18k

Bells Will Be Ringing┃Part One*┃Part Two*

crush!steve harrington x fem!reader x fwb!eddie munson - 8k

Hold Your Peace in Pieces┃TBD

engaged!rockstar!eddie munson x reader -

this summer is the apocalypse, pt II, pt III*, pt IV*, eddie’s interlude, part V, epilogue~, epilogue II~

Thinking thoughts on eddie and an older!Harrington!reader (aka: stevie’s aunt has got it goin’ on)

for your viewing pleasure~

a series of drips and drabbles featuring pornstar!eddie

under the influence

an edible loosens your lips in front of your frenemy, eddie

game night* (surrender universe)

chrissy and eddie get extra competitive, you benefit

made for lovin’ you*

softdom!eddie makes a bad tinder date a whole lot better

special delivery*

someone unexpected shows up to deliver your pizza

in the middle of the night*

boyfriend!steve helps to soothe what ails us🩸

buzzcut season, rockstar!eddie free write

dmm, i’m just embracing my shaved-head era

haven’t had any complaints yet*

the trials and tribulations of giving van head over forty

cold dry stone*

revenge f!cking with gator 🐊

that Vanity Fair party was a lot*

actor!steve x assistant!reader x rockstar!eddie

are you even listening to me?, cont’d~, preq

bestfriend!eddie gets distracted by your…assets.

I didn’t know you were into that…

you’ve been watching too many ghostface tiktoks 🔪

working on my fitness, pt II

a gym meet cute w/ modern!eddie (neighbors AU)

modern!wealthy!Steve? How’d you get in here?

steve spoils his girl in the midst of a hangover

wait, are you a…have you never?*

bigdick!steve x virgin!reader

felt in need of some affection…

sweet!soft!eddie vignette

possessive.┃eddie shows you who you belong to

multiples.┃eddie wants you to arrive properly

urgent.┃eddie can do better than he can

hesitant.┃eddie has been avoiding something

so wrong, it’s right┃so right, it’s wrong 🎃

eddie munson x his best friend’s (ex?) girl

you’ve never seen gremlins? 🎃

it’s scary movie night at eddie’s house

you’re a what? (WCIL-verse) 🎃

modern!eddie bumps into you at a halloween party

how much of that can is left? 🦃

you + eddie + whipped topping

today is a no bones day 🦃

you and eddie in recovery mode

#index landing pages for long form/multi-part blurbs & fics

#free write bursts of writing based on images/other posts

#my moods fic/character moodboards, (aka I spent too much time spent daydreaming on pinterest again)

#thrift shop eddie short blurbs about all the odd and random gifts I would terrorize shower Eddie with if given the chance

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whetstonefires · 1 year

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Hey you said something about the my hero academia creator being unhinged about sexism, do you mind explaining?

I tried to write like, a thorough explanation of this and it just got longer and longer and longer and I have not touched this series in actual years and yet I've still got all these receipts a;lkjk;lfasd.

So rather than trying to build the whole massive case, here's a pared-down version. It's normal to have sexism in media, and shounen manga especially. Everyone does it. The level and mode and intentionality and so forth all vary, but of course it's there.

What's not normal is to have lots of varied and interesting female characters with discernible inner lives, and on-page discussion of how sexism is systemic and unjust and holds them back in specific ways, and then also deliberately make consistent sexist writing decisions even where they don't arise naturally from the flow of the narrative.

Horikoshi is actively interested in gender and sexism, he's aware of them in a way you rarely see outside of the context of, you know, fighting sexism. He is hung up on the thorny issue of what women are worth and deserve and how power and respect ties into it. He genuinely wants, I think, to have Good Female Characters, and not be (seen as) A Sexist Guy!

But. He doesn't actually want to fight sexism. He displays a lot of woman-oriented anxieties, and one of the many churning paddlewheels in his head seems to be that he knows intellectually that morally sexism is bad, but emotionally he really feels like it ought to probably be at least partly correct.

There are so many things I could cite, and maybe I'll get into some of them later, but the crowning item that highlights how the pattern is 1) at least partly conscious and deliberate and 2) about Horikoshi's own weird hangups rather than simply cynical market play, is Mineta Minoru.

The writer has stated Mineta is his favorite character. Mineta is also designed to be hated--that is, he is a particularly elaborate instantiation of a character archetype normally deployed to soak up audience contempt and (by being gross and shameless and unattractive and 'unthreatening') make it possible to include a range of sexual gratification elements into the narrative that would compromise the main characters' reputations as heroic and deserving, if they were the actors.

Good Guys don't grope girls' tits and run away snickering in triumph, after all. Non-losers don't focus intense effort around successfully stealing someone's panties. Nice Girls don't let themselves be seen half-dressed. And so forth. You need an underwear gremlin for that. So, in anime and manga, longstanding though declining tradition of including such a gremlin, for authorial deniability.

Horikoshi definitely uses him straight for this purpose, looping in Kaminari as needed to make a bit work. And yet he has Feelings about the archetype itself.

The passages dedicated to the vindication of Mineta, then, and the author's statements about him, let us understand that Horikoshi identifies with the figure of the underwear gremlin. He understands the underwear gremlin as a defining exemplar of male sexuality, at least if you are not hot, and finds the attached contempt and hostility to be a dehumanizing attack on all uh.

Incels, basically.

It's not fair to write Mineta off just because he's unattractive and horny (and commits sexual harassment). Doesn't he have a mind? Doesn't he have dreams? Doesn't he have human potential?

So what's going on with Horikoshi and gender, as far as I can figure out, is that he knows damn well that women are people and are treated unjustly by sexist society, but however.

He also understands the institutions of sexism as something protecting him and people like him from life being nebulously yet definitively Worse, and therefore wants to see them upheld.

So you get this really bizarre handling of gender where obviously women's rights good and women cool, women can be Strong, and the compulsory sexualization imposed by the industry isn't them or the author, and so forth.

But also it's very important that in the world he controls, women never win anything important or Count too much, and that jokes at their expense that disrupt the internal logic of their characters are always fair game, that women asked about sexism on TV will promptly get into catfights amongst themselves, and they are understood always in terms of their sexual and romantic interests and value, and sexual assertiveness and failures to perform femininity well enough are used to code them as dangerous and irrational, and that the sexy costumes are requisite and will never be subverted or rebelled against--at most they might be circumnavigated via leaning into cute appeal.

And that Yaoyorozu Momo, who converts her body fat into physical objects, is being frivolous when she wants to use money to buy things instead (rather than as sensibly moderating her Quirk use) and is never encouraged to eat as much as possible at every opportunity to put on weight and even shown being embarrassed by hunger (even though Quirk overuse gives symptoms that suggest she's been stripping the lipids out of her cell walls or nervous system to keep fighting) and always, no matter how many Things she has made, has huge big round boobies.

#ask #hoc est meum #beastenraged #bnha #sexism #i think i got the main points here #just getting lost in the weeds of subsidiary arguments and supporting evidence was destroying me #i don't need to do those this is fandom on the internet #and not even a serious level of that #meta #mineta minoru #yaoyorozu momo #honestly psychologically pretty interesting #it's like he keeps saying 'look i know sexism bad but I Need It'#someone tell him that the patriarchy is exploiting him too and we can all achieve liberation together #this is the same mechanism that upholds white supremacy among the poor #'my life is so bad already the idea of liberating those below me and having to share the crumbs with them is horrific'#ESPECIALLY if i know they're worthy and lots of them are better than me #injustice is the only thing keeping my head above water!#he's also fishing for vindication ofc #but it's wild to see how he'll put in the groundwork that would let him do something gender-egalitarian with his themes #and then opt not to #despite having done the hard part already #idk how much that's making a statement and how much it's just 'this Feels Right'#but as a pattern it murdered me

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nofingjustaninchident · 5 months

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⛧° i hate you more. episode 1

⛧° Beginning. Sort of.

content: jason grace x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, 3rd person writing.

a/n: look who's spoiling you today? so, be welcomed to the first episode of my first ever series! i honestly hope you like it.

word count: +6.6k

She didn’t know why she hated Jason. She just had that feeling deep in her gut ever since they “met” in that stupid bus to the Wilderness School, when she couldn’t remember her own name nor where she came from.

The only thing her stupid mind remembered is that she really didn’t like the boy sitting beside her. He seemed so… perfect. Like, the annoying type of perfect. The type of perfect that makes anyone fawn over you.

With that stupid messy blond hair, that stupid tanned skin and stupid strong arms, she just knew she disliked him, a very lot.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing they saw was her sea green gaze analyzing him. He grimaced immediately, as if realizing that he hated you too.

And suddenly, something came to her. Jason. That’s his name?

“Finally the sleeping beauties are up, huh?” A boy that looked like a latino gremlin with pointy ears teased. The girl beside him slapped him playfully on the arm.

“Shut up, Leo. Let the couple.” The girl in the front seat said, giggling ever so slightly.

‘Couple’? She and blondie were a couple? When she heard those words, she finally realized the position they were in.

Her head was laid on his shoulder, and it seemed like they had fallen asleep like that. He had a small wet stain on the sleeve of his shirt, that looked a lot like drool, probably hers. But the weirdest part of it all was that they were holding hands. Like, intertwined level.

She immediately let go and pulled away from him, her mind still dizzy and groggy from the slumber she was in.

“What the-“ She mumbled, trying to pull herself from that sleepy state she was in, but the boy beside her reacted first

“Y/n?” He asked, staring right into her eyes. He also seemed to instantly dislike her.

“Listen here, cupcakes!” A squeaky voice yelled out from the front of the bus. She drifted her eyes towards where the sound came from.

It was clearly the baseball coach. He wore a cap pulled low in his hair. Had a weird stubble and sour face, as if he had eaten something rotten. A whistle hung from his neck and there was a megaphone clipped to his belt. He’d be fairly scary if he wasn’t five foot zero.

“Stand up, Coach Hedge!” A student jeered.

“I hear that!” His eyes scanned over the bus as if looking for the culprit, but his eyes locked at Jason and Y/n. His scowl deepened, and she realized that the tiny man knew that they shouldn’t be there. She got scared for a few seconds if he was going to call them and ask how the hell did they got there. She had no idea what she would answer in that case.

The man looked away, clearing his throat. "We'll arrive in five minutes! Stay with your partner. Don't lose your worksheet. And if any of you precious little cupcakes cause any trouble on this trip, I will personally send you back to campus the hard way." He mimed hitting a homerun with a wooden baseball bat.

“Can he talk to us like that?” The blond boy - Jason - asked, but this time directed to the other two people sitting in front of him.

The pretty girl just shrugged him off. “Always does. This is the Wilderness School. ‘Where kids are the animals’.” She said, grinning as if this was some sort of joke that the pair was supposed to be on.

“This is some kind of mistake.” Y/n said, finally sitting up straight. “I… I shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, right.” Latino Gremlin - Leo - spoke up again. “We’ve all been framed. I didn’t run away six times. You didn’t blow up a gas station. Piper didn’t steal a BMW.”

That last one earned him a harder slap, but this time with no hint of playfulness, from the pretty girl named Piper. “I didn’t steal that car, Leo!”

Piper and Leo, Y/n thought. Are we friends?

"Oh, I forgot, Piper. What was your story? You 'talked' the dealer into lending it to you?" He raised an eyebrow at Jason, as if to say can you believe her?

Piper looked at Y/n with hopeful eyes, as if she was supposed to believe her or back her up, but as far as she knew, she'd never met the girl before today. Still, Piper looked at her and talked to her and Jason as if they'd been friends long enough to share an inside joke and maybe a few secrets.

What the hell is going on?

"Anyway," Leo said, "I hope you've got your worksheet, Jason, cause I used mine for spit wads days ago." He looked up from fidgeting with the buttons of his army jacket, frowning at Jason's confused stare. "Why are you looking at me like that? Somebody draw on my face again? Piper, I swear -"

"I don't know you," Jason said.

“As much as I hate to agree with blondie here,” Y/n said, grimacing at the boy beside her as he rolled his eyes. “but I don’t know you either.”

Leo rolled his eyes with an amused grin. "Sure. I'm not your best friend, I'm his evil twin," he joked.

"Leo Valdez!" Coach Hedge yelled from the front. "Problem back there?"

Leo winked at Jason and Y/n. "Watch this." He turned back toward the front of the bus. "Sorry, Coach! I was having trouble hearing you. Could you use your megaphone, please?"

The coach unclipped his megaphone and continued calling out instructions, but his voice was distorted.

The students cracked up, growing louder as the coach tried again and the megaphone blared: "The cow says moo!"

"Valdez!" Coach Hedge yelled.

Piper stifled a laugh. "How did you do that?"

Leo flashed a tiny screwdriver at them before returning it to his sleeve. "I'm a special boy."

"Guys, seriously," Jason said, his tone pleading. "What are we doing here? Where are we going?"

Y/n looked expectantly at the two students in front of them, hoping whatever answer they gave would jog her memory, though those hopes weren't particularly high.

"Are you guys joking?" Piper asked, her eyebrows furrowed in vague concern.

“No! I have no idea who you- “Y/n began, but Leo cut her off almost immediately.

“Of course they’re joking, Pipes. They’re trying to get me back on interrupting they make out sesh last year, aren’t ya’? I already said sorry, guys. I’d never walk in on you two on my own accord, trust. Don’t wanna be traumatized.”

Y/n immediately felt her cheeks heat up, but she didn’t know if it was from anger or embarrassment. She grimaced again as if she tasted something sour out of nowhere.

“Uhm, I'm sorry to disappoint but, uh…” She hesitated a bit before glancing at the blond boy beside her. He didn’t seem too bad, but she still had that feeling deep in her gut that she hated him. “I’d never make out with him.”

The boy just scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Like I'm the worst option between me and you.”

Piper and Leo glanced at each other with confused expressions. They couldn’t understand what was happening between their friends.

“Uh… okay… what’s going on here? Why are you two bickering as if you aren’t completely in love with each other?” Leo asked.

“In what?” Y/n asked, her voice laced with disgust and disbelief.

“Not possible. At all.” He added, shaking his head eagerly.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Y/n said, exasperatedly.

“Leo. I think they’re serious.” Piper said, as if you two weren’t right in front of her and listening to every bit of conversation they had.

“We are!” Jason insisted. “Well, at least I am. Don’t know ‘bout her.” He said, pointing discretely at Y/n, who hissed and elbowed him on the ribs. “Ow!”

“Oh, please-”

“That’s it!” Coach Hedge yelled from the front. “The back row has just volunteered to clean up after lunch!”

The rest of the kids cheered as Leo muttered, "There's a shocker."

Piper's concerned gaze flickered between Jason and Y/n. "Did you guys hit your heads or something? You really don't know who we are?"

Y/n shook her head, Jason following suit.

Helplessly, he muttered, "I don't even know who I am."

Piper frowned. "Do you remember each other?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/n met Jason's eyes with disgust. She knew that she knew him, but she didn't have any memories of him besides the sound of his name and the feeling that they hated each other. Quietly, she said, "Maybe?"

Jason nodded, reluctantly.

"Huh," Piper said, her brows furrowed together in a picture of deep thought. “Let’s figure this out later, we’re already here.”

༺♱༻

The bus dropped them off in front of a large red museum, which sat in the middle of nowhere. All Yn could see was desert everywhere she looked. A cold wind blew over them, making her shiver. She wasn't dressed for the cold weather - she had on a pair of dark-wash blue jeans, worn black combat boots, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt that was about two sizes too big for her. Despite how comfortable it was, though, it wasn't nearly warm enough for the biting cold nipping at her fingers.

"Alright, crash course for the amnesiacs," Leo said.

"We go to the Wilderness School, which means we're the ‘bad kids.' Your family, or the court, or whoever, decided you were too much trouble, so they shipped you off to this lovely prison - sorry, 'boarding school' - in Armpit, Nevada, where you learn valuable nature skills like running ten miles a day through the cacti and weaving daisies into hats! And for a special treat we go on 'educational' field trips with Coach Hedge, who keeps order with a baseball bat. Is it all coming back to you guys?"

Y/n shook her head and muttered a small “No.”

She looked at the kids around them, wondering what they'd all done to be sentenced to a school for delinquents - and what she had done to get sent there, too.

Leo rolled his eyes. "You're really gonna play this out, huh? Okay, so the four of us started here together this semester. We're totally tight. Jason does everything I say, gives me his dessert, does my chores -"

"Leo!" Piper scolded.

"Fine, ignore that last part. But we are friends - and we have fun, at least when you two aren't busy sucking face or having those intense-looking, deep talks where you talk about life and the future and whether those children's books with the bears are called Berenstein or Berenstain-"

"Leo, stop it!" Piper said. "I think they have amnesia or something. We've got to tell someone."

Leo scoffed. "Who, Coach Hedge? He'd try to fix them by whacking them with his baseball bat."

The coach was at the front of the group, barking orders and blowing his whistle to keep the kids in line. Every few minutes he'd glance back at Jason and Y/n and scowl.

"Leo, they need help," Piper insisted. "They could be concussed or-"

"Yo, Piper." One of the other guys in their group dropped back to join the four teenagers as they headed into the museum. He wedged himself between Piper and Y/n, throwing an arm around Piper's shoulders. "Don't talk to these bottom-feeders. You're my partner, remember?"

"Go away, Dylan," Piper grumbled. "Y/n/n's my partner, not you."

The new guy looked at Y/n, something strange flashing over his face before he replaced it with a blinding grin. "Coach said there'll have to be a group of three, what with the odd number, so it's both of your lucky days!" He threw his other arm around Y/n's shoulders, and she bristled immediately, something like dread settling heavily in her stomach. As he dragged Piper and Y/n away from Jason and Leo, she glanced back at them one last time, meeting Jason's eyes for a moment and rolling her own before Dylan was walking her and Piper deeper into the museum.

༺♱༻

Y/n didn't need her memories to know she hated guys like Dylan. She met him barely five minutes ago and she already wanted to punch him to unconsciousness for several different reasons, and she didn’t think she was a violent person. Then again, she didn’t remember even who she was, so her opinion of herself wasn’t truthful. The boy kept his attention focused on Piper, which shouldn’t bother Y/n. But she saw the look of discomfort in Piper’s face every time he spoke with her and touched her.

Everything, without exception, that came out of the guy's mouth was either a flirty remark or something cocky about himself that neither of the girls really wanted to hear. Less than five minutes around him and she already knew everything there was to know about him – he was cocky, egocentric, an asshole and rude.

Y/ noticed some of the other girls in their group kept looking in their direction and snickering. One of them called out, "Hey, Piper, does your tribe run this place? Do you get in free if you do a rain dance?"

The other girls giggled, and even Dylan suppressed a smile. Y/n’s fists clenched at her sides as she glared at him. She was beginning to think that maybe she got sent into that damned school because of fighting, since she was this close to knocking Dylan’s perfect teeth out of his face. Or punch those racists bitches right on the face. Both were tempting options.

"My dad's Cherokee," Piper said through her teeth. "Not Hualapai. 'Course, you'd need a few brain cells to know the difference, Isabel."

Isabel feigned a look of surprise. "Oh, sorry. Was it your mom in this tribe? Oh, that's right. You never knew your mom."

Y/n had to dig her nails deep in her hand, so she didn’t punch that Isabel girl right in the face. For some reason that, like everything in her life right now, she didn’t know why, she knew the perfect spot and strength to punch Isabel and knock her out.

Really useful knowledge you decided to keep, brain.

Piper charged at Isabel and y/n was right behind her, but before a fight could break out, Coach Hedge barked, "Enough back there! Set a good example or I'll break out my baseball bat!"

The teenage racists kept calling out little comments to Piper as they made their way through the museum. Y/n quickly flipped them off and muttered something in a language she recognized but didn’t know which one was it.

Sooner rather than later, Y/n snapped, "Are you going to shut your mouths voluntarily or am I going to have to break each of your fragile little jaws to get you to shut up?"

The gaggle of girls rolled their eyes at Y/n’s threat, as if they doubted she'd follow through with it. Piper grabbed Y/n’s arm before she could make good on her threat. "Where'd that come from?" Piper asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They're a bunch of little bitches." she muttered. "They deserve to get more than just their jaws broken."

Piper gave her a small smile, hooking her arm around Y/n's. "Thanks for defending my honor," she said. "But I’m sure I can take care of myself, babes."

Despite her lack of memories, Y/n didn't doubt that for a second.

After more walking, the group of students stopped in front of a set of large glass doors that led out to a terrace. "Alright, cupcakes," Coach Hedge said loudly.

"You are about to see the Grand Canyon. Try not to break it. The skywalk can hold the weight of seventy jumbo jets, so you featherweights should be safe out there. If possible, try to avoid pushing each other over the edge, as that would cause me extra paperwork."

They all stepped outside onto the skywalk. The Grand Canyon spread out before them, huge and unforgiving in its depth. Y/n glanced over the side of the skywalk railing, flinching and quickly stepping back when she felt the flip of her stomach.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and a cold wind washed over the skywalk, making Y/n shiver. Piper, turning away from Dylan, asked with a teasing smile,

"Jason's sweatshirt not warm enough for you?"

“What?!” Y/n glanced down, her cheeks burning as she realized why the sweatshirt was too big for her. Annoyedly, she took it off and said, "Me and Jason, we're... dating?"

Piper raised her eyebrows at her once again. "You seriously don't remember? You guys have been together since before me and Leo even met you - you guys came here together at the start of the semester."

Y/n frowned, beyond frustrated by the fact that she was dating the only person that she remembered both the name and how annoying he was.

Piper's eyes were concerned as she looked Y/n over. "How about Leo and I take you to the nurse when we get back to campus?" she offered. "She might be able to... I don't know, figure it out?"

She felt, deep in her gut, that the school nurse wouldn’t be able to figure out what was going on with her lack of memories, but she nodded anyway. "Thanks," she said quietly. She couldn't remember Piper at all, but she wished she could - Piper seemed like a good friend.

Piper worked on the worksheet they'd apparently been assigned to complete during their field trip. Neither Dylan nor Y/n helped her, but Y/n felt like her excuse - namely not even remembering her own last name, much less what the definition of mechanical erosion was - was a lot better than Dylan's, which seemed to be that he was simply a fucking bastard.

Instead of helping with the worksheet, Dylan was hitting on Piper, touching her shoulder and flashing her that stupid smile. After the fifth time Piper pushed him away, Y/n shoved her way between them, her head barely reaching his shoulder.

"Quit," she snapped.

Dylan rolled his eyes, but that something from before flashed through his eyes again. It made her skin prickle with goosebumps and filled her with anxiety. And, again, that stupid feeling told her that lots of things filled her with anxiety.

Something told her Dylan's worst quality wasn't his inability to take no for an answer, and that made the dread in her stomach grow heavier.

She saw Jason talking to the coach, and she noted the look of relief on his face as the two spoke. She would have gone over to join them, but she didn't want to leave Piper alone with Dylan or to be near Jason voluntarily, so she stayed where she was, glancing over the worksheet in Piper's hands and wincing at the headache trying to read it triggered.

Lightning crackled loudly overhead, the cold wind picking up speed and strength. Worksheets flew into the Grand Canyon, theirs practically being torn out of Piper's hands by a gust of wind. The bridge underneath their feet shuddered and kids screamed, stumbling and grabbing the rails on either side of the skywalk.

Ophelia held the railing so tightly, her knuckles turned white, and she purposefully kept her eyes forward, not letting them stray toward the bottom of the canyon thousands of feet below them.

She almost immediately felt the tears forming in the corners of her eyelids when she looked down – not on purpose – and made a quick realization that if she fell, she’d die.

The coach yelled for them to go back inside. The storm clouds that had been lingering overhead churned like a miniature hurricane. The students around her screamed and ran for the building, which was only a few feet away from Y/n and her group. Piper and Dylan ran for the doors, holding them open and herding the crowd of teenagers inside. Y/n stood frozen on the skywalk, fingers tight around the railing.

She reached into her front pocket, not sure what she was reaching for. But what she did find was a small, cold hard metal. She pulled it from her jeans.

It was a key, made of what looked like solid gold.

Why did she have a gold key in her pocket?

What did it open?

Apparently, she was in a school for delinquents - had she stolen it?

Y/n looked up at the sound of the doors slamming shut, Piper and Dylan having lost their grips. Aside from her and the two of them, Jason, Leo, and Coach Hedge were the only other people on the skywalk. Great. A jackass, a jock, a little latino gremlin, a five-foot male, a beauty queen and a girl who wasn’t even sure her name was Y/n. Couldn’t be better.

Piper struggled with the doors, trying to open them back up, but they seemed to be stuck. "Dylan, help!" Piper shouted over the raging winds.

"Sorry, Piper," he said, standing there with a malicious grin like he was enjoying the sudden storm. "I'm done helping." He flicked his wrist and Piper went flying backward, slamming into the doors and sliding to the floor. Y/n tried to run toward her, but the wind was fighting against her. Dylan looked at her, smirking at her struggle, and flicked his wrist again, sending her backward toward Jason, Leo, and the coach.

Jason caught her around the waist before she could fall all the way to the ground, steadying her. She immediately got away from his touch, glaring daggers at him – who just rolled his eyes.

"Stay behind me," Coach Hedge ordered. "This is my fight. I should've known that was our monster."

"Monster?" Y/n questioned.

"What?" Leo demanded. A flying worksheet smacked him in the face and he swatted it away. "What monster?"

Coach Hedge's cap blew off, and Y/n was beyond shocked to see two horns sticking up above his curly hair. He lifted his baseball bat, but it was different. It had somehow changed into a tree-branch club, with a few twigs and leaves still attached. “What the fu-”

Dylan grinned like a psycho. "Oh, come on, Coach, let the boy attack me!" he mocked. "After all, you're getting too old for this. Isn't that why they retired you to this stupid school? I've been on your team the entire season, and you didn't even know. You're losing your nose, grandpa."

Coach Hedge let out a sound that was like a goat bleating angrily. "That's it, cupcake - you're going down."

"You think you can protect four half-bloods at once, old man?" Dylan laughed. "Good luck."

Uh- What?! Half-bloods?

Dylan pointed at Leo and Y/n watched in horror as a funnel cloud materialized around the curly-haired boy. He flew off the skywalk like he'd been tossed, somehow managing to twist in midair and slam sideways into the canyon wall. He skids, clawing furiously for a handhold, finally grabbing a thin ledge about fifty feet below the skywalk. "Help!" he yelled up at them. "Rope, please? Bungee cord? Something?"

Coach Hedge cursed and tossed Jason his club. "I don't know who you are, kid, but I hope you're good. Keep that thing busy" — he stabbed a thump in Dylan's direction-"while I get Leo."

"Get him how?" Jason demanded. "You going to fly?"

"Not fly. Climb." The coach kicked off his tennis shoes, revealing hooves instead of feet. That settled it – Y/n had officially lost her mind.

"You're a faun," she said, not sure where the knowledge came but sure it was the truth.

Coach Hedge looked at her with a suspicious glint in his eye. "Satyr!" he snapped. "Fauns are Roman. But we'll talk about that later." He leaped over the railing, sailing toward the canyon wall and hitting it hooves first.

"Isn't that cute!" Dylan turned toward Jason. "Now it's your turn, boy."

Jason threw the coach's club, which seemed kind of useless with the winds raging around them, but it flew right at Dylan, even curving when he tried to dodge it, and it smacked him in the head hard enough to bring him to his knees.

She didn't even feel sorry for the satisfaction that flooded her at the sight. Maybe a little, but that was because Jason is a prick.

Y/n noticed Piper feigning a dazed appearance, her fingers closing around the club when it reached her, but before she could use it, Dylan rose. Blood-gold blood-trickled from the wound on his forehead.

"Nice try, boy," he said, glaring at Jason. "But you'll have to do better."

His body dissolved into smoke, which was a decidedly freaky sight. He rose like an evil angel made entirely of smoke. The sight gave Y/n the strangest sense of déjà vu.

"You're a ventus," Jason said. "A storm spirit."

Dylan laughed. "I'm glad I waited, demigod. Leo and Piper I've known about for weeks. Could've killed them any time. But my mistress said two more were coming, said they were special. She'll reward me greatly for your deaths."

Four funnel clouds touched down, two on either side of Dylan, each of them turning into venti-ghostly young men with smoky wings and eyes that flickered with lightning.

“Oh great,” Y/n muttered to herself, clutching the key in her hand. “just fucking great. It wasn’t enough one wind-man, it had to come four more, because life is already great.”

Piper was still down, pretending to be incapacitated, but she looked determined to fight. Jason stood tall, like a warrior, staring at the five venti without a shred of fear in his eyes. But he was unarmed - there was no way he could take on the storm spirits without a weapon.

A weapon.

Y/n frowned, looking down at the key that was still in her hand. She took a closer look, and it had something that looked a lot like an insignia. She didn’t know what it meant, but she swiped her thumb over the inscriptions on the metal. She blinked, and the key was gone.

In its place was a sword made entirely of gold.

Dylan frowned, a look of angry confusion flashing through his stormy eyes. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.

Who knows, Y/n thought. But I'm definitely not complaining.

She moved into a familiar stance, her eyes settled on Dylan's smoky form. Just as she was about to charge toward him, Dylan raised his hand, arcs of electricity running between his fingers. Y/n barely had time to be scared before Jason was pushing her out of the way, the lightning bolt meant for her blasting through his chest.

Y/n watched in horror as the blond boy she'd woken up next to barely an hour ago flew backward, taking a hit that had been meant for her. A single spot on her chest blazed like she'd been branded, filling her with fury. She looked back at Dylan, releasing a furious shout as she charged toward him and his storm spirit companions, vengeance moving her limbs forward.

She met the closest storm spirit head-on, her body agile as she thrust her sword at the spirit, the thing in question just barely getting out of the way. Y/n feigned right, then moved left and stabbed her sword through the smoky mass in front of her. To her amazement, the storm spirit dissolved into some kind of golden powder.

Dylan shouted something, his tone furious. Y/n ignored him as another ventus charged her. She planted her feet and brought her arms close to her chest, gritting her teeth as she felt the cold wind wash over her. It only pushed her back a foot before the gust passed her, and she charged at the spirit again, moving like she was a dancer performing a piece she'd done so many times it was muscle memory. Her sword pierced through the spirit and it, too, turned into gold dust.

“Suck it!” She shouted excitedly.

A few feet away, Piper was trying to fend off the other two storm spirits, but they were dancing around her, toying with her. Y/n moved to go help her, but a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Stop." Y/n looked back in shock to see Jason rising unsteadily to his feet. His shirt was covered in soot, and he was missing a shoe, but all in all, he looked pretty good for a guy who'd just been struck by lightning.

“What the fu-” Y/n began, for the second time. And, for the second time, Dylan interrupted her.

"How are you alive?" Dylan demanded, his form flickering. "That was enough lightning to kill twenty men!"

"My turn," Jason said, a lethal look in his eyes. Y/n watched him reach into his pocket, taking out a gold coin and flipping it in the air. It transformed into a gold sword, not too different from the one Y/n’s key had turned into.

Dylan snarled in agitation, backing up. He looked at the two remaining spirits and yelled, "Well? Kill him!"

The spirits left Piper alone, flying at Jason with their fingers crackling with electricity. He took the first one out within seconds, his gold sword turning it into dust.

The second let loose a bolt of lightning, but Jason's sword absorbed the charge. With one quick thrust, the second spirit was reduced to dust as well.

Dylan wailed in outrage. "Impossible!" he shouted over the wind. His glare flickered from Jason to Y/n, settling on Jason. "Who are you, half-bloods?"

“Who cares? I’m better than you.” Y/n said, smirking, proposedly cutting Jason off the sentence.

Piper looked stunned. "Y/n, Jason, how...?"

Coach Hedge leaped onto the skywalk, dumping Leo before bellowing, "Spirits, fear me!" Then he looked around and realized Dylan was the only one left.

"Curse it, boy," he snapped at Jason. "Didn't you leave some for me? I like a challenge!"

Y/n frowned, a little peeved the faun thought Jason killed all four of the storm spirits by himself.

"Hey, I took out just as many as he did," she muttered.

Leo got to his feet, breathing heavily. "Yo, Coach Supergoat, whatever you are - I just fell down the freaking Grand Canyon! Stop asking for challenges!"

Dylan hissed at him, but there was fear in his eyes. Or whatever those were.

"You have no idea how many enemies you've awakened, half-bloods. My mistress will destroy all demigods. This war you cannot win."

Above them, the storm exploded into a full-force gale.

Cracks expanded in the skywalk, sheets of rain pouring down on them. If Y/n hadn't been cold before, she was fucking freezing now. Especially because she was too proud to wear Jason’s purple sweatshirt.

A hole opened up in the clouds, and Dylan looked up at it. "The mistress calls me back!" he shouted with glee. "And you, demigod, will come with me!"

He lunged at Jason, but Y/n moved fast, pushing Jason to the side and raising her sword to attack. The spirit yelled with rage, letting loose a torrent that knocked them all backward. The worst of it hit Y/n. The wind knocked her sword out of her hand, and she watched it clatter noisily to the glass floor of the skywalk. Her back hit the railing and she lost her balance, tumbling over. She managed to grab the railing with her left hand as she hung over the abyss below her.

Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down, she chanted internally.

She closed her eyes tightly, the tears rapidly making their way into her eyelids.

She could hear her name being screamed, could hear the unmistakable grunts and shouting of a fight, but she was a little busy trying to keep her faltering grip on the railing to pay her surroundings much attention.

Her fingers slipped, and with a shout in a language that did not sound like English, she was plummeting to her death.

She couldn’t move. She just accepted her fate, the upcoming death. Her clothes and hair were flying in the opposite direction, and she could only hope that, maybe, dying wouldn’t hurt as much as she thought it did. She didn’t scream. She just... let it happen.

She wondered briefly if she was hallucinating when she saw Jason diving off the skywalk after her, rocketing down to her. She wasn’t. He tackled Y/n’s waist and pulled her close to his chest.

Great, he’s stupid enough and now we're both gonna die, she thought.

But to her astonishment, the wind suddenly died around them. She opened her eyes, the tears still flowing down her face, seeing Jason's face a few inches above hers, his eyes shut tightly. They were hovering in the air about fifty feet above the river at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Y/n breathed. His eyes opened, and he looked around them, taking in their position with wide blue eyes.

"Whoa," he whispered, his gaze moving to meet Y/n’s. She wanted to hug him, even if the only thing she remembered was hating him. Y/didn't remember ever meeting Jason, but she knew him. She couldn't explain how, but she did. And she did not like him.

Jason looked up. The rain had stopped, and the storm clouds seemed to have calmed a little. He looked back at Y/n. "Hold onto me," he told her, repositioning himself so he was hugging her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to ignore how inexplicably right the closeness with him felt.

Jason looked up again, and they suddenly surged toward the sky. He held her tight as they flew back up to the skywalk. As soon as their feet touched the skywalk, they ran to Piper and Leo.

Piper stared at Y/n and Jason as if they'd turned into horrifying mutants during their trip into the Grand Canyon. "How did you...?"

"Apparently, I can fly," Jason said quietly.

“And I'm afraid of heights.” Y/n muttered. "Is he okay?" She asked Piper, looking at Leo, whose curly hair was covered in gold dust.

Before Piper could answer, Leo muttered, "Stupid... ugly... goat."

"Where did he go?" Jason asked.

Leo pointed straight up. "Never came down. Please tell me he didn't actually save my life."

"Twice," Jason told him.

Leo groaned even louder. "What happened? The tornado guy, those gold swords... I hit my head. That's it, right? I'm hallucinating?"

The look on Piper's expression seemed like she wanted to agree.

Jason walked over to where his sword was, picking it up and flipping it. Mid-spin, it shrank back into a gold coin and landed in his palm.

Jason picked up Y/n’s sword. He handed it to her, and she took it, not gratefully, looking at it for a moment. She took a closer look at the hilt, and the same insignia that was in the key was in her sword. She slipped the pad of her thumb over it, and it turned back to a key.

"Yep," Leo said. "Definitely hallucinating."

Piper looked at Y/n as if she'd never seen her before - so not much different to how Ophelia had looked at her when she first woke up. "Those things-"

"Venti," Ophelia said. "Storm spirits."

"Okay. You acted like... like you'd seen them before."

She looked from Y/n to Jason. "Who are you guys?"

Jason shook his head. "That's what we've been trying to tell you. We don't know."

The storm dissipated above them. The other kids from the Wilderness School were staring out the glass doors in horror as security guards worked on the locks. It didn't look like they were having much luck.

"Coach Hedge said he had to protect four people," Jason said. "I think he meant us."

"And that thing Dylan turned into..." Piper shuddered. "God, I can't believe it was hitting on me. He called us... what, demigods?"

Leo laid down, staring up at the sky. "I don't know what demi means, but I'm not feeling too godly. You guys feeling godly?"

"Not particularly," Ophelia admitted.

There was a sound like twigs snapping, and the cracks in the skywalk began to widen.

"We need to get off this thing," Jason said. "Maybe if we—"

"Ooo-kay," Leo interrupted. "Look up and tell me if those are flying horses."

Y/n looked up to see a dark shape descending from the east. As it got closer, she saw a pair of winged horses, with massive wingspans. They pulled a brightly colored chariot behind them, and there were two figures inside of it.

“What the fuck?” Y/n said, finally concluding her thought.

"Reinforcements," Jason said, meeting Y/n’s eyes. For the first time, she didn’t pull away. "Hedge told me an extraction squad was coming for us."

"Extraction squad?" Leo struggled to his feet with Piper's help. "That sounds painful."

"And where are they extracting us to?" Piper asked.

The chariot landed on the far end of the skywalk. The flying horses seemed uneasy as they stepped on the glass, as if they knew it was about to break. Two teenagers stood in the chariot - a tall blonde girl and a bulky guy with a buzzcut. They both wore jeans and obnoxious orange T-shirts with some kind of logo on the front. The girl leaped off before the chariot had even finished moving, pulling a knife and running toward their group as the guy reined in the horses.

"Where is he?" the girl demanded, her gray eyes fierce and intimidating.

"Where's who?" Jason asked.

She frowned like his answer was unacceptable. She turned to Leo and Piper. "What about Gleeson? Where is your protector, Gleeson Hedge?"

Leo cleared his throat. "He got taken by some... tornado things."

"Venti," Y/n said. "Storm spirits."

The blonde girl arched an eyebrow at her. "You mean anemoi thuellai? That's the Greek term." Her gaze flickered from Y/n to Jason. "Who are you, and what happened?"

Y/n let Jason explain. When he was done, the blondie didn't look satisfied. "No, no, no! She told me he would be here. She told me if I came here, I'd find the answer."

"Annabeth," the guy with the buzzeut grumbled, having joined them halfway through Jason's explanation. He pointed at Jason's feet. "Check it out."

Jason's left shoe was still missing, having been blown off by the lightning bolt he took to the chest.

"The guy with one shoe," the guy said. "He's the answer."

"No, Butch," the girl – Annabeth - insisted. "He can't be. I was tricked." She glared at the sky as if it had personally offended her. "What do you want from me?" she screamed. "What have you done with him?"

The skywalk beneath them shuddered.

"Annabeth," Butch said, "we gotta leave. Let's get these guys to camp and figure it out there. Those storm spirits might come back."

"Fine," Annabeth muttered. She fixed Jason with a resentful glare, and Y/n bristled, moving to clutch her key in her pocket.

The girl turned on her heel and marched back to the chariot.

"What's her problem?" Piper asked. "What's going on?"

"Seriously," Leo agreed.

"We have to get you out of here," Butch said. "I'll explain on the way."

"That girl looks like she wants to kill Jason," Y/n muttered, eyeing the girl's distant figure with distrustful eyes. “Don’t really judge. I’d want to do that too.”

Butch hesitated. "Annabeth's okay," he assured them. "You gotta cut her some slack. She had a vision telling her to come here, to find a guy with one shoe. That was supposed to be the answer to her problem."

"What problem?" Piper asked.

"She's been looking for one of our campers, who's been missing three days," Butch said, his expression grim.

"She's going out of her mind with worry. She hoped he'd be here."

"Who?" Jason asked.

"Her boyfriend," Butch said. "A guy named Percy Jackson."

#⛧° i hate you more.#all my love 🍀#postcards from leah #jason grace #jason grace x y/n #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo #jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace series

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its-your-mind · 1 year

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This is a call to action for all the PJO girlies (gender neutral) that I know are sleeper agents on this webbed site

Go read Trials of Apollo. Go do it. Do it right now.

I know what you’re thinking. “Tbh I didn’t love Rick’s writing towards the end of Heroes of Olympus” “There’s no Percy so why bother” “All of the Argo II crew are kinda OOC” and listen my friends. You are so valid to have those opinions. I felt the same way after Blood of Olympus. But listen to me. Look at me.

Now that you have had some time away, you must give these books another try. For me. For Uncle Rick. For the demon baby grain spirit who is only able to say his own name (Peaches).

Do not worry friends, I do not expect you to read just based on my say-so - I also provide:

A list of reasons why you (yes you) should go read the Trials of Apollo series right now gogogo:

(Spoiler warning - all broad plot things that you learn early on, but I know some people (including me) avoid that shit at all costs)

All the chapters are titled in bad haiku. Ya know that one scene in Titan’s Curse where Apollo just starts reciting apropos of nothing? That’s every chapter title. They’re all so bad it’s amazing.

Apollo is so up his own ass about everything, and it’s so cool to experience the same world through the eyes of someone who is not used to being in amongst the chaos

Oh yeah the plot. That’s a reason to read it.

Okay so

Basically Zeus continues his streak of being a shitty shit parent and decides to blame like… every bad thing that has happened on Apollo, and punish him by turning him mortal and enslaving him to a demigod girl named Meg who is a garbage gremlin with a little demon baby guard named Peaches (see above)

And like the A plot is they gotta save the oracles from shitty old Romans who wanna take over the world (stop me if you’ve heard this one before)

But like the B plot is about what it means to discover that you’ve fucked up, you’ve made mistakes, you’ve hurt people, and you gotta fucking own up to that shit

But also

You do not deserve to be punished for every horrible thing that has ever happened because of you, or even around you, and when a parental or authority figure in your life tells you that, they are an abuser and they are wrong

And yet

It can be so hard to fully separate yourself from them. Because for so long, they were all you had.

But that’s okay, because when you start to learn that the people who were supposed to care for you and love you were not actually doing that, there are people around you who will love you, who will support you, who will pick you up and hold you close and make sure you know that you are okay

And they can’t fix you

But they can give you the safe space to fix yourself

hmm that was an essay about themes and metaphors BUT THATS WHY YOU SHOULD READ IT

also there’s a wikipedia arrow who only speaks in Elizabethan prose (in all caps)

OH ALSO ALSO you get to see Will and Nico being a CUTE AS FUCK couple in the first book. Nico smiles. Also makes skeletons grow out of the ground when people annoy him. Fuck I love this little gay death boy so much.

AND. You get to see so MANY of your old friends. And they still! Get! Plot! And! Character! Development!! Even though they are only there for a little bit

OH OH OH there are two old lesbians who run a halfway house for people who are tangled up in magic shit with nowhere else to go

Did I mention Peaches? I did. He’s my favorite.

OH ALSO. This is “unreliable narrator” executed SO FUCKING WELL. Like, all narrators are unreliable. But Apollo used to be a FUCKING GOD. He has not had to deal with the reality of death all that much. He’s used to people praising his name and bowing down at his feet. But that ain’t happening!! And he is Unhappy about that!! But it also lets there be such a clear juxtaposition between what Apollo believes about himself and about the world and what is really true, which is such a wonderful way to write about recovery from trauma.

Ahem

Anyway it’s just real good Uncle Rick continues to knock it out of the park but he just did something different and we (at least I) needed some space from OG PJO fan brain before I could appreciate how fucking awesome this series is.

OH OH OH and if you like audiobooks Robbie Daymond (hello CR mutuals - yes, this is the one who is our beloved Blue Boi who we (Orym) so desperately need returned) is the audiobook narrator and he is. So fucking good. Absolutely NAILS the dramatic-ass-inner-monologue of this dramatic ass ex-deity. Also nails all the other voices as well. 15/10 audiobook narration I’m lichrally gonna go listen to other books JUST cuz he reads them.

okay why the fuck are you still here. GO. GET THESE BOOKS. If your public library does Libby you can absolutely get them on there. GO FORTH.

#trials of apollo #toa #rick riordan #uncle rick #pjo #percy jackson #pjo apollo #peaches the karpos #robbie daymond

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mxr1na · 29 days

Text

‎‧₊˚✧[Yummy 🤤🤤 Satoru Gojo x reader]✧˚₊‧

A/N: Chat I’m ovulating rn so like I eat weird axx shit when I am. This was supposed to be a smau of multiple JJK men but my phone got taken away for no reason and I’m using my school Ipad to write this just for Gojo soooooo.. yeah. Keep tuned for the smau ver!

ˏˋ°•⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ˏˋ°•⁀➷

“Honey! I’m hooome!” Your boyfriend greets you in the kitchen, looking like a complete gremlin after being bedridden on your phone until 5 in the evening. You stand short beside the airfryer, waiting impatiently for whatever concoction in there to finish being prepared. “Watcha doing?” Satoru hugs you from the back, nipping the nape of your neck. Even though this man loves like a dog and gets whiny when you’re irresponsive, at times like this, he keeps his shit together for your sake. “How’re your cramps? Do you wanna order anything? Pizza maybe?” “I’m already making pizza,” This particular period is taking the kick out of you (mentally and physically) so being deadpan is a delightful side effect. “Pizza? In an air fryer?” He raises an eyebrow and then grimaces when you open it. Lo and behold was a slice of bread with ketchup and a sprinkle of cheese on it. By definition (well, yours anyway) it is a pizza. Carbs on the bottom, with a tomato sauce and cheese on top. In his stewing disgust, he looks at you with slight curiosity as you snarf it down like a starving child, satisfied with your “meal”. He blinks at you 3 times comically. You stare back an event scarier than any special grade curse could be in his eyes. “You gonna say anything?” The silence was loud. Satoru Gojo is anything but a fool. He shakes his head, still hypnotised by what the actual fuck he just witnessed.

“Thought so,”

And you sludge back to whatever place you’re hole-ing up in, clutching your abdomen, leaving your boyfriend in the dust dumbfounded.

He loved you so fucking much. ˏˋ°•⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ˏˋ°•⁀➷

A/N: Chat should I make this a series of funny moments between y/n and Gojo? Idk it helps my brain juices flowing ig.

Mxr1na 2024. Do NOT copy, rewrite or claim work as your own. If you see my work elsewhere, please send an ask :3

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eiightysixbaby · 9 months

Text

i’ll be home for christmas

PART FOUR: Merry Christmas, Darling

previous chapter || series masterlist

word count: 7.4k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie’s return sends you through emotional turmoil. can things go back to the way they were?

cw: angst, there’s a lotttt of feelings in this chapter whew what a ride, mentions of alcohol consumption, brief mention of reader’s parents - they aren’t described it’s just mentioned that we go to see them, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’

author’s note: the final part is here!! thank you all soooo much for coming on this little journey with me. i’ve had so much fun writing this fic, and i appreciate every kind comment i’ve received. keep your eyes peeled in the coming weeks, there’s an extra something i’m working on for this universe :)

Present Day: Christmas Eve, 1989.

Eddie. You’re staring at Eddie, that much you know. He’s standing right in front of you, yet it all feels hazy. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop, a sickness in your gut that won’t ease. You say nothing as you step aside to let Dustin and the rest of the kids rush to the door to greet the man before you.

He looks at you, desperately, before being swarmed by everyone else.

“Eddie! Holy shit!!” Dustin yells, throwing his full weight at the man and barely giving him time to get his bearings.

“What are you doing here!?” Lucas asks, pushing Dustin out of the way to get his own hug.

“Slow down, you gremlins,” Eddie laughs. Oh, god, his laugh. It makes your stomach churn. What was once music to your ears is now an unfamiliar sound. You’d know his laugh anywhere. But you don’t feel like you know him anymore. “How’s everyone doing? I missed you fuckers,” he says, ruffling Max’s hair.

“We missed you,” she says, rolling her eyes as if she can’t be bothered. Eddie knows it’s just an act.

You move out of the doorway, feeling like you’re in a daze as you walk back to the living room.

“Did you guys know about this?” you ask Nancy, Robin, and Steve once they turn expectantly to catch your reaction to the whole surprise.

“Yeah, he got in a few days ago. We wanted it to be a surprise,” Robin says, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to cover a smile.

“Right,” you say, not matching her excitement as you sit down in an empty chair. It explains why the girls were acting so weird during your baking session. It explains why you made the stupid raspberry cookies.

You can feel Jonathan’s eyes boring into you, watching your every move. You don’t look at him, knowing you’ll break if you see the concerned expression you know will be on his face. Nancy’s about to say something when Eddie and the teens come swarming in, Dustin already blabbering his ear off. You go stiff in your seat, not meeting those gorgeous brown eyes and instead keeping your face trained on the floor.

Jonathan stands, moving to greet Eddie as he’s the only one who hasn’t yet. “What’s up, man? You back for good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah I think I am,” he says. “It’s good to see you.” You know everyone’s eyes are on you, including his. You know they’re waiting for you to say something. Your silence is ear-splitting, and it feels like a bomb is about to go off.

Everyone moves to surround Eddie, except you, but you can’t blame them. They ask him for all of the details about Chicago, his reasons for moving back, anything and everything. You catch him looking around their faces, trying to get you to look at him, but you avoid his eyes every time. You thought this was what you wanted. You thought seeing him would fix everything.

But it didn’t.

If anything, your heart feels even more shattered. He thinks he can just come home, show up at this party without warning and you’re just going to fall into his arms? Confess your love for him? Act like nothing has happened?

He’s too nonchalant, the way he talks to the group. The way he sits casually on Steve’s sofa, the way he grabs cookies and a drink to indulge in.

A part of you wants to be upset with your friends for hiding this from you, for giving you no warning, but the other part of you knows they were just trying to make you happy. This was supposed to make you happy. You’re unhappy without Eddie, and now he’s here and you’re still unhappy. What is wrong with you?

It’s too much, your head feeling like it’s going to cave in as you listen to the chatter around you. Eddie’s voice is grating in your ears, and you can’t bear to look at his face — you know you’ll just burst into tears. He’s in the middle of telling a story about his attempts to land a recording gig when you stand from your seat, stopping him mid-sentence.

Without a word, you walk quickly to Steve’s back door, letting yourself out to the backyard. You can hear Jonathan call after you, but you don’t want to be bothered. The cold air hits you harder without your coat on, and you wrap your arms around yourself to keep as warm as possible. Steve’s covered pool is coated with a layer of ice and snow, and the lights from inside make the snow sparkle. Inhaling deeply, the icy air burns your lungs, but at least you’re feeling something definite. Your emotions are all over the place, none of them clear or easy to work through.

Maybe you should just go home. Just slink off to your car and go, because you certainly can’t be here with him. As if on cue, sent by some fucked up force in the universe that loves to put you through the wringer, the door slides open.

You hear shoes crunch on the snowy ground, bulky steps that can only come from heavy boots. A deep breath is taken but it’s not enough, you feel like you can’t get any air when he’s taking it all from you. Standing still, you stare straight ahead, your back facing who you know is right behind you. You can’t bear to turn around, to be the one to face him first.

“Sunny,” is all he says. His voice is soft, but it raises every hair on your neck. You’re back to a year ago, to that horrible place he took you to and locked you away in.

You steel yourself, preparing for the floor to fall out beneath you and trying your damndest to be ready for it.

“Please, look at me.”

Turning, slowly, your eyes lock with his. He looks the same as he did the last time you saw him, except now his face fills your mouth with a sour taste. You don’t like this feeling.

“I missed you,” he says, quietly.

His hands are tucked in the front pocket of his jeans, his face barely visible in the dark. He looks at you almost expectantly, like you’re supposed to do something here. Like this isn’t insane.

“I can’t do this, Eddie,” you say, barely above a whisper. Your voice is failing you.

He hears you anyway, his ears so attuned to anything and everything you have to say. You don’t look the same, the usual fire behind your eyes is gone. It worries him.

“Please, just… I came back for you. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

“Please don’t. Don’t do that, Eddie,” you warn, tears burning at your eyes.

“Do what? Be honest with you? I’m sorry Sunny. I’m so sorry. But it’s the truth. I’ve never stopped missing you,” he presses. His tone isn’t harsh, but passionate. You know he’s being honest, and it makes you want to throw up.

“So, what? You’re just going to walk in here and act like everything is normal? Like this isn’t fucking weird?” you ask, getting progressively louder as you go. He’s standing not even a foot away, silent. What can he say?

“You’ve been gone for a year, Eddie. You left me, you barely gave me a warning!” you hiss, stepping further away from him. Retreating into yourself, protecting yourself.

He takes a step toward you, chancing it. Reaching a hand out as if to grab you and comfort you. You don’t let him, slinking out of his touch.

“Sunny, please. Can we talk about this?” he asks, his voice desperate as he pleads with you.

“You didn’t want to talk it over when you made the decision to leave,” you spit. “So maybe I don’t want to talk things over now. I’m sorry you thought I’d just fall right into your arms again, but it’s not happening, Eddie. This? Whatever it is we had? It’s done, it’s gone. You can thank yourself.” You brush past him, slamming the door shut behind you once you’ve entered the house again. Anger and hurt blaze through your veins in a deadly concoction, your vision blurry with the hot tears that sting in your eyes.

Eddie follows after you, hot on your trail, emotion-strained voice calling out from behind. “Sunny. Sunny!”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, simply putting your coat on and grabbing your purse. “I’m leaving. I’m sorry, everyone,” you say curtly, and then you’re heading towards the front door, stepping outside into the cold night with nothing more than the slam of the wood.

Eddie stands in the living room, forlorn as everyone just looks around, unsure of what to do. Of all the ways this reunion could have gone, they certainly didn’t expect this. They thought it would make you happy, not make everything worse.

“I have to go get her—” he starts, frantic as he pats down his pockets for his car keys.

“Eddie, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Robin says warily, standing from her seat on the couch.

“I let her go once!” Eddie yells, a painful twinge to his tone. “I can’t let it happen again.”

He looks like a kicked puppy, scared where he stands in the middle of Steve’s home. The looks everyone gives him are pitying, and it makes him scoff as he starts to pace, running his hands through his hair.

“You need to give her space, man,” Jonathan adds, trying to calm him down. “If you bombard her right now, it’ll only make her more upset.”

Eddie looks at him, saying nothing. His eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill but he doesn’t want to let them. The impulsive part of him wants to tell Jonathan to fuck off — he used to know you like that. He used to be the person that knew everything about you, and now Jonathan has taken his place. Even if only platonically. He bites his tongue, reminding himself of the unfortunate truth that it’s his own fault you aren’t close anymore.

“I— I just need some air,” Eddie settles on, turning around and going back out to the backyard.

He isn’t out there for long before he hears someone else join him. Turning, he’s a little surprised to see Jonathan. He’d expected Steve, maybe Dustin.

“Hey,” Eddie says, his hands in his pockets as he stares out across the yard.

“Hey,” Jonathan replies, taking slow steps closer to him. “Listen, Eddie,” he starts after a pause. “You put her through a lot this last year,” he says. Eddie can tell by his tone he’s not trying to be unkind or sour, but it still hurts. It’s hard to admit that he was so incredibly wrong, and that his actions are having major consequences. He never wanted to hurt you this badly. Everything had spun out of control, and he’s to blame.

“I know, man. I know,” he replies. “I’m sorry about it.”

Jonathan just looks at him, watching him carefully. There’s a brief silence, before Eddie takes a deep breath and a little leap of faith.

“Can you talk to her for me?”

He looks at the man beside him, breath hitched in his throat, nervous.

“Eddie—”

“Please, man. She… she trusts you. In a way that she doesn’t trust me anymore. And I know that that’s my fault, but…” he takes a shaky breath, furiously swiping at his wet eyes with his thumb. “I want to earn her trust back. I want her back.”

Jonathan thinks this over, running his tongue over his teeth behind his top lip as if collecting the taste Eddie’s words leave in his mouth. Meeting Eddie’s eyes, his gaze softens when he sees the pain sitting on his face.

“Okay. I’ll try to talk to her,” Jonathan says finally, and Eddie lets out a relieved breath. “But. I’m not promising anything. If she wants to cut ties with you, that’s her business, and I can’t force her to do anything. You screwed up last year, Ed. I’m not trying to rub salt in your wounds, I just need you to understand why this is so hard for her.”

Eddie almost wants to laugh. Jonathan has a way of saying harsh things — of giving you the truth — yet not making you feel like complete shit while he does it. Eddie knows that he cares, he just cares on a level that not everyone does.

“I know. Trust me, I know that,” he sighs, blowing out a puff of air as he looks up to the dark sky. “I know you can’t force her, and I don’t want that. I just… I want her to know how sorry I am. If nothing else, I want her to know that she’s the most important person I’ve ever met and that I’m a moron for what I did last year.”

Jonathan does laugh at this, and then Eddie starts laughing with him. And it feels good, if even for a fleeting moment.

“I’ll talk to her, okay? I’m glad to have you back, man,” the younger man says, giving Eddie a soft fist to the shoulder. There’s a smile on his face, just enough for Eddie to notice.

He smiles back. Jonathan doesn’t need words to hear the ‘thank you’ that lies behind it.

•

You don’t feel any better after your outburst towards Eddie. You wanted to be with your friends tonight, not sitting alone at your apartment. But you’d left on impulse and now… here you are. Sitting alone on your floor because it felt right to sit on the floor and now you’re spiraling.

You don’t know what to think, or what to feel. You’d been sad for months over Eddie’s absence and now he’s here and you go and have a meltdown. Frustration boils inside of you, your heart twisting in your chest. Being angry at Eddie doesn’t feel any better than missing him had, it’s not like being mad allows you to just forget him.

Before you can think yourself into oblivion, your phone rings. Groaning, you stand to retrieve it. Your heart pounds in your chest — what if it’s him?

Steadying your breathing, you let it ring a few times before you convince yourself to answer.

“Hello?” you mumble, not quite ready to find out whose voice will come out on the other end.

“Sunny. It’s me,” Jonathan’s voice comes through the receiver, relaxing every muscle in your body. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Honestly, Jon? I have no fucking idea,” you say, with a slight laugh at the end. There’s no humor in it, though, you simply feel like you’re going mad.

“Can I come over?”

“Jonathan, no, stay at the party—”

“Sunny. Can I come over?” he tries again, not wanting you to put him first in this situation. He wants to be there for you.

“Okay. Yeah, fine. Door’s unlocked, just come in when you get here.”

Clicking the phone back into its place, you pace the floor slightly, chewing your nail.

Did Eddie really come back for you? Is this all for you?

Your heart aches at the thought of it. You just don’t understand how he expected everything to be just fine the second you saw him, and all you can picture in your mind is the look on his stupid fucking face the second you opened Steve’s door.

He looked at you like you hung the moon. He looked at you like you were everything.

You think about last year, you think about the kiss. The way his lips felt so soft against yours, like they were made to be there. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, rubbing at them with a frustrated sigh. Taking a seat on the couch, you await Jonathan’s arrival.

The door opens quietly before his figure slips through the gap, his cheeks rosy from the cold. You’re curled in one corner of the sofa, and you must look pitiful because his eyes soften the second they land on you.

“Sunny…” he says, hanging his coat on your coat rack before instantly coming to sit by you.

“What the fuck is happening, Jonathan?” you croak, moving to lean against him. “I thought this was what I wanted. I wanted him to come home I… I still miss him…”

“I think he just surprised you. You’re feeling a lot of things at once, and that’s okay. Every single emotion is valid,” he says softly, rubbing your back with a gentle hand.

“I’m just so mad that he walked in like it was nothing. He sat down and talked with everyone like there wasn’t a giant elephant in the room to address,” you say, that anger still lingering in your voice. “But I’m not proud that I walked out on him. I didn’t let him talk, or anything. I told him we’re done,” you sniff, letting tears drip down your face. “I don’t know if I really meant that.”

“Do you think he’s just gonna give up on you? I promise you he’s not, Sunny. He was ready to chase after you the second you left.”

You think this over, a pang in your heart making you cry more. A small part of you wanted him to chase you, although you wouldn’t admit it in your anger.

“He’s really sorry, Sunny,” Jonathan sighs, squeezing you closer to him. “I’ve never seen him this beat up over anything. He’s devastated. You have a right to be devastated, too. I just want you to know that he knows he screwed up.”

“Did he tell you to tell me this?”

Jonathan pauses, takes a breath. “He asked if I would talk to you, yeah. But I had every intention of coming over here, anyway. I think you need someone to talk it out with, that isn’t him.”

“Is that all he said?”

“He said he’s a moron for what he did,” Jonathan adds, smiling when he gets a watery laugh from you.

“He is a fucking moron,” you admit, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“And he said that you’re the most important person he’s ever met. There’s no doubt in my mind that he means that. He really adores you, Sunny.”

“I feel the same about him,” you say, lip wobbling. It’s true. You’ve never met anyone else who’s impacted you quite the same as he has. He’s everything. That’s why this is all so earth-shattering.

“So what are you gonna do?” Jonathan asks, waiting a beat. “You don’t have to decide now. I’m not here to change your mind or tell you how to feel. You don’t have to talk to him anymore if you really don’t want to. But I saw how happy you were with him last year, Sunny. I want you to be that happy again.”

“I need to think things over,” you say meekly, letting out a sigh. “Can we just watch a movie?” you ask, looking up at your friend.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “We can watch a movie. Give yourself all the time you need to think.”

Present Day: Christmas Day, 1989.

The night had been a restless one. Tossing and turning beneath your heavy comforter, your mind racing with a million thoughts. A million things you want to say, a million things you should say, to him. He hurt you, and he can’t take that back, but you didn’t even hear a single thing he had to say. You didn’t hear him out, and that’s not how you’d typically behave around him. Maybe nothing involving him was “typical” anymore, but you couldn’t sleep restfully knowing you haven’t had a real conversation with him.

All you’d wanted, for 12 months, was for Eddie to be home, to apologize. You realize now that your anger has eased that you need to talk to him. Nothing will improve if you don’t speak to him. You know for a fact it would eat you alive every day if he was home in Hawkins, seeing your friends, and you had to avoid him. You have things you need to get off your chest, stuff you want to say, and as you laid awake blinking into the darkness, you’d decided you needed to go and see him.

Christmas morning arrives too bright and too early, your body curled beneath blankets as you rub your eyes and yawn. It feels like you fell asleep for maybe an hour or two, your mind still racing with thoughts that seemed to never stop. Immediately, you’re throwing the covers off and getting out of bed.

There’s still time to fix things. There’s still time to talk to him, to have a good Christmas. You deserve a good Christmas.

The shower water pours hot out of the faucet, steam filling your bathroom as you undress. You let the water coat your skin, making you feel more awake as you shampoo your hair and scrub your body. You feel like you can’t move fast enough, anxiety swirling in your stomach coupled with your eager need to see Eddie.

You get ready in record timing, hair done and outfit donned, teeth brushed and everything else in between. You bundle up for the weather, as one look out your window told you it was definitely a cold one, a hefty layer of snow coating the ground. You can feel yourself tremble as you get in your car and start it, nausea creeping back in as you worry the whole drive to Eddie’s.

Your boots crunch on the snow-covered dirt, your hand pushing your car door shut with a reluctant creak. It’s been so long since you’ve been here, at the trailer park, standing in front of this very trailer. It looks the same as you remember it, though it looks like Wayne got a new wreath for the door.

It’s early, god you know it’s so early, and you only hope you won’t be disturbing the sleep of the two men who inhabit the home. But this is important, you think to yourself. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, your hand trembles before you bring it to the door in a repetitive pattern, knocking firmly. There’s no answer for a moment, and you worry that maybe coming out here was a mistake. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you, after all. Maybe Jonathan was wrong, and you’d pissed him off, and he’s done with you.

Maybe it’s too late.

You’re about to resign, to get back in your car, when you hear footsteps on the inside of the door. It swings open in front of you, revealing Eddie’s sleepy face and his sleep-tousled hair.

“Sunny?” he asks, rubbing one eye with his hand. He reaches off to the side, yanking on a coat before coming to stand outside with you.

“Sorry, uh… Wayne’s still asleep otherwise I’d—”

“I miss you, Eddie,” you cut him off, making his eyes widen for a split second. “And I’m so fucking mad at you, but it turns out being mad at you doesn’t make me miss you any less.”

He blinks, looking down at you but not speaking, as if he’s too scared to say anything at all.

“You really fucked me up leaving last year, you know that?” you ask with an icy laugh, looking off to the side. “I missed you every single day you were gone. All I wanted this whole time was you. And now you’re here, and— and, you think you can just show up and everything will be fine. Everything’s not fine,” you ramble, voice cracking at the end of your speech.

You’d tried to ward off any tears, but they’re running warm down your cold cheeks before you can stop them. You wipe furiously at them with your fingers, trying to hide your emotions from the man in front of you. You hadn’t planned on getting this emotional, but then you suppose you can’t really fully plan for a conversation like this.

“Nothing— is fine, Eddie,” you croak. “I missed you so much,” you start to cry harder, collapsing against him as he readily accepts you into a sort of hug as you let it all pour out of you. He holds you against his chest, and how you missed being pressed close to him like this. Your chest aches with every single second of those 12 months without him that you can’t get back. “How could you do that to me?” you ask him, fist clutching the fabric of his coat, not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes you so tight, he doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t expect you to come here, especially not so soon.

“I’m so sorry, Sunny,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry. I’m the dumbest man alive for leaving you. I really am.”

“At least you know that,” you sniff, the tiniest laugh rumbling in your chest amidst your tears; reminding you of what Jonathan had told you the night before. That he’s a moron.

“I’ll let you tell me that every day for the rest of my life,” he says, brave enough to crack the smallest smile. “Just please don’t give up on me.” Gripping your shoulders, he coaxes you just far enough away so he can really look at you. “All I want is you, Sunny. Chicago… didn’t change my life. Not in the slightest. I thought I needed to get out of here but… I couldn’t have been more wrong. And I’m so sorry you had to be caught up in my dumb mistake,” he says earnestly. “It was never a problem with you. My feelings for you were always real. Are still real.”

You’re silent, taking a couple breaths before you speak. “I’m sorry Chicago didn’t work out. But the selfish part of me was hoping it wouldn’t…” you confess, looking down at your shoes.

“It’s okay. I learned my lesson, that’s for sure,” he scoffs a little, his expression downtrodden.

“This year was so hard, Eddie,” you tell him. “Nothing has been the same without you.” The pain in your voice feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart, and he so horribly wishes he could take everything back. But he can’t. All he can do is be better for you, now.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, his big chocolate eyes so apologetic. You missed his pet names, missed the way sweetheart rolls off of his tongue specially for you. “Please tell me you didn’t mean what you said… when you said that we’re done.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says that last part, not the entire time at least. His eyes dance nervously around, his voice wavering with anxiety. It makes tears spring to your eyes again, the thought of going on without him. Of spending every day for the rest of your life without him.

“I can’t do this without you, Eddie,” you say. “But you have to promise me you’re never going to pull something like that again. You’re never leaving again, unless it’s with me,” you steel yourself, not letting yourself get too emotional until he can make this promise. Until he can prove himself.

“Never. Never, I swear. I don’t want to be anywhere you aren’t,” he breathes, moving closer to you. “Please let me make it all up to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life being the best I can be for you.”

His hands cup your face, warm against your frosty cheeks. He wipes a stray tear from your face with a gentle thumb, smiling so softly when you lean into his touch. All at once it hits you, your overwhelming affection for him that you’d had to shove down all year. It gnaws at your chest, clawing its way out of you triumphantly. He’s still the same man you knew then. He’s still the only person you want first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

“Eddie…” you sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed, your hands holding his forearms.

You can feel how close his face is to yours, his nose nearly ghosting over your own and his breath warming your skin. The broken pieces of you are being glued back together one by one the longer he stands holding you.

“I’ve thought about that kiss every single day for the last year, you know that?” he says softly, your eyes opening once more to look up at him.

“Me too,” you breathe. “I’d started to think that maybe it was a mistake,” you admit sadly, watching the way his expression changes. “But it was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

Both of you go quiet, eyes saying so much without words as you look at each other. He’s so close, his face right against yours as you stand in the freezing cold morning. He starts to shift even closer, and you feel like his lips are about to close the distance to yours when the trailer door swings open.

“Is that my little lady?” Wayne’s gruff voice calls out.

You and Eddie break apart abruptly, Eddie rather reluctantly letting you go as your head swings to look at his uncle.

“Wayne!” you beam, moving instantly to accept his hug. You glance back at Eddie, heart thumping in your chest as you watch him watching you.

This is how it should be. This is how you always want it to be.

“Get in here and out of the cold. I missed you, you know that?” the older man says to you, pulling you inside.

You have a lot of catching up to do. That second kiss will have to wait.

After a mug of hot cocoa and a lot of reminiscing with Wayne and Eddie, you find yourself alone with Eddie in his room. There’s a tiny bit of awkwardness in the atmosphere, both of you getting your footing together after so much time apart. It almost feels wrong to be in his bedroom, but then you remember you spent nearly every day here not so long ago.

“I’m sorry it’s a mess,” he smiles weakly. “Unpacking hasn’t exactly been my top priority.”

“Don’t apologize,” you insist, standing in the doorway as he kicks his messy suitcase to a corner of the room. “Was it ever clean before you moved?” you tease, more and more of that weight being lifted off your shoulders with each lighthearted comment, each joke and laugh and smile given and received.

“Sometimes!” he defends, immediately relenting. “Okay, no, it’s always a mess.”

“I really need to get going, Eddie. I need to see my parents at least for a little bit today,” you tell him, glancing at the clock.

“Will I see you back at Steve’s later?” he asks.

“I was hoping I could hitch a ride with you,” you say shyly.

He beams, pearly white teeth shining at you. He could light the entire city with that smile.

“Of course you can. I’ll pick you up, say around six?”

“Six is perfect,” you smile, moving toward him to give his arm a squeeze. “I really fucking missed you.”

He exhales, taking both of your hands in his. “I missed you more than I can even say. I hope you believe me. If I could take this whole year back, start over, I would.”

You don’t reply, just nod at him with empathetic eyes. You know he means it. You do believe him.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” he says. “Be safe getting to your parents, alright?”

You nod again, smiling at him before you put your coat back on, saying goodbye to Wayne and walking out into the cold.

•

Opening gifts with your parents was a good reprieve from the emotional whirlwind of a morning that you’d had, simply sharing in their joy and having lighthearted conversation. It felt good to feel good, that was for certain.

To have a happy Christmas, a happy day, finally. There was still much to be discussed with Eddie, but you felt at ease now that you’d finally poured your heart out to him. You can’t really stay angry with him, because your heart knows he never meant to cause you so much pain.

Six o’clock rolls around surprisingly quickly, a knock sounding at your door as you give yourself a once over in your mirror. Smoothing down your velvet skirt for a final time, you turn to leave your room. As you’re about to flip off the light, though, your jewelry box catches your eye.

You walk over to your dresser where it sits on the top, opening the lid. Eddie’s necklace sits with its broken chain on top of the other miscellaneous jewelry, the initialed pendant gleaming right at you. There’s another knock on your door, and you hurriedly rummage through the clutter to find a spare chain, one that hadn’t been ripped in half.

You let the pendant fall from the old chain, slipping it onto the new one as you walk quickly to the door.

Swinging it open, Eddie’s sweet face greets you on the other side. The things you would’ve given to see him greeting you all those torturous months when he was gone. And now he’s here. He looks gorgeous; wearing what might be his only pair of black jeans that aren’t ripped, along with a deep green flannel that slightly pokes out beneath a dark gray sweater. You want to devour him, you realize. But that will have to wait — the time will come eventually.

“Oh, thank god. I was starting to think you weren’t gonna answer,” he jokes, playing off the comment with a slight laugh. You can see in his face that a small part of him really was concerned you’d bail.

“Sorry, I was looking for something,” you say, stepping aside to let him in.

“Oh? Did you find whatever it was?”

“Mhm. Would you mind putting it on me?” you ask, holding out the necklace to him.

He looks at it, his eyes softening when he recognizes the pendant.

“You still have this,” he muses, surprise evident in his tone. Like he thought you’d get rid of it. You truthfully never could have.

“It’s important to me,” you tell him, glancing up at him through your lashes. “I… broke the original chain. One night when I took it off. I-I’m not proud of it and I’m sorry. Because this gift is so important to me. It was the only piece I had of you,” you admit, pouring your truth and your heart into his open hands.

“Sunny, you don’t have to apologize. You still have it, I’m so glad you do.”

He smiles, a warm and wonderful thing, before he motions for you to turn around. He drapes the pendant over your head, letting it rest on your chest while he fidgets with the clasp at the back. You nearly want to cry as he puts it on you; you didn’t get the chance for him to do this when he’d gifted it to you. You’d put it on alone, in painful tears, wishing it would bring him back.

“Okay, I think it’s good,” Eddie murmurs, his gaze soft when you turn back around to face him.

“What do you think?” you ask, biting on your lip.

“It’s a beautiful necklace for an even more beautiful person,” he says, calm and collected, his words steady and meaningful. “I’m just sorry it took me this long to see you wearing it.”

You feel your cheeks flush, smiling as you pull your coat on and grab hold of the bottle of wine you’d bought to bring to Steve’s.

“Ready?” you ask, shy beneath the way he stares at you; like he never wants to look at anything but you.

“You know it,” he says, jingling his car keys before opening the door for you.

Your foot taps nervously on the floor of the car the whole ride to Steve’s home, butterflies twirling in your stomach at the thought of your arrival with Eddie. After your outburst yesterday, you were admittedly a little embarrassed, and now to show up with the man you’d just walked out on… well, what a roller coaster. Tension hangs thick between the two of you, the mutual acknowledgment of what maybe almost happened earlier before Wayne had interrupted blinking like a neon sign. He had definitely almost kissed you, and the thought makes your stomach swirl.

Neither of you really talk much, not knowing what to say. Sitting in silence and enjoying the company of the other feels like enough, for now. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you look at the pretty decorated houses that you pass, heart soaring with the knowledge that you have Eddie back, and with it comes the holiday cheer you’d been missing.

Before long the clunky van is pulling into Steve’s driveway, parking behind Nancy’s car. Eddie kills the engine, telling you to stay put so he can jog around to your side and get the door for you. He extends a hand, helping you down into the slippery concrete as you clutch the wine bottle tight in your other hand.

“Why thank you,” you giggle, not missing the way his cheeks grow pink.

“Anything for you, m’lady,” he salutes, reaching in behind you to grab your purse for you.

You take a deep breath as you start to walk up to the front door, arm tangled with Eddie’s so you don’t slip and in the slushy mess. You can sense his nerves, too, as he knocks on the door. You glance to the side, smiling at him and watching him return the gesture.

Steve opens the door, wearing reindeer antlers and a red Christmas sweater. He stops in his tracks when he sees both of you, a smug grin spreading on his lips.

“Well, would you look at that?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I missed seeing you two attached at the hip,” he jokes, stepping aside to let you both in.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, squeezing the other man’s shoulder. What you don’t see is the way Steve gives him a celebratory fist bump, mouthing a silent “yes!”.

Heads turn the second you and Eddie are inside, and you watch as Nancy and Robin beam at the sight. Jonathan gives you both a pointed but subtle thumbs up, and his smile says it all.

“Look at you two!” Robin exclaims, and you unravel your arm from Eddie’s to give her a hug.

“Okay, guys, we’re the spectacle of the evening, we get it,” Eddie laughs, giving her a hug after you.

“I won’t lie, I missed seeing you two arriving places together. You used to basically be conjoined,” Nancy jokes, taking the wine from you. She moves swiftly into the kitchen, getting out a few glasses to pour some. She hands you a glass, along with one for herself and Robin.

“Wait, hey, let me catch up!” Eddie says, grabbing a beer for himself from the fridge.

Steve and Jonathan gather around with their drinks, too, everyone raising their glasses and bottles high.

“Cheers, to Sunny and Eddie,” Nancy says, smiling brightly as everyone clinks their drinks together before taking a sip. Her toast makes you flustered, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

The wine goes down easy, warming your stomach with a pleasant tingle. This is how things should be. The hole in your friend group filled by the person you’d all been missing. The energy in the room is brighter, better. Eddie is needed here, not only by you.

Robin puts on one of Steve’s many Christmas records, letting the music fill the room along with your blended voices chattering happily. You’re talking with the girls, filling them in on what happened since last night. Your eyes keep wandering to wherever Eddie is, noticing him standing in the sun room with Steve. They’re talking about something you can’t hear, looking out the window into the snow covered backyard. You start to walk towards him, telling the girls you’ll be back in a bit, but stop at Jonathan first where he sits on the couch.

“Thank you. For helping me sort through my feelings,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I hardly did anything. You made this choice yourself,” he says, squeezing your hand right back. “I’m so happy for you, Sunny. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” you ask him, giving him one last grateful look before walking away.

“Gentlemen,” you say, announcing yourself as you step into the other room with the two men. You hope you aren’t interrupting anything too important, but staying away from Eddie is the last thing you want right now.

“There she is,” Steve says, pulling you into his side. You laugh, reaching a hand up to mess up his hair.

“Hey, hey— watch the antlers!” he defends, slipping out of reach.

“Do you mind if I have a minute alone with him?” you ask Steve, motioning to Eddie with your thumb.

“No, no. Of course not. Behave yourselves,” he winks, slipping out as he takes a sip of his beer.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, moving in on you, wrapping an arm tentatively around your waist. His expression eases up when you relax into his touch, smiling blissfully up at him.

“I just thought we should pick up where we left off earlier…” you say, poking his chest softly with a finger and letting it trail down.

“Oh? And where exactly did we leave off?” he smirks, pressing his body closer to yours.

“I think… that you were about to kiss me again,” you murmur, hooded eyes looking up into his.

“Interesting theory,” Eddie jokes, placing a hand to his chin as if pondering this. You slap him lightly on the arm, giggling like a schoolgirl at him. “You might be right about that, sweetness,” he admits, dropping his face down closer to yours.

Your noses brush, the smell of his cologne and shampoo overwhelming your senses. He still uses the same stuff he did a year ago, turns out.

Your eyes focus in on his soft lips, the way his tongue darts out to wet them slightly. And then you let your eyelids flutter closed, feeling his other arm wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips press to yours, so soft and hesitant at first, before gaining more confidence. You hold the back of his neck with one hand, fingers tangling in his curls, taking in his warmth and softness. Your mouths move together perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle finally brought together. The same fireworks you felt that first time go off again, yet this time they somehow feel even brighter. You’d waited so long for this, wondered if you would ever get this, and now it’s happening.

His tongue prods gently into your mouth, ever so slightly dancing around yours. His lips are so plush and gentle, and he smiles into the kiss with a soft little laugh. Pulling away, he rests his forehead to yours.

“You can tell me I’m crazy for this if you want to, okay? If it’s too soon, I get it. But I have to know if you’ll be mine,” he says, eyes darting back and forth between each of your own.

“Eddie,” you breathe, smiling wider than you have all night. “I’m all yours. I’ll be yours forever,” you promise, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him into one more passionate kiss.

“Okay, lovebirds!” Robin calls from the living room. You both turn your heads to see everyone watching you, and your cheeks flush.

“Didn’t know we had an audience,” Eddie says softly, only for you to hear, making you laugh again.

“Are you guys coming out to make a snowman with us, or what?” Steve asks, hands on his hips as he waits.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right there!” Eddie calls back. “We’re just making up for lost time,” he adds, winking at you before planting a wet, sloppy kiss to your cheek.

You feel whole in this moment, with Eddie’s arm around your waist. What you thought would be a horrible Christmas turned out to be the brightest one, and having Eddie home is the best gift you could’ve asked for; even if it was a rocky start. He’s yours, and you’re his. This is the way it should always be, you’re undoubtedly certain of that now.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says. “Forever starts right now.”

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #i’ll be home for christmas #support banner by cafekitsune

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precuregremlin · 1 year

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Also as an aside, due to Otona Precure I have decided Mirror Magic will one day transform as adults, if only because the sight of a politician turning into a magical man on the diet floor to protect the people he was just arguing with is too fucking funny to pass up.

#Daisuke goes on to be a progressive politician who annoys ever conservative alive #Sara takes over her family's kendo school #and Rei (not mentioned but the white precure) Is a famous singer #and together they are otona mirror magic precure #gremlin writes his own series #mirror magic precure

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gffa · 6 months

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I adore your batman stuff very much. I recently read the Wayne Family Adventures, and now I really want to read some more. Do you have recommendations on comic lines to follow?

Hi! I'm glad you're having fun with getting into comics and enjoying the posts around here, it's always nice to have new blood (or returning blood, in my case)! <3 I would give a gentle caution in that Wayne Family Adventures is sort of in a class of its own in a lot of ways, the characterization is much softer and fluffier, while the mainline comics are darker and messier, the characters are definitely not always as nice as they are as in WFA. That's no shade on either of them, just that I want to give a quick warning that if you're stepping from one to the other, the culture shock can sometimes be more than you're expecting. (And also keep in mind that comics are a shifting landscape, there's no one "true" version of many of the landmark moments of characters' lives, you'll see events often retold, you'll see comics that later get retconned, you'll see comics that are in different continuities/set before or after a universe-wide reboot, etc. Don't worry about it, just recognize that you're reading a story to enjoy that story, not as Hard Continuity!) That said, some of the lighter comics that I think would be fun if you're looking to come over from WFA are:

Li'l Gotham is a cute parody series that's super adorable, has some lovely art, and is nice little self-contained stories that are humorous. It's not in mainline continuity and it's even softer than WFA, but it's deeply charming and it's a fun, quick read.

Super Sons (2017) by Peter Tomasi is in mainline continuity and it's focused on Damian Wayne and Jonathan Kent becoming friends, bickering all the while, and getting into hijinks. It tends to lean more humorous and cute, so it's a nice stepping stone up to regular comics.

Robin and Batman (2022) by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen is a good litmus test for whether you might like regular comics--it's a short 3-issue mini-series focused on Dick's early days as Robin and the complicated, thorny relationship he has with Bruce about it. It's one of my favorite, it balances what a terrible gremlin he was with what a little angel he was and the emotional beats are painful in the best way.

Robin: Year One (2000) and Batgirl: Year One (2003) by Scott Beatty/Chuck Dixon and Marcos Martín/Javier Pulido are good places to start for both characters, and hold up okay considering their age. The art is a bit stylized in a way I really like, it lends it a charming old-fashioned vibe while still being pretty to look at, and there's some solid character moments in both.

Nightwing (2016) by various (starts with Tim Seeley, but it's been several authors by now) is one of my go-to recs, I think it's a great jumping on point, has a lot of really nice art, and often tells fun stories, as Dick has some of the best connections to various other characters in the universe.

Nightwing (2016) by Tom Taylor starts with issue #78 and is a great jumping-on point and Taylor's writing is just very light-hearted, action-packed, quippy, and fun. Starting here saves you from having to slog through some of the worse arcs of Dick's series, you get Bruno Redondo's fantastic art, and you can feel the affection for the character, the author and artist love this character and want to make him very cool, as well as they love his relationships with other characters, so you get good Bruce guest appearances, Babs appearances, Damian appearances, Wally appearances, Jon appearances, etc.

Robins: Being Robin by Tim Seeley and Baldemar Rivas was a fun self-contained mini-series that had all the Robins working together and I don't think it should be taken super seriously as a case story, but it had some quality banter, some hilarious moments, and a great look at these chaotic gremlins all shoved into a mini-van together to go solve a case.

Batgirls (2022) by Conrad Michael W./Becky Cloonan and Jorge Corona is focused on Babs, Cass, and Steph as a trio and being adorable together, with some humorous moments, cool art, and fun Batfam moments. It's nice that they get the spotlight and the chance to shine (it's their book, so they get the majority of the cool moments) and it's not super-long and you can jump right in.

Batman: The Knight by Chip Zdarsky and Carmine Di Giandomenico is a "Bruce travels the world to learn the skills he needs to become Batman" and I'm really in love with the way Zdarsky writes a Bruce who is deeply complicated, messy, coming from a place of loving deeply, but also this man has twenty seven different flavors of fucked up trauma going on in that hell brain of his. Zdarsky's current run on the main Batman title has been my jam, but that's a bit of a darker leap than this one, and I think this one is a great way to get to know Bruce Wayne as a character.

Batman: Urban Legends volume 5 has a story called "The Murder Club" that is basically "Thomas and Martha Wayne are time traveled into the future and see what's become of their son, they're not thrilled about it, but come around when they see the people that love him so deeply--primarily Dick, Damian, and Alfred." and was an absolute BANGER for me for feelings, gorgeous art, and some great character moments.

Batman/Superman: World's Finest (2022) by Mark Waid and Dan Mora is an absolute knock-out, it's Bruce and Clark in their early days of their friendship, where Waid is one of the best writers in the industry for how fun his stories are but also how well he knows the characters, Mora's art is often THE portrayal I think of when I think of the characters, and there's a ton of bonus guest appearances from various characters across DC's universe. Also, I am biased, Dick tags along a lot, as he's still Robin at this point in time, and it's a great dynamic between the three of them.

Batman: One Bad Day: Mr. Freeze by Gerry Duggan and Matteo Scalera was easily the standout of the "One Bad Day" stories for me, it's set in the early days of Bruce & Dick as Batman & Robin and it has ADORABLE sunshine gremlin baby Dick Grayson, a genuinely touching story about Mr. Freeze and his wife, and some beautiful art.

Year One: Batman/Scarecrow (2005) by Bruce Jones and Sean Murphy is a fun look at the early days of Scarecrow, but also has absolutely banger baby Dick Grayson content, there's a scene where Bruce literally just grabs him by the scruff of the neck to haul him out of the way of a crowd about to stampede and it's the funniest thing because that 12 year old could destroy your face with his fists but also Bruce can literally pick him up one-handed. There's some great banter in there and it's just a super fun dynamic.

As you make your way through this list, keep the author/artist and year listings in mind, as often times there are multiple series under the same title and some are more relevant to what you're looking for right now than others. Like, there have been three different volumes of "World's Finest", but I want to direct you specifically to the 2022 version because I think that'll work better for you. Similarly, Nightwing 1996 is one of my faves, but I think the 2016 version will work better at drawing you in right now. This is definitely biased in favor of my faves, but I honestly think they work for good jumping on points for someone new to comics and who's coming from WFA and might not want to get into the messier stuff of the mainline comics right away. Hopefully, you'll enjoy these and anyone else who wants to transition from WFA to reading mainline continuity comics, feel free to join us! Yeah, comics fandom can be a bit of a pill sometimes, but genuinely there's a lot of really fun moments to love and the characters are so much more fun when you're reading their stories with all the history and depth behind them!

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #comics recs

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yawntu · 2 years

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The Times We Win

A/N: There’s not enough out there for the literal sexiest man in the whole franchise. Do I have to do everything myself? DO I? Second person pov isn’t my cup of tea but he deserves sm more hype. You’re work with Mo’at as a shamans apprentice or something and he admires you a lot but you act all tough because of it. Also i’m delusional and in my silly little mind he’s alive him and Jake are buddies even if he doesn’t like admitting it <333333333333 I know this man aggressively spoils the people in his life u can’t tell me you would not be a queen in his presence. Vague mention of bestie Jake Sully who has made you a definition of a gremlin.

pairing(s): Tsu’Tey te Rongloa Atey’itan x Fem!Reader

word count: 6k

warnings: NSFW MDNI, I am going to an unimaginable hell. Overstim, Sub/dom aspects, Unprotected (be safe y’all), Established Relationship, Oral (fem!receiving), Fingering, P in V, Praise / degradation, Usually soft ish dom Tsu’tey turned a little mean has my heat, He just wants you to not act like a hooligan and behave you’re better then that, He’s going to torture you and tease you a little bit tho, Tsu’Tey is obsessed with you, Slight non/con if you squint, Saw someone do queue stuff and had to commit to it, Squirting, Breeding, Vague waterworks if you squint, Slight dacryphilla, Impact play, He’s a little mean in this one but, Slightest hint of Daddy kink at the end but he can’t help wanting you full of his kids <3, if you notice anything else pls lmk, we were both cringing writing this /jk

na’vi glossary: kelku- home, tswin/kuru- queue, yawntutsyìp: darling, Nga yawne lu oer - I love you, paskalin: honey, yawntu: beloved, sempu : daddy

A lot of things no longer made sense to Tsu’tey. He had spent a majority of his teenage years with the sole focus of being Ole’eytkan, and defeating the twatute. All he was was a warrior, always ready to fight. After a series of events outside of his control he lost his first love, reigned as Ol’eytkan briefly and then willingly gave the honor to the uniltìrantokx. Granted he had accepted the man as a brother and even sided with him when his parents had done the unthinkable- that did not mean that the way his life turned out did not often confuse him.

So all he could do was preoccupy himself with you. Your soft thighs are thrown over his own, a stark contrast between soft and ridged. He could not help but tense his outstretched legs under the weight of your straddle. For his intimidating stature, Tsu’tey’s fingertips are lithe against the cerulean skin of your back. Your arms are thrown haphazardly over his broad shoulders that have started purpling due to being out under the sun daily. You twirl the loose hair at the end of his braids, occasionally caressing the stubble on the side of his head.

You had been perched on his legs like this for what could have only been an hour. Tongues sloppily slotting against each other, teeth clicking ever so slightly on occasion. Kissing him has left you dizzy every single time despite how long you have found a home in each other. Seeing the normally coy and aloof man so passionately present sent jitters up your spine right to the base of your pleasantly throbbing kuru.

He had finally given you a scintilla of what you desired when his thumbs gently grazed the swell of your breasts. He doesn’t miss the way your body jolts up in his lap, or the way your ears draw forward, tensing your forehead that rests against his own. Finally drawn out of your distracted kiss hazed day dream, and once again fully focused on him. Twitchy like a yerik before he’d impale it with an arrow.

You had to nearly whine to get him to toy with your breasts- drop your body weight down into him and give him little choice but to entertain you. Letting your weight push the fat of your breast into his empty hands. One large hand massages your breast while the other reaches behind you to untie the intricate halter of your jewel beaded top.

You try desperately to pull back- to watch his fingers finally twiddle with the soft azure of your right nipple, yet he’d catch you in another kiss not long after you pulled away. Not allowing you to watch the powerful and rugged hands- that had no doubt done the most of the work in bringing home the talioang that had just fed the village- smoothly rub against your nipple. His right hand finds your stomach, palming the warmth. It made his tail flick, knowing he provided for you. He didn’t so much care for filling the stomachs of the rest of the village- no, he was far more interested in what else he could fill yours with.

How can he think of anything else when you are practically trembling on his lap. Sighing into his mouth as his calloused hands slid past your svelte waist to grip a handful of the hips he loved so dearly, hands embarrassingly growing clammy at the feeling of the skin bunching between his fingers.

“‘Su’tey…”

How can he think straight when you slur over his name? When your tail is flicking so pretty between his legs, the tuft of whipsy hair tickling his calf. It is too hot out for you to add this much heat to the atmosphere of the home you built together.

“Are you alright, sevin?”

You had not moved back from where your lips were ghosting each other, so he was privileged with feeling the apples of your full cheeks rising at the compliment.

“Oh? I’m pretty now? What happened to being a skxawng?”

Ahhh. That’s right. He remembered now. How displeased he was with you. You were a skxawng. An absolute fucking moron. He had to restrain himself when his large palm cradles the back of your head, wrapping around your kuru, pulling you back softly so your eyes are trained up at the ceiling of your tent, tsmisnrr illuminating your soft features. He feels the sharp angle of your nails grace down the braid of his own kuru, finally releasing some of the deep rooted tension at the base of his skull. The seconds of bliss do not halt the attitude laced quip from falling from his lips,

“Why do you always have to ruin everything. I forgot you were a vonvä,”

His hiss barely falls past his subulated teeth. And now that your head is trained back he can finally run his nose down the nape of your neck. You can’t even say that he’s kissing it. His mouth is no longer dry and leaves a messy trail of his saliva all over your pulse. Maybe he was right. You were always a dick head. No discipline. Just a mischievous little fuck that he prayed would stay out of trouble while he was out providing for you. Yet you never did. Could he blame you? Your world was peaceful now, almost too peaceful. After growing up war torn he was sure you felt every bit of anxious energy he still felt himself. Unlike you however he had an outlet in hunting. Though you serviced the village well, and were adored by many, your work did not give you an outlet to release all of that turbulent energy. So you found yourself meddling. Your quips were usually funny, and you amused him, but he was aware that you knew how to get under peoples skin. Even worse- you thought it was funny.

He was grateful for Jake, really they were the best of friends now. Though Tsu’tey would never admit it he had finally found comfort in feeling like a younger brother, he genuinely enjoyed the time they spent together. However, Jake encouraged your bad behavior. Teaching you English curses, or how to flip the middle finger at argumentative Na’vi while you were meant to be helping them. He supposes if you were just a forager or cook then perhaps he could excuse the attitude you walked around with. You worked under Mo’at though, not just as a healer, but to be a shaman. A holy woman. Despite a respectable title you had fucking punched a man. Salt to the earth, you had flipped him off after. You were small for your kind, an incapable (unwilling; you’re compassionate you’d tell him) of killing a bug kind of girl training to be a peaceful shaman, and yet you were hitting men. To prove a point; to win whatever overblown argument you had decided you’d be the winner of. Hitting men when he wasn’t there to save you from the recoil.

He owes Ki’ani for defusing the situation in his absence (which was an extra annoyance to him as one of his students had filled the role he was meant for). All for you to sit on his lap, giggling that he called you an asshole. Utterly bemused that he of all people would be grumpy over a brawl.

“Ah, I remember why I don’t hang out with you hunters. Vulgar hooligans. And i’m meant to be better than that,”

There was an air of superiority in your voice that he thought didn’t suit what he was about to make of you. The snooty little angle of your head to the side, smirked lip caught on your sharp teeth. You only acted so tough around the village because you knew he would get you out of any predicament you had managed to get into during the hours he was away. Relinquishing his Olo'eyktan duties after surviving the war meant the only dedication left in his heart was you. It has spoiled you really, and it was all his fault.

“You don’t hang out with hunters ‘cause the only thing you know how to do right is irritate me,”

He loosens the grip on your kuru, sliding his hands down your shoulders and ribs once more so he could squish your full breasts together, allowing him to finally run the moistened muscle of his tongue across the swell of your right breast. He had not realized how wet his mouth had grown until his teeth began to graze the flesh.

He knows you are mad above him. Irritated that he had sat stoically though dinner in a silent rage just to have you follow him home to be teased for what you believed was far too long. Undoubtedly, even more irritated now that he had just called you annoying. Your hips jut forward when he runs his teeth over your purpling nipple though you are unable to slide up his extended legs due to the grip he held on your breasts. He smiles against them- amused that you had become so worked up that your chest was beginning to flush. If he wasn’t so irate he’d have spent more time kissing the blush that crept across your chest.

“You seem very friendly for someone who’s vexed by my existence,”

You still have that stupid tone of ascendancy to your voice, and it works at pulling him out of his lustful haze. Your eyes trailed down to your saliva covered breasts that he has occupied himself with sucking soft bruises on. He knows what you’re doing. Being annoying on purpose so he gives in and pays attention to you.

He hasn’t meant to neglect you. Eywa knows he would never want anything less. He had responsibilities though. The warmest season would end sooner rather than later, and Tsu’tey was far too busy helping prepare- which meant you would have been in the village without him to keep that big brain of yours occupied. He doesn’t acknowledge your quip, and you quickly realize it’s to punish you. He does not like the tone of your voice, and he wouldn’t entertain the impish attempt to continue to rile him up, instead he’d continue to lick and kiss at your assaulted chest.

But you always poked the palulukan, even before he had claimed you. So he shouldn’t have been surprised when your hips wriggled forward again in an attempt to flush against his, arching your back to slide to your goal. You’re embarrassed by the feeling of the moistened fabric finally making contact with him, but you are shameless at the feeling of slotting up against him. You try to look down, to see where you meet but his torso and head, that had slid up to the crook of your neck as you moved forward kept you from gazing upon where he stood at attention for you. You could feel the speared tip that has grown past the confines of his tweng, leaking violently against his stomach now that your own body pushed against it.

His resolve breaks only momentarily as his face falls to hide in your neck as his eyebrows furrow. He had to leave sloppy open mouthed kisses on your mandible to distract himself from purring at the contact of your heat. It felt like ages ago he made you sit on his lap. Plants are now glowing outside, and your body is beginning to clam up and tremble. You are embarrassed when your nails dig into his shoulders as leverage to try and grind yourself forward. Anything to end this impasse with your imposing mate, the weight of his presence right next to your deprived cunt sending you into a haze of mania-inducing desire.

He knows he’s cruel when his hand wraps around the base of your tail, pulling you backwards off of him, the round of your ass once again finding their perch above his knees. He almost feels bad when your eyes are wide and watery, staring at him in disbelief.

“Baby please, this is cruel,”

He snorts at the term of endearment. He hadn’t been called a baby since he was one. No one would dare call him such a name- yet here you were. He could tell you were indignant, but you still found it in your heart to speak softly to him. He can only smile up at you, fangs poking into the pout of his bottom lip; it’s a patronizing hint of a smirk that makes a whining hiss fall from your kiss swollen lips. You feel the pad of his thumb caress the puckered ring under your tail, sliding under the thong of your tweng as a response.

“Why should I touch that cute cunt of yours, huh?”

He whispers against your lips, kissing you quickly and softly. Your ears pull back against your head, and your tail wraps across his calf, the end thudding against him rhythmically. Your stomach flutters at his words, partially because he had been too quiet up until this point.

“Tsu’tey- you’re being mean to me,”

You whine like a petulant child, nose crinkling and fangs baring ever so slightly. Like a cornered animal caught in a carefully laid trap he can see you weigh your options- trying to figure out what you can do to break him. To win.

“You are mean to me,” his answer isn’t a quip like yours was, there’s an aftershock of a scold in his voice. You can’t help but break your gaze.

In response to your sudden shyness he releases your tail and begins to roll the spheres of your ass in slow circles while slowly squishing them together then pulling them back apart. His nimble fingers would slide under the waist of your tweng to pull it up, snagging it against the thin sensitive skin under your tail, and wedging the delicate woven linen between the lips of your pussy. He relishes in the sloppy sound of your lips plopping together against his intrusions and you’re whimpering breaths.

“All day I go out and take care of all the things you need, and all you do to repay me is get yourself into trouble.”

You are embarrassed that he is scolding you while you’re dripping onto his lap, and you thank Eywa most of the village is still preoccupied with eating and festivities as to not hear the reprimand in your mates horsed yet honeyed voice from the inside of your home. You could have gotten a little rowdy, but you do nothing in comparison to the trouble he and his friends could occasionally get into. You can’t bring yourself to argue your case though. All you can do is look up at his sulfuric eyes, your own gaze knitted together in embarrassment. You finally were at a loss for words, and found it hard to look into his sharp eyes- slitted down at you, almost disappointed. But you know this is what he wants. You try fixing your gaze at the crinkle of his nose but you can’t help but fall on his plump lips. You realize you have to speak before he can tease you for your piteous attempts.

“I said I was sorry before dinner,”

It’s pathetic when you plead for him, and he’s so glad no one can hear it from the safety of your own kelku. No one else deserves to hear this side of you. Only he gets to hear your pleas reverberate off the walls just to bounce back to his ears.

“That was nice of you,” you finally breathe a sigh of relief thinking he’ll give in, lay you on your back and drill into you at speeds only the best warrior in the clan could achieve, “I do not forgive you,”

Your stomach drops at his words, yet there’s a quip in his voice that puts your aching heart at ease- at least he’s not actually upset with you. Not really. Just half upset. Just upset enough to make your night long. He can tell you were worried he was truly mad at you for a second, afraid you had fallen from grace in his eyes. So he quickly lays a chase kiss to the crown of your head, running his thumbs under your waterline. He finally looks down to see the reflection of the slick you have left across his muscular thighs, and admires the dark front of his tweng. He didn’t care about anything that went on outside of your chambers. The only thing that was real to Tsu’tey is how wet his pussy gets for him.

The sob that falls from your lips and the pleading “baby please” that falls from your lips as his hand dances to your kuru again makes him chuckle. You were the baby, useless and needy and loud. So loud. Especially loud when his hand once again wrapped around it, guiding you down so your pudgy round cheek fell flush against the woven matt of your bed. You laid across his lap now, stomach flat against his legs while he held your face to the floor. It strains your eyeballs to glance sideways to look up at him, the throbbing of your eye sockets the first round of pain you’d feel tonight.

“Tsu’tey please, I said I was sorry. I mean it,” your tail flicks as your bare nipples rub against the fibers of the mat.

You were flushed over the feeling of the position you were in. Yet you could only be thankful for the breeze that entered your home. The dry breeze is no doubt an indication of a coming storm but you didn’t care. Now that you were on the floor however, you could finally begin to cool off. You liked to think you were smarter than Tsu’tey (and he usually let you believe this wildly inaccurate statement) but you would accept he was smarter in this moment as he had the foresight to leave a small sliver of the tented flap open. Thankfully the breeze it let in had kept the floor cold despite the heavy haze of summer heat and arousal clinging to the air of your home.

Your salvation is short-lived when his fingers dance across the braid of your kuru. He’s pushed the long terraces of your half loose hair above your head to expose your upper back and neck, and you’re sure you looked like a wildly unkempt beast out of the forest he spent his days in. He runs his hand down the braid to the fluffy end which makes you huff against the floor, balling your fist over your face. He tuts when your tail wraps around the hand that’s holding the now exposed nerves above you, keeping him from moving his hand (and in conjunction the exposed tswin tendrils) freely.

“C’mon, do not start that,”

He still has to be patient with you. You’re not ready for him to use you the way he wants yet. And he can see your wet clumpy eyelashes and it can’t help the pinch at his heart. He watches the tip of your tail tremble, but you don’t move quick enough for his liking. He hates to force your hand but you were so bullheaded that sometimes you just needed a nudge in the right direction. So he hunches forward over you, face meeting his hand to lay a soft kiss at the exposed nerves.

You all but howl at this, and he watches your legs clench and tremble over his lap. His tail is wagging rhythmically behind him and had he not been torturing you already you’d have called him out for his lack of bodily control (and his tails assault against your already perfectly fluffed nice pillows).

He had found success in his silent intentions however. You weren’t tense now at least. Finally enjoying the feeling of the tendrils grazing over his tongue, and you even sat well behaved in his lap while he untied the knot of your twang, letting the cold breeze finally touch your bare cunt. It only increased the hot ache between your legs, and added to the embarrassing drip from between your legs- but you couldn’t be bothered to focus too long on it because at least he was finally touching you in some way.

“Nga yawne lu oer,” you cry to him as you feel a palm grip the pliant skin of your ass spreading you apart.

Perhaps he’d think you were endearing and let you off of the hook like he often did. Yet with your tail wrapped around the hand holding your kuru up to his mouth there was nothing stopping him from staring down at your swollen pussy, and it only spurs him on more. He knows he’s being terribly mean to you but he also knows that you enjoy it. Despite your drawn back ears and furrowed brows your cheeks are still pulled up into a grin.

He huffs at the sight and you can feel it shoot across your skull at the cool contact with your wildling flowing tendrils. It was a welcome distraction once his left hand rises and falls against your ass. You finally release your tails grip on his other hand, letting it fall limp against his torso.

“I’m sorry. Please-“ you don’t even get to finish before there’s another sharp slap to your other cheek. It’s hard to feel any of the pain when he’s tongue fucking your nervous system however, and he knows this.

“I know what you want, yawntutsyìp. You’ll get it when I am finished,”

You try to focus on the wall of your home while his palm spanks down against you. Try to focus on the feeling of his dripping cock against your tummy in embarrassment while he mumbles something about how if you liked hitting people you could take it back. You couldn’t help but strain your eyes to glimpse at him. His stupid little smile while the tendrils of your tswin dance across the area surrounding his lips, desperately looking for his to connect to. You want to bite the stupid smirk off of his face for torturing you like this but the sight of his slightly cocked head and his hooded eyes trained directly on you invoke mercy in your tortured little heart. After a final stinging slap to your wet folds he becomes more interested in soothingly gripping your ass. You huff slightly each time he would trail his fingertips across your folds haphazardly, knowing that anything louder would have resulted in another smack.

“Nga yawne lu oer,” he finally whispers back.

It’s silent enough that you can hear the strain in his voice. You never understood how he held such great equanimity in these situations- especially when you could hear the desperation in his voice- see it in his eyes. Though you’re wet, frustrated and becoming increasingly aware of the sting on the skin of your ass you could fall asleep with him right now. Comforted by the fact that someone had not only known you, but loved you so intensely. And with the way he was so softly caressing your folds you couldn’t help but feel soothed in his lap. At least that’s what you thought until he taps his fingers against your cunt again, the dull pop echoing in the silent room.

“Tey,” you bark, eyes shooting open, jolting slightly, “you’re going to kill me,”

“Never,” he bends rather uncomfortably to kiss your spine, “C’mon paskalin, spin ‘round for me,”

His hand did not leave your kuru, not since he had grabbed its end. You surprisingly have a fight left in you; enough at least to make a coquettish show of sitting up on your knees for him, and sitting yourself between his legs. You are finally faced with the state of your mate, and your tweng that he was now tossing away from your nest of linen and pillows neither of you had made when you left this morning.

You can’t help but cringe at the state he has put you in- he’s still clothed and you’re naked, and you’ve left a mess on him despite barely being touched. How could you be so absolutely absorbed in him? You should have chosen someone less attractive. Or someone who didn’t kiss you as sweetly as he did, so sweetly that you can sit back on the heels of your feet and the warmth of your stinging bottom didn’t bother you. Instead your thumbs run over his handsome strong cheeks, grinning at him.

“Are you alright?”

You don’t get to answer because he spins you around forcing you to crane your body to continue looking at him. He sounds as sweet as he kisses you. He’s so sincere in his asking that the “Find out,” that falls from your lips sounds mean in comparison. It’s not your fault you’re snippy, to think he’s left you unconnected to him since the early hours of the morning is criminal.

Tsu’tey is never forceful with you, he doesn’t need to use force. Eywa knows with his 9’2 form and dangerous muscles he could push you forward into an arch. Yet, Tsu’tey had a natural air of authority that left you winded. It didn’t matter how stubborn you felt, when he looked down at you and began guiding you gently with his hand that was it- with a fluttery stomach you would do it.

He would love you even if you were the hissing spoiled monster you would pretend to be. But he can’t help the fact that he loves you the most when you behave for him. The pretty show you made of laying down for him and grant him the bliss of being face to face with your sloppy, pretty pussy was surely the best behaved you had been all day so he ought to tell you-

“That’s my good girl,” he finally connects your tswin to his with no warning. Finally the cool rush shoots up your skull, casting over your face in a tantalizing buzz. For a split second the air in your nose wasn’t yours, and the throbbing across your skin did not belong to you.

He pulls your arch back by your tail, laying a chase kiss on your folds, the cruel overstimulation of an almost simultaneous assault on the most sensitive parts of your exhausted body. At least he’s merciful to not pick on you for the groan that escapes your lips. It’s almost unbecoming of you, guttural and feral. It’s quickly replaced with a squeal when he begins to lick up your folds. You can only press your cheek to his calf, and clutch your fingers around his leg while he assaults your cunt with his tongue.

“Fuck,”

He learned the word from Jake, and said it entirely too much now. Practically mumbling curses as he shoves his face impossibly deep into you. If you didn’t feel moist and sticky before it’s only accumulating at an alarming pace now. Tsu’tey is sloppy with it, unlike everything he does Tsu’tey can’t keep that composer once he’s actually face to face with his pussy. He enjoys fucking his spit into you with the pointed end of his tongue until it twitches and you start to drip back out into his mouth. He can’t stop himself from angling your hips with one of his large hands, while the other hikes you up higher by the tail which gives him the luxury of wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, wanting to swallow as much of the yovu sweetness of your cunt as you’d allow him to.

You can’t say you feel bad for the mess you leave anymore, not when you can’t even bring yourself to moan about how good you feel. And your dazed heavy breathing wasn’t enough sound for Tsu’tey. You had made his day long, he was going to make your night longer. Unbearably long like the pointer and middle finger that slides into your silk folds with no resistance. He figured he could have used all three and you wouldn’t have complained too much, and now that he himself can feel the dull thud of his fingertips against the spongy wall of your cunt he wouldn’t stop. He moves so quickly, embarrassingly so as he can feel what you’re feeling, he knows how to ruin you and you can no longer hide your lack of resolve.

“‘Tey I wanna cum,”

Your voice is cracking as you huff out, biting into his calf whilst he speeds his intrusion up. What an embarrassing position. If anyone walked into the door of your home the first sight they’d be greeted with would be Tsu’tey sitting straight up against the walls that met the corner of your comfort ridden bed, legs lazily outspread caging you on your stomach, back arched right in front of his face while he watched your sloppy cunt take his fingers, often leaning down to lick, suck, and kiss wherever he can.

“Ya?” He finally removes his mouth from you, still pistoling his two fingers at speeds you thought were sacrilegious, “You wanna cum on my face?”

It’s embarrassing when you squeal, even more embarrassing when his third finger finally slides in. Between yanking you back by your tail onto his assaulting fingers, and the heavy panting of his breath fanning across your swollen lips you can’t help but orgasm. Hips jutting forward and ruining your rhythm. An act which should have annoyed him further, however, when his pretty lady is nice enough to squirt all over his face he can’t help the love sick moan that rips through his chest,

“Ya that’s my baby, all you’re good for,”

It leaves his mouth as his fingers start to slow down, you weren’t even holding yourself up anymore, chest pressed firmly into the floor while he held your hips in the air. Too busy breathing as your heart skips in your chest to hold your own body weight. There is still embarrassingly loud and slopping wet noises coming from you as his fingers had never stopped slowly finger fucking you.

By the lack of any discernible sound around your expertly woven home you knew others had heard you at some point and decided to avoid the area around your home all together. You couldn’t give your mate anything in all of Pandora that could get him to care.

You reach your soft hand between your legs to grab at his wrist, digging your nails into him and he can’t help the twitch of his cock at the sting. He sharply scissors the two fingers that now preoccupied themselves in slowly keeping you stretched open as he preoccupied himself with the sight of you.

“Stop- stop looking- you’re embarrassing,”

“Ya you should be embarrassed, you should see the mess you have made,”

You can hear the smile in his voice and you can’t stop the mewl that falls from your lips at the way he teases you. You don’t need to see the mess to know it’s there, the back of your legs are uncomfortably wet, and your leaking cunt is throbbing. You know he watched everything you had to show him greedily. That everytime you connect to him for the next week you’ll get the view of you squirting for him pushed to the front of your mind as if it was your own memory.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, only for him to lay a chaste kiss to you one more time, you can feel the smile on his face.

He knows neither of you mean this, it’s almost silly that you both put on this charade. He still thinks it’s cute you are at least still polite enough to apologize. It doesn’t save you from the quick grab of your leg and hip. It’s surprising how gently you land on your back, considering the speed he flips you over at. You don’t yelp because it hurts, but because it startles you. One second you were looking at the wall, the next you’re on your back, gazing up to meet the exhilarated eyes of Tsu’tey. And now that you can see him without straining your eye sockets you want nothing more than to cum again.

You’re sprawled out on your back, and he is above you perched up on his knees now- looming over you as if he had just shot an arrow into you- as if he was your last shadow. You can’t help but clench around nothing, missing the stretch of his fingers so terribly at this moment. Fingers that are now untying the far thicker fabric of his tweng. Not that it’s hiding much of anything at this point. He’d grown past it, tip flushed indigo and leaking violently. It looks like he had probably came once already without you noticing, had he really made you that oblivious?

He falls forward on his hands once he’s done, and your eyes snap up to meet his. He lacks his usual authoritative aura in this moment, his pupils dopey and wide as his form engulfs you. If feral was an unbecoming look on you, Tsu’teys wide lovesick eyes was unbecoming for him. He’d lie and blame it on your neurolink- he’s only a love drunk fool this way- but he more often than not felt this way. You in some mystical way had bewitched him in his entirety. He doesn’t kiss you, opting to rub his face into the crook of your neck, to feel you.

“You’re not sorry, this is what you wanted,”

His smile is huge against you. You can feel his cut cheekbones rising as you try to peek between your forms. You don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing him above you. You can’t help but tense at the sight of him. He hates himself when your jolt of genuine panic shoots down his own spine and his cock twitches. After all of this time he still intimidated you. How could he not? At nine foot two, it was fair to assume Tsu’tey’s cock was nothing if not admirable. He had been a talking point amongst women on many occasions, you and your friends had surely spoken about the older boy before you had mated. You knew however that any girlish gossip had been an understatement. His ears twitch forward as his props himself back up slightly,

“No answer for me, huh? Jus’ going to stare dumb at my cock?”

He spoke too regally for the nasty words that fell out of his mouth. He’s quick to kiss the pouty lips you give him as your eyes slit and your brow furrows, you’re small “Shut up,” only fuel to edge him on. It’s cute; you’re already spent by him. You of all people don’t have a quip of an answer for him. You barely even complain when his right palm meets behind your knee, sliding your leg over his shoulder as he posture’s up on his knees slightly. You start to sit up on your elbows when you feel the dull- plap, plap, plap- of him smacking the tip of himself against your clit. You watch his body jolt along with you as he could feel how his intrusion made you feel and though the pleasurable stinging of the intrusion subdued you, it seemed to only spur Tsu’tey on more.

Your body moves without you really thinking, trying to slide yourself backwards, further away from the man and the puddle you’ve been laying in. A desperate attempt to keep his hips away from yours.

“Nuh- uh,” he’s quick to sush you, grabbing your fleshy hips and dragging your weeping cunt back towards him, “Why are you running away from your cock, huh?”

He’s rubbing himself between your folds, catching on your still swollen clit and relishing in the feeling of your muscles spasming. The liquid that escapes doesn’t bother you anymore, but you watch it begin to coat his lower stomach. Skin sticking uncomfortably.

“It doesn’t fit,” you’re dramatic, and he’s sure to remind you.

“It fits every time,” He finally snags the hole, and feels the coil of your stomach tighten in his own. So pleased with your reaction he can’t stop his moan. Finally what he’s wanted all fucking day.

“I’ll make it fit, shh, there you go yawntu,”

He is large enough that he can sit on his knees, one hand next to your head, supporting his weight while he hunches over you. He could have been mean and made you suffer through a tight and slow stretch, or he could mess with you one final time. Could he really waste such a slick state? No. Not when his pretty pussy was begging for the weight of him. You all but scream at the quick trust of his full-lengthen intrusion, and he can’t help but whine at the feeling of finally being seethed inside of his mate, as well as enduring the delicious feelings you were. He was confident you didn’t even acknowledge the neurolink at this time, too busy stupid over how good he’s made you feel.

“Tsu’tey,” and you're grasping at the bottom of his own stomach, pushing your palms into him as he slowly pulls out, pushing back in as far as your hands would allow him.

There’s already a milky ring accumulating at his base and he’s barely moved. He does not thrust haphazardly, yet the control he possesses is finite. You can feel him bubbling on the edge of ferocity as the muscles of his lower stomach twitch under your fingertips. He is not a man that blushes often but the sight of your watery, wide, and ever so wondrous eyes has his neck and chest flushing deeply as well. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his ears so purple.

“Oh fuck! Eywa!” The kick up of pace has you forgetting your previous adoration, too distracted with his face to notice he had propped himself up on the balls of his feet as to better his angle.

Though you couldn’t deny the ache in your cunt at the weight of his girth or the tightening of your stomach due to another impending orgasm it couldn’t be something you focused on. This wasn’t really painful. Pressure perhaps- but none of that mattered over the electrifying buzz that had begun to grow so intense that your lungs felt locked.

Are you filthy for watching the assault on your cunt as he grabs your right thigh with a huff, forcing your leg to slot comfortably on his shoulder? Now that you had one leg hitched over his broad shoulders you both had an unimpeded view of his cock disappearing into you only to bulge the skin above your pelvis at the force of his obtrusion. Once he moves his weight off of his freed hand to meet your clitoris you can’t help but relax deeper into his thrusts.

The spray of liquid that follows and shoots up covering your reddening chests enunciated the slapping sound echoing between your bodies. You weren’t even sure if you were cumming anymore or your overstimulated cunt was just releasing everything it could for him,

“See baby. Always take care of you,”

His face is rubbing against yours, as he reaches down to hold your tsaheylu. Running his thumb across where the two braids meet. He relishes in the feeling as one of your hands grab at his head, gripping the braids of his hair while he drilled into you.

“Y-you’re so good. Tsu-“ You cut yourself off at his words in regards to running your own fingers over your abused clit-

“Did you ask to touch my pussy?”

Though there’s a snarl in the voice of the man whose face is mushed up against yours his thrusts become more powerful.

“Tsu’tey please- for Ewyas sake you’ve made your point,” the squeal is in your throat as you continue to rub- he never stopped you and you had never implored self control before, this is not the time to start.

“Please, I want to cum on your cock so bad,”

You finally look into his blown out eyes now. There’s barely any yellow to be seen. Just the messy appearance of your reflection in his huge pupils. You can feel something snap in him as you suddenly feel both of your legs get pinned down against your torso. It almost knocks the wind out of you, the feeling of being moved so suddenly. Folded in such a demanding way and then your guts getting drilled into by the man above you. Of course your hand doesn’t falter though- he had been treating you like a whore he should expect you to act like one.

“Look how fucking wet you are,” He starts, it’s a dangerous whisper, “You’re gonna make another mess for Sempu?”

It’s embarrassing. The fact that the only words to leave your mouth after his vulgarities are a very pretty “Oh Eywa,” followed by your doey eyes rolling into the back of your pretty head. Daddy. You had called him it before but something about his blown out eyes locked onto your own as if he can see nothing else but you, letting the title fall off his own swollen lips had you reeling, hips trying to jerk under his assault, hand jerking messy, tight, circles on your own clit.

You don’t even know if you squirt this time, too busy alternating between clenching though your orgasm and pushing down, listening to his guttural moaning in your ear as he once again hunches down over you a little more.

“Fuck, please ‘s too much. Sempu please, w-want you-” You don’t even know what you want. You’re too busy spasming on his cock.

Praying maybe he’ll pop out for a second so you can catch your breath. Despite your newest orgasm Tsu’tey does not stop his assault. Only now more of his body weight falls into you. Using the momentum to drill deeper into you. It’s too much, your feelings on top of the tight painful pit in his stomach. He wants to cum so badly.

“Let me cum in you,” it’s almost a beg, almost a plea to you. He needed to hear from you that you were satisfied. That he could breed you full and you’d finally be satisfied with all he does for you.

You cup both of his cheeks in your now unused hands, and despite the ache in your contorted body you can’t help the wave of relaxation that teases you when you make eye contact,

“Want your cum so bad, Sempu,”

It’s embarrassing really. The way you two talk to each other like this. You would cringe at the idea of these words coming from anyone else, but you can’t help but be addicted to the sound of desperation that rises out of the both of you.

“Fuck please breed me,”

Though you’re choked up, at least you can speak. You are almost positive he’s brain dead when you feel his hips jerk up into you deeper then his previous thrusts. When he pushes you legs down further you’re shocked at the feeling of him grinding the head of his cock against what you could only assume was your cervix. He did not seem to care so much for your shock though, returning to sitting up more so he could watch the bulge of your stomach.

“Ya fuck, my sweet girl,” the breathy pants against your face results in a tight clench of your lower stomach, yet with a whine you keep your legs open for him,

“Fuck baby- jus’ lay there and take it for me, there’s my good girl.”

It’s not long before his thrusts go from a calculated assault on your g-spot to an erratic chase for his own high. It almost surprises you- the animalistic pace of his thrusts against you. The way he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slam into you, forcing the slick skin of his pelvis to grind against your far too stimulated clit. It’s why you don’t feel bad for the hand that reaches up to wrap around the base of his kuru. You could have came when you feel the way his stomach tightens when you apply pressure to him. You feel the jolt the action sends through him- and you have never been more thankful (yet felt such disdain) to Eywa for tsaheylu. Eyes rolling into the back of your head at the mind thudding euphoria you felt.

“Look at me. Baby look at me when Sempu cums in you,”

He’s prettiest when he whines. Despite the honorific title there is little that defines Tsu’tey as the dominant one right now. Anyone could tell he was completely at the mercy of your slicken folds. He couldn’t even remember why he was mad at you by the time he had flooded you, using his large hands to pull the plush of your hips flush against him. Unable to control the need to be as deep as possible.

He’s purring when he notices the way your eyes light up at the feeling of him overstuffing you with his cum. Loud rumbles that you can feel vibrate against you as he lets your legs finally drop and lays flat against the floor.

“Are you okay, my love?” Your closing eyes are being kissed, as he travels to any exposed skin he can get to, while moving as little as possible.

“I win,” your eyes don’t even open as you mumble. Too busy caressing his sweaty back that was most likely torn up from the assault of your nails. All that there was left to do was breath and enjoy the warmth of laying safely under him. Proud of the turn of events.

Now that you weren’t actively engaged in each other the humidity of the sex stained kelku wasn't enough to keep you warm. Not with the eclipse breeze creeping through the opened flap.

You turn your head to see your mate, forehead pressed to the mat, eyes closed, catching his own breath- yet there’s a large cheshire grin on his exertion blushed face.

“Ya whatever. I give you everything you could want, what mate would I be if my little love suffered one night without making a sloppy mess all over me,”

His attempt at teasing makes you laugh, occupying yourself with kissing his cheek and lingering there a minute. Ignoring the way the fat of his cheek squished under your kiss. The bubbly,

“Ya, hopefully you gave me the baby I want this time,” would have broken the resolve of Ewyas most pious.

The roll of his hips deeper into you in hopes to plug you full makes your toes curl. He can’t help but say a silent prayer to anything that would listen that you’d be round and full soon. Tsu’tey also can’t help the fact that the feeling of your tight walls twitching and fluttering against him make him throb with a whole new need. The assault of his rolling hips is unwavering. Both completely enchanted by the uncomfortable sting of over stimulation. He could cease his slow drawn out movements that reward his ears with the sloppy echo of his cum being fucked right up into your womb where it belonged. Tsu’tey could stop and clean you up and let you fall blissfully to sleep while he held you.

Or he could make sure you don’t roll out from under him without a deserving prize in your womb.

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 10 months

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RRVerse Fandom, Please Hear Me Out...

Message to the wider Riordanverse fandom:

Please correctly tag your fanfics with the correct fandom tags.

I am getting tired of seeing non-Apollo fics cluttering up the Trials of Apollo tag (such as Percy/Annabeth. like. what. they're barely in ToA. why are they there.). If your fanfic does not deal with Apollo, Meg McCaffrey, or the story of ToA or the consequences of it, please do not tag it as such.

I have seen fics tagged as ToA and not even have the MC, Apollo, tagged as part of the cast. So please. I am begging you. Please stop. You have the Percy Jackson & the Olympians - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, AND The Heroes of Olympus tags.

Solangelo writers, you now have the Sun and the Star tag, as well as the All Media Types one. Unless it happens during or alongside something to do with Apollo & his story, please refrain from tagging it as ToA.

And no. I do not think just being Solangelo should qualify all Solangelo fics to be tagged as ToA. If anything, they should be The Sun and The Star tag or even The Heroes of Olympus tag because that's when it all began! However, if, say, it's during The Hidden Oracle or takes place in the ToA timeframe then sure! ToA tag it!

But if it's just like an AU or something that only focuses on Solangelo? Then please don't. It's not ToA then.

This is what the ToA tag looks like btw:

I know, Nico, Will, and Percy are all popular characters, but COME ON. This is Apollo's tag, please give him this! It's so hard to find fics I want to read because it's so cluttered! Apollo's not even in the top three most-tagged characters in his own fandom tag.😒

And look at the gap between the number of fics Apollo's in compared to Percy! A 354 gap! And there's 1,616 gap between Apollo and Nico! And I can say with certainty that not all of those fics Percy - and even Nico and Will - are in are related to ToA.

Meg McCaffrey, the second MC of the series, is not even on the board. And she's a very close second MC.

And trust me. I know a bunch of these fics have nothing to do with ToA. I have scoured the tag many times and have figured that out.

So please, please, please leave The Trials of Apollo tag be unless you are writing for The Trials of Apollo. We are our own fandom and frankly, it's getting annoying having to shuffle through a bunch of fics that have nothing to do with ToA just to find ones we want to read.

Fic authors, it would be such a big help if you could remove the ToA tag from your fic if it doesn't have anything to do with ToA. I know you want your fic to be seen, and use a bunch of tags to do so, but this really inconveniences the ToA fans who just want to read about our favorite loser god and his gremlin adopted sister. ☹️

Sincerely,

A ToA fan who just wants to read fics about her favorite character but can hardly wade through the fics even with the filtering system.

Thank you. It needed to be said.

#plunged into the toa ao3 tag #and returned annoyed and frustrated #so hard to find my boy #so hard to find fics for toa IN THE TOA TAG #like. please. please. i am begging you. please properly tag your fics.#proper tagging also means NOT tagging fandoms that have NOTHING TO DO with your fic #when i write my fics i tag them All Media Types and ToA #because they are about Apollo and the wider rrverse #but i've seen fics tagged as toa and NOTHING from toa shows up in them #NOTHING #no apollo. no meg. nothing.#and really apollo should be the main selling point #if he's not an important character in the fic than honestly the fic's not toa #exceptions are meg-centric fics or a character who debuts in toa #like lavinia or crest or emmie and jo or-#you get my meaning #so i've decided to throw this out there #please please please tag fics correctly. please. i know i'm not alone in this the toa fandom has a hard enough time okay do us this favor #AND YES. i know. “use the filter” and I HAVE been doing that BUT EVEN SO it's STILL difficult to find toa-centric fics!#i'm just. frustrated. it'll be a big help if ao3 writers would do this for us. please. i know i'm not alone in this #please and thank you #percy jackon and the olympians #the heros of olympus #the trials of apollo #pjo hoo toa #heros of olympus #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #percy jackson #rick riordan

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hollow-lime-green · 2 months

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hi!! just wondering if you have any stsg fic recs you’d be willing to share? i’m currently gobbling up 2sorcs like a gremlin and looking for something else to read between updates but i only really trust your opinions and characterizations which 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 anyways love ur work and hope you’re doing well!!

Ah! First of all, thank you <3 I do have some fics I really like! I shall rec them and give a little anxiety disclaimer at the end.

Fic Recs - Shorties

it would make a whole - by @diggingupgrave 8.8k, T, First Year, Pre-Relationship, Emotional H/C oh i love this fic so very much. this may have been one of the fics that really got me thinking about their characterization in the first place, tbh.

As You Wish - by @haha-funny-valentine 2.5k, T, Post-Star Plasma Arc, Emotional H/C wonderful characterization here and I am just such a sucker for H/C.

The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom - by @zombieheroine 16.3k, T, Prison Realm Gojo Character Study I took my skin off to check and I am shocked that this fic is not like, Doing Numbers. this fic is SO fucking creative and unique and I just. love. it. Definitely a big inspiration for FIYM. It's like Harrow the Ninth but for Gojo in the Prison Realm and like, oh my god so well done imo.

Longfic Recs with Caveats

and if you take my hand (series) - by @detta-pica 40k (Ongoing), T, Witch AU, Slow Burn Caveat: this is a WIP, and we're in the early part so very much Unresolved Romantic Tension. But I really like the worldbuilding in this and I'm excited to follow it as it keeps going, so big rec here if you like Plot and are down to follow some more ongoing fics. :)

coanda effect - by @bunniehoneys 250k, M, F1 AU, Slow Burn, Eating Disorders, Drugs, Bad Choices I am probably the last person in the world to read this fic so it feels silly to rec, but I'm doing it anyway because I'm a little obsessed. Caveat 1: also technically a WIP for another week or two

Caveat 2: TAGS check the tags. If you are at all sensitive to discussion of EDs, skip this fic, but I think it's done well and adds a lot to the characterization

Caveat 3: I am not caught up on this fic. it's one that I didn't let myself read for a while (see below) but F1 has a special place in my heart (my dad is into it, I used to live in a Gran Prix city, and I have watched WAY too much F1 Lets Play content).

I've been working really shitty hours for the past 48 hours (almost done) due to research that requires specific spans of real earth time. Because I don't have the focus to write right now, I've had the chance to read a little, and I've read about 75% of this gargantuan fic in windowless rooms on my phone, which has to say something about how much I love it lmao.

Disclaimer: I am a bad source of stsg fics because I actually don't read very many. If I read amazing fic then it tends to trigger the "you will never be as good as the old masters" part of the brain, although instead of real art like in the meme, my fic is putting gojo in a minecraft hoodie and making him do the gangnam style dance. Still.

I also get very unhealthy about metrics/numbers, which I mostly manage by using AO3 skins to block stats, but I still have some moments of weakness. So I try to avoid looking at stuff that I know might make me anxious/insecure about my own works and be unable to finish them (this has unfortunately happened to me before in the FE3H fandom, and that continues to weigh on me).

All that to say, there are some really big, nice, and well-loved fics by wonderful authors currently being updated, and I have read almost none of them. So this is absolutely not me saying I don't like their characterizations, I'm just kind of a hermit.

#jjk fanfic #jjk #satosugu #jjk fic recs #stsg fic recs #fic rec

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the-authoress-writes · 9 months

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Wherever You Go Chapter One

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Aviator!reader (Callsign: Thorn)

Moodboard by @bradshawsbaby

Written for @roosterforme’s Top Gun Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge

Synopsis: Tom Kazansky made a mistake.

Or rather, a series of mistakes.

He chose to take the assignment as an instructor at TOPGUN.

He fell in love with one of his students.

He broke her heart.

He chose to leave TOPGUN, and redeploy.

Now, he was stuck onboard the USS Nimitz with the woman whose heart he broke, with no way out.

Unbelievably, that’s not the problem.

Problem is, he still loves her.

Series Warnings: Teacher/Student relationship (but you already knew that) with no real age gap, warnings will be updated as the series progresses.

Warnings: Here be cursing, because these are people in the Navy.

I don’t think there’s anything else, though.

Author’s Note: “It’s only going to be a oneshot.”

Yeah, freaking right.

This took forever (become a church musician, they said, it’ll be fun, they said, you’re in charge of the choir for the Advent season and Christmas while the choir director is on medical leave), but I’m fairly happy with how this turned out.

I think.

The impostor syndrome do be impostoring.

Thank you so, so very much to @roosterforme for hosting the Top Gun Rocktober Fic Challenge, and for allowing me to use one of my favorite 80s rock ballads, “The Flame” by Cheap Trick.

Lyrics from the song will be peppered in throughout this series, because it’s too good not to, and the song is the reason this story exists, as it is what birthed the plotline.

A huge thank you and shout out to @thatsrightice, who helped me so much with the hop maneuvers, by researching the F-14 and A-4 high and low for me.

Special thanks also to @valmare, the fact that I am writing Tom Kazansky x reader! fic is all your fault; but thank you so much for dragging me down with you, it’s been an absolute joy!

Previously on “Wherever You Go”…

And as he ate Carole’s heavenly consolation in a cookie, Tom reflected on just how he’d ended up in this position.

Two months ago…

“So, you looking forward to teaching the next generation of stick jocks like us, Ice?” Mav spoke, barely intelligible around the food he had in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak whatever language that was, because it definitely wasn’t English.” Tom deadpanned, looking up from his forkful of the fairly-decent facsimile of scrambled eggs from the famed Officer’s Mess Hall of NAS Miramar.

Mav rolled his eyes and hastily swallowed his own forkful of eggs. “I said, are you looking forward to teaching the next generation of pilots like us, Ice?”

“Like me?

Yes.

Like you?

No.”

With Slider’s approval, he had taken the instructor assignment after it was offered to him shortly after the Layton, he and Slider wanting a little stability for two or three years—maybe even four—the Layton mission having shaved off what felt like a whole decade from their lifespan.

The fact that he was going to be able to fly and show off—sorry—instruct, was a nice bonus.

And the fact that his wingman, the only other pilot who could hold a candle to him, was also an instructor, was another plus.

They’d kick the asses of the hotshots they were going to teach, no problem.

“Oh, come on, you know I’m the best,” Mav grinned, nearly maniacally.

Tom put his scrambled eggs in his mouth, and made a show of chewing and swallowing, before replying, “Second best,” gesturing with his fork.

“I’m the best and you know it,” Mav practically vibrated.

Tom squinted at his wingman. “How much sugar did you put in your coffee?”

The other pilot froze guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed—hyper Mav was even more of a chaotic gremlin than normal Mav.

The younger man had an incredibly high, almost unnatural, tolerance for sugar, but put enough of it in his system, and you got one Pete Mitchell who could fly without a jet.

Tom had personally seen the other man put what seemed like half a sugar bottle in one cup of coffee. “Why?”

Mav pouted, looking like a child, and not the twenty-four year-old naval aviator he was. “I just wanted to indulge myself a little, Ice, ‘cause, you know, we’re instructors—together—we’re gonna kick ass—it’s gonna be great!”

“I know we’re gonna kick ass, but you’re not going to be able to instruct if you’re vibrating so much they can’t even see you,” Tom chuckled, shaking his head, trying to figure out how he could burn off Mav’s extra energy before they, along with Viper and Jester, had to head to the classroom to greet their new students later that morning.

“I know—but I just wanted something a little sweet as a treat,” Mav murmured, green eyes cast down and glazed with shame, and he got a glimpse of the child his wingman must have been over fifteen years ago.

He softened on the younger pilot, and reached out to ruffle the raven hair with a soft smile. “‘m not mad at you, Mav, it’s okay.”

Mav pulled away with a grimace and a slap at Tom’s hand, before fussing with his dark hair, but the familiar light returned to the other man’s eyes, though with considerably less mania than two minutes ago.

They continued eating, but Tom’s devious side reared its head. “You do know what this means, though, right?”

“Wha’?”

Tom nearly laughed right there.

Mav had half a forkful of eggs balanced on his lower lip.

“You and I are going to go for a little run around the south hangars, to burn off that energy.”

An intense green stare fixed on him, clearly considering. “Okay, fine—I might… might have overdone it a little bit with the sugar packets.”

“A ‘little’, huh?

Good for you, bud, getting more self-aware.”

“Fuck you, Kazansky,” Mav smirked.

“No thanks, not in the mood,” Tom grinned. “Come on, finish up, so we can get a decent shower after our run.”

“You okay there, old man?” came the smug voice not far above his head.

“Two—two years, that’s all you have on me, Mav,” Tom muttered, massaging the ankle and knee of his right leg, stretched out on the bench of the instructor’s locker room, mentally cursing the old injuries he’d sustained there from a bad ejection he and Sli endured during one of their first deployments, on the Constellation, when the arresting gear failed because a new crewman didn’t check the weight on the valve of the wire.

It was why he had to wear a wrap on his knee and ankle whenever he and Slider played volleyball.

Mav continued, “You know I was gonna kick your ass running even if I wasn’t amped up on sugar, right?

Tall people wear out faster—that’s what you get for being freakishly tall.”

Tom frowned. “If I’m freakishly tall, what’s Merlin?”

Long pause.

Smirk.

“No,” Mav accusingly pointed, “I refuse to fall for that—I will not speak ill of my RIO, even though I’m his teacher.”

Tom chuckled.

Merlin had been lucky to be selected for TOPGUN again, though it was with the caveat that he wouldn’t be able to win the trophy in his session, as his pilot was going to be an instructor.

Merls had taken it well in stride, glad to be at TOPGUN, even if it meant he’d only graduate, as a reserve RIO for his session.

“Hey, did you hear?

History’s being made this session—we’re teaching the first female naval aviator selected for TOPGUN,” Tom remarked, once he’d eased the ache in his knee and ankle.

“Yeah, I know—and I know her; hell of a pilot,” Mav nodded. “Hell of a woman too.”

“Oh?” a blond brow rose wryly.

“Yeah, I met her two or so years ago, when the Black Aces chopped in on the Big E.

Callsign’s Thorn.

And don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Mav’s voice was slightly muffled as he dug through his locker for a stick of deodorant. “Like you think I know her… carnally.

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t flirt with any woman with a pulse.”

“Only most,” Tom nodded sagely, a smirk tugging his lips, even though his wingman couldn’t see it.

A finger was flipped in his direction over a shoulder. “Get in your khakis already, Icy-Hot-Man.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fuck you, Mav.”

“No thanks, not in the mood,” Mav threw back, and the shit-eating grin was audible in his voice, which made Tom secretly smile, to know his wingman and brother was happy.

After the two of them managed to get into their khakis in record time, they came up to the building with their classroom right with Jester and Viper, who spotted them and waved off their salutes. “Kazansky, Mitchell.

It’s good to see you both.

You ready.”

It was more statement than question, but despite the stoicism on the Vietnam veteran’s face, Tom could see the pride in his CO’s eyes, and the added glint of paternal pride, when he looked at Mav.

Though it made him sad to see that, reminding him of what he used to have, Tom was glad that the other aviator had a paternal influence in his adult life.

He’d had one before—Mav, on the other hand, hadn’t.

He really missed his Dedushka.

He pushed the thought away in time to see Viper gesture to follow him and Jester inside.

They all slipped their garrison caps off once they were under the fluorescent lights of the building, and the classroom door was in sight after a short walk.

“Alright,” Viper sighed, gaze running across all of them, a smile reminiscent of his callsign on his face, “time to school another batch of hotshots.

Let’s begin.”

The two wingmen exchanged a little grin, before squaring their shoulders and following Jester inside as Viper trailed behind.

“ATTENTION!!” Jester barked, striding to the front, Tom and Mav moving to the right side of the classroom, opposite the TV, following the order like everyone else in the room.

“At ease.”

At this, they all moved to parade rest, Tom and Mav having the luxury of clasping their hands before them, while Jester picked up a clipboard. “I will be calling out the driver and RIO teams.

After I call both your names, make yourselves known.

Lieutenant Solomon Bates, callsign “Warlock”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Kenneth Han, callsign “Shogun”.”

“Present, sir!” an Asian man about Tom’s height, and a tall African-American man enthusiastically chorused.

“Lieutenant Stephen Ruth, callsign “Babe”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Timothy Martin, callsign “Priest”.”

“Here, sir!”

“Lieutenant Edward Arellano, callsign “Belter”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Gabriel Presleigh, callsign “Elvis”.”

“Yes, sir!”

Lieutenant Henry Baker, callsign “Snackbar”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Matthias Novak, callsign “Links”.”

“Sir!”

“Lieutenant Julian Howell, callsign “Ash”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Randall Simmons, callsign “Igor”.”

“Up and ready, sir!”

The pilot, Howell, it was plain to see, had an arrogant, smug look on his face, almost like he felt it was inevitable he’d be at TOPGUN, and Tom sent Mav a sideways glance, which the other man returned.

Any hop with that particular pair was going to be interesting, and it was clear from the look on his wingman’s face, that his immediate dislike of the pilot was shared by Mav.

Tom looked forward to him and Mav educating Howell as to who were the best pilots, in the final hops.

“And finally, Lieutenant __ __, callsign “Thorn”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Emmett Kinford, callsign “Romeo.””

“Yes, sir!” came a resonant alto and an even, low baritone, the call jarring insofar as it was to hear a woman’s voice mixed with that of a man’s in this room, heretofore the demesne of men.

Both had even expressions on their faces, pilot and RIO gazing straight ahead, while the OCD part of Tom’s mind registered that their khakis were in better form than even his own, ribbons not the slightest bit out of place, with creases you could cut yourself on, and that was saying something.

Her hair was carefully pulled into the regulation tight bun, not a single strand out of place, and her RIO’s dark waves were also the picture of military perfection.

“You may be seated.” Jester said after a beat, casting his gaze shrewdly around the room. “I am Commander Rick Heatherly—callsign Jester.

I am the Executive Officer of Fighter Weapons School, known to all naval aviators as TOPGUN, and your Lead Opposing.

Each one of you have been selected for a very specific reason; to become the best of the best’s best.

Blinds.”

The room went dark as the blinds were shut, and the familiar video began playing, the familiar speech being recited.

Soon, Jester finished his speech, calling for the blinds to be opened.

Light flooded into the room, and Tom fought to look dignified, not squinty, even as the sun assaulted his eyes.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to your Junior Instructors, and this school’s Secondary Opposing; Lieutenant Tom Kazansky, callsign “Iceman”, and Lieutenant Pete Mitchell, callsign “Maverick”, last year’s Top Gun, and second place finisher respectively—”

Both he and Mav somehow straightened further, nodding professionally at their class.

“—and finally, our Commanding Officer here at TOPGUN, the very first man to win the Top Gun Trophy; and there is not a finer naval aviator in the world.

Captain Mike Metcalf—callsign “Viper”.”

Viper strode in and told the first class of ‘87 much the same things he did the flyboys of ‘86, and they all turned to get a good look at the Top Gun Trophy, whose newest brass plaque bore the engraving “LT T. Kazansky & LTJG R. Kerner — 1986”.

“You think your names are going to be up there?” Viper gazed speculatively at the class.

However, this time, no one filled the silence with an affirmative response—unlike Mav the year before—though Ash and Igor had hungry and yet self-assured looks in their eyes.

“Well, regardless of whose name ends up in brass at the end of these five weeks, at the end of the day, you—we—are all on the same team.

Gentlemen—and lady,” Viper nodded towards Thorn, “this school is about combat—there are no points for second place.

Dismissed.”

“Report to the quartermaster for your housing assignments, you’ll have today to get settled.” Jester called out to the room at large, “and remember, tomorrow’s first class starts at 0800.”

Most of the class quickly shuffled out of the room, but not before a few of them shot Thorn and Romeo, both of whom were still seated, skeptical—and in Ash and Igor’s case, outright dirty—looks, looks which she ignored, though one would have to be blind not to notice the protective menace emanating from her RIO despite the similar expression of indifference on his features.

But once her classmates had filed out, Thorn looked towards him and Mav, her indifference giving way to a radiant smile.

“Mav,” she exclaimed, striding over.

“Acey!” his wingman laughed, pulling her into a hug, briefly lifting her a slight distance off the floor.

“Fuck, it’s good to see you!”

“You too—it’s been too long.”

“Yeah—” here her expression sobered, “and I’m so sorry—I heard about Nick—Ro and I couldn’t believe it.”

“Nick was a great guy, it was such a shock—damn canopy of all things,” Romeo said, having walked over to give Mav a warm pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” Mav breathed evenly, a bit too evenly for Tom’s liking. “Oh, uh, Thorn, Romeo, this is my f-friend and wingman, Tom Kazansky.”

All too glad to take the spotlight to give Mav time to breathe, he stepped forward, extending his hand. “You can call me Ice, it’s good to meet you.

Mav’s told me about you, Thorn.”

“Oh?

Only good things, I hope,” she said, shaking his hand.

Her hand had the same callouses he and most fighter pilots had—which gave him a bit of cognitive dissonance, because he was used to only feeling those callouses on other men—with a strong grip, and a confident posture as she looked up at him.

“Practically praised you to the stars and back,” he smiled, letting go of her hand.

“Hello, I’m chopped liver,” Romeo wryly stated as he shook Tom’s hand. “Call me Ro.”

“You’re hardly chopped liver, Ro, you’re the sixth best RIO I know,” Mav interjected, his voice and breathing seeming more like baseline.

“Thank you, I guess?” Romeo frowned.

Thorn broke in, “I gotta admit, for a second, I was kind of worried that you’d suddenly become too good for the likes of me and Ro, Mr. TOPGUN-Instructor and Three-Confirmed-Kills, I swear, Mav, that was the stillest I’ve ever seen you.”

The aforementioned man shrugged. “That’s Ice’s influence.

Got to stand still so you hotshots have a chance to admire us.”

Thorn huffed a light-hearted laugh, but Mav continued, “And I only got those kills thanks to this guy.

I had to lead some of the MiGs away so that he could have one all to himself,” Mav beamed, waggling his eyebrows.

Thorn blinked, “Oh yeah, you’ve got one too.”

Before he could reply, Mav proudly cut in, “Yes, he does—and this guy held out against five MiGs.”

“Sli and I’d have burned in if you didn’t get there in time, Mav,” Tom said, determined that his wingman would get the praise he deserved.

Said wingman turned, eyes narrowed hopefully. “Is this you admitting I’m the better pilot?”

He scoffed lightly, “Any pilot would have trouble against five adversaries, the best or not.”

“I’ll get you to admit it one day,” the diminutive pilot muttered.

Tom clapped Mav on the shoulder. “Today is not that day, buddy.”

Another huffed laugh had the two wingmen remembering that their students were still in the room.

Romeo was shaking his head in the way of those who have fondly dealt with the inimitable Pete Mitchell, and Thorn had a small smile on her face, but it was no less bright than the one she had when she greeted Mav. “You look good, Mav.”

“Uhh… thanks?

But I always do.”

Thorn scoffed, and Romeo rolled his eyes so hard, Tom was surprised the RIO didn’t pull something.

She turned to him, a look in her eyes that spoke as if he had passed some test he didn’t know about, turning the tables on him, her instructor, and they weren’t even in the air yet. “You keep taking care of this Firebird for me, huh?”

Something about receiving her unsought approval shot a bolt of feeling through him, searing through his being, like standing in the middle of a lightning storm. “Of course.”

“Good,” she breathed, her small smile turning to a grin. “I guess—I guess Ro and I better go, because I’m sure our classmates got the good housing already.”

“We’ll accompany you to your housing, once you get your assignment—the uh—” he cleared his throat and sniffed, “the housing here is laid out pretty weird.”

Tom could feel Mav’s gaze snap to him at a practically supersonic speed, but he ignored it, in favor of shooting Thorn a charming, if not slightly awkward, smile.

Her head tilted at a slight angle, keen gaze analyzing him like he was some sort of problem she couldn’t quite solve. “If that’s what you want to do with your time, sure thing, sir.”

His brain shut down on him for a split second, for some odd reason, but he managed to evenly reply, “We’re the same rank.”

“That shiny Junior Instructor title of yours begs to differ, but whatever you say… sir.”

A nudge at his side snapped him out of whatever strange fugue his brain was trying to drag him into.

He’d have to get more sleep, he figured.

“What’d I tell you, Ice?

Sometimes I wonder if Acey here should have been the Firebird instead of me—because I’m well on my way to becoming an ace, as you all know,” Mav declared.

“Imagine being deployed with this for months,” Thorn sighed, but with a teasing glimmer in her eyes.

“Imagine agreeing to get stationed with him, and being his wingman,” Tom reparteed.

“Oh, I can,” she nodded knowingly. “I have stories, by the way.”

“Oh?

Do tell,” he grinned, playfully ignoring the groan from his wingman.

She blinked, her expression frozen for a split second, before she gestured to the aisle, “Mind if we walk and talk?”

“At your leave, Lieutenant.”

She shook her head slightly, but strode onwards, their strides matching in less than half a beat. “So there was this one incident with some shaving cream…”

When the four of them arrived at the quartermaster, as Thorn predicted, her and Romeo’s classmates were long gone.

“Hello, shitty housing,” she muttered, as she and Romeo approached the quartermaster, while he and Mav stood a ways behind.

“You’re being weird.”

“What?” Tom turned to see Mav staring at him like he was an F-14 requiring diagnostics and a shit-ton of maintenance.

“I said you’re being weird—”

“Yeah,” he slowly began, “I heard you the first time, Mav, what do you mean?”

“You—you’re being… nice,” was the other aviator’s perplexed reply, accompanied by an equally consterned gesture.

It was his turn to stare. “I am nice.”

“Uh-huh, but you’re not usually this—this, to people you don’t know.

Who are you, and what have you done to my wingman?”

If Tom were to be honest, he himself knew that he wasn’t exactly acting in character, but there was just something that tugged him to… be warmer towards Thorn and Romeo.

He put it down to wanting to repay the TOPGUN students for being kind to his brother, when not many others were.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Mav,” he said, sounding somewhat lame to even his own ears, truthful as it was.

“Okay, sure,” the other man nodded, in an extremely distrustful tone.

“Got it!” Thorn declared, she and Romeo marching up. “Let’s see what Government Issued shanty we’ll be put up in, shall we?

Looks like we’re at… 315 Vraciu.”

Tom spoke up. “That’s not bad, I think; a couple of our classmates last year were put up in that same housing—Charles Piper and Marcus Williams—and I don’t think they had any problems.”

Romeo clicked his tongue, “Well, that’s a first—less-than half-decent housing’s usually par for the course for me and Thorn.

This’ll be a refreshing change.”

Tom would never understand why good pilots were blamed for things they couldn’t change, Mav for his father’s “betrayal” and his own unconventional flying style, and Thorn for her gender, through relentless hazing and/or poor treatment.

If he ever rose high enough to change things, he swore he would.

The housing was a basic, cookie cutter home a little over a five minute drive from the main TOPGUN building, and on the way there, Thorn and Mav were seated in the back of Tom’s truck, catching up, while Romeo sat shotgun.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Tom saw that both pilots were animatedly discussing things that had happened since the last time they saw each other, including the infamous inverted-over-a-MiG situation.

“Are they always like this?” he said in sotto voce to the RIO beside him.

Romeo flicked his dark gaze to the backseat, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah.

It’s nice to see her happy.

Not a lot of people think much of her, since she’s a woman, you know.

But Mav, he and Goose, they never saw that, they just saw a good pilot, and I’m grateful.

They were the only ones who wanted to fly with us.”

Tom frowned in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

If Mav was singing her praises, she must be a phenomenon in the sky—who wouldn’t want to be part of that?

“Nope.

They were the only ones who volunteered, so they kind of got stuck with us that whole deployment.”

At this point, they arrived at 315 Vraciu, and they all hopped out, the two students carrying their seabags to the door.

Thorn unlocked the door, she and Romeo tossing their bags in the entrance. “Well, thanks for the ride,” she nodded, Romeo doing likewise behind her.

“No problem, my pleasure,” Tom replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I’ll see you both around, I guess.”

He imagined that her eyes lingered longer on him than they did on Mav, and… he didn’t exactly know how he felt about that.

Mav threw off a nonchalant salute while he sent a respectful nod, before they moved to go back to his truck.

They were halfway there when they heard, “Hey Mav!”

The two of them halted, turning to see the fire of challenge in Thorn’s brilliant eyes. “You gonna take it easy on me?”

Mav scoffed, “You think I’m an idiot?”

She carefully maintained a blank look, and Mav flipped her off with a grin.

Her expression sharpened, gaze landing on him, callsign all too accurate, as the edge of defiance in her voice rang through the air. “And how about you—are you going to take it easy on me?”

He had to admire her for that already.

“If you’re as good as Mav says, that’d be a damn injustice.”

Her answering smile was dagger-keen. “Looking forward to seeing you up there, then.”

Something in him thrilled to the thought of having another worthy opponent in the sky. “It’ll be a highlight of my day, I’m sure.”

“We’ll see.”

Though not unkindly, the door shut in their faces soon after.

Tom stared at the door a moment longer, before again turning to see Mav frowning.

“You’re really being weird.”

“…Shut up, Mav.”

“Alright boys—just to remind you, we have the classes in the morning, and we’re going up in the afternoon.

For the first hop, it’s going to be Jester against Thorn and Romeo, Mitchell against Warlock and Shogun, then Ash and Igor.”

An unexpected wave of disappointment washed over Tom as he realized Viper’s hop arrangement meant he wouldn’t get to fly against Thorn the first day, but he managed to keep most of the expression off his face, especially with Mav treating him like a problem to solve the whole rest of last night.

Indeed, the shorter man was and had been surreptitiously studying him.

“Which leaves me with Belter and Elvis, and you, Kazansky, with Snackbar and Links, then Babe and Priest, for the second hop.”

Just a banner day for Thomas Kazansky, wasn’t it?

Couldn’t fly against Thorn, and didn’t even get to school Ash and Igor.

“Everyone understand?”

A chorus of “Yes, sir!”s rang through the room, and Viper nodded, pleased.

“Dismissed, then.

To your classes, gentlemen.”

Viper knocked a fist against the table twice before he and Jester departed the briefing room.

Tom gathered his folders and looked at his wingman, who was neatening a very short stack of papers. “I was hoping to have first crack at Ash and Igor,” he muttered.

“I know,” Mav smirked.

Resigned, he sighed, “Well, kick their ass extra hard for me, will ya?”

The smaller man’s smirk took on a devilish quality. “I’ll draw first blood, then you wipe the floor with them, and us together, it’ll be game over,” he stated, as he extended a fist.

“Sounds like a plan,” Tom nodded, sealing the agreement with a fist bump.

As he bent to pick up his attaché case, Tom’s eyes were again drawn to the minuscule stack of papers the other man had. “You got the material for your class today, right?”

“Uhhh, yeah, sort of,” Mav shrugged.

“‘Sort of’.

What exactly do ‘sort of’ class materials look like?”

Mav spread his hands, and he knew. “In all honesty, I was gonna just kind of wing it.”

Tom honestly should have seen it coming—but Maverick mavericking was what made Maverick, Maverick.

“Okay,” he replied, trying to hide his grin. “Sounds good.

Good—good, good.”

He managed to hold his laughter in until he reached the hall, but even then, an “Up yours, Ice!” followed him around the corner.

Tom’s class went smoothly, and after a lunch that he eagerly finished, he eventually found himself in his flight gear, fidgeting in the instructor’s ready room.

Having completed his preflight, he decided to chalk his restlessness down to the novelty of flying an A-4, a single-seater, with no Slider in his ear or backseat, as he listened intently to the comms for the first hop, Viper doing the same across the room.

Mav and Jester engaged Warlock and Shogun, and Thorn and Romeo, respectively, once the Commander called “Fight’s on!”, and Mav made short work of Warlock and Shogun, getting tone on the other pilot and RIO in a little over two minutes.

Commendable, in his opinion, for their students.

Mav called for them to knock it off and return to base, before moving on to Ash and Igor.

It was then that he realized that Jester was still engaged with Thorn and Romeo.

Romeo was evenly calling out altitudes, positions, and break directions, while Thorn composedly called maneuvers out, interrupted only by the sound of the two aviators g-straining, the F-14’s engines in the background.

He briefly turned his attention to Mav, who had engaged Ash and Igor; the two were, as he predicted, scrambling wildly for their “lives” (and based on what he was hearing, would get tone locked in a matter of seconds), in radical contrast to Thorn, who was calmly holding her own.

In his head, he could see a vague picture of what was going on up there with Jester, Thorn, and Romeo, and Tom realized that he wasn’t sure how it was going to end, the sound of Mav getting tone on Ash and Igor fading into the background.

Tom could hear the strain in Thorn and Romeo’s voices as they fought more g-forces while calling movement and other things out—they had to be at or near corner speed to make them sound like that.

Tom could hear the faint, steady beeping which warned of imminent tone lock, and he hoped she would win this, if only to prove his wingman’s faith in her skill correct.

Just as the beeping grew faster, Thorn muttered, “Just a little… come on, come on…”

He leaned forward in his seat, and realized he was holding his breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to inhale.

Then suddenly, the blare of confirmed tone.

Disappointment for her sake sank in his stomach, but only for the briefest moment, because the voice which triumphantly called out “Good lock!” was distinctly female. “That’s a kill, Commander!”

And Tom could breathe again.

Holy shit, Mav was right—she was a hell of a pilot.

Thorn managed to keep too much of the gloating out of her tone, but it was a fairly narrow thing, and in his opinion, it was justified.

A faint sound caught his attention—if he didn’t know any better, Tom could have sworn that that was a… fond chuckle that came from Jester.

“Copy kill.

Well, knock it off, Lieutenant, and RTB.”

“Yes, sir!”

Without really thinking about it, he went to the flight line, in time to see the three F-14s and two A-4s land.

His eyes were drawn to her jet as she pulled in to the flight line, and he was faintly aware of Mav’s A-4 pulling up beside his.

She’d done the impossible; Thorn, a female naval aviator, got chosen for TOPGUN, and got tone on her instructor the first day.

Technically, that wasn’t anything new—Mav had done similar—but in a sense, it was.

Women were just starting to be seen as capable of being in the military, in combat roles, to be exact, and to see a woman do something that had been the domain of men for decades, centuries, and do it just as well as a man—better even; as evidenced by the fact that in her hop, she was the only one to get tone on her instructor…

He really had to admire that—admire her.

“That good enough of an ass kicking for ya, Ice?”

Tom was snapped out of his introspection from the sudden appearance of his wingman at his side, running a hand through his hair, helmet under his arm.

“What?”

Mav grinned, “I got tone on Ash and Igor in roughly a minute or so.

How the fuck those two got picked for TOPGUN eludes me.”

Tom scoffed and shook his head in agreement. “Bet I can get tone on them faster, though.”

Mav slapped him on the shoulder, “We’ll see, Ice.”

A sudden whoop of jubilant laughter drew his gaze, and he could see Thorn about thirty paces away, coming ever closer, and his breath caught in his throat—her mouth was split in a beaming smile, wild and passionate, illuminating her from within with effervescent joy, her shining eyes endlessly reflecting her exhilaration.

Her bun was coming slightly loose, tendrils of hair framing her face and swaying in the breeze, while her flight suit clung to her figure, helmet dangling insouciantly from her fingers; it was decorated with a briar all over, red roses among thorns made of black aces, and it had her callsign across its brow.

Her eyes landed on him, and her smile took on a mischievous quality. “We got Jester, nailed him on the first day.

You gonna be ready for us?” Then, as if she only noticed Mav next to him at that moment, she amended, “Both of you?”

He grinned, just shy of showing too many teeth, nonchalantly stepping closer, shifting his weight to lean towards her, hip slightly cocked to keep his balance, barely paying any mind to the tension in Romeo’s stance behind his pilot. “We’ll see who gets tone on whom first.”

Thorn smirked as she looked him up and down, teeth tugging her bottom lip for the briefest moment before she clicked her tongue, “Good thing I’ve got front row seats for that show, then.” She pivoted on her heel, walking backwards as she sent him a casual salute, before turning to stride back to the locker room, Romeo following her with a minutely narrowed glance over his shoulder at him.

“Huh.”

He turned from watching the pilot and RIO, to see Mav again at his side, glancing back and forth between him and Thorn and Romeo.

Tom frowned, “What ‘huh’?”

“Nothing, nothing,” came the too-quick answer. “Just huh.”

“…Now who’s being weird?”

Tom’s hop with Viper was not quite as interesting as Mav with Jester’s, though he did have to commend all three pilots for holding out for a few minutes, which was more than Ash and Igor could say.

The debrief was a thing of beauty—going in reverse order from lowest to highest hop score, meant that he got to witness Mav positively eviscerate Ash and Igor as the first order of business, and the sheer stupidity that Ash displayed in the air, made Tom wonder what guardian angel or deity sent this idiot to TOPGUN.

He mentally saw a dozen different maneuvers that Ash could have done, that, while they might not have gotten him tone on Mav, they would have helped him last longer against the other pilot.

The debrief drew on, Tom stepping forward when it was his turn, not sparing the other pilots their vivisections, though theirs were not quite as harsh, by sheer dint of them not being as idiotic as Ash and Igor, and finally, it was the debrief he was waiting for; Thorn and Romeo’s.

He had an idea of what happened in the air, but he wanted to know what exactly she had done.

It was textbook and yet genius.

He was right; once they hit the merge, flying at corner speed through a series of turns, Thorn had maneuvered to force Jester to increase his turn rate, bleeding his airspeed, playing the Skyhawk’s weakness against it, before before placing him in her sights.

“…all in all, great work, Lieutenant,” Jester complimented, writing her hop score of 5 on the board, the highest number of all the teams that day, sending her a nod.

Her face was impassive as she replied, “Thank you, sir,” but Tom could see the vindication in her eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve all learned something from your classes and most especially, your hops today,” Viper declared, pacing the front of the classroom. “This is only the first day, and to borrow a saying from our SEAL cousins, ‘The only easy day was yesterday’.”

The Captain stared the students down, pair by pair, searching for something in each of them.

Finally, he stated, “You’re all dismissed.”

After Jester and Viper left, leaving him and Mav, as the junior instructors, to neaten things, Ash and Igor were predictably the first out the door—just shy of storming out, while most of the others looked at Thorn with less suspicion than the day before, a few actually lingering.

While he was fixing the markers, out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Warlock step forward first, a light smile on his face. “Hey, uh, that was great, what you pulled today—I’m Solomon, but you can call me Sol or Warlock, whichever you prefer.

This is my RIO, Ken, but he prefers Shogun.”

The Asian man genially lifted a hand in greeting, “Really wish I could have seen that.”

Babe chuckled, “Yeah, that was good, wish I’d have thought of what you did, maybe I’d have had a chance against Kazansky—I’m Stephen.”

Priest, his RIO, cooed, “Aw, you embarrassed by your callsign, Babe?”

“Shut up, Tim,” Babe glared.

Priest raised both hands in surrender. “Not my fault your last name’s Ruth—I’m this stick in the mud’s RIO, Tim—call me Priest, that there’s Belter and Elvis.”

Tom almost laughed at the expression Thorn made; the momentary shock on her face was palpable, but it was swiftly concealed—the only reason it registered for him was because he was so used to reading Mav’s microexpressions.

“Thanks—nice to meet you all.

I’m Thorn, this’ Romeo, my RIO.”

Romeo shook hands with them all, a pleasant, but guarded expression on his face.

“You weren’t too bad up there yourselves, from what I heard,” she continued.

“Yeahhh, but who got tone on their instructor first day?

Not this guy,” Priest waggled his eyebrows, jerking both thumbs at his pilot, “and not any of these guys,” making the others groan or laugh.

Tom ducked his head, hiding his smile; he was glad that the others seemed to be warming up to her, he wanted her to have the same experience as he did at TOPGUN—establishing a brotherhood with his classmates.

“—Tom!”

He pivoted to see Mav snapping his fingers close to his face, and he reflexively flinched back from his wingman’s hand in his face. “What?”

He belatedly realized that he’d been saying that a little too much recently.

As if he were speaking to a particularly dull child, Mav spoke slowly. “Do you think I can erase the board now?”

“Yeah, uh, but not the scores.”

“Of course not.

You okay, Ice?”

“Yeah—fine, it’s just a… long day.”

The suspicion in Mav’s eyes didn’t fade as he sighed and nodded. “Feel up to The O Club tonight?

Maybe decompress a bit, have a drink?”

“That sounds great, actually.” Maybe a drink was what he needed, his mind seemed to be all over the place.

“‘Kay—meet you there?”

“Yeah.”

Once he finished with the room, he followed Mav out, sending a look to where Thorn was still talking with her classmates, to see that her gaze was already on him.

Her eyes immediately went back to her classmates, but nevertheless, he felt branded by her stare, like it was a tangible thing, searing through his veins, sending a paradoxical shiver down his spine.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he could admit it; he didn’t know what it was, but he felt drawn to her.

To what end… he didn’t know.

And that…

That scared him.

Tom eased his precious Chevelle into a parking spot near the door of The O Club; a rarity, but one very welcomed, given how busy the bar seemed.

(The fact that it was within sight of Mav’s highly recognizable Ninja was a perk—he and Slider had stopped one too many parking lot beatdowns.)

He reached for his Shooters, narrowly stopping himself from putting them on (Mav hated it when he did that at night; “It makes you look like a dick”, according to his wingman), instead tucking them into the pocket of his whites, carefully opening the driver’s door, squeezing himself out of the narrow gap he afforded himself.

The black metal flake paint was pristine, and he intended to keep it that way, it didn’t matter how ridiculous he may look.

The O Club was, as the parking lot showed, busy, full of people in service whites, throwing him back to last year, that first night for the flyboys of ‘86.

He cast his gaze around the bar, peering through the haze of cigarette smoke and the people, searching for his wingman’s squirrelly figure, before a call of “Ice; over here!” pierced through the sound of numerous conversations and the jukebox, before a hand flailed wildly, becoming visible over the heads of the crowd.

Mav had claimed seats at the bar; prime real estate with the place this hectic—he didn’t want to know how the other man had kept the seat next to him free when every Tom (hah), Dick, and Harry were clamoring for a seat at the bar.

He made his way through the crowd, gratefully settling onto the barstool next to Mav, also dressed in his service whites. “Hey Mav,” he greeted.

“Hey; I ordered already, I assumed you’d want your usual vodka on the rocks.”

“Thanks; you know me too well.”

“Kind of hard to miss when it’s literally what you order every single time,” Mav smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes—he was a creature of habit, sue him.

(And if vodka on the rocks reminded him of his Dedushka, what was wrong with that?)

“Seems like all of Fightertown is here tonight,” he muttered to Mav.

“You’re not too far off on that, I saw basically all of our students here,” the other man replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Only ones I haven’t seen are Thorn and Romeo, actually,” he finished casually.

Rather against Tom’s will, something in him lurched forward, his thought process halting, making him feel like he’d just snagged the third wire on the carrier deck.

Despite that, he managed a calm—at least in his opinion—“Oh.”

“Mmm.” Another calm sip of beer from his wingman—too calm.

He narrowed his eyes and sighed at Mav. “What the fuck is that ‘Mmm’ for?”

The dark-haired aviator pulled an expression like he just sucked on a lemon. “What, can’t a guy just ‘Mmm’ anymore?”

“Not when you’ve been fucking weird for the past two days,” he replied, sending the harried bartender a grateful nod as they slid his vodka on the rocks over to him.

“I’m not weird, you’re weird,” was Mav’s reply, and he narrowed his eyes at the muted shimmer of something in the other pilot’s eyes.

He was about to retort when his eyes were drawn to the door, and the bulk of Romeo walked in, his head and whites-clad shoulders peeking above quite a few people’s.

It was mere curiosity, he told himself, that led him to lean to see if his pilot was also with him.

It took a beat, but then, several people in the crowd moved, and he saw her—her hair cascaded down her shoulders, as sharp eyes surveyed The O like it was the skies, dressed, unlike everyone else in the Navy who occupied this space, in civvies; a loose, white blouse tucked into jeans, cinched with a thick brown leather belt at her waist.

And everything seemed to fade into the background, the sight of her drowning out the sound of the bar, and Mav’s howling laughter.

To be continued…

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Faceclaims

Russian glossary

Disclaimer: translations are from the interwebs.

Please don’t kill me.

Dedushka: Grandfather

Two years is the real-life age gap between Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer.

The story behind Ice and Slider’s bad ejection actually did happen to a pilot-RIO pair, then-Commander William Switzer and then-Lieutenant (junior grade) David “Bio” Baranek on December 19, 1981, aboard the very same aircraft carrier that I mentioned.

You can read the detailed description of the incident here, retold by Commander Baranek, for the Ejection Tie Club of the Martin-Baker company, who specialize in making ejection seats—including those of the F-14 Tomcat—for pilots and backseaters who have ejected using a Martin-Baker ejection seat.

VFA-41, the “Black Aces”, based out of NAS Lemoore, were featured in Top Gun: Maverick as the squadron of Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, and I thought that would be nice to include that, in this universe at least, Phoenix is a member of the squadron with the first female naval aviator selected for TOPGUN.

Icy-Hot is a liniment that has been on the market since before 1931.

The name of LTJG Kenneth “Shogun” Han is a reference to this scene in the now-ABC hit series, 9-1-1, where paramedic/firefighter Howard “Chimney” Han, played by actor Kenneth Choi, replies that if he weren’t a paramedic/firefigher, he’d have liked to be a Navy TOPGUN graduate, with the callsign “Shogun”.

The names of Henry “Snackbar” Baker, Stephen “Babe” Ruth, and Timothy “Priest” Martin are a reference to both the original name of Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe—Henry Ruth—and the Martin-Baker company.

The speeches that Jester and Viper give are nearly word for word the same as the speeches that they gave in TG86, with some authorly variation because I didn’t want to rehash the same speeches that we heard in the movie word for word.

Again, VF-1, a now inactive squadron based out of NAS Miramar, is the squadron that Mav and Goose belonged to before they went to TOPGUN, although it must be noted that, like most of the squadron patch designs in Top Gun, the patch design as seen on Mav and Goose’s flight suits, is incorrect and not matching the squadron designation, instead bearing the insignia of VAW-110, the “Firebirds”, who flew the E-2 Hawkeye, which was shown as Comanche in TG:M.

Alexander Vraciu was a WWII Navy ace who downed 12 Japanese aircraft and sank a Japanese merchant ship with a direct hit to her stern.

The merge is a concept used in air combat, where aerial warfighters engage with enemy aircraft by steering their plane toward the adversary—this maneuver is referred to as “going to the merge.”

Corner Speed

Did anyone catch the TG:M line reference?

Special thanks to @valmare for the Ice has a Chevelle headcanon!

Service Whites

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

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#top gun rocktober #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #val kilmer

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