#if you read this I’m sorry I guess but also you should drink water and take care of yourself bc you deserve the world and more
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Ex Machina
I received so many requests for period sex with Abby. This is a sensitive topic, difficult to write with the intention of fitting a wide array of readers, as our experiences with our bodies are all so different. Anyhow, this is my interpretation of Abby and intimacy during your time of the month. I hope I did it justice. Thank you for reading. 18+ only.
From the moment you crawled out of bed, a stubborn headache has plagued you, a dull throb pulsating behind your eyes. Sunlight floods your apartment, drenching the lush green leaves of all your plants while simultaneously intensifying the pounding in your head.
You glance out into the stadium and spot Abby leading the new recruits through drills on the field below. All week they’ve been running late, and although she’s usually home by now, it seems like today will be another exception.
Perhaps it’s for the best since you’re teetering on the brink of a bad mood.
You realize you should eat the breakfast she’s prepared for you, but your stomach is churning. Exhaustion burdens every inch of your body, as if your bones themselves are weary, the brain fog and bloat leaving you miserable.
While some months are more challenging than others, your period is never a pleasant ordeal. Growing up, the focus was on survival rather than on understanding the intricacies of womanhood and how to navigate them. Now, the demands of being actively involved in the WLF have made it difficult for you to prioritize and manage your health. It doesn’t help that your superiors interpret any actions that undermine your performance or distract you from the objective as a sign of weakness.
In this arena, Abby is an absolute godsend. With her background as a trained medic, and raised by a phenomenal doctor, she is also a highly empathetic partner to you.
Next to your breakfast, Abby has thoughtfully prepared a thermos of ginger tea, its peppery aroma offering respite from your nausea as you drink it down.
Abby’s concern about how much you’ve been pushing yourself has reached a peak, and given how awful you feel, you’re starting to see her point.
This time around, it’s pure luck that your days off align perfectly with your desperate need for them. Counting your blessings, you drag yourself to the shower, hopeful that the hot water will alleviate some of your agony.
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Abby strolls through the door in the late afternoon, and you immediately catch a whiff of citrus and jasmine as she places a vase of fresh flowers on your bedside table. They’re a gesture of peace to make up for being gone so long, but she’ll always find an excuse to bring you fresh flowers.
“I’m sorry it ran so late today,” she says, letting out an exasperated sigh as she kicks off her boots. “God, what a shitshow. Let’s run away together, yeah?”
“Ask me again in a few days,” you say.
While you dig through your shared drawers, she observes you swapping your pajamas for one of her roomiest shirts. The corners of her mouth lift in a devilish grin, giving her an air of playful wickedness.
“Still feeling rough?” she asks, plunking herself onto your bed.
“I think it’s worse this time around,” you explain, your hands cradling your sore stomach, finding comfort in the soft fabric against your skin. “Everything aches, and I’m so bloated. It really sucks.”
“Well, you look beautiful,” Abby says.
You go the extra mile to give her the most over-the-top eye roll you can manage. She’s a sweetheart, but her words can’t mask the overwhelming sense of detachment you feel from your body, intensifying your self-doubt.
“I’m serious,” she says, reaching out to pull you closer. “Have I ever lied to you?”
You can’t recall a time when she’s made you doubt her—the integrity of this woman is unwavering. Her straightforwardness knows no bounds, often leaving others taken aback. It is ultimately one of the traits you admire the most in her.
“I don’t feel very beautiful, I guess.”
Abby’s fingertips glide down the back of your thighs, tickling the sensitive skin behind your knees, before trailing back up to toy with the hem of your shirt. Her shirt, technically speaking.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks.
Her question carries a familiar undertone, one you’ve been meaning to address for a while now.
During Abby’s cycle, her sexual desire intensifies to an unprecedented level, and she’s insatiable.
One night, after your shift let out early, you walked in on her. The blonde wisps of hair framing her face were curled with sweat as she touched herself under a blanket on the couch. You recall vividly her delirious gaze, head tilted back on the plush armrest as she rode the waves of her pleasure, filling your apartment with the sweetest sounds.
It was in the early phases of your relationship, and you were so surprised when you entered the room that you hesitated—torn between quietly leaving to let her finish or offering to help her. Luckily, she decided on your behalf.
Instead of panicking and hurriedly covering up her deed, Abby continued without missing a beat—beckoning you to join her. It was one of the most sensual experiences of your life, and the memory of it still makes your heart race.
But for you, it’s different.
It’s a constant battle of messiness, discomfort, and frustration. When your hormones are fluctuating and you feel a spike of arousal, the thought of Abby seeing you in that state halts your excitement.
In the past, she mentioned how her lifestyle influences her body’s bleeding patterns. She attributes her active lifestyle and high stress levels to a lighter flow. But she also understands that certain conditions are beyond control for many women, affecting their relationship with their cycle and the way their body reacts to it.
“How the heck do you do it?” you ask, your fingers connecting with hers as you delicately flip her hands over to trace the deep lines etched on her palm. “You get so confident.”
Every day, without fail, you find yourself entranced by the beauty of her ethereal blue eyes as she seems to peer directly into your soul. There’s a special intimacy in truly knowing someone, beyond the flaws and all the fears.
She has a keen sense of what you’re grappling with, often before you can articulate it.
Her brow quirks as she rakes her teeth over her pouty bottom lip.
“Horny, you mean?” she smirks.
“Is that what it is for you?”
“Not always,” she explains, as her fingers move to brush against the front of your thighs, igniting a tingling warmth between them. “But I listen to what my body tells me. It’s how I heal.”
“What does your body tell you?” you ask.
“It depends,” she says, looking up at you through her soft lashes. “Sometimes it tells me to rest—other times, I need a little more than that. But I have bad days, too.”
You reflect on your relationship with your body and how Abby’s presence has transformed your self-perception over the years. She empowers you to find security in your own skin, even when you’re clawing the walls of your existence.
Even on the toughest days to practice self-love, she’s right there by your side, offering that extra boost to keep you going.
“It doesn’t gross you out, the thought of touching me when I’m like this?”
Abby lets out a surprised chuckle, gently placing her hands on your hips for a reassuring squeeze.
“Baby,” she says with an air of certainty. “There’s nothing you can do that would ever disgust me. This just reminds me how much of a badass you are. I’m a pretty big fan, if you haven’t noticed.”
You nod in acceptance as your fingers weave into her hair, gently tugging the long braid that rests on the nape of her neck. She fixes her busy gaze on you, brimming with an unmistakable and sincere affection, patiently awaiting your next move.
“It fucking hurts,” you say.
“Inside?” she asks.
“Everywhere,” you whisper.
Her lips meet the swollen part of your stomach as she leans forward, pressing kisses from your belly button to your hips. Her methodical nature shines through, ensuring she leaves no tender spot untouched.
When she glances up at you again, her eyes are heavy with hunger.
“Do you want me to make it better?”
It’s a lot to consider, and she watches you closely, anticipating your reaction as you try to process it all. If it bothers you, it will surely bother her, too—but can the reverse be true? If you have a pleasant experience, is it possible that Abby will also have a good time?
“Can we sleep on it?” you ask. “I’m just, you know—worried, I guess.”
Abby invites you to sit on her lap and when you oblige, she snuggles into the curve of your neck, sighing happily.
“Of course we can.”
Noticing your musing, she leans back to get a solid look at you. When your eyes meet, she crinkles her nose, a silent, impish signal she frequently uses to let you know she’s with you, even from across the room.
“What’s going on in that pretty head, huh?” she asks.
“I’m just glad you’re wearing dark pants right now,” you snort. “This cup thingy you got for me is working okay, though.”
“Well, thank God for that!” she huffs. “What would I ever do with bloodstains on my pants—can you imagine? Not this girl.”
“You’re on a roll today, aren’t you?”
Abby’s tongue darts out, lingering at the corner of her mouth until you dig your fingers into the ticklish spot at the small of her back, causing her to squirm with laughter. She quickly unravels under your ministrations, her voice transforming into something high and wild as she reprimands you through wheezing breaths.
“See, I warned you about teaching me how to lift weights!” you giggle, your grip on her wrists unforgiving as you pin her hands behind her. “Game over, Anderson.”
“You think so?” she chuckles breathlessly. “Hey—can I show you something?”
“You can try!”
Abby regains control of her hands and flips you onto your back with such ease it renders you utterly defenseless.
“Now what?” she asks.
She has you trapped, pressing your body and hands firmly against the mattress, careful to avoid your abdomen. It gives you an advantage, an edge to steal the upper hand, and with a sudden burst of energy, you buck into her, entangling your legs with hers in a fierce grapple. By the end of your wrestling match, your muscles burn from exertion, your focus shifting solely to the simmer of adrenaline working its way down your spine.
You leave behind any awareness of your physical state or appearance in favour of being in her arms, and she’s delighted to have you there.
Her rugged hands rest on your belly, rising and falling in sync with your breathing, and you’re weightless. The pain that had been radiating at your core all day has subsided, the niggling headache lifting from your temples as Abby works out the tension at the base of your skull with her fingertips.
Prominent veins pulse along her powerful arms in thick blue vines and as you trace them, her nostrils flare. The most innate manifestation of life and simply being alive underneath your touch.
“Let’s grab some dinner, yeah?” Abby pants, dropping a playful, squeaking kiss between your brows. “I’m starved. I need sustenance.”
“What else is new?” you tease. “You’re my God and my freaking machine.”
“Quit beating me up then,” she groans, a smile dancing on her lips. “If you build up my appetite, it’s only fair to replenish me. Do you want me to waste away or what?”
“Listen to you!”
She turns her face away, attempting to hide her jubilance.
“Bullying me—using up all my energy,” she says, jutting out her bottom lip. “Poor Abby is what they all say. You should hear them!”
“You literally started it,” you blurt. “I’m so done with you.”
Before you can roll off the bed, she quickly snatches you up and buries herself against your chest. Trying to suppress your triumph, a whirlwind of flutters spins between your ribs, like a miniature tornado poised to absorb everything in its path.
“Please don’t ever be done with me,” Abby murmurs. “Okay?”
Tendrils of soft hair spill out from her braid, and you can’t resist the urge to twist the golden threads around your finger, stroking her freckled shoulders with your other hand.
“Forever is a long time,” you murmur.
“It sure doesn’t feel like it,” she says, wrapping herself around you.
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After months of waiting, the chow hall is finally serving your favourite meal, and you’re in a state of pure bliss as you savour it with your friends and comrades.
Manny is on his grind, recounting the funniest stories he can think of, causing uproarious laughter and taking harmless jabs at everyone at the table. Among her squad, Abby truly shines, earning admiration for her ability to treat everyone as equals, regardless of her superior position.
She is a leader in the field, but at home, she’s everyone’s trusted friend.
As you reminisce about a time before you knew her, the thought of living without the familiar scent of pine soap and the comforting feeling of her arms around you while you sleep becomes hazy and indistinct. The sensation of her breath against your neck as you wake up each morning is a treasured gift that you never want to lose sight of.
Under the table, you give Abby’s knee a gentle squeeze. She instinctively laces her fingers with yours, fully focused on Manny’s irrational fear of a girl storing her toothbrush in his apartment.
Only when your hand glides up her thigh does she split her focus, giving you a knowing sidelong glance.
Abby subtly adjusts herself to accommodate you, widening the space between her legs as the edges of her ear takes on the prettiest pink hue.
You toy with the button on her cargo pants, trailing your fingernail along the zipper, and despite her best efforts to focus on the surrounding conversations, she’s fading fast. Absentmindedly nibbling at the dry patches on her lip, she blinks with a slightly delayed rhythm, absorbed by your attention.
With each seductive surge, the intensity of your pain subsides, smoothing out its sharp edges.
“It’s your fault,” Manny explains, addressing Abby directly, the tines of his fork slicing the air. “I never had these problems when you were my roommate.”
Foreseeing a mental showdown, you slowly retreat to your lap, but Abby immediately tugs your hand back.
You know precisely what is going through her mind.
“Don’t blame your mommy issues on me, Alvarez,” Abby retorts. “Shit or get off the pot.”
Your fingers scratch a torturous path across her hard thigh, only stopping to pay special attention to the rigid seam of her pants before traveling back to her knee. Abby clears her throat and straightens up, indicating that she’s about three seconds away from a polite excuse to refuse dessert and propose an early night.
You beat her to the punch by deftly gathering your trays, offering a nod of farewell to everyone in the room and letting your girl know it’s time for her to take you to bed.
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Rain trickles in silver ribbons along the panoramic windows of your apartment, flashes of lightning illuminating the night sky as the occasional rumble of thunder punctuates a mounting storm. Abby places candles on every tabletop and surface, creating a dim, flickering glow in anticipation of a possible power outage.
The crackling hiss of each match strike pulls you deeper into a state of relaxation.
She abandons the matchbox and, in one fluid motion, lifts her sweater up and over her head, tossing it onto the rocking chair in your reading nook.
Her back is a tapestry of sculpted muscles and you’re eager to feel them twitch and flex. It’s time to put an end to the silence that has been lingering between you since dinner.
“Abby?”
She hums, spinning around to face you, her expression lifting with an affectionate smile.
“What’s up?” she asks.
“I trust you.”
All traces of her tough exterior vanish as her determined strides carry her across the room, closing the distance between you. It’s a compliment that you know she will hold in high regard.
“I’m glad,” she whispers. “You’re always safe with me, okay?”
Abby’s eyes are a fragment of the ocean, a world of mystery and depth pulling you in. Her touch is gentle as she cups your jaw, delicately tilting your chin toward hers.
“I mean it,” she says.
The moment your lips meet, the taste of her intoxicates you, the room a dizzy blur of raindrops and candlelight. Her eager hands greedily explore the curves of your body, and the languid pace is torment. Taking her lower lip between your teeth, you suck her gently into your mouth, rocking against her for relief.
“Please let me take care of you,” Abby says.
You guide her hand between your legs, giving her the freedom to ease your pain. The surface is so slick that her fingers glide over your smooth folds, circling your swollen clit until you’re whimpering against her throat.
“Fuck, you feel good,” she whines. “You’re so wet, I can’t even take it.”
“Keep this up and I won’t last long,” you giggle.
Abby lifts you and sets you down on the bed, and that’s when you see it for the first time. Faint streaks of you staining her fingertips.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say.
“Look at me,” Abby murmurs, trailing kisses up your thigh. “You are so incredibly sexy like this.”
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It's a Ginger Thing
Pairing: Soft Dark!Nick Fowler x Female Reader
Summary: Feeling a bit stir crazy from your daily routine, you share an idea with Nick that may be good for the other wives.
Word Count: Over 1.5k
Warnings: Implied smut, noncon/dubcon elements (you have been warned), gaps in memory, gaslighting, coercion, creepy vibes, Nick Fowler (yep, he's a warning)
A/N: Nick and Ginger's Intro for my Disturbia AU! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Nick took you to the gym at the same time each day before he went to work. Exercising was your favorite part of your daily routine. It gave you a chance to get out of the house, stay in shape, and have some time with your husband before he went on his way and you got to work on your chores. It was also a good way to get some of your frustrations out of your system, which you could only do so much through cleaning.
A good wife keeps a tidy home for her husband.
You pinched the bridge of your nose as you stopped in mid stretch. It was difficult to pinpoint why you weren’t overly fond of cleaning. It wasn’t that you didn’t like a put together home and you would never look down on anyone who thrived on being a stay-at-home spouse. But it wasn’t a way for you to flourish. It was as if one day you just decided to give up on your wants without a second thought.
What did I want to do before we moved to The Haven? I had goals, didn’t I? Ambition?
You sometimes liked to imagine that you wanted something more beyond the duties of a housewife. Something exciting or a job that could help people in some way. It was possible to support Nick in the ways he needed while having something of our own. Was that too much to ask?
Yes. Because Nick helps so many with his job, along with taking care of me. Supporting him should be enough.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked when you quickly finished stretching.
“Nothing,” you said, putting your hands on your hips as his bright blue eyes focused on you. Seeing him in his workout clothes, the taut muscles defined through the fabric, made it difficult to concentrate. “Just don’t really think I’m up for doing any housework today.”
“Your head bothering you?” he asked, taking a sip of water with an unwavering gaze.
Nick was a little different from some of the men you knew in the neighborhood. From what you observed, Steve ruled his home with an iron fist and he expected Cherry to fall in line. You had to bite back a retort more than once when you saw how he treated her, especially since she was so kind. Scott was one of the nicest guys on the block, but traditional in that he expected Rose to find fulfillment as a homemaker and future mother. Andy and Ruby, you still weren’t quite sure how they fit together, but they at least seemed happy.
But Nick? It didn’t bother him if you skipped cooking one night to order takeout or if you let laundry go for a day. The last time you snapped at him to put his own plate in the dishwasher, he laughed and bent you over the kitchen table until you were a drooling mess. All while telling you he loved the fire inside you. Because at the end of the day, he wanted you by his side and in his bed.
That was the only true rule he enforced: Don’t ever leave him.
And why would I? Nick Fowler is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.
“I think you went away there for a second,” he said.
“Sorry. Guess my head is bothering me,” you replied, graciously accepting the other bottle as he handed it over.
You never expected to crave fruit infused water, but it soothed the aches in your body. You once asked if he put muscle relaxers or something in your drinks since you always seemed to feel better once you had them. He said “yes” with the most serious expression before he winked. And you promptly dumped your drink out. He had to make them in front of you for a week straight before you took them again without question. It didn’t matter that it was a joke to him because you took it seriously.
Nick wouldn’t hurt me though. He loves me with his entire being.
“So, I was thinking,” you began, pausing to take a large sip.
“That can’t be good,” he joked, chuckling when you grabbed his towel to toss it at him. “Kidding! I was kidding. What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?”
I don’t know half the time and that scares me.
“I was thinking that it might be good if I taught the girls a little bit of self-defense. Maybe we can rent out a spot here? Or I can even teach it in our backyard?” You told him, giving him a pleading smile. “What do you think?”
“Why would you want to do that?” he asked, motioning for you to follow him to one of the sparring mats.
Where Nick goes, I’ll follow him.
“It would be good for me to break up my routine a little bit. I love our time here at the gym and it’s fun hanging out with the girls, but I think it might be good for all of us. I know that we live in a safe neighborhood, but you never know what'll happen.”
“I'm sure Ruby can defend herself just fine,” he joked, running a hand through his short hair. You could tell he was trying to get your attention on him and not the topic at hand.
“And what about Cherry and Rose?” you asked. “And didn’t you say someone is living with Bucky now? What about her?”
“Plum. We haven’t met her yet,” Nick shrugged a little. “I understand that you don’t want to stay home all the time, but I really don't see the need for a self-defense class. The others will probably feel the same way.”
“Of course, you don't see the need for it,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. “You know why? Because you're not here. Day in and day out, you get to leave and go to work. The other husbands get to leave. And the wives? We’re stuck here. It’s enough to drive me crazy.”
Don’t raise your voice at your husband.
A shuddering breath left your lungs when Nick clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. It reminded you of a nightmare you had before you moved into the neighborhood. Of him chasing you down and catching you with that same terrifying look before he fucked you into submission. There was an ache between your thighs when you woke up, but he assured you it was nothing more than a vivid, terrible dream.
You felt so bad about it that you ended up apologizing to him.
A good wife knows when to concede to her husband and chooses her battles wisely.
“Whatever it is that you're feeling, you don't need to take it out on me. I'm on your side,” he reminded you before he took a deep breath. “Look. I can’t make any promises that anyone will be okay with a self-defense class, but I’ll at least ask.”
“You will?” you asked in a softer voice, bringing your water to your lips and deflating a bit as the cool liquid flowed through your body.
“I will,” he promised, taking the drink away from you when you gave a smile. “May I offer a compromise in case they say no? An aerobics class? This way you can still get quality time with the girls here.”
That didn’t seem like a fair compromise to you. How would aerobics help the girls, besides staying in shape? But the smile Nick gave you was enough to back down the rising words in your throat.
Nick knows the best course of action.
“I’ll consider that,” you said, gasping when he kicked your feet out from under you. Luckily, you didn’t get the wind knocked out of you as you landed on your back. “Nick!”
“Always be aware of your surroundings, Ginger,” he smirked, joining you on the ground. He easily caught your wrists and pinned them above your head. The position left you vulnerable. “If you’re going to help these girls, you need to be able to help yourself.”
“I can,” you said through your teeth.
I’m not weak. I’m stronger than he thinks I am.
“Yeah? Then get out from under me or stay there and let me get you off,” he said, bending down to brush his lips against yours. “Or maybe I should leave you hanging for snapping at me.”
You moaned when he dipped his hips against yours. Was it the control he had that made him hard or the fact that anyone could walk into the gym and catch you? It wouldn’t be the first time. He liked it when others caught him fucking you.
He’s a proud husband and there’s nothing wrong with that.
“Sorry I snapped,” you whispered, arching your back when he tightened his grip on your wrists.
“Why don’t you let your pussy show me how sorry you are? Then I’ll believe you.”
Whatever Nick wants, he gets. And I’ll be happy to give it to him.
Good life with Nick, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#nick fowler x reader#nick fowler x female reader#nick fowler x female!reader#nick fowler x you#nick fowler x y/n#nick fowler#soft!dark nick fowler x reader#disturbia au#nick and ginger#nick fowler imagine#nick fowler fanfiction#nick fowler au#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x female!reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan
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More than movie magic... 9/?
Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.
ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT
The reading had gone well, costuming have them all sorted with their respective racks of clothes and they’ve covered the schedule for filming. His first day is officially over, however if he doesn’t eat dinner with his parents there will be hell to pay, so he’s here instead of with the rest of the cast and crew. He’s glad his nieces and nephews are small, otherwise this would be a whole family affair and he knows that’s on the cards on Sunday for lunch.
“Jake, sit down and eat.”
“Sorry mom, I’m just…”
“Distracted. I’m aware. It’s not like you. What is it?”
“Uh,” he quickly shoves a piece of carrot in his mouth and hopes he can use the fact he’s chewing as an excuse to not answer.
“Oh, hesitation. Hesitation and misdirection. You don’t want to tell me. Is it a girl? Or a boy?”
“Man. It’s a man mom,” Jake mutters, because he’s in his early thirties, he’s not interested in boys or girls. Men and women are far better terms. His mom should know this, she’s the freaking English teacher. Not that he wants to be having this conversation with his mom regardless, but she’s like a shark scenting blood in the water, plus she’s one of his closest friends, and also doesn’t hold back when she thinks he’s being an idiot, which he needs sometimes. Maybe this is one of those times? He reaches for his glass of water.
“A man. Well, that doesn’t narrow it down, there’s quite a lot of them wondering around now. Hmm. Is it Bradley?”
Jake inhales his drink, coughs, wonders how the hell she’s just randomly guessed and he looks at her through watering eyes, still clearing his throat. Okay. This is definitely one of those times if she already knows. That’s mortifying, but at least he knows it’s just his mom and she knows him better than anyone.
“Oh it is! Oh good, I like him!”
“Mom!”
“What? You complained about him enough, I thought I’d form my own opinion. He’s nice and polite, has a good sense of humor, and can ride a horse. Much better than your last two…”
Jake pulls a face, because of course she hadn’t said anything at the time when he’d been with either Gabriel or Alicia, but afterwards she’d just told him someone better would come along. The fact that’s she already given Bradley her seal of approval doesn’t make him feel any better.
“I don’t even know if he’s single.”
“Oh, he is.”
“What?” Jake exclaims, because his tired brain is catching up and not only does his mom know Bradley, but it’s like she’s had multiple conversations with him.
“We talk. And I asked him dear. I’ve been feeding him up. He needs to eat more.”
“Oh my god, you’ve met him. You’ve talked to him,” Jake says, voice quiet with terrified realization. This is… not good.
“Every day since he arrived except one. But it’s okay, I sent your father with some cheese biscuits.”
“Fuck, dad’s met him?”
“Jake… he’s on your family ranch. He’s also met Freddie and Andy, and well… he’s been here for two weeks.”
“You haven’t had him here have you?” Jake asks, looking around at the embarrassing number of childhood shots of him and his siblings.
“Well, not for lack of trying. He keeps on turning my invitations down, saying he needs to work. Maybe you could invite him.”
“Mom…”
“Yes dear?”
“Can you just, uh, leave it for a couple of days at least?”
She looks at him then, slight frown on her face telling him that she’s considering listening to him and he’s grateful for small miracles.
“Oh Jake…”
“I know… I know okay? I just… he’s smart and clever and so good at everything he does.”
“You’re smart, clever and good at everything you do too honey.”
“You’re my mom, you’re meant to say that.”
“Well, I also thought your days being dumb over a boy, sorry, man, were behind you, so maybe not that clever.”
“Thanks mom,” Jake mutters, stabbing at the vegetables on his plate.
“Jake, have you considered that he’s intimidated by you?”
“Uh… I think the last thing Bradley is, is intimidated by me. He’s very used to telling me no.”
Actually that might be part of it, he’s so used to hearing Bradley tell him no he’s just assumed he’d hear it again if he did actually ask him out. He remembers Bradley meeting him, not being at all phased by Jake’s fame. And he knows most people are over it when they work in Hollywood, however there’s usually a little bit of something. All Bradley had seemed at the time was annoyed. He knows Bradley considered Pete Mitchell family, deals with Jake on a professional level because he’s nothing if not a consummate professional. Although he does seem to watch Jake, maybe as much as Jake watches him. Okay. Maybe he’s not got zero chances.
“Have you asked him out?”
“No.”
“Then I suggest you do. Not everyone else is going to make the first move for you honey. I’ll give you until Saturday.”
“Why? What’s happening Saturday?”
“Then I ask him out for you, like you’re four and I’m organizing a little playdate between you and a friend.”
“Mom! You wouldn’t…”
“Do you feel totally confident in that?”
He looks at her and he really doesn’t. She might be his biggest fan and supporter, but she’s also the first to bring him sharply back to earth if she thinks his head is getting too big. Or if he’s being stupid and going to miss out on something.
“Honey, you have a choice. Either face potential embarrassment of asking him and him maybe saying no. Or there will be the definitive and absolute embarrassment of me asking him, which I can assure you will be so much more humiliating for you on every level I can think of…”
Jake is getting traumatic flashbacks to his teen years; the time his mom danced in the grocery aisles to her favorite song, or when she screamed his name across the quad at school, telling him he forgot his lunch and then gave him a sparkly pink plastic lunchbox covered in Hello Kitty stickers while she was wearing a bathrobe (impressive and annoying considering she was a teacher and fully dressed under the bathrobe). God, he really cannot trust her not to go through with it.
PART TEN
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Wild Lavender
Hermione x Fred | Kinktober Day 30: “Formalwear”
cw: implied sex
When Hermione saw the formal invitation with “black tie” in carefully printed letters, she had to admit a part of her almost canceled on Fred right then and there.
The Merchant’s Inaugural Gala was meant to celebrate the reformation of Diagon Alley and related shopping districts after the war. It had been a long time getting back to the previous levels of activity, too long since people felt comfortable in the public spaces that once brought so many of them joy.
It was through that rebuilding effort that Hermione and Fred bonded, with her spending much of her free time on the weekends over at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes replenishing stocks and shelves alongside her favorite twin.
They were so close to taking that final step towards something more, and when he’d asked her to be his +1, she hadn’t hesitated to accept. Now, standing in his kitchen above the store after going up to get a drink of water, she looked down at the card atop his table.
Black tie.
What was she even going to wear? She didn’t have any gowns suitable for this type of event. The best she had was the red cocktail dress she’d worn at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Could she have it lengthened?
Fred popped his head in the door and noticed her standing there, chewing her lip.
“Everything alright, Hermione?”
She startled at his voice and set the glass down with a loud clunk.
“I didn’t realize the gala would be so formal.”
He sauntered over to look down at the invitation, before looking back up at her with his head tilted. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“I just don’t know if I have anything to wear,” she admitted. She willed her hands to stop twisting the hem of her sweater like she often did when nervous.
“Sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier. I didn’t have anything either, which is why I popped over to Wild Lavender.”
That surprised her. For some reason, she couldn’t imagine him walking into the posh new boutique.
His next words surprised her even more. “If you go for yourself, let them know you’re my date. They’ll take care of you.”
She gaped at him, appalled at the implication. “I’m not letting you buy my gown, Fred!” He obviously had no idea how expensive dresses could get.
“I promise that’s not what I mean,” he laughed, shaking his head. “They’ll just make sure you get something that matches well. The proprietor also may have mentioned wanting to meet you.”
She wrinkled her brow at the strange comment. Why would a stranger want to meet her? Then another idea came to mind and she flinched. What if they were one of those people who got off on meeting celebrities? She was a household name now, alongside the boys, and she’d already suffered her fair share of dodging the press.
As if he’d read her mind, Fred nudged her playfully. “It’s nothing bad, trust me. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Hmm,” she hummed skeptically. “We’ll see about that.”
Her mind whirred as she followed him back down to the shop. What could the owner of an up-and-coming clothes shop want with her?
It turned out that the proprietors were none other than Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.
She should have guessed the connection with the name, but she hadn’t seen nor heard anything about Lavender following her hospitalization. Hermione had known it was a pretty big ordeal—it was Fenrir, after all–and that her former housemate survived, but nothing beyond that.
The two girls circled her like hawks, and Hermione tried to not stare at the scars marring the once-pretty girl’s face, focusing instead on Parvati’s excited smile.
“You’re going to be perfect!” she gushed. Lavender nodded in agreement, continuing to take her measurements.
“I’m sorry, what is going to be perfect?” Hermione asked, her nerves getting the better of her. She had to forcibly stop herself from gripping her sweater.
“We’re thinking midnight blue to match with Fred, and something that accentuates your delicate features,” Parvati answered.
“She won’t need any support with how tiny she is,” Lavender murmured.
Hermione flushed. She knew she was skinny—several months on the run had made certain of that. She had only recently gotten back to her former weight, but it was still difficult making herself eat when she could have easily skipped meals.
Lavender rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Hermione looked at her directly for the first time. She hadn’t expected the comfort, to be honest, given their history. Large hazel eyes looked back at her filled with a kindness and understanding to which Hermione couldn’t help but respond. She smiled tightly, tears threatening to fall, and it was only Lavender’s reassuring squeeze that gave her the will to stop them.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Hermione,” Lavender said softly, going on to explain, “I simply meant that we won’t need further adjustments.”
It turned out what they had in mind was more daring than Hermione would have ever, ever chosen for herself.
The drawing Parvati held up to her revealed a slender gown that hugged the model’s willowy frame, the back of which plunged deep past the center of her back with thin straps exposing her shoulders. She appreciated the design hiding the purple scar reaching across her torso—she wasn’t ashamed of it, but she still wasn’t comfortable with showing it off to others. She’d cross that hurdle with Fred if they ever got there.
The skirt flared outward at the knee in a mermaid silhouette. Hermione had only ever considered the shape as something appropriate for wedding gowns, not for anything she would ever wear.
“We’re adding a charm to occasionally shimmer gold as you move,” Parvati described. She waved her hands in her excitement. “You won’t need to wear a bra or anything for support since we’ll have spells weaved into the fabric, not that you even can wear one with this design. I’d advise against knickers, as well.”
“It’s beautiful, but don’t you think it’s a bit…much…for me?” she tentatively asked.
“Nonsense,” Lavender scoffed. Her voice regained the vigor of her youth in her certainty. “In fact, I’d wager you’ll catch every single person’s attention the moment you walk in. You are magnificent.”
Hermione only wanted one wizard’s attention, but she flushed at the compliment, all the same.
“Just make sure you credit Wild Lavender when asked about your stylist,” Parvati added.
Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. Here was the true reason they’d wanted to meet her so badly. When they refused her payment, she barely argued. If they wanted her to parade their goods to the world, she might as well take them up on the offer.
She had no idea what to expect as she waited for Fred to arrive at her flat. She trusted he’d dress appropriately thanks to the girls, but she also wouldn’t have put it past the mischievous wizard to show up in something akin to his and George’s signature orange.
Hermione had to admit that she wouldn’t even mind.
As garish as the color was, the brightness of it simply suited him. Fred was pure joy. If he hadn’t survived his injuries after the final battle, Hermione knew the loss would have devastated his family and everyone else who knew him, and she would have been robbed of some of the happiest moments of her life.
When the knock came, a cheery trio of raps that was all Fred, she took a steadying breath before opening the door.
Fred Weasley cleaned up extremely well.
The prat knew it, too.
He stood there, one hand casually in his pocket, and the other holding up a single-stemmed rose in a deep shade of red, a single dark blue ribbon tied to the stem.
He wore a three-piece suit in a shade of brown Hermione immediately likened to her favorite dark roast coffee. The color complimented his hair, shorn short on the sides and the longer tresses up top styled in fashionable messiness. Accents of a blue matching the rose’s ribbon could be found in his slim tie and pocket square, both of which brought out his light blue eyes, which were currently pinned on her and twinkling in a way that was uniquely his.
“Hello, Hermione.”
It took a twist of his lips for Hermione to realize she was gaping at him. She shut her mouth with an audible click and hastily cast about for something appropriate to say.
She was an intelligent witch. She could be witty when required.
“Hi.”
Bloody hell.
His damnable lips curled upward into a grin. He then blatantly ran his eyes down her figure, before locking back onto her stupefied gaze. “You look gorgeous.”
Hermione was forced to clear her throat, which suddenly felt extremely dry, before answering. “Thank you. You look very nice, as well.”
She flushed as he chuckled at her stiff response. She sounded nothing like her normal self, and she hated that. Why couldn’t she just act like she normally did around him? It was usually so easy.
Curse Lavender and Parvati for making him look so damn delicious.
Hermione already knew he was a good-looking and fit wizard; a blind witch could have told her that. He and George had been Beaters, after all. They had the muscle mass to back up the skills the position required: broad shoulders, thick thighs that his dress slacks hugged sinfully, and an arse so tight she knew if he just turned around she’d want to bounce a Quaffle off of it.
Were Quaffles bouncy?
“Shall we?” He held out an elbow.
“Yes, oh!” Hermione plucked the rose from his fingers and rushed back to the kitchen to set it in a vase in the dead center of the island. “Now I’m ready.”
A choked sound had her twirling around in concern. His eyes were wide, and she realized that he’d seen her back for the first time.
Her very. Bare. Back.
He smiled tightly at her, closed his eyes for a few seconds, the tendons in his neck standing out, then reopened them before offering his arm once more for her to take.
As she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, Hermione couldn’t help but squeeze lightly in appreciation. He was just so solid and warm, and she couldn’t help but imagine him wrapping those same arms around her. What would they feel like pressing her against the wall, or bent over a desk?
A throat clearing had her looking up into crystal clear eyes that looked hungry.
“Yes?”
“That’s the second time you’ve said ‘yes’ this evening and I’m tempted to make you say it several times more before we even leave the flat.” He sounded hoarse, eyes dropping down to her lips and staring like he wanted nothing more than to bite them.
Circe help her, but she wanted him to bite her.
“Then why don’t you?” she said, far more breathily than she’d intended.
“Be careful what you ask for, Hermione,” he warned, turning to face her and placing his other hand on her hip.
Looking as he did, painfully handsome and dressed up for her, Hermione summoned every ounce of courage in her body to voice her thoughts aloud.
“Make me say ‘yes’, Fred.”
His eyes flashed, and then he was on her, pressing her up against the kitchen island, the hand on her hip sliding down to grip her thigh.
“Don’t you dare rip this dress, Fred Weasley.”
“Then tell me how to take it off, witch.”
She told him, and they ended up arriving at the gala several hours late, but just in time for the final toasts.
“Oh, this? Wild Lavender. You will not regret it.”
WC 1966
10/30 “Formalwear” prompt for @hpkinktober
Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3
I don’t know if I’ve ever written Fremione, despite absolutely loving the two of them together? The twins are fantastic if any combination, to be honest, and I should probably write a triad fic for them sometime.
The title is a reference to a couple of YouTube fashion influencers I used to watch all the time. Kudos if you recognize it ;)
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OMG OKAY SO- I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR THE CAPSLOCK BUT I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS WHILE I WAS DOING THE DISHES—
How would the worst gen trio react to fanservice scenes of the reader? More specifically: the typical anime onsen scene. aka those japanese(??) baths where it's steamy and stuff).
AND IN ADDITION: the writers and authors for the anime are aware of how large the 'simping for the crimson reaper' fandom is so they decided to make a call out in the scene where the characters, in ckuding reader, look at the camera when they mention that reader has a lot of worshippers even as a pirate(?). HOW WOULD THE WORST GEN TRIO REACT TO THAT?? BECAUSE I LITERALLY BEGAN LAUGHING LIKE A HYENA WHEN MY BRAIN SUDDENLY THOUGHT OF THIS WHILE DOING THE DISHES :'DDDDD
— yours truly, also a eustass kid simp anon 🥀
a/n - NO DW ABT CAPS I YELL ALOT ANYWAY 💀 damn maybe I should do dishes so I’d have good ideas 😭 oh. My. GOD. YES OML I- I CHOKED ON MY WATER WHEN I READ OVER THIS- TY KID SIMP ANON YOU’RE THE BEST
Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, worst gen trio live together in an apartment
Law
- oh he was doing COMPLETELY fine while watching op with a cup of water in his hand
- He took a sip, closing his eyes and sighing with how nice the ice cold water felt
- Once he reopened them, he spit it out, clutching his throat while coughing and wheezing
- On-screen, he saw you in nothing but a towel on!
- law.exe has stopped working
- He almost had to call the ambulance because he was choking so badly 💀
- he was literally struggling to turn the tv off, dropping it and the remote accidentally turning up the volume (pls this is so horrible 😭 I’m so sorry law)
- he was literally dying, figuratively and- literally because he’s having absolutely no luck with trying to stop coughing
- The volume was so fucking loud
- OF COURSE IT WAS A SCENE WITH YOU IN A BATHROOM WITH ALMOST NO CLOTHES ON
- The sounds in this scene were also- kind of questionable
- He literally was banging the floor, trying to drink more water to help himself not die such a stupid death
- “Trafalgar Law, death by water”
- no he wouldn’t ever allow that to happen
- then suddenly, he saw that you and the other characters turned straight towards the camera
- “So uh… I guess I have a lot of worshippers?? I’m a pirate guys..” You said with an awkward look in your eyes
- You had an abundance of fan letters right beside you, and this was one of those special edition episodes
- Law was so- red
- He was freaking out SO MUCH
- At the same time, he loves you so much. But then feels so stupid for falling in love with a fictional character 😭
- The TV was so loud that when Luffy and Kid barged through the door, they immediately asked questions
- “Why are you groaning Torao?!” -Luffy
- “Is that you or the TV…?” -Kid (kid this is the one time I’m gonna say you did smth good :)
- Law turned bright red. And I mean BRIGHT red
- he threw himself across the floor like a worm, grabbing the remote while wheezing
- he kept pressing the button to turn the TV off to no avail
- “DAMN IT!”
- He yelled, slamming his fist into the remote, finally getting it to turn off
- He was breathing so heavily, his heart pounding from stress, fear, and embarrassment
- He almost died choking on his own water, because of seeing his fictional crush in a bath scene 💀
- Luffy and Kid looked at each other with the same look in their eyes
- “YOU’RE A SIMPPPPPPP!” They both cheered, making fun of him to no end
- they were like little kids saying “na na na na na” around Law
- he had a headache before, but now he thinks he has brain damage from these two 😭
- he secretly saved that episode for.. later purposes you could say 👀
Kid
- he usually watches one piece while tinkering with some of his new machines, he likes listening to your voice in the background
- It helps him work lol
- all of the sudden, he heard water noises, so he turned to the tv out of curiosity of what was happening
- maybe you were fighting someone again?
- his eyes went wide, and he dropped his hammer into his foot, making him start screaming like a madman
- “FUCK- DAMMIT FUCKING- OW-“
- He was hopping around on one foot for a long time after that
- when he finally calmed himself down, he went straight towards the tv as fast as he could
- You were in nothing but a towel, your feet hanging in the warm water of the hot springs
- Steam making your skin almost glisten with the lighting
- Kid had to swallow hard, and he swore to himself, he better not be getting turned on by a literal anime scene
- he was almost frozen in time
- you turned towards the screen, literally staring right at him which made him turn bright red like his hair
- his foot was throbbing from his injury earlier, but this was obviously more important 🙄
- “Wow- that’s a lot of.. People who like me- guys I’m a pirate you know right?? Not exactly the best person ever-“
- Kid was about to punch his face to see if this episode was real-
- it literally seemed like you were staring right at him as you were talking!
- he clenched his fist, getting ready to punch his face as he closed his eyes, then swinging his fist quickly
- it flew just in front of his face, hitting the tv in front of him, making it completely shatter and fall into the ground
- He was wondering why he didn’t even feel a single ounce of pain, he swore he swung pretty hard..
- He opened his eyes and then realized, he fucked up
- “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”
- He screamed, grabbing his red tufts of fluffy hair with stress
- When Law came downstairs to see what all the commotion was about, his eyes widened
- “You broke the fucking tv????”
- “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE GENIUS?!”
- “MEATTTTT!” *snores*
- “...the fuck?” -Kid/Law
- Law made Kid buy a new one since he’s the one who broke it
- and Law also told him to watch those types of scenes on his phone and not on the tv
- man was so angry at Law for telling him that, but also the most tomato colored man on earth
- kid now watches one piece only on his phone, in his room, and with headphones on so no one will disturb him
- and also to prevent the risk of having to buy another tv
- also to avoid arguing with Luffy over what show to watch
- 😭
Luffy
- Luffy managed to convince both of his roommates to watch this special episode of one piece with him
- Man was so excited he got out the meat too-
- Law and Kid didn’t mind the episode so far, until it got to a bath scene (which pretty much every classic anime has-)
- Luffy picked his nose, not even paying attention to what was going on
- “Ugh.. This is kinda boring, I thought I’d get to see y/n fighting-!”
- He started to shout before he saw you in only a towel, nothing more
- he didn’t drop his meat, but he stopped mid-bite, his mouth already wrapping around the entire bone
- Kid and Law looked down at him with a deadpan expression
- No one talked for at least 4 minutes
- they were all frozen in the same position for so long that luffy’s meat was going cold
- he then noticed that your eyes stared straight into his, almost as if you were standing right in front of him
- his eyes went wide, and you went in to explain, “Wow- that’s a lot of.. People that like me? guys. I’m evil.”
- Luffy jumped out of his seat and started to tackle the tv
- “No! You’re amazing y/n! You’re super powerful and everything! I still wanna fight you! You’re not evil!”
- He screamed, wrapping his legs around the tv
- “DUMBASS YOU’RE GONNA BREAK IT!” -kid
- Kid had to run forward, making Law try to pry Luffy off the tv while Kid held it upright as much as he could
- “LET GO OF ME TORAO I’M EXPLAINING SOMETHIN’”
- “THEN GET OFF THE TV!” -Law
- He went on a rant, and even after the episode was already done, he was listing all the reasons of why he looks up to you and why he literally thinks you’re so amazing 😭
- when the scene started, it was 5pm
- it was now 8pm.
- Law and Kid beat his ass afterwards 💀
a/n - pls I swear this was so funny 😭 tysm kid simp anon you’re amazing as always 🥺
<3
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece hcs#anime hcs#trafalgar d water law#law x reader#law one piece#eustass kid#kid x reader#luffy x reader#monkey d. luffy#luffy one piece#luffy headcanons#luffy x y/n#law x y/n#kid one piece
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HanaDoll* 3rd Season THINK OF ME:NOTHING L 3-11 English Translation
Translation on this was done very generously by my sister, editing and proofreading done by myself and a friend! Please note none of us are professionals, so there may be errors. Thanks!
Listen along here: https://open.spotify.com/track/08noT4htdVEweaQ1RULMcl?si=b2a54387075249f9
Read on google docs here.
L 3-11
Ageha: [walks in and sighs] Hm?
Toki: [breathes]
Ageha: Toki? How about turning on some lights?
Toki: [breathes heavier]
Ageha: [shakes Toki] Toki.
Toki: Aah… Ageha-san?
Ageha: If you're going to sleep, go to your own room.
Toki: Huh? Was I sleeping?
Ageha: You didn’t even notice when I came in.
Toki: Oh, sorry. Welcome back, Ageha-san.
Ageha: I’m back. House System, a cup of water.
House System: [beep boop]
Ageha: Toki, how was the medical check today?
Toki: Mine? It was the same as always.
Ageha: The same as always…?
Toki: Actually, I’ve been feeling good recently! In singing and dancing, I can tell my form is getting close to perfect.
Ageha: I see. Preparations for the music awards will be starting soon. I don’t need to remind you, but take care of yourself.
Toki: Okay!
Ageha: ...Where did he go?
Toki: If you mean Rui-san, I think he’s in his room. Should I call him?
Ageha: No, there’s no need. You should rest too.
Toki: Eh? But…
Ageha: What is it?
Toki: If it’s not too much of a bother、 can’t I stay here a little longer? Somehow, I’m not very sleepy…
Ageha: [sighs] Fine, then just sit there with your eyes closed.
Toki: Huh?
Ageha: If you do that, you can rest a little. It would be best to lie down, but if you make enough time to quickly listen to the information from the MC, that would be enough.
Toki: Ageha-san. I’m doing okay! I really feel better!
Ageha: I believe you. But you should know. From now on, Loulou*di will be a group looked up to and supported by all.
Toki: So our health has to be in perfect condition, right?
Ageha: That’s right.
Toki: I understand. Then, I’m closing my eyes.
Toki: Ehehehe.
Ageha: What is it?
Toki: It’s just, I’m having fun.
Ageha: Fun?
Toki: Even though my eyes are closed, I keep thinking about what Ageha-san is doing. Like, now he’s drinking water, and now he’s writing something.
Ageha: I see.
Toki: Even though I can’t see, there are still things I understand.
Ageha: Toki.
Toki: I love that someone’s here in the same space as me. It makes me… so… [light snoring]
Ageha: [sighs] He fell asleep.
Rui: Ageha.
Ageha: Rui. What were you doing until now? Nevermind, you don’t have to answer that. It makes no difference anyway.
Rui: Are you angry?
Ageha: Angry? Me?
Rui: I guess not.
Ageha: Do you not understand the current situation? Don't leave a tamed puppy unattended.
Rui: I didn't mean to, but I'll apologize.
Ageha: You enjoy irritating me.
Rui: I understand the current situation. The groundwork I laid the other day is also going smoothly, I think.
Ageha: Yes, the power and message of Loulou*di is spreading nicely. To the world, and to that person too.
Rui: The number of views on that video is still increasing, even several months after it was released. It seems that the number of subscribers to our music channel is also increasing.
Ageha: Naturally. From the moment the masses hear Loulou*di's songs and see their performances, they drown. They sink to the bottom of a deep, dark abyss. And like reaching for the light that they can see beyond the surface of the water, they cannot help but look up at the brilliance of Loulou*di.
Rui: Hmm...
Ageha: If you have something to say, then say it.
Rui: No, if that is what you say, then that is how it is.
Ageha: Toki is necessary to create the perfect Loulou*di.
Rui: Ah, I understand.
Ageha: If you understand, then quickly carry him to his room.
Rui: And you?
Ageha: What do you mean?
Rui: Yesterday, your sleep hours were less than optimal. Even today, you were out late-
Ageha: You really are a bad man. You even know my sleeping schedule. This is a critical time for Loulou*di. If I’m asked I’ll answer, and if I plan to sell out, I’ll sell everything.
Rui: Then tell me what needs to be done. We’ll do as you say.
Ageha: Praise an obedient dog, and he’ll become an even greater watchdog. Practice for the music awards will begin soon. We must showcase the overwhelming perfection of Loulou*di without any other idol riff-raff getting in the way. And until the event, there is just one piece we’ll need. Watch over Toki carefully.
Rui: To you, Toki-bou is a necessary piece. Then, what am I?
Ageha: If you have time to say such stupid things, then go away quickly.
Rui: Understood. [picks up Toki and walks out]
Toki: Ah, Rui-san?
Rui: Toki-bou.
Toki: I can go back on my own.
Rui: It’s alright, just stay as you are.
Toki: Okay…
---
[Loulou*di performing Dying Matter, the song ends]
Set Designer: [claps] Good work! I think that was really great! You’ve got the steps down perfectly in such a short time.
Toki: Of course. Don’t compare me with those low level idols.
Set Designer: Huh? Ahh, right…
Ageha: Excuse me. Please change the set leading up to the chorus.
Set Designer：Huh?! But-
Ageha: It’s inconsistent with our current conceptual image. Please change it to something that expresses more emotion.
Set Designer：But, I thought it was exactly what you’d asked for-
Ageha: That's your interpretation. We can't continue with something that we've judged to be bad. We never compromise. We always aim for perfection. That's what it means to be Loulou*di.
Toki: That’s right. If you can’t understand that, maybe you should just quit?
Set Designer：Ngh! I understand. Then, I’ll come up with a different set and submit it in a few days. [leaves]
Toki: What was that about? Isn’t that too rude?
Rui: Ageha. Toki-bou. Here, water.
Toki: Ahh, Rui-san! Thank you.
Rui: Did something happen?
Ageha: He had loosened up so I had to light the fire a little. Even then, he's a professional stage designer. If he abandons his job after a blow of that degree, then he is just another inferior person.
Toki: The Loulou*di that aspires for perfection has no need for half-assed people like that, right?
Ageha: That’s right. We are standing on a brand new stage. Now we must climb to greater heights by cutting off any who cannot keep up.
Rui: Ageha.
Ageha: [breathes] The path is clear. Now, we must continue down it. Whatever lies ahead… we cannot be afraid.
---
Girl １：Sorry for the wait! The train was late.
Girl ２：It’s okay! I watched some videos while I waited.
Girl １：What did you watch?
Girl ２：Cat videos, and manga. Oh, and I saw Loulou*di’s new video.
Girl １：Loulou*di… Is that the group that just premiered their music channel?
Girl ２：That’s it. They’ve become a hot topic, so I subscribed to the channel… Wait, are you a fan?
Girl １：I'm not sure anymore. The image of the group has changed since I first started liking them. It feels like I've graduated from being a Loumiel.
Girl ２：Loumiel is the name for Loulou*di's fans, right?
Girl １：Yeah. The community has been pretty chaotic recently because of the music channel thing.
Girl ２：Huh? Why?
Girl １：Well, there are a lot of people who have been unhappy with how it has changed.
Girl ２：It sounds like they just don't get along. That's a common story in any fanbase.
Girl １：I wonder if they didn't realize that there would be a backlash if they suddenly did that kind of approach. I wouldn't do it...
Girl ２：Hmmm, that group Anthos from the same production group is doing well, so maybe they’re trying to imitate what they’re doing?
Girl １：Even so, I don't think it's working out well. If the concept of a unit is suddenly changed, there will be fans who can't keep up.
---
[logging in noise]
Internet Fan 1: Excuse me! Ah, you changed the design of your room?
Internet Fan ２: Yeah, I couldn't leave it as Loulou*di's performance stage forever. It felt kind of empty.
Internet Fan 1: Isn’t it? Loulou*di really isn’t here anymore…
Internet Fan ２: It's true. I didn't want them to stoop down to a place where anyone could easily see them on a music channel.
Internet Fan 1: I know. If they had just stayed at the top, we would have worshiped and praised them from afar, and loved and followed them.
Internet Fan ２: But they reached out to us all of a sudden.
Internet Fan 1: It feels like the mystery is gone.
Internet Fan ２: Right. All the other Loumiels are saying that. Well, in this day and age, I don't think anyone would think it's slander. But, of course, the publishing industry is in chaos.
Internet Fan 1: [sighs] I wish Loulou*di would go back to the way it was before. The one who was here, the absolute ruler, the amazing charisma… Loulou*di … Ageha-sama was that kind of person.
Internet Fan ２: Yeah. I thought he was being himself. I think in some way… I didn’t want to realize that he was just a human being…
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I don't know how to be me anymore
Pairing : platonic!Buckyxgn!reader
Summary : Bucky's always felt different. When he finally starts being ready to figure out what it means, he turns to you to try and find out where to go from here.
Warnings : Nb!Buckyxnb!reader, tiny bit of angst, comfort, fluff, dragcreature!reader, Buck trying to figure out who he is
Word count : 2,494
A/N : Hi guys, I finally decided to post my second fic! I tried to write something as wholesome as possible. Hopefully some of you will find some comfort reading this.
English is not my first language. Don't hesitate to tell me if something is incorrect.
Bucky opened the door abruptly. His hair was a mess, as if he had been running his hands through them for a while. You could see he was nervous.
He had been cryptic in his text asking you to come over. You weren't sure what it was about but seeing his trembling hands, you knew it had to be important. You looked at him with a smile, trying to ease his nerves.
'Can I come in?'
He then registered the fact that you had been standing in his doorway waiting for him to move his body out of the way. He look at you sheepishly.
'Sorry. Please do come in. I'll get you some water. Are you hungry? I should have made us something to eat. I can heat up some leftov-'
'A glass of water is perfect. And I just ate before coming, thank you though'. You stopped his rambling, a reassuring look on your face.
He went to the kitchen to fill up two glasses with water.
'So, what did you want to talk to me about?'
He looked at you surprised. 'How do you know I wanted to talk to you about something?'
You smiled. 'Well I guess I know you that well. Or maybe I'm clairvoyant. Also, you might have sent me a text saying are you free, I need to talk to you about something.
'Oh, right' He chuckled a bit, his hand finding its way behing his neck, a slight blush colouring his cheeks.
You could see how hard this was for him, his hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, he eyes looking everywhere and nowhere all at once.
'Hey, whatever it is, it's me you're talking to. I understand you're nervous but I’m here to listen. I'm not here to judge or give you unsollicited advice. I'm your friend, and I here, always. You can count on me.'
A small smile found its way on his face. He figured he might as well dive into it, no point in delaying it.
He had known he needed someone to talk to about this. Not just someone, you. And he felt ready. No matter how hard it was to actually say the words out loud, he wanted to.
He sat down on the sofa gesturing for you to do the same. He took a big breath, and started talking.
'Do you remember when you dressed me up and did my makeup for your show?'
A few weeks back, during one of your shows as a dragcreature, the public had to come wearing at least one item a drag queen/king/person/creature. Bucky had wanted to go all out. He always loved coming to your shows and was hell bent on being the fiercest in the audience.
You nodded. He had been praised by all your fellow drag performers, having shown up looking like a dark priestess, slaying makeup, hair, outfit and demeanor.
'I felt something as you were doing my makeup. I felt powerful and amazing when I looked at myelf in the mirror'
'I know. I saw how you face lit up. And I noticed how you kept staring at your makeup in the rear view mirror.'
Bucky blushed looking down.
'Don't be embarassed, I do it too.'
Bucky took a breath, you could see he had started to relax a bit. What he said next showed you he felt safe enough to open up.
'Back in the army, with the howling commandos, we went out for a drink one night.
We were exhausted, both physically and emotionally and it felt good to take a break. To not be soldiers but a group of people, having a drink, not thinking about the war raging around us.
Steve was having a hard time relaxing. He didn't know how to put the shield down, not even for one night. So the guys and I, we decided to go do a little private show for him.
We went to the dancers' tent and tried their USO costumes on. The amosphere was light, we were having fun being silly together.'
He took a pause. Looked down, his hands trembling harder.
'When I put on the costume, I felt that thing. The same thing I felt when you dressed me up. I felt b... I felt beautiful. It felt right.
And I had the biggest smile on my face. I twirled, I danced, I laughed. I felt like there was nothing that could take that feeling away.
Steve noticed. Of course he did. He knew me better than anyone. He didn't say anything though. Well, not with words anyway.'
A small, nostalgic smile crept up on his face.
'He stole one of the USO uniforms, the one I had on that night and gifted it to me. He said it was to remember that night by, but we both knew there was actually a way deeper meaning to it.'
Bucky looked at you, for the first time since he started talking.
'Did you know they kept it? It was in the museum along with the howling commandos' stuff from the war.'
You knew his question was rhetorical so you just nodded, urging him to keep going.
'While I was recovering in Wakanda, Steve visited me often. Well, he said he came for me but we all knew it was the goats really.' he joked.
The atmosphere felt lighter. Like the more he talked about this, the less scary it became.
You knew the weight of what he was telling you and it moved you to know you were the one he felt safe to talk about that with.
He kept going.
'After Okoye helped get rid of he trigger words, he came to celebrate. We spent the night drinking, laughing, remeniscing about our childhood.
He told me of his life since he'd been in this time. What he had learned, how he tried to build a life for himself here without really ever succeding. How he missed our world.
He felt that Captain America was all he was anymore. Steve Rogers had died that night on the plane and he never managed to get past that. He never really tried to give himself a new life here.
He was stuck in this time. I'm so happy that he got his chance to go back. To live the life he was always supposed to live.'
You could see how much he missed his best friend. He had talked to you about that before. The first time the two of you had talked was actually after Steve had gone. You were both overtook with emotion, sad to see a friend go and happy that he finally had a chance at happiness.
'We both knew I wouldn't want to but he did ask me if I wanted to go back with him. But I knew I didn't belong there anymore.
I don’t belong anywhere anymore... But I could and I want to.
'The night before he left, he came to me with a gift. It was that very same costume from all those decades ago. He had stolen it from the museum a few years back.
He told me that night when we dressed up was one of his fondest memories. One he held close to his heart. Because he understood that I had found a part of myself that night.'
A tear made its way down his cheek. His voice starting to get uneven.
'We never really talked about what I felt, what it meant, what I wanted. I think we didn't know how to. But he did tell me something that stuck with me.'
'He said that now, it was my responsibility to bring back the Bucky I was. Or to discover the Bucky I am. Maybe a bit of both.
This time suited me better than it ever did him. And here, I could actually have a chance to figure out who I wanted to be. Who I had been all this time without knowing, without having the luxury to be.
'I'm so grateful for that night. And I'm so grateful I got to meet the Steve you knew, even for a little bit.'
You looked at each other and smiled. Steve was the reason you two had met. Even gone, he had found a way to make both your lives less lonely.
More confidently now, he kept going.
'I made him a promise that night. To learn to never let anybody define or decide who I am. To learn that only I had the power to do that.'
A tear escaped you.
'That's beautiful Bucky. And really brave too.
I'm glad you had those moments. Even if they were few and far between.'
Bucky smiled. He took a moment to think back. He was grateful to have been able to experience those tiny little moments where he felt whole. But he wanted more.
He looked at you expectedly.
'I asked you here because I need your help. I'm trying to figure out who I am. How to be the person I want to be now. How to be a person now. I know what I want to learn but I don't know where to start or what to ask.
Or who to talk to, exept you. I trust you, I have since the moment I met you. And you have taught me so much already. I'm asking you to teach me more. To support me and guide me through this journey.’
You smiled and took his hands in yours.
'You are so brave. And you should be so so proud of yourself. I know I am.
This is a potentially difficult and terrifying journey but oh how beautiful a journey it is. It won't always be easy, but no matter what you find out about yourself, it is worth it. Believe me.
We've talked about what the gender spectrum is and how it can express itself. How it's vast and both very simple and quite overwhelming. And how you don't have to know where you find yourself in it.
And the way you're feeling today, how you would define yourself today doesn't have to be the same as the way you feel tomorrow.
That's part of the beauty of gender.'
'Was it hard for you? Did you always know?'
'It was hard. Very hard at times. But it was also so easy. I didn't know, not for the longest time.
It came slowly at first. When I would read about transgender people, non-binary or otherwise, sharing their story, I would understand. I would relate even.
After a while, I allowed myself to realise that if I felt like I understood, like I knew where they came from then maybe it was where I belonged.
The more I thought about freeing myself from the binary, the lighter I felt. The closer to myself I felt.
I was lucky enough to have very supportive friends who were by my side as I naviguated all the questions and changes that came.
They never rushed me or asked me to know exactly who I was or to have any sort of answer. They understood that I was trying to figure out my identity. That I felt as lost as much as I felt found.
I can't tell you it will go well with everyone because unfortunately it won't. But I hope you know you can find that kind of support with me. I think you can find it with Sam too, if you want.’
He nodded. He might not be ready to talk about that with Sam yet, but he did know he could.
'The world has evolved, but there are still some people who don't want to accept it or who don't want to see it. And they can be so violent in their need for us not to exist.
And then there are people who will love you and accept without ever really understanding. Not because they don't want to. They just can't seem to, i guess?
My family is that way. When I came out to them, they asked questions. Tried to understand what it meant, how it felt like. And no matter how much they tried, they never really did understand.
You looked down.
'They are the only people who still use my deadname you know.
Some of them because they are having a hard time wrapping their heads around the idea that I'm not the person they saw me as. Some of them refusing to accept that I'm not actually the person they saw me as.'
'I'm sorry y/n. I know how much it hurts you.'
'Yes, it does hurt. When they use my deadname, when they don't use the right pronouns. When they invalidate me feeling bad when they do that.
But they still love me. Me being me has never changed the way they love me.
Of course I wish they would respect who I am. And I know my situation would not be acceptable for some people. And I get that I really do.
Having your parents still love you after you come out shouldn't be something to be grateful about. But for now, I guess having their love has to be enough for me.'
You took time to reflect. Thinking about how your family is handling your transition hurts, and it's hard to navigate not wanting to lose them while asking for them to respect who you are.
You tried to find the right words.
'My family is the one I made. The one I'm making, the one I'm choosing everyday. Composed of both relatives and the amazing people whom I love and want to share my life with.
And you are one of them you know. One of the people who sees me for who I am and loves me unconditionally.
And I love you and I see you.'
You were both crying. Not sad tears, maybe not happy tears either. But the tears you get from beeing seen. Truly seen. The tears you get from feeling the love someone has for you. The tears that make you feel like maybe you can learn to love yourself that way too.
He smiled.
'I love you and I see you.'
'I'll by your side, Buck. Through this journey and any other, always. I'll support you, I'll be there when you need a hug, a book, a sickening makeup, a person to cry with, a person to laugh with. When you need my wonderful vegan banana bread.'
He laughed. You loved hearing him laugh.
'I mean it. I'm here, for it all. I love you.'
He came closer and took you in his arms. Held you so tight. You stayed like that for a while, neither one of you ready to let go. He was crying. You could feel a wet spot growing on your shoulder. You didn't mind. He put his head in the crook of your neck and whispered
'I love you.'
Thank you for reading and remember you are loved ❤️
You can always come to me if you need someone to talk to. We have to be there for each other 🥰
#bucky x reader#buckyxnonbinary!reader#nonbinary!reader#nonbinary!Bucky#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x you#platonic buckyxreader#queer!bucky#marvel fanfiction
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Tons of tag games
I gonna catch with tags from 3 months (sorry for the spam XDDD)
Here's the 1st:
WIP Anytime!/WIP Whenever
Literally lol XDDDDDDDDD Tagged by: @sillyliterature @vela-ad-astra
Thanks a lot for the tag, and sorry it's taken me so long to reply 😅
Just spent 5 months writing the last chapter of my fic (just posted it) so I haven't written a lot of my next chapter, but here are all my notes I guess XDDDDDDDDDD
Didn't Have the Heart ch.10 - Notes
⬇Keep reading to see it⬇
Ch10: The Next Time
Recorded notes
Potential flashback moments
In the Kodiac, back to the Normandy, with Legion / Kaidan / Garrus
Garrus (could be Tali, but I don’t think she’s been present for all of it in ME2 [project overlord] and ME3 [Grissom Academy], consult the timeline) freaks out a little
Recalls project overlord
Kaidan is like: yeah, I kinda agree, but Shepard is gonna do Shepard things.
He’s also processing all the new info like: wow…
He loves/hates her courage
Perhaps Legion’s comments that they wouldn’t endanger Shepard.
G to K: “Aren’t you gonna say a fucking thing about this!?”
K to G: “What do you want me to say? I have no power to stop her from being that way. I’m a mere spectator here. Just doing my best to process everything while helping.”
G to K: Thanks for the help man.
G: I’m more affected: after all these years of suicide plans and all the Cerberus shit.
S to G: I appreciate the sentiment, Garrus, but I’m fine, as you can see.
Kaidan leaves them arguing and talks to Legion for a while -> last oportunity
Shepard picks Garrus on the mission because she wants to prove him wrong, but then she cannot help herself and adds Kaidan to the squad -> She sends him as leader of the 3rd mission because she’s kinda mad that he’s right -> back to back missions (just as they did with Cerberus) -> so the order is Korris/Geth dream/Filler mission
Admiral Korris mission related stuff
They talk as they get on/off their armor (alone)
Talking to the quarians / mission report
And now I have to go talk with the quarians, which I’m honestly dreading way more
“That would explain the outfit”
She huffs and tries to stretch out the fabric arround her neck: “As if talking to politicians wasn’t torture enough…”
“Try not to punch anyone this time around…”
“I won’t make any promises…
Things I really want to feature in this fic
There’s a cot in Starboard observation (Kaidan’s room) -> It’s Kasumi’s old cot
Have her mention the amount of reports she has to do
I’d like to add the ring thing -> nightmares (maybe I can show a little on the ME2 beginning when she gives it to Kaidan)
Actual Timeline
2 missions
They send another squad to the third one
She’s like: I should go get some sleep -> fluff moment
We do here the “smut path”
She goes to her cabin
Tries to sleep
Sees her formal uniform in a puddle
Flashes of her table fantasy in her mind -> fuck it!
She goes to his room
Have her mention the amount of reports she has to do
And smut happens -> against the window?
She falls asleep on the sofa
And we do the “nightmare path” here
She has a nightmare
Mention the ring here perhaps
Flash to the bar chapter in LBIG?
She wakes up less shaken than usually -> Bittersweet moment of mourning the dead but being comforted by spending some time in their company, even if it’s on her dreams
Wakes up
Finds him sleeping, he’s done all her work
She hesitates, almost leaves, but doesn’t in the end
And we end with fluff
She joins him in the cot
He hugs her and smiles
She reprimands him for not following her orders (waking her up to do the reports and doing her job instead)
We end the chapter as he replies: I didn’t have the heart
Fic timeline / Narrative order
Start at the entrance of the starboard port? -> Flashback
Decides not to enter -> Flashback -> Make it a tough one
Goes to the port observation
Is about to serve herself a drink -> flash/expl. that she doesn’t drink alcohol when she feels like she need it
Goes to the kitchen instead -> Flashback
Drinks water/coffee -> Flashback
Goes back to the room -> Flashback
Enters. -> The rest happens
Fluff to spicy banter
Smut
They spend a while talking on the sofa
She falls sleep
Nightmare
When she’s woken up she sees him passed out on the cot, surrounded by datapads -> she pulls all that stuff on one of the tables and checks that he’s done indeed all her job (informs and all that stuff)
Grabs a blanket and covers him
She’s about to leave but remembers his words
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This is a continuation of the wee bit I post earlier for @veryflowerobservation. I'm only sorry that they are probably asleep and won't see this until Monday. From a "Fic That Doesn't Exist" (yet).
---
“Ross?” She cocked her head gently. “What is it?“ She always could read him.
“I was just remembering another time I walked on the beach, in the snow.”
“Oh?”
“It was winter must have been before you went to Norway but we were...no longer. Anyway it was one of the first snows. And Garrick was running around so excited, trying to catch these huge flakes in his mouth and getting irked that they were landing on his ears.”
“He always turned into a puppy whenever he played in the snow, didn't he?”
“I decided to take him for a walk in it and he led me down to the sea…” Ross went on.
“He led you?” she laughed.
“Well maybe he anticipated where I wanted to go.”
“He was good at sensin’ moods, wasn’t he?” It was her turn to sigh with the memory of loss.
“So he and I walked down by the shore, the snow was still coming down in big wet flakes--which is surprising because by the water it usually turns to more…”
“Gritty and frozen” she finished his sentence.
“Yes, exactly that. And he ran alongside me until he decided that the wind was too much and he looked up at me with this look like ‘What the hell is wrong with you, man?’”
“Did he?” she laughed.
“He could see through us, couldn’t he? And I think I said aloud something like ‘To be honest, I don't know. I guess I really fucked up.’ I was thinking of that Christmas walk we’d had together, you and I years earlier, and suddenly I felt so alone. It was the first time that I felt only sad--not anger mixed in with the sadness. And of course I realised I had very very little to be mad about and oh so very much to be sad about.” He took a drink from his glass and looked at her with a smile. It was a fragile smile for the memory was brittle and had to be handled with care.
“Oh Ross…”
“And I was glad the snowflakes that were catching on my eyelashes were so wet because…well I had things to hide, even from myself.” Tears--he didn't have to say the word. “I’m sure Garrick knew I was sad.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh Ross, I'm really sorry.”
“Sorry? For what?” He put his glass down and took her other hand in his as well. “That was a very long time ago.”
“I’m sorry you ever felt that way,” she said. He thought he could feel her life pulsing in her soft hands. And he was sure his own heart rate had slowed to match hers.
“Me too. But you should know, I didn't blame you then for my sadness. Even then I knew I had myself to blame.” Now his gaze was steadier, bolder. “And Demelza…”
“What?” she asked in that simple breathy way that signalled I trust you. Tell me all.
“You should also know, I don't feel sad now.”
#poldark#lucretiassister#poldark fanfic#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#six sentence sunday#never six sentences no matter how i try#more like self indulgent sunday
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Wanda x Female Stark Reader
So, I should probably explain why I’m currently being punched by the one and only Natasha Romanoff or as you may all know her as Black Widow. Well, it all started when I met my father Tony Stark for the first time ever.
I was walking in downtown New York when I heard an explosion go off in the building ahead of me. So, I ran inside the building to try and see if anyone needed any help, you know like any insane person would do. I went up the stairs of the building to try and help rescue whoever may be in trouble when some Debree came down and hit me in the head, cause of course I wasn’t paying attention, then everything went black and the last thing I saw was Ironman approaching me from above.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was this bright light, I shut my eyes and opened them multiple times to adjust them when I saw Bruce Banner. “Easy now kid you have a small concussion, could have been a lot worse though if Tony didn’t save you.” I look over and see Tony Stark sitting in a chair looking lost in thought. He then snaps out of it and looks at me
“Y/N there’s no easy way to say this, hell I’m still processing the news myself” I cut him off before he can continue “Just spit it out Mr. Stark, do I somehow have powers from the Debree or something weird like that” Bruce then gives me a small smile and says, “I’m just going to give you guys a minute alone.” He then turns and leaves the med bay the door shutting behind him. Tony then turns to one of the monitors and brings up a chart “I know your smart like me and also a writer, so I imagine you know what a DNA chart looks like”
“Wait let me stop you there, if I’m reading this right which I know I am then that means that you’re my biological father” He then nods “Yeah that’s right kid, now I know you must have questions and are probably trying not to freak out right now”
I then look at him with stern eyes and say “You’re Damm right I do, how can you be my dad and how could my mom lie to me, she said my dad died before I was born. Where’s my phone I need to call her right now.” He points to the table next to me and says, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way Y/N” He then gets up and leaves the room.
I then look at my phone and pull up my moms, number and hit the call button feeling confused, hurt and angry. “Hey Y/N I’m on my way home from work, did you need something.” I then raise my voice and say, “How could you not tell me that Tony Freaking Stark is my real father mom, how could you lie to me after all these years, to your own daughter.”
“Y/N just let me explain, are you at your apartment right now?”
“No, I’m at the Avengers compound cause my father brought me here after I stupidly went into a building that was falling apart to try and save people. I’m fine though, I just have a mild concussion, but it doesn’t madder. I need time alone to process everything, so I need some space and don’t say no cause you at least owe me that much.” She sighs and says, “I’m glad you’re ok at least and of course I understand Y/N take as much time as you need, I’ll be here.” I then hang up my phone and throw it down on the bed in frustration.
I then get up and feel a bit dizzy and grab the glass of water on the table next to me. I drink it and walk out of the room to find my dad standing against the wall. “I can give you a tour of the place if you want.” he says with a smile. “Sure, sounds good” I smile back.
“Can I see the armory and training room first, it may not look like it, but I do know some moves.” I say with a smirk. “Oh, do you now, let me guess some basic self-defense classes and archery.” He looks at me returning the same smirk. “Oh yeah you probably did some research on me, can’t say I’m surprised though. I would have done the same.”
We make it to training room and there in the corner punching a bag is Natasha Romanoff herself and a girl that I can’t take my eyes off is running on the treadmill, it’s like she has me under a spell or something with her beauty.
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Unhinged | Finale | S.T AU
Previous
Summary: After the events of the previous night, you and Eddie have a heart to heart.
Warning(s): mostly pure tooth rotting fluff, Andy being a dick.
Tagged: @hayleybarnesx @marianita195 @eddiemunson17 @imbringingsexycrab @dylanmunson @ali-r3n @lalouvemeneuse @chaos-incorp @sadbitchfangirl @namesaretomainstream @tayhar811 @ajkamins @ynmunson @superduckmilkshake @ih3artdanielle @hqtetsurou @mizgames @luapou @erisdogwood
The next day in the afternoon, you were feeding Kas while your grandmother was making some hot drinks.
“Gran, let me do that,” you told her as she was turning off the stove. “You should be resting.”
“So should you, love,” your grandmother replied, as you sat her down to the kitchen table.
You, Chrissy and the rest of Hellfire had taken a day off school, as you had been giving statements about Zoe to Chief Powell at the police station late at night.
Chrissy and Eddie stayed over so they didn’t have to go home late. Your mother had let Chrissy’s mum, who was ready to press charges against Zoe for threatening and hurting Chrissy, and Wayne know what happened the night before.
You were pouring boiling water into some cups of coffee and hot chocolate when you heard the phone ring.
After pouring into the last cup, you went to phone and answered, “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Jason,” he replied. “I asked Nancy Wheeler for your number. I’m just calling to check on Chrissy. I did call her house, but nobody’s home.”
“Oh well, she’s upstairs, but I’ll let her know so you guys can talk.”
“Thanks.”
Your grandmother was stirring the drinks, when she gave you a cup of hot chocolate for Chrissy, before you made your way upstairs, leaving the phone off the hook.
As you went into your room, Chrissy was sitting up on your bed. She looked up from a magazine she was reading and greeted you.
As you put down the cup onto the bedside table, you told her, “Jason’s on the phone.”
You passed her your phone from the table and told her, “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
“Thanks,” Chrissy replied, before answering the phone to Jason.
You then made your way back to the kitchen and put the phone back on the wall when you saw your grandmother putting two cups onto a tray. She was about to pick it up when you stopped her. “Oh no, I’ll take those. You rest.”
You took a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer and grabbed a bottle of Yoohoo for Eddie, placing them on the tray, before carrying it outside.
You placed the tray in the back of the van, and told your dad, Wayne and Eddie, who were trying to fix the damages on the van, that their drinks were in the back.
“Thanks darling,” Wayne said, as he and your dad grabbed their cups.
“Thanks petal,” your dad told you, before sipping his drink.
You grabbed the bottle and the frozen peas bag, before walking up to Eddie, who was fixing the driver’s side mirror.
He thanked you as you passed them to him.
As Eddie drank his Yoohoo, you looked at his black eye, before asking him, “How’s your eye?”
“Well, the bruise is coming out quickly,” Eddie replied, as he put down his drink and pressed the frozen bag against his bruise.
He winced before telling you, “At least I’m in better shape than my carriage. Zoe really did a number on her.”
He lightly tapped his van with his foot as he took you to the front of the van, away from his uncle and your father. You sighed before telling him, “Look Eddie, I’m really sorry for all of this. If I had told you what Zoe was like in the first place, none of this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Why didn’t any of you say anything sweetheart?” He asked, as he lowered the frozen bag down to his side.
You folded your arms, as you replied, “I made the guys swear not to tell you. At the time, I guess I didn’t want to spoil anything for you or make her angry. Also, if we had told you, we weren’t sure if you would-“
“If I believed you?”
You nodded, when Eddie sighed, “Do you really think I would immediately believe someone I’ve been with for a couple of weeks over the ones close to me for years?”
You silently looked at him, before telling him. “I know. I’m an idiot for thinking it.”
“I concur that you,” Eddie booped your nose, as he continued to speak. “Are an idiot.”
You rubbed your nose, as you asked him, “So, did Steve really tell you about Zoe?”
Eddie shook his head, as he told you, “Nope. But I figured that Henderson would’ve said something.”
“Yeah, Steve mentioned that Dustin told him.”
Before you could speak, Eddie revealed, “Jason told me about your plan.”
You gaped, as Eddie explained, “At first, I thought he was pulling a prank. But when he told me that Zoe threatened Chrissy, I remembered that day and I started putting the pieces together.”
Before you could say anything, Eddie told you, “At least I know that you two aren’t hooking up.”
As he put his hand on your shoulder, Eddie told you, “I shouldn’t have accused you of seeing him. I guess I got...jealous.”
“Jealous? Really?”
Eddie shrugged his shoulders, before you told him, “Even though Jason’s been civil with me, I wouldn’t go for someone like him. Besides, Chrissy and I became close recently so the last thing I would do is steal her guy.”
Eddie had put down his arm by his side, before asking you, “So...what kind of guy would you go for?”
You giggled, “Are you really asking me that?”
Eddie chuckled, while shuffling his feet. Suddenly, you noticed that his sun visor was down, revealing the Polaroid of you and him with Kas.
“Is that what I think it is?” You asked.
Eddie opened the car door and carefully pulled off the Polaroid from the visor, bringing it closer for you to see.
“Yeah,” Eddie began to reply. “I can still remember your grandmother calling me handsome.”
Eddie pinned the Polaroid back onto the visor, as you told him, “It’s funny, Gran always tells me that you and I would make a lovely couple.”
“Really?” Eddie chuckled. “Well, to be fair, when we first met, she did think that I was your boyfriend.”
You nodded before you both started laughing.
As both your laughters died down, Eddie confessed, “You know, the other night when I carried you to your room, I almost kissed you.”
“Wait, what?”
Eddie chewed his bottom lip, as you asked him, “You almost kissed me?”
“I don’t know what came over me, but I knew that I wanted to kiss you.”
Suddenly, Eddie leaned towards you, bringing his face closer to yours, when you heard Chrissy calling you.
You both moved away, before you turned to Chrissy who was standing near the driveway with her crutches.
“Jason’s taking me to the diner after school,” she told you. “He said that you’re welcome to join us. And you too, Eddie.”
“Me having shakes with Jason Carver?” Eddie whistled, before saying. “Now I know I’ve definitely entered the Twilight Zone.”
You and Chrissy laughed, before Eddie agreed.
“I can pay,” you said. “I owe Jason one anyway.”
“Well,” Eddie began to speak, as he told out a couple of dollar bills from his pocket. “I’m sure this will help pay for the shakes.”
“When did you get that?” You asked.
“Jason and I did a deal yesterday. So I guess you could say that the shakes are really on him.”
You and Chrissy laughed, before she let you both know that she was going back inside.
As Chrissy went back inside, you were about to follow her when Eddie called for you.
You turned to him, as he began to speak, “Listen, maybe after the diner, we could...see Critters at The Hawk?”
You smiled as you replied, “Okay. I can call the others if they want to co-“
“Actually, I was thinking,” Eddie went up to you and took your hand, as he continued to speak, “Just the two of us, you know, like a date?”
“A...date?”
“Or double date, if Chrissy and Jason want to join us.”
You smiled, as you told him, “I’d like that.”
You then cupped his face, giving him a passionate kiss.
Eddie wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as he deepened the kiss, unaware that Chrissy and your grandmother was watching from inside, cheering for you both.
You pulled away and smiled at him, resting your forehead against his chest.
After Eddie kissed the top of your head, you moved back to look at him, telling him, “I’ll ask Chrissy if her and Jason want to join us for the movie. She might said no as she doesn’t like horror movies, but I’ll still ask her.”
Eddie nodded, before you kissed him again.
As you went inside, Eddie turned to find his uncle and your father standing in front of the van with their arms folded.
“You better treat her well Eddie,” your father sternly told him. “Otherwise I’ll set Kas on you.”
“I’ll make sure that he will,” Wayne chuckled to your father, before telling Eddie, “You keep hold of her, boy. She’s a good one.”
Eddie looked over to the window, watching you and Chrissy talking and laughing.
He smiled while gazing at you, before telling both men, “Yeah, she is.”
After school, Jason picked the three of you up and went to the diner.
To Eddie’s surprise, it was quite pleasant. If anyone had told him that he and Jason would be hanging out, he would’ve threatened to throw them into a pit of Demogorgans.
The four of you were happily chatting, when the rest of the basketball team came in.
The first to spot you four was Andy, who called out, “Hey Jason! What is this? You and Chrissy are hanging out with the freaks now?” He and Chance snickered to each other while you and Eddie silently looked over to the Hawkins High King and Queen. Chrissy was about to defend you two when Jason retorted, “Yeah, we are. Got a problem with that?”
Andy and Chance stood there dumbfounded when Patrick said, “Nope, no problem at all.”
Patrick then turned to his teammates and said, “Right boys?”
Andy and Chance silently nodded, as they were about to go to another table when Jason called out to Andy and told him, “Don’t call them freaks. Got it?”
As Andy joined his teammates, Chrissy gave Jason a peck on the cheek, when Jason said to Eddie, “So, tell me more about Dungeons and Dragons.”
Later on, the four of you parted ways. Jason and Chrissy decided to go home as they had politely declined watching Critters with you and Eddie.
“But we should definitely see a movie together sometime,” Jason told you both.
After saying goodbye to them, you and Eddie made your way to The Hawk.
After Eddie had paid for the tickets, you both went inside while holding hands.
“I still can’t believe how civil you and Jason were,” you told him, as you both stood in the queue for snacks.
“Yeah well, I guess he’s not that bad,” Eddie replied. “Besides, he and Chrissy will be going away for college after graduation, so there’s no point in having any more animosities with him.”
You smiled at him, before ordering your snacks.
After receiving your popcorn and drinks, you and Eddie headed inside one of the screening rooms, and waited for the movie to start.
As soon as the movie started playing, Eddie had put his arm around you, before you leaned your head onto his shoulder, letting Eddie stroke your hair as you both focused on the film.
Two years ago, you would have never thought that you would one day, be going on a date with Eddie or even be friends with Chrissy or Jason. But as your grandmother told you before, stranger things have happened.
#stranger things au#eddie munson#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader
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Part two
Word count:2010
Once you finally returned home you looked a bit flustered.
“Why is your face red? I thought you said you felt well enough to go to school.” your mom said as she placed her book down
“I am mom, just flustered.”
“Oh do tell.” she said
“...someone called me cute…” you said
“That's it, of course you are cute, anyone could see that.”
“Mom.” you said
“What don't let one cute make you all flustered.” she said and went back to reading “A guy should tell you that you are a pool of water and he hasn't drank in weeks.”
“You really have to stop reading those romance novels.” you said and sat down “And well it's not just that, he kind of helped me deal with some issues that i was having at school.”
“I knew it!’ she said slapping her book shut
“Mom, don't worry, okay.’ you reassured her as she furrowed her brows
“Well you do worry me.” she said “you have always been an independent child.”
She let out a heavy sigh
“You never ask for help when you need it, and you'd rather take care of everything yourself.” she said “Well you get it from your father I guess.”
“Mom.” you said
“What it's true, the amount of times I've found him passed out at the door after work is too many to count.” She said “Also don't let a ,cute, get you.”
“I know mom, it was just nice to hear.” you said
“Well, can't argue with that.” she said “now go eat dinner.”
“I will, can I eat it in my room?” you asked
“Sure, sure your dad is working late.” she said “again…”
“Kay thanks, love you.” you said and grabbed the food off the table and removed the foil and went to your room and sat at your desk and got to work.
Next day you were waiting for the train to come as usual, one earbud in and one out.
“Hey.” Dabi said and you jumped as you felt his hand on your shoulder “hey calm down it's just me.”
“Hi Dabi.” You said pausing your music “Since when did you take this train.”
“Eh I'm usually running late.” he said “y dad was like after this stunt i better not hear any more complaints from the school.”
“I see.” you said
“Eh, I'm sure he will forget about me in a week, but I guess I'd better not throw gasoline on that fire.”
“Seems for the best.” you said “sorry your dad is on your case.”
“Why are you sorry?” he asked
“Well, he wouldn't be on your case if you did not help out.” you said
“Eh, just go on a date with me after school and we can call it even.” he said
“What?’ you said
“A date after school, you know what a date is right.”
“Yes, I know what a date is.” you huffed “You are just so blunt about it.”
“Beating around the bush isn't really my style.” he said as the train came by and you two were squished into the cart.
“I mean, where do you want to go?” you asked
“I know a place, come on it will be fun.” he said
“I'll think about it.” You said “I have a lot of assignments to do.”
“Straight laced.” he said as the train stopped at the next stop and he dragged you out
“Hey, our stop is two more stops away.” you said
“I know, come on, I know a great place to relax.” he said “you deserve to have some fun.”
And that's how you ended up in a café, you were stressed out, kept looking behind your shoulder.
“You seem jumpy.” he said as he took a sip of his drink
“We are in our school uniform, people are going to know we are ditching and call an officer on us.” you said
“Nah people in here keep their mouths shut.” he said looking at the bartender. “Don't worry you aren't going to get caught.”
Then your phone rang. It was from your mom, you gulped, you were dead.
“Ignore it.” he said
“I can't.” you said, as he reached over and pressed declined “hey!”
“Calm down, we are adults here, parents need to stop worrying so much.” he said “How many times have you gotten in trouble at school?”
“Never.” you said and slumped down in your seat
“See, have a little fun, i mean your classmates suck, your teacher is a suck up trying to win their approval, and you always follow the rules.” he said pushing a coffee towards you “Loosen up and have some fun.”
Your phone rang again, you gulped and picked it up
“(name) why did i get a call from your school that you aren't there?” she asked in her mom tone voice.
“I'm sorry mom, I spaced out and got off at the wrong stop, and then the train got canceled.”
“Well, tell me next time so I can call the school.” She said, “What are you doing now?”
“Walking.” you lied
“Okay well get there safe, watch out for weirdos.” she said “love you.”
“Love you too.” you said and hung up
“Welcome to the dark side.” Dabi said
“Agh I'm so dead.” you said and took a sip of your coffee “I'm never doing this again.”
“You say that now.” he said, as you took another drink, and Decided to grab your school bag and head off. Dabi followed after.
“Are you still going to school?” he asked “don't you ever just get tired of being so straight laced.”
“Yup.” you said “thanks for the coffee though, have a fun time ditching.”
“Eh i'll follow you, got nothing better going on.” he said
When you arrived at school during the third period, the teacher looked at you.
“And where have you been miss (last name).” he asked
“Transportation troubles.” you replied and went to your seat only to feel something sharp poke you, you jolted up.
“Is there an issue?” the teacher asked
“Someone put thumbtacks on my seat.” you said and brushed them off
“I'm sure it was an accident-”
“No it wasn't, who accidentally leaves thumb tacks on a desk facing up!” you yelled, your teacher took a step back Dabis’ words rang through your head
“Don't you get tired of being so straight laced.”
“Don't raise your voice at me.” he said regaining his footing
“I have a thumb tack logged on my ass!” you said and pulled it out blood was on the tip “I'm going to the nurse.”
You left the classroom and slammed the door in his face
“Miss (last name) get back here!” he yelled, you ignored him and went to the nurses office and slapped a band aid on your butt.
“That stings.” you said and laid down on the bed
“What stings.”Dabi said as he pulled the curtain back
“Ack!” you said “What are you doing here?”
“I was hanging around the hallway because my teacher made me stand outside and I saw you slam the door after yelling something.” he said and sat next to you.
“Someone put thumbtacks on my seat.” you said “the teacher said it was an accident, what is his problem.”
“Sadly adults like him are bystanders, and will follow the flow of things.” Dabi said “your butt okay?”
“Yes Dabi.” you said with a roll of your eyes ``I should have ditched today.”
“See told you.” he said “come on lets sneak off.”
You two snuck out of school from the back and into town, you got something to munch on form the convent store
“You want to put an ice cream on your ass?” Dabi asked
“Dabi!” you said
“What ice ?” he said
“I'm not putting ice cream on my butt.” you said
You took another big bite of bread, and a long sip of your strawberry soda. Dabi took a bite of his ice cream and you two sat on the curb.
“How long has it been going on?” Dabi asked “your teacher i mean.”
“Since he became my teacher.” You said “Maybe I corrected him too many times.”
“I call bullshit.” Dabi said and scooted closer to you
“It really is.” you said and looked down on the pavement “i just want to graduate and leave this place, and everyone here for good.”
Dabi stayed silent
“I'm not a punching bag you know, I mean sure I'm quiet and can sometimes be a pushover, and- straight laced.”
“Never too late to change you know.” Dabi said “I used to try and bend over backwards to please people who would never be satisfied with me. Eventually i just realized why care, these people aren't important enough for to worry about what they think, and well i became someone people wouldn't fuck around with.”
“I envy that.” you said “I'm sure ill always be a pushover, and the punching bag.”
“Hey, I told you if anyone gave you trouble, let me know.” Dab said
“I'm still confused on why you want to help me, and don't say it's because I'm cute.” you said
“I just like you for whatever reason.” he said “and i don't like a lot of people.”
“Thanks?” you said
“You are very welcome.” he said and shoved the corner of his ice cream on your cheek.
“Hey!” you said
“Oops, let me get that.” he leaned over and licked it off your cheek.
“Hey!” you said slapping a hand to your face, you knew your face was hot.
“So how about that date?” Dabi asked, “Are you still interested?”
“Why not, if it distracts me from the stabbing feeling in my butt, lucky me.” you said “where are we going?”
“Back to the cafe.” he said and led the way.
“Dabi, why are we going back to the place we were just at?” you asked
“Because that was just the front, the real fun is down stairs.” he said as he entered and went over to the barista.
“Hey, can I get a bluebird with extra foam?” Dabi asked, before looking at you “make it two.”
“Right this way you two.” he said and pushed the door open, and Dabi led you down the stairs behind the counter.
“Dabi…this seems really creepy.” you said as you followed behind him
“It may seem that way at first, but trust me you will love it.” he said and entered a lounge, a bunch of other people were chatting around, they definitely were in the alternative crowd. You two sat down in a black booth.
“Dabi, what is this place?” you whispered to him
“Just an underground hangout bar, where no one asks questions.” he said “Hey can i get two of my usual?”
The bartender nodded his head and got to work, maybe it was a mistake to come here, you didn't want to drink any booze. Maybe it would be better to excuse yourself from this palace.
“Hey Kent over here.” Dabi said, a brunette leaned back in his chair and gave Dabi a small smile and wave, before walking over
“Hey dude where the hell have you been?” he asked, before looking at you “who's this?”
“Kent, this is (name).” Dabi said “She's been having a rough couple of days so I decided to cheer her up a bit.”
“Hello.” you said
“Sup, I’m Kent.” he said and sat down across from you and Dabi
“(name), this is Kent, he is what i would call an underling.” Dabi Quipped
“Hey!’ Kent said “rude, I'm your closest friend.”
“Sorry Kent, but (name) here took your spot.” Dabi said, just as the bartender dropped off two drinks, Kent took one and took a sip.
“Anything else for you?” the bartender asked
“A peach calpico for the lady.” Dabi said, and the bartender came back with the familiar square plastic bottle, you smiled and took it
“Thank you.” you said, the Bartender gave you a nod and went back to his station.
#yandere dabi#yandere hawks#yandere toya todoroki#yandere keigo takami#yandere keigo takami x reader#yandere hawks x reader#yandere dabi x reader#yandere mha#yandere bnha#yandere mha x reader#yandere bnha x reader#yandere ex au
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Birds of a Feather (Chapter 8/?) | Bradley Bradshaw
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Sam “Merlin” Wells’ Daughter OC
Warnings: Explicit Language, References to the Death of a Parent, Really Subtle Non-Explicit Sexual References
Summary: Bradley. Lieutenant Wells. His own doubts and insecurities about whether he was even cut out for the role he’d been tasked with anymore. They were all major problems in their own right, and even more complicated by the fact that they were intertwined with one another.
Word Count: 10,800 ish.
DISCLAIMER: Spoilers for Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick ahead.
Masterlist /// Chapter 1 /// Chapter 7 /// Chapter 8
A/N: Please forgive me, I couldn’t decide between the three GIFs. I’m also sorry about the time it took to get this ready and posted- I struggled with the last few scenes. I still feel like they could still be improved even, but I digress. I hope the plot helps to make up for the wait. As always, I appreciate every one of you who takes the time to read this. I hope you all have a great rest of the week. 💙
Chapter 8: Time to Let Go
Given that it was only a Thursday night, the Hard Deck wasn’t too crowded. If it had been, Clara might have been inclined to suggest another location for her meetup with Bradley.
Though it was close to the weekend, she had to remind herself that there wasn’t likely to be much rest allowed over the couple of days. Though Maverick might- might- give them a day or two off from the training exercises, that certainly didn’t mean that they’d be excused from all forms of work. The civilian luxury of weekend relaxation was nothing in comparison to the dangerous mission that they’d been tasked to carry out in just a few short weeks.
Clara entered the Hard Deck somewhat timidly, hesitant to what she might find. Fortunately, the Hard Deck was as sparse as the barely-filled parking lot had suggested. She spotted Bradley right away, seated at a high top table towards the back of the room. He was already sipping away at a bottle of beer, but an empty shot glass was just behind his right arm, which was propped up on the table.
After swinging by the bar to greet Penny and ordering a glass of water, Clara joined him.
She told herself that his eyes most certainly did not light up when he noticed her approaching, but the smile he gave her as she took the seat across from him did nothing but cause her stomach to do somersaults.
Bradley frowned as his eyes fell on her glass. “Not feeling up to drinking tonight?”
“Not sure yet,” Clara answered vaguely. Though the truth was that her motivation to drink was highly dependent on the outcome of the conversation she was about to have with him, she thought it best that Bradley not be informed about that piece of information. “Maybe I’ll get something in a little bit.”
“Probably better that way,” Bradley replied neutrally, his eyes falling and swiveling over to the empty shot glass beside him longingly. “I should call it quits myself, before I get really started…”
Clara hesitated briefly, before letting out a light sigh. “It has been a long day,” she pointed out. “You should go ahead- have a few. I’ll give you a ride back to your place.”
Bradley frowned. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
Clara’s eyebrows rose. “Why not? … It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Bradley’s expression softened, and his eyes opened more, as if taking her in fully. He looked at her wistfully, clearly recalling the previous evenings she had just alluded to. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I guess it wouldn’t be.”
Though she didn’t feel entirely good about it, Clara had already decided that if Bradley needed a drink or two, the better. It’d been a long, long day. As far as she knew, Bradley drinking his problems away was not a recurring habit of his. Plus, if a bit of liquid courage would get him to loosen up a bit more and allow them to have a more productive conversation regarding the topic of Maverick than they’d been able to thus far, the better. The least she could do would be to offer him a ride home.
Although, it was a little bit silly for them to be having the conversation at the Hard Deck. It was hardly private, and they could be overheard by others who would know exactly what individuals they were referring to. But the comfy confines of the Hard Deck did wonders to lower one’s guard. Oddly enough, it felt as though any vulnerability that could arise from uncomfortable conversations could be easily set aside and forgotten about.
Clara wasn’t sure how to begin the discussion, but since Bradley had been the one to invite her to talk with him, she decided to leave that task up to him. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait very long. After going back over to the bar, returning, and downing two more shots of whatever liquid of choice Bradley had decided upon for the evening, he was more than willing to talk.
“God, I was stupid,” he mumbled with a painful expression. He took another swig of beer. “Stupid, stupid.”
“Yeah, you were,” Clara conceded, not caring or wanting to hold back.
Making a physical front against another mission candidate, let alone in the middle of a debriefing, and in front of everyone else, was less than ideal. In fact, short of Bradley actually having gotten his hands on Hangman, it was probably the worst thing that could have happened. There was no telling whether Bradley’s actions from earlier in the day would have any major repercussions. Just because he had left base for the day without being pulled aside didn’t necessarily mean that he was in the clear.
“But for just a minute there, I really thought I was actually going to get my hands around Hangman’s neck,” Bradley added, theatrically and remorsefully.
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Clara couldn’t help but take a little amusement from her his slightly increasing intoxication. “Do you want to hear something funny?”
“Absolutely.”
Clara confessed, “For just a minute there, I was hoping you were going to get your hands around his neck, too.”
At this, Bradley chuckled. The sound echoed deep from within his chest, and his eyes twinkled faintly with mirth. Then, he abruptly leaned over, fixating his face just inches away from hers. As she dared to look at him more closely, she immediately noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Maybe I ought to give it a second go then, huh?” he proposed conspiringly. “Say the word, and I promise you, I’ll gladly deck Hangman across the face.”
Clara knew that it was the alcohol talking, and that Bradley Bradshaw in his right state of mind would never say such a thing, let alone mean to follow through with it. He valued his career far too much. Or, at least, she thought he did. But damn, the look in his eyes as he vowed to serve Hangman some karma was pretty convincing at that moment. It was best to diffuse him, she reckoned. “You know that’s not a good idea, Brad.”
Bradley sighed, albeit a little bit dramatically. “You’re right.” He withdrew from her, sitting up straight once again. “Besides, we both know, short of jumping off a bridge, that I’d probably do just about anything you’d ask, Darling.”
… Suddenly, she found herself less certain if that was still the alcohol talking.
Bradley gave her a grin, one that was riddled with a certain giddiness that only alcohol seemed to bring out of him. “I really shouldn’t go around making you any offers.”
Clara’s cheeks burned. Choosing to ignore her involuntary reaction, she agreed, “Probably not… I think you’re better off leaving Hangman alone. As much of a jerk as he is, I’d much rather find my own way to put up with him, if it means you get to stick around and not get into trouble.”
“Ah, so you do like having me around,” he accused playfully, giving her a knowing smirk.
Clara ignored his comment; her answer was redundant. Instead, she pivoted to a new subject. “You should probably start making more of an effort to respect Maverick, too. The Vice Admiral might have half a mind to take your wings if he overheard some of the things you’ve said to him, not to mention the stunt you pulled with Hangman today.”
At this, Bradley’s jovial attitude flatlined. Thankfully, it wasn’t immediately replaced with a negative one. “Yeah? Well…” His expression remained neutral as he took another swig of beer. Once he was done, he let out a small sigh.
“I’m trying, Clara. I’m really, really, trying.”
Overcome with a sudden sense of boldness, Clara reached out across the table and gently put her hand overtop of his own. “I know you are.”
Clara didn’t want to make any excuse for Bradley's behavior- he was a grown man, not to mention an officer of the Navy. He should’ve had better sense than to blatantly tiptoe the line of disrespecting a superior officer. But she knew most, if not all, of the extensive history between Bradley and Maverick. From her perspective, the only options Bradley had were to find some creative way to excuse himself from the special detachment without having to tell the Vice Admiral the truth of the situation, or do whatever he could to tolerate Maverick and just find a way to get by. Bradley had chosen to do the latter, though some would probably question whether that had been the right choice. Perhaps Clara had some selfish motivations behind it, but she was inclined to agree that his decision had been the right call.
Bradley and Maverick would have to duke it out- hopefully metaphorically speaking- at some point. It’d been nothing short of a miracle that they’d been able to go over ten years without doing so thus far.
Clara removed her hand from Bradley’s and took a sip of water. The in passing conversation she’d had with Maverick earlier that afternoon lingered in the back of her mind, but she knew that if there were to be a good time to bring it up to Bradley, it certainly wasn’t then and there.
“I don’t know what’s worse,” Bradley mused, “If the Vice Admiral decides to give me the boot, or if Maverick steps in and talks him out of it.”
Clara didn’t know the answer to his question, either. Instead, she gave him a sympathetic look.
“But enough about me,” he said then, the jovial mood slowly but surely creeping back into his disposition. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you given any more thought about whether you’re gonna reenlist?”
“Since a few days ago?” Clara laughed. “No. When have I had the time?”
“The clock is ticking, Red Cross.”
Not for several months, at least. She wondered, “Why do you care so much?”
Bradley shrugged nonchalantly. “I have a vested interest.”
“That right?” Clara challenged playfully, mildly interested to see where he was going with his statement. “How so?”
“Gotta make sure my girl takes care of herself.”
Clara knew that had to be the alcohol talking. Part of her was touched by the sentiment behind his words, but another part of her was quick to jump to mild annoyance at the implication. “I’m not your girl, Bradshaw.”
“But you could be.”
Clara’s jaw dropped, but before she could form an appropriate response, Bradley hastily continued.
“Do you wanna know what I think?” he asked, though his tone indicated it was less of an offer, and more of a preface to an inevitable spiel he was intent on delivering. “I think you should stay. I think you should reenlist.”
“You do? Why?”
“Any man who’s not alright with you having a career isn’t a man you should be with.”
Clara couldn’t help but double take at the forwardness of his statement. Though it was commonplace over the years to dance around the topic of whatever it was that was going on between them, it was rare for either of them to so blatantly discuss or offer input on the dating or love life of the other.
After a few moments of thoughtful silence, she replied carefully, “It’s not just about that.”
“It’s not?” Bradley challenged, clearly not believing her. But he should have.
Of course Clara was worried about whether a future partner of hers would respect her career. It was important to her, and she’d spend the better part of her adult life cultivating it to the best of her ability. WIth some more hard work and years put into it, she had the chance to rise even further still. Should she eventually find someone who deemed her worthy to stick with long term, there was always the chance that her continuing to reenlist in the Navy would put strain on a significant other, and potentially ruin any future life plans.
Someone currently or who had been in the Navy- like Bradley, purely for the sake of an example and for no other purpose whatsoever- might have a reasonable understanding of the matter. But there was something else just as important to consider as well.
Kids.
Clara hadn’t given much thought to them. The nature of her job kept her pretty busy for obvious reasons. But she knew she was getting to an age where she ought to seriously consider whether or not she wanted them. And truth be told, she just wasn’t sure where she stood.
All Clara knew for certain was that she was leaning towards not wanting to be alone. In a perfect world, whether or not she reenlisted, she would eventually find someone to build a life with. But how could she begin to venture into serious dating and eventually ask that of someone if she didn’t even know what all she wanted out of life?
And someone like Bradley Bradshaw… on paper, and in theory, would be perfect for her. He was her best friend. He knew just about everything about her- the good, and the bad. He understood the demands of their chosen career path better than almost anyone else ever would.
But she knew where he was likely to stand on the topic she was still up in the air about. There was no way someone like him wouldn’t want kids. Bradley had grown up as an only child. He’d lost his father really early on in life, and from what he’d shared with her, his mother had never been the same after. Why wouldn’t Bradley want to give a kid, or two, the idyllic childhood that he’d been so cruelly robbed of?
Over the past few years, and in addition to not wanting to ruin their friendship, she realized that it was one of the main things that held her back from taking the leap and confessing her true feelings to him. The very idea of kids kept her from admitting about the less than friendly feelings she harbored for Bradley that never seemed to go away, no matter how much time passed and distance was placed between them.
She knew she ought to cut herself off from him entirely, if the end was inevitable. It would be selfish not to. But doing that seemed just as painful as the realization that they could never be together.
Bradley Bradshaw was a catch. A perfect catch for someone out there. But that someone couldn’t be her.
He’d already given up so much in his life. And he’d been more of a friend to her than she’d ever hoped to have in life. She wouldn’t be the reason he gave up something else, especially if it was something as important as children. She loved him too much to ever ask that of him.
“If it’s not that,” Bradley continued, oblivious to her slight inner turmoil, “What’s it about, then?”
There was a pleading look in his eyes. For how honest he’d been with her so far that evening- though largely in part to the alcohol- she knew she should have extended him the same courtesy. But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. “It’s… complicated.”
Fortunately for her, and despite his mild inebriation, Bradley took the not so subtle hint and backed down swiftly. He finished off his beer, placed the bottle down on the table with a soft plink, and sighed once more, though this time, it was a sigh of content. “Do you know what this scene reminds me of?”
Clara’s brows furrowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Come on, Red Cross,” Bradley drew, vaguely gesturing between the two of them. “You and me, sitting in a bar?”
She still wasn’t following. Even when he gave her a pointed look, as if practically begging her to pick up what he was putting down, her mind was still drawing a blank.
“We’re blowing off some steam…” Bradley added hopefully. His eyes locked with hers so firmly, Clara probably wouldn’t have been able to tear her own away, even if she had wanted to. “Getting things… out of our system.”
She felt her face immediately heat up at his words. “Bradley.”
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.
Damn him. Clara could only give him a stern look for a few moments before her composure crumbled. As a few light laughs left her mouth, Bradley readily joined her with hearty laughter of his own.
The moment was light, but it felt significant all the same. It was easy to forget the context under which they were even there. There was no pending decision on Bradley’s military fate. No Hangman. No Maverick. Not even a looming decision about her reenlistment. Just them.
“You’ve really had a good amount to drink, huh?” Clara asked him as her laughs began to subside.
Bradley shrugged, still smiling. “Well, you know what they say- drunk words are sober thoughts.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Before she could think of how to appropriately respond, Bradley immediately threw her another curveball.
“Would you ever consider that kind of… arrangement, again?”
Clara was speechless. Her immediate thought was to lie, to defend herself from any potential hurt. … But Bradley was drunk. The chance that he would remember the conversation, let alone her answer, was probably slim to none. Plus, drunken Bradley was a sight to behold… he was so unbothered, almost completely carefree. It was almost impossible not to indulge him- at least a little bit.
“If it’ll help you lower your stress and keep your head on straight around Maverick, sure.”
Bradley didn’t blink. “Then what are we waiting for?”
…
The evening had been full of surprises, but none of them had been as shocking as that. Clara deflected, “Ask me again when you’re sober.”
“Hm… alright,” Bradley agreed after a moment. “But I’ll remember that, Red Cross. So, you better have your answer ready for when I ask the next time.”
Sure you will. There wasn’t likely to be a next time. If he did remember his proposition, Clara had a feeling Bradley would feel too embarrassed to bring it up ever again.
A buzzing in her back pocket drew her attention away from her slightly drunken companion.
It was a text from Bob.
It figured that Bob would be worried about him. It also figured that Bob had deduced that Clara was likely to be with him now, even if she hadn’t told him that she was. She quickly texted back her response, and put the phone away in her pocket once more.
“Let me guess- Bob?”
Clara offered up a shy smile, feeling as though she’d been caught. But the look on Bradley’s face was far from accusatory. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “Seems like the type of guy who actually gives a crap about others… unlike some people.”
There were several people Bradley could have been referring to, but Clara didn’t bother asking him to elaborate.
“Plus, he’s been giving me this look the past few days, ever since you told him… well, everything.”
“What look?” Clara asked curiously.
“Like he knows, and maybe he wants to say something to me to let me know that he knows… but he just doesn’t.”
Though Bradley wasn’t exactly eloquent at that moment, Clara understood him anyway. Phoenix had been giving her not so subtle looks over the past few days as well. She knew that both of them wouldn’t repeat anything they’d been told in confidence to anyone. But it did feel at times as though both of their friends were watching them curiously, as if waiting to see what would happen next.
If only Clara and Bradley knew that themselves.
“We’ve got some good friends,” Clara declared objectively, relieved that the conversation had finally taken a lighter turn.
“We sure do,” Bradley happily agreed. “But don’t you worry now, Darling- you’ll always be my best buddy.”
Clara shook her head in mock disapproval, poorly attempting to hide her smile as she did so. She rose from her seat easily, and clapped him on the shoulder lightly. “Come on then, buddy. I think you’ve had enough for one night. Let’s get you home.”
When he next came to, the only thing Bradley could make any sense of was a dull throbbing in the back of his skull.
The next thing he was able to process was light. Though not very bright, it was still enough to be a bit of a nuisance. He groaned before burrowing his face into whatever fabric was enveloping it in a half-assed attempt to escape the bothersome rays.
Bradley’s memory of the previous evening was foggy at best, hopefully in part to the grogginess that was still clouding his mind from only just waking up, but perhaps even more so due to his undeniable hangover.
But knowing Clara, she must have helped him home. She was kind like that. She was good to him- almost too good. Here he was, despite his less than stellar behavior the previous afternoon, tucked away safely in the confines of his temporary bed. He owed her a favor, big time.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
…
Maybe not.
Bradley’s eyes shot open, and he jerked upwards. The sudden movement made him groan once more. He placed a hand on the side of his throbbing head pitifully as he looked around his surroundings with timid apprehension.
It took all of a second for him to realize that he was not, in fact, in his temporary housing. Seeing Clara smirking at him from across the room- already dressed in uniform and ready to go for the day- only solidified the fact in his mind.
Apparently, he’d passed out on her couch.
Bradley wanted to kick himself. On top of everything else he’d done lately, including him unfairly taking his anger out on her just a few days before, the very last thing he wanted to do was put Clara out even more. But he’d gone and done just that.
“What happened?” he grumbled, mindful of the gruffness of his voice. As much as he desired some clarity, it was more than apparent to him that he’d likely overstayed his welcome.
Clara’s smirk didn’t falter. She entered the room fully, staring down at him with an indiscernible expression. “Someone drank a little too much.”
That was… mildly embarrassing. “Really? … I only remember a couple of shots.”
“We’re starting to get up there in years, old man. I sure as hell can’t drink and carry on the way we used to, and I doubt you can, either.”
Something about the fondness of her tone whilst she jested with him gave Bradley a funny type of feeling. But Clara had a point. He’d never really been a drinker. Flying tens of thousands of feet above the air didn’t tend to mesh well with nasty hangovers. The most he had ever tended to drink in his life had been during their college years, and even then, he had been a social drinker at best. And, apparently, a social drinker is what he should have stayed.
But Clara was full of all kinds of mercy those days, it seemed. She placed down a glass of water and ibuprofen on the coffee table in front of him. He hadn’t even realized she’d been holding them.
Bradley gave her a small, but grateful, smile as he swiped up the bottle and glass before quickly downing a few of the tablets.
“I was going to drop you off at your place,” Clara explained, taking a seat in the armchair beside the couch, “but you couldn’t give me clear directions on how to get back to there.”
He grimaced at the thought.
“You also said something about not being able to find your key… You didn’t leave those at the Hard Deck, did you?”
Bradley placed the glass and bottle back onto the coffee table. He reached in his back pocket and smoothly withdrew his keys, giving her a sheepish look as he presented them to Clara.
“Well,” Clara said, looking tired, but not particularly annoyed or frustrated, “I didn’t feel like rummaging around in your pockets to prove you wrong, anyway.”
I might have let you. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. Once you can stand up without looking so green, I’ll give you a ride back to your place. We can get the Bronco later.”
Bradley gave her another grateful smile. He didn’t deserve her. But he wanted to. He wanted to be worthy of the kindness she was giving him.
There had been many, many moments of the years like the one he’d found himself in. Moments where he wondered over and over why he couldn’t take the leap, to put aside his fear of ruining whatever their relationship was. But there was one other thing, one fear that prevented him from ever committing to the idea, despite the nearly overwhelming hope that they could become something more. In fact, it was a fear that prevented him from even entertaining the idea of seeking a serious romantic relationship with anyone at all.
It’d been easy enough not to settle down early on in his career- he had plenty of reason to focus on learning and training and just keeping himself alive. But now that his career was steady and well underway, that became less accepted as an excuse, particular in regards to his grandmother. Though she meant well, her repeated inquiries over the years regarding the topic had begun to grind on him. A good looking Lieutenant like yourself? It’s hard to believe no one has shown you any interest, Bradley. Don’t you want to find a nice girl to settle down with?
But how could he ever do to Clara what his father had inadvertently done to his mother?
Flying was a part of who he was. It always would be. Bradley knew he wouldn’t be able to give it up, unless he was given the actual boot from someone like the Vice Admiral. There was always a chance that he could be deployed, given an assignment, or sent on a mission that he did not return from. Bradley had come to terms with what that would mean for himself, but he could not, at least in good conscience, subject a significant other to such an experience. He’d been young when his father had passed, but even then, Bradley had noticed the immediate stark change in his mother’s personality and behavior after it happened. Though she never lost all of her fire, it was almost as though the colors of life were dulled for her thereon. Rashness and spontaneity had been tossed aside in favor of caution and careful planning, and as a result those were traits that had been instilled in him heavily growing up. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- impose that same pain on any significant other, let alone Clara.
And kids?
Bradley wasn’t even sure if he wanted them. The thought of not only leaving a significant other, but a child, let alone several of them, suddenly without a father made his heart hurt in more ways than one. But he was almost certain Clara would want them. Her comments and reasons against reenlisting made it clear to him that she would probably leave the Navy in the hopes of having a family of her own. And why shouldn’t she? She’d grown up in the same shitty situation as he had, with a single parent who was never quite the same after the passing of their spouse.
Someone like Clara Wells… on paper, and in theory, would be great for someone like him. She was his oldest, and bestest friend. She seemed to understand him better than anyone else ever would- possibly better than anyone else ever could. She knew the demands and the risks of their chosen line of work.
As the years went on, Bradley was slowly beginning to find ways to reconcile his fear. And he couldn’t help but feel that Clara, of all people, would be the perfect person to take the risk and face his fears head on with.
But he knew how important Clara’s career was to her as well. Regardless of whether or not she wanted kids, or whether or not she reenlisted, Bradley would be damned if he played any role in her unwillingly giving up her career. She deserved to make a completely unbiased decision in the matter, and he feared what sway he may already inadvertently have.
He knew he ought to walk away, and end whatever was going on between them before either of them got hurt any more than they were bound to. It was selfish not to. But the thought of her being absent from his life altogether was enough to steal the air from his lungs.
Clara Wells was a catch. A perfect catch for someone out there. But that someone couldn’t be him.
And he loved her too much to ever put her through what his mother had gone through.
“You look a little less pale now,” Clara observed, her smile less of a smirk and more genuine now. She rose from her seat, and beckoned for him to follow her. “Let’s get going- if Maverick gives us pushups for being late, it’ll be your head, Bradshaw.”
For her, Bradley would gladly offer up his head on a silver platter. But then he was reminded of something his inebriated self had said to her last night… Better not make an offer.
Bradley smiled, despite the light threat. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ice had built a good life for himself.
A sprawling house, in a gated community, in a particularly wealthy San Diego suburb. A bundle of grandkids playing happily and carefree on a finely kempt green lawn. A loving and doting wife who was always kind, despite everything the family had been through over the years. Rows of awards, medals, nearly every possible honor and distinction one of the Navy could ever possibly hope to attain. Said decorum took up great real estate, lining shelves and hanging on the walls in his home office.
Despite all of this, or perhaps, in light of, Ice never failed to make it known to others when he expected better of them. He wasn’t satisfied with the knowledge that he’d built a good life for himself, no- he wanted others to do the same.
So when Pete had been all but ordered to report and see his old friend, he’d had little choice on the matter. He dodged Admiral Kazansky for almost a week since arriving in Fightertown, and Pete knew that even that had been a generous allowance on Ice’s part.
It was Saturday morning, and Pete was desperately hoping that his impromptu meeting with Ice would start the weekend off on a good note rather than a bad one. But he wasn’t so sure.
The previous day had been a bust. When the mission candidates reported Friday morning, tensions were still high from Rooster and Hangman’s altercation the previous afternoon. The day was filled with little else but clipped tones and short responses. Almost complete focus had been placed on the lectures and training exercises at hand, and only that. It was far to dry for Pete’s taste. Another day like that, he might have excused himself from the training altogether.
To his credit, Hangman didn’t acknowledge the previous afternoon at all. Maybe he understood the role he had played in riling Rooster up, and thought it better to keep his mouth shut. Maybe he just didn’t care. Either way, Pete had been glad to see that if any further spats happened, they weren’t likely to have been initiated by Hangman.
Thankfully, for more reasons than one, it seemed as though the Vice Admiral had not received details of what had happened, though the way he greeted Pete that morning, with an even terser tone than usual, indicated that he at least suspected something was amiss.
But Ice knew. He had an uncanny way of finding out about those things. Any half-decent Admiral would.
As Pete entered his old friend’s office, he spotted the man in question focused on something on top of his desk that he couldn’t quite make out. Pete took the moment to look about the room, sparing a brief thought as to whether the Admiral may have had any bugs set up both in his office and somewhere on base. Short of just being in the know, it was one of the only ways he could figure that Ice knew so much about the ongoings of TOPGUN without having much of a physical presence in Fightertown those days.
Ice coughed, drawing Pete’s focus immediately back to the purpose of his visit, and the less than pleasant news that Sarah Kazansky had shared with him just a moment before.
Pete mentally braced himself as he greeted his old friend. “Admiral.”
Ice turned slightly in his chair to watch as he fully entered the room. He gave him a nod in greeting as Pete plucked up a nearby chair to position closer to his own seat.
“How’s my wingman?” Pete asked, unable to help himself.
Pete wasn’t quite sure how Ice would be holding up in light of the news Sarah had shared with him, but he needn’t have worried. Ice gave him a smirk, suggesting that he clearly was still in good spirits.
Ice turned back to the computer on his desk and immediately began typing out his response.
I want to talk about work.
Of course he did. Pete shook his head in slight disbelief. “Please, don’t worry about me.” The words came out so naturally, despite the fact that he damn well knew that it would be a near impossible feat for Ice. Ice had been worrying about him for years, and it was with significant guilt that Pete realized just how much his willingly reckless behavior and actions had only made the task that much harder on the Admiral. Though he also knew it wouldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of all that Ice had done for him over the years, Pete asked, entirely sincerely, “What can I do for you?”
Without skipping a beat, Ice pointed back at the computer screen to emphasize his point.
“Alright,” Pete sighed in defeat, and mentally began to settle himself down for what was likely going to be a bit of a therapeutic discussion. He racked his brain for only a second before frowning. “I don’t even know where to start,” he realized out loud.
Bradley. Lieutenant Wells. His own doubts and insecurities about whether he was even cut out for the role he’d been tasked with anymore. They were all major problems in their own right, and even more complicated by the fact that they were intertwined with one another.
Ice merely shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him. It probably didn’t. Ice had to have known that if Pete actually started talking and opened up to him, he was already winning.
But Pete must’ve shown some visible sign of struggle as he searched for his words, because thankfully, Ice bailed him out. He typed out a prompting response.
Lieutenant Wells.
“Well… she’s not too fond of me, I guess,” Pete half-joked, cracking a small smile. Ice didn’t return the gesture, so he continued on. “And I know why that is.”
Ice blinked at him. He knew, too.
The funeral.
Pete could still recall where he was when he’d heard the news of Merlin’s passing. He’d been overseas on a special detachment. Nothing particularly pressing- Ice had offered to make the arrangements for him to return back to the States for Merlin’s service. Pete knew Ice would have made good on his word, but he didn’t take him up on the offer.
“I should have gone to the funeral,” Pete admitted, looking to Ice for some sort of unspoken guidance or comfort. “It would’ve been the right thing to do.”
The look on Ice’s face was one of complete agreement. But there was some patience in there, too. He turned back to the keyboard.
Why didn’t you?
Ice had asked him the same thing, right he got back from the funeral himself. Pete didn’t know the exact answer then, but he did now.
As soon as Ice had informed him of the news, the memories came flooding back. And not just memories of Merlin- but of Goose, too. Pete had outlived not one, but two of his RIOs. And they’d been the only two RIOs he’d flown any significant amount of time with throughout the duration of his entire decades-long career.
With the memories came feelings, and unpleasant ones at that. Existential questions soon followed, and Pete had found himself asking why. Out of all three of the men, Pete had been inarguably far more reckless on and off the job and Goose and Merlin had ever been combined. And yet, the universe saw fit to take the other two men before him. Those men had kids; a family. And who did Pete have?
No one.
It just didn’t seem right.
Merlin’s passing brought up things about himself that Pete had yet to address, and perhaps, still had yet to properly acknowledge. There was no way he could have attended Merlin’s funeral. Lieutenant Wells deserved to grieve her father without the presence of his old pilot, who would be attending with a heap of internal dilemmas of his own.
And when he recalled that Bradley was likely to be there- well, that had just sealed the deal. He’d always kept tabs on Bradley over the years, despite their falling out. Ice had assisted him greatly in this regard, though Pete could tell he didn’t always feel great about it.
The Navy aviator community was small, at least in some regards. Everyone knew just about everyone else. You’d learn if there are any particularly close comrades amongst the ranks. And even Pete had eventually heard rumblings of how close one Bradley Bradshaw and Clara Wells were. Pete couldn’t help himself- he had to look into it further. He had to know who Bradley had deemed worthy of such a companionship. Once again, with Ice’s assistance, Pete eventually learned that Clara Wells was a WSO. It didn’t take long at all for Pete to make a logical deduction that she was Merlin’s daughter.
Ice confirmed as much after the service.
“I just… I don’t know how to explain why I wasn’t there,” Pete confessed. “... I don’t know what to tell her.”
Ice looked sympathetic for a brief moment, before he turned back to the computer once more.
Tell her the truth.
The truth? That was easier said than done.
But perhaps Ice had a point. Telling Clara Wells the truth about his absence at her father’s funeral would certainly be more direct than his other attempts to make amends with her thus far. Part of him worried it would only anger her further.. Although, Pete had noticed a small twinkle in her eyes the previous afternoon, right after he had honestly compared her to her father. It seemed that the Wells’ family had a propensity to provide the Navy with high caliber RIOs and WSOs.
… Ice suggestion was food for thought, regardless.
“Maybe the truth will work with Lieutenant Wells,” Pete conceded, “But it won’t work for Rooster.”
Ice gave him a look that suggested that he disagreed.
Pete continued anyway, not willing to debate the matter. “Rooster’s still angry with me about what I did. I thought eventually he would understand why.”
If Bradley could find it in himself to think less about what Pete had done, and given more speculation as to why he might have pulled his Naval Academy papers, it could have resolved their estrangement years ago. Pete couldn’t- he wouldn’t- tell Bradley the truth on his own. Carol had her own opinion on what was best for Bradley. At the time, when she had made the request for Pete to do anything he could to prevent her son from following in his father’s footsteps, he didn’t have the heart to deny her. And to be honest, he had even agreed with her.
Pete still agreed with Carol. Rooster had made a successful career for himself, but Pete was sure that he had to work harder than his peers to get to where he was now. Rooster didn’t have it. He didn’t have the edge. He didn’t have the guts to make the difficult, split of the moment decisions that were required of every naval aviator at some point or another. Lack of such a thing in their chosen field meant one of two things: getting phased out, or paying the ultimate price.
Ice had been pissed by Pete’s decision, of course. Thankfully, his old friend hadn’t discovered that Pete pulled Bradley’s application until about a year later. If Ice had discovered it any sooner, Pete knew that Ice would’ve fixed it, and smoothed things over- he would’ve made sure Bradley’s application was considered. “Some sort of clerical error,” he would have told the Admissions Board. They would have listened. And, more likely than not, Bradley would have been accepted to the Naval Academy.
Though Bradley was undoubtedly far more upset with him, Ice didn’t react too well to the discovery of Pete’s deeds either. True to his callsign, the cold disposition he hadn’t seen since their own TOPGUN days returned for what felt like several months. Eventually, Ice cooled down enough to let Pete explain why he did what he did, but Pete knew he had more than pressed his luck. He’d been spending the years since trying to stay out of trouble, if only for Ice’s sake… but he was only human, after all.
“I hoped he’d forgive me,” Pete admitted. But even as the words left his lips, he knew how silly it all sounded.
Ice sighed, and contemplation was plain upon his face. After a few moments, he responded.
There’s still time.
“The mission is less than three weeks away,” Pete stated, despite the fact that Ice was more likely than not well aware of that fact. “The kid’s not ready.”
Ice tilted his head thoughtfully. He’d always been able to read Pete like a book. He probably knew everything swirling about his head. He probably knew and understood it all better than even Pete could himself.
Then teach him.
Pete disagreed, “He doesn’t want what I have to give.”
Ice waved him off, as if the idea was frivolous.
“Ice, please,” Pete plead, sensing that this was something that Ice was not going to give up on. “Don’t ask me to send someone else to die. Please don’t… don’t ask me to send him.” An idea struck him. “Send me.”
Ice smiled, as though humoring him. But there was something else, an odd look in his eyes that Pete couldn’t immediately place. But after seeing Ice’s next response, he knew what it was.
It’s time to let go.
…
Pete knew what he meant.
Let go of the past. Let go of trying to please the ghosts that had been gone long since before he ever even hopped in a Navy aircraft. Let go of the pain of losing the brother he never had. Let go of the fear of losing the last semblance of family he had left, despite the fact that said individual certainly didn’t consider him as such. Let go of the guilt of not properly seeing off an old friend who had, knowingly or not, attempted and partially succeeded in repairing the hole in his life that losing Goose had.
He knew it was time, but there was a major problem.
“I don’t know how.” Pete did his best to blink away the tears that began to well in his eyes as all the memories came rushing back once again, and this time with a vengeful force. “I’m not a teacher, Ice. I’m a fighter pilot. A naval aviator. It’s not what I am, it’s who I am… How do I teach that? Even if I could teach it, it’s not what Rooster wants. It’s not what the Navy wants. That’s why they canned me the last time… The only reason I’m here is you.”
Ice looked at him empathetically.
Pete took a breath, trying, though not very successfully, to keep his composure. “If I send him on this mission, he might never come home. And if I don’t send him, he’ll never forgive me… Either way, I could lose him forever.”
Losing Rooster, just as he had lost Goose? … Just the thought of that was just too much to bear.
But Pete’s eyes drifted, and he once again looked at Ice’s wise words on the computer screen.
It’s time to let go.
He sighed. “I know… I know.”
Ice stood. Pete followed suit immediately. He would have done so anyway, even if Ice’s rank had not all but required it of him. But he respected him too much not to.
Ice coughed a couple times, and before Pete could think about whether to call for Sarah, his friend did something that shocked him.
“The Navy needs Maverick. The kid needs Maverick,” Ice told him. His voice was hoarse, but it was still very distinctly Ice. “That’s why I fought for you. That’s why you're still here.”
As soon as those words hit his ears, Pete knew that he had no other choice. Though he was still uncertain as to how exactly to solve all the problems he faced, he knew he had to try.
Ice would rip him a new one if he didn’t.
“Thank you, Ice,” Pete told him sincerely, pulling him in for a hug. “For everything.”
Ice pulled away first, saying, “One last thing.”
Pete raised an eyebrow at him.
“Who’s the better pilot? You or me?”
“... This is a nice moment. Let’s not ruin it.”
Come the following Monday morning, it became apparent very quickly that Maverick had a different type of lesson planned for the day.
Hondo waiting outside the building early that morning to turn them all away, one by one, as they arrived on base was a pretty big indicator. When he’d told them that they were to report to the Hard Deck later in the afternoon, it was all but proven.
“We’re going to… what?” Fanboy asked with wide eyes.
“Dogfight football,” Maverick answered, grinning as bright as the sun, which was just beginning its descent.
Bob’s instinctual reaction was to groan internally. Though his job had demanded he keep to set physical standards, playing games like football was not something he necessarily enjoyed. One too many less than pleasant memories of high school gym class echoed in his mind, and he fought off a shudder. Still, despite his immediate unpleasant reaction, seeing the hopeful enthusiasm of their instructor as he explained the game changed his tune. For Maverick, he could at least try.
At least it was something new, and unlike any other special mission training Bob had ever taken part in. And, perhaps more importantly, it gave them all a break from waiting and watching with bated breath to see if Hangman and Rooster were going to take another go at each other.
Hondo stood beside Maverick, his smile just as wide. In his hands, he held a baseball cap, which Yale had volunteered for the occasion. Inside the baseball cap were everyone’s car keys.
“Hondo,” Maverick said to him then, “If you please.”
“With pleasure, Mav.” Hondo made a show of “fishing” around in Yale’s cap, before withdrawing two sets of keys. “Alright- whose are these?”
Everyone had to gather around to inspect the selected keys- most of them had been driving rentals.
“By luck of the draw, Hangman and Phoenix are team captains,” Maverick announced. Wordlessly, the group began to fan out, with Phoenix and Hangman placing themselves in the center of everyone.
Before he could beat her to it, Phoenix looked at Hangman and said with a smirk, “Ladies first.”
Hangman rolled his eyes, before making a show of looking over the lot of potential teammates. “Coyote.”
Big surprise there.
Phoenix didn’t need nearly much time as Hangman feigned. “Bob.”
…
Bob did a double take. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been chosen first for anything, especially not for something like a game of football. Perhaps he should have expected better of Phoenix… she’d shown him nothing but kindness and respect thus far.
He tried to conceal his surprise as he walked over to stand beside her.
Meanwhile, Hangman narrowed his eyes at them, though the gesture appeared more challenging than menacing. “I see what you’re doing there, Phoenix… Alright Parrot, let’s go.”
Parrot, who was in the middle of making a comment to Rooster, who was standing beside her, immediately cut herself short. “Wait, really?”
“Don’t make me change my mind, now.”
Parrot seemed to be in a good mood, Bob noted. Though Hangman’s phrasing sounded teasing at worst, he wouldn’t have blamed Parrot for snapping back a quick remark. Instead, though she still looked as surprised as Bob still felt, Parrot said nothing. She left her spot without further delay and went to stand beside Hangman.
But Bob’s focus shifted beyond her, and on Rooster.
...
He would’ve sworn, up and down, left and right, six ways from Sunday that Rooster’s eyes drifted as Parrot walked away from him.
That.
Things like that is what Bob had been watching the pair of them the past few days for- including Saturday night, when a handful of them went to the Hard Deck for drinks. He had to admit, it felt odd, but ever since Parrot had confided in him about her history with Rooster, which was much more complicated than he ever would have guessed, he was truly curious. Had there always been signs of something more between them, that he just hadn’t picked up on?
If the past few days were any indication, there definitely had been.
He was worried for Parrot. Seeing anyone, in any context, who ran in the same tight circles as they did wasn’t exactly encouraged, and most within those circles outright frowned upon it. Bob had once overheard someone back in flight school crudely advise another, “Don’t shit where you eat.”
But Parrot clearly cared deeply about Rooster. Bob knew they’d been friends for years. He’d met Rooster several years ago himself, back at their TOPGUN graduation. He was nice enough to him then, but the past week had allowed Bob many opportunities to get to know the other man better. It really wasn’t all that hard to see what Parrot saw in him, either. Occasional short fuse aside, Rooster was a great guy. And, despite Hangman’s snide remarks and Maverick’s not so subtle lack of confidence in him, Bob regarded him as a more than capable pilot.
But he was still worried.
As Parrot walked over to join her forming team, Natasha smiled to herself, already knowing her next plan of action.
“Rooster.”
Rooster looked pretty happy with Natasha’s decision. She could hardly blame him- not having to be on Hangman’s team, and getting the chance to give both him and Parrot a run for their money? It was probably a huge win in her friend’s book.
Natasha was just happy to see him happy. Actually, she was happy to see that he was still around.
She watched Rooster as carefully as she dared the previous Friday, and she could tell that something was bothering him. It was most likely a looming concern that, at any given moment, he would get pulled aside by the Vice Admiral and promptly kicked back to his squadron, if not worse. Thankfully, the Vice Admiral never showed up to take Rooster away, Hangman kept his mouth shut, and Maverick did the bare minimum level of instruction so as not to rock the boat any further. Perhaps it was still too early to tell as to whether Rooster would have any repercussions from the incident with Hangman last Thursday, but it was a good sign that none had yet to come his way.
Once the group was properly divided up- with Hondo refereeing and Maverick being somewhat of a double agent for each team- the games were on.
…
Not even the nearly unforgiving heat or the harsh rays of the southern California sunshine were enough to dampen the mood amongst the group.
It was almost amazing how something as simple as an elementary school game had such a profound effect on the group. Though Natasha may or may not have wanted to take Hangman down a peg or two, her desire to beat him in dogfight football came from an entirely friendly competitive place.
“Alright, alright,” Hangman said encouragingly, attempting to rally his team. Phoenix’s team had just scored for the second time, leaving Hangman’s team trailing behind. “Let’s get it together now!”
Before Phoenix could realize what was happening, Parrot had slithered up beside her, leaving her completely unblocked and open to receive a pass from Harvard.
“Shit!” she exclaimed, though she had a smile on her face.
“Don’t worry,” Rooster said as he passed her, “I got this!”
Natasha couldn’t help but watch with amusement as Rooster sprinted over towards Parrot. Once he caught up with her, the two played a stand off game, with Parrot trying to dodge around Rooster, and Rooster trying to close in to swipe the football from her hands.
Eventually, Parrot got the upper hand. A quick fake out dodge left Rooster slipping and falling upon the wed sand with a deep thud, and Parrot was able to sprint across the remaining yardage unhindered.
“That’s my WSO!” Hangman hollered joyfully and proudly from across the “field.”
Parrot turned, holding the ball high above her head victoriously and giving her team a gleeful smile. Her team responded by cheering her on.
“It’s alright guys,” Natasha consoled her team, aware of the fact that Fritz was encroaching upon an unsuspecting Omaha at that very moment. Omaha held the other football in his hands, but he was distracted with his team’s miniature victory celebration.
Natasha’s eyes flickered back over to Parrot, who was helping Rooster up off the sand. As soon as he was on his feet, he said something to her quietly, causing her to laugh. Then, he promptly turned, getting back into the game.
As he walked away, Natasha noticed how Parrot’s gaze lingered on her retreating friend- and it was a gaze that was not exactly friendly in nature.
Ever since Rooster had introduced Parrot to her a few years back, Natasha was aware that they went a ways back. But now that she was aware of the full extent of the history between Rooster and Parrot, she’d been watching them for any obvious signs she may have missed before that suggested proof of said history. The crystal clear things she saw made her want to smack herself upside the head for not having noticed sooner.
Case and point- a small group of them had gone out for drinks at the Hard Deck Saturday night. Natasha would have had to be blind to miss the lingering glances and small comments made to the other under their breath, or the hands that lingered a little too long when passing over a bottle or glass. It was amazing how much Natasha noticed when she was privy to the knowledge that there was something to be seen between the pair.
It wasn’t hard to see what Rooster saw in Parrot. Parrot was kind to most everyone who deserved it; the harshest Natasha had ever heard her spoken about anyone were comments she made to Hangman. She was dedicated and hardworking. Not to mention the work she’d been able to achieve with Hangman. He’d been significantly less insufferable the past few days, and the pair had come quite a long way in the short span of a week. That had to say something about the other woman’s tenacity.
But she was worried. Rooster and Parrot had proved themselves more than capable of not letting their relationship get in the way of the mission thus far, but if things continued to develop between them, Natasha feared how long they’d be able to do just that.
Natasha shook her head once, returning her focus to the game. There was no telling how long she’d been standing there, lost in her thoughts. As she whipped her head around to seek out Fritz, who had more than likely swiped the ball from Omaha by now, she caught the line of sight of Bob instead.
He’d been standing there for a moment too, it seemed. His eyes flickering up to her with uncertainty confirmed that he’d witnessed the moment between Rooster and Parrot as well.
…
Did he know about their history too?
Though things seemed to be going pretty well, and that there were little to no worries to be had, the first confirmation Pete received that the less than conventional exercise was making any headway didn’t come until an hour or two into their games.
Pete had, to put it bluntly, eaten shit when Payback side swiped him. As he laid there in the damp sand for a few moments, trying to gather himself, a shadow fell upon him. He opened his eyes, and saw none other than Bradley looking down at him, the sun’s rays shining all around his head.
Wordlessly, and without much ado, Bradley reached down, offering him a helping hand. Pete took it gratefully, and allowed the younger man to help him off the ground and up onto his feet once more.
Bradley silently returned back to the game without further delay, leaving Pete to marvel at the quick-turnaround in his attitude towards him.
He excused himself from the game a few minutes later, ignoring the boos from the others. As he made his way back onto the dry sand, he waved over at Penny, who had been working on what looked to be paperwork as she sat on the Hard Deck’s back porch for almost an hour now. She waved back with a warm smile, and Pete plopped himself down in a beach chair unceremoniously.
It wasn’t too long after that that another shadow fell upon him. He glanced upwards, seeing that it was none other than the Vice Admiral. “Sir.”
“What is this?” Cyclone asked, watching the ongoing game with great interest and mild suspicion.
“This is dogfight football,” Pete answered, unable to stop himself from smiling. “Offense and defense at the same time.”
“Who’s winning?”
Pete chuckled. “I think they stopped keeping score a while ago.”
“This detachment still has some training to complete, Captain. Every available minute matters.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So why are we out here playing games?”
“You said to create a team, sir,” Pete noted. He pointed vaguely out in the direction of the group. “There’s your team.”
As if the universe was in agreement with him, Bob scored a touchdown at that exact moment. His entire team erupted into loud cheers. Bob looked surprised, but pleased nonetheless as he turned to face them. The surprise turned into shock as Bradley promptly lifted him off the sand and up onto his shoulders, with the assistance of several nearby. Phoenix started the chanting of Bob’s name, and it didn’t take but a second for the rest of the team to join in, huddling up as their victorious teammate struggled to keep his balance.
The team’s joy was contagious, and Pete felt his jaw ache from all the smiling he’d been doing that afternoon.
Defeated, and Pete’s point having been sufficiently proven, the Vice Admiral relented. He turned and walked away in silence.
Pete watched fondly as Hondo spontaneously decided to insert himself into the game. However, it didn’t take long for several of them- individuals from both teams- to team up to bring the man to the ground.
Maverick wasn’t exactly a traditional instructor, but perhaps there was a method to his madness.
There was practically a pep in Jake’s step as he made his way back to the Hard Deck’s parking lot. He was covered in sand, and he made a mental note to clean out the rented Mustang before the end of the special detachment.
Jake sat in the idling vehicle for a few moments, having opened the windows and the driver’s door to allow the hot air to escape before making his way back to his housing. He looked in the rearview mirror, and shuffled his own hair for good measure. It was normally something he’d never do, but what could he say? He was in a good mood.
In fact…
Jake killed the engine, and turned his focus back to the beach. Maverick had called it a night about half an hour ago. While some of others had ventured into the Hard Deck, a good number of them had already headed home. Parrot had yet to make her way off the beach, but she couldn’t be far behind.
Fuck it, right? He was going to do it.
Jake was going to ask Parrot to stick around. He’d buy her a drink or two, and they could put everything out on the table. Despite his own doubts about the arrangement initially, their working relationship had actually improved significantly over the course of the week. Jake just needed to make sure that the incident last Thursday did not put a wrench in that improvement. Though he still had his qualms about Rooster, and his ability to perform adequately not only for the mission, but as a pilot in general, Jake genuinely did not want his opinions to put a bad taste in Parrot’s mouth. She would most likely defend Rooster until she went blue on the face, and Jake knew that. But they could agree to disagree, right? There was no logical reason why they couldn’t continue to get along.
Jake just wanted to make extra sure they were still on solid ground.
After only a few minutes, he spotted Parrot finally making her way off the beach. Unsurprisingly, Rooster was right beside her. Jake watched them pass the Hard Deck’s entrance without so much as a glance at the building and enter the parking lot.
It was then that Jake noticed Rooster’s Bronco, which was parked just a few spots over from him.
The pair walked over to the Bronco quietly. Jake sat up straighter, prepared to catch Parrot as soon as she bid Rooster goodbye for the night and he was on his way. Rooster opened up the driver’s side door of the vehicle, but made no effort to climb up inside. Instead, he looked down at Parrot with a soft look on his face.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Parrot told him, so quietly that Jake almost didn’t hear her through the Mustang’s open windows. She turned to leave, and Jake placed his hand on his own door handle to ready himself.
“Clara, wait.”
Jake froze.
So did Parrot, briefly. She turned back to face Rooster.
Rooster looked around the area, as if to confirm that they were alone. Apparently, he didn’t spot Jake, just a few spots down from them. For some reason, despite the fact that Rooster was clearly seeking some privacy, Jake couldn’t bring himself to make his presence known. He slowly slid further down in the driver’s seat, hoping to remain out of the pair’s view.
“You told me to ask you again when I was sober,” Rooster told Parrot.
Ask what? … Then Jake’s eyes widened involuntarily. Surely Rooster wasn’t implying-
“I’m sober,” Rooster added.
Parrot looked at him, and despite his limited vantage point, Jake could see the look on her face. She didn’t look angry, or disgusted at whatever Rooster was referring to. In fact, she looked rather intrigued by it.
“And… are you asking?” Parrot questioned, sounding hopeful and almost playful.
“Yes.”
Parrot looked at Rooster contemplatively for just a moment, before she offered him a small smile. “Your place, or mine?”
Rooster nonverbally answered her question by walking around to the other side of the Bronco, and opening the door for her. He helped her up and inside the vehicle graciously, before making his way back around and climbing up and into the driver’s side. The whole thing eerily reminded Jake of seeing the two leave together from the Hard Deck in an extremely similar manner just a week before.
He kept waiting for a punchline, for either one of them to make a comment, any comment to dissuade him from jumping to conclusions about the nature of the conversation he’d just overheard. But Jake didn’t hear anything more from either of them, and in the blink of an eye, the engine of the Bronco roared to life, and it was pulling out of the parking spot and away from the Hard Deck altogether.
Jake’s jaw was on the floor.
Chapter 9 (coming soon)
Masterlist
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! 💙 If you would like to be added to the taglist, please feel free to let me know.😊
TAGLIST: @gretagerwigsmuse @unluckymonaghan @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @roosterschanelslut @letusbewildflowers @roses-and-grasses @alanadetigy @caelipartem @fangirl-316 @owenniasstars @luckyladycreator2 @mell-bell @slayry @tallrock35 @actuallybarb @annedub @thesunsetphantoms @wintercap89 @clockworkballerina
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The Virus.
Can I get you boys anything before we start this? Like, a drink or something?
I’ll take some bottled water, if that’s alright.
*Koichi tosses Rantaro a bottle of water. He opens the cap and starts to drink it.
Thank you for your willingness to cooperate. To be honest, I was getting ready to put up a fight...
A fight, eh?
Not a physical altercation, of course! More of a verbal one.
Same here. We need you to explain everything, but we also need you a few simple questions. Why did the Future Foundation build such a high profile lab, and what were they doing in there?
Also, why are there no records of the lab ever being built? Who was in charge and why was it hidden.
*sigh* Alright, I guess I should start from the beginning.
*Koichi sits down on a sofa opposite Shuichi and Rantaro, and begins to explain.
Back when the tragedy first started, Junko Enoshima and the Ultimate Despair did a variety of things to try and bring Despair to the world. From noxious gas machines, to unadulterated terrorism, and so many other things. But there’s one thing that they did during that time that doesn’t get talked about very much.
And that would be what?
The development and spreading of rare diseases around the world. The toxic atmosphere at the time made it all the more easier for sicknesses to spread.
Yes...but most of the illnesses that were housed and spread by the Remnants and those who went insane in the tragedy were fairly basic. Definitely deadly under the right circumstances, and many people succumbed to them, but...
Very curable with the right treatment, right?
Yes...But a part of me thinks that Junko knew that, which is why she...
Why she what?
...
*Koichi pauses, resting his head in his hands shamefully.
Mr Kizakura, what’s the matter?
Sorry...Thinking about all of it just...leaves me in a pretty terrible state of mind.
What could be so bad that even YOU’RE affected by it?
I’m glad you think so highly of me, Mr Saihara. I’ll tell you...
Junko Enoshima created a NEW type of virus. One that didn’t have a cure, as far as we were aware at least.
What!? A new type of virus...!?
Yeah...And I’ll give her credit, she was crafty...And her title of Ultimate Despair is not lost on her.
What did she do?
You know how Junko likes to do this thing where when you think all is well and good in the world she likes to swipe it all from under your feet? Well, this was no different.
She KNEW that people would be admitted into hospitals, for a variety of reasons. Wounds from the rampaging mobs and killer robots, long term health illnesses that were made worse from the atmosphere, and obviously all the other viruses that ran rampant in the tragedy.
...Don’t tell me she...!?
Junko knew this...so as part of her plan to bring humanity to it’s knees...
She sent bags of this virus to every hospital across the world, and had her followers smuggle them into the healthcare system. If anyone needed a transfusion of any kind, they would instead have been infected by pure concentration of Junko’s virus.
What the hell...!?
Wait...Now that I think about it...I remember reading basically every file in the Future Foundation’s archives within the first three weeks I was working at the Foundation. I have a pretty good memory and can retain a lot of information, and...
I actually think I remember something like it coming up...I believe the Foundation officials at the time called it the “Enoshima Virus” or something like that!
Personally, I wish they’d picked a more creative name, but yeah, that’s the one I’m talking about. So you already know about this virus?
Yeah, but only a little bit. A treatment was never found, like he just said, but it didn’t matter in the end.
Junko’s followers weren’t particularly careful about covering their tracks. In the file I read, the report stated that every and all samples of the virus were tracked down and disposed off before they could be distributed. Future Foundation caught onto the problem early enough, and it didn’t end up spiraling out of control. Junko’s plan to infect people with this virus of hers failed.
Though, this is the first I’m hearing of the virus being developed by Junko herself. I thought she just sampled it and tried to spread it through hospital systems.
That’s screwed up, either way...
That should’ve been the end of it...It’s like Shuichi said, the Future Foundation dealt with the virus before it could spiral out of control...Or so we thought.
Wh-What happened...?
...Put simply...we missed some...And by the time we realized that, it was already too late.
Missed some? How?
Hospital errors. Turns out there were a small variety of transfusions and cases in the hospitals that, because of certain circumstances, went unrecorded...And because of that...
Because of that...the virus spread after all?
Yes...in the end, 5 people from around the world were infected, and went untreated for too long. And only then...
...Only then did we truly see what this virus did. And it was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen.
Wh-What...!?
The first patient we found was already in critical condition by the time we found him...We apprehended him after the Foundation tracked him down, as he was under suspicion of having forced 5 different families into attempted suicide. Which, by the way, we found out to be true in the end.
What...!? Wh-Why would he do that!?
I asked the same thing myself, but we got our answer soon enough, and it was the worst possible scenario...We found that he was infected with Junko’s virus, and decided to do more research with the samples of it we had yet to destroy...And that’s when we discovered the primary ingredient...
Junko’s blood.
Junko created a virus using her own blood...!? Wh-What happened!?
I...I couldn’t look at the first patient for too long when the Foundation apprehended him. I was given some background information and official profile pictures on him when he was apprehended. Originally he had black hair and dark brown eyes...
But when he was brought to a Foundation holding facility, he couldn’t have looked more different. His eyes were now a bright blue, and his hair turned blonde...
!!?
I see you’ve already realized where I’m going with this.
No...You can’t possible mean...!?
This virus...it was turning people into...!?
Yeah...
It was turning people INTO Junko! Not only did the subject take on her appearance, but also her mannerisms, and manipulative, psychotic personality. I think this may have been her way of reproducing, even after death.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that the AI version of her tried to corrupt all of humanity, turns out she had this as a backup. Even if she was to die, these people would adopt her personality, and pick up where she left off.
And thus, a small group of Foundation researchers and scientists, in response to this issue, built the very same lab your friend is currently trapped inside, to contaminate, and find a way to cure the people affected. Two of the people brought onto the project, were myself and Ms Chisa Yukizome.
My job was simply to scour the world, and track down all the people who were infected by Junko’s virus. Then, bring them to the lab in Japan for the scientists to test on. After all, my Ultimate Scout talent’s gotta be useful for something these days, right?
I don’t understand! This seems like a MASSIVE crisis! Why was this hidden from the Foundation at large!?
And more importantly, HOW?
Isn’t that obvious? It was due to the influence of the man leading the project. The chief.
Yes...Yukizome’s file mentioned a chief of operations. Who was it?
Hmph...who else? There was only one man in the entire Foundation who could sweep an incident like this under the rug, without the world and Foundation at large knowing about it.
Who?
...Kazuo Tengan...
Shuichi: Tengan...He’s...
Koichi: Technically speaking, he’s the first chairman and founder of the Future Foundation. Many people think Munakata is the first due to him leading more operations during the early days, but in reality, Munakata only technically became Chairman following Munakata’s death.
Rantaro: Only after Munakata left the Foundation did Kyoko take the position of Chairwoman. And you’re telling me that Tengan was the one responsible for taking care of these infected?
Koichi: Thanks to his influence, it was easy to do all of it behind Munakata and the Foundation at large’s back. Still, given that we all know that him and Yukizome fell to Despair a while ago, it’s hard to know exactly what either of them were thinking.
Maybe part of his plan was to keep the subjects contained, then unleash them on the world should it ever come close to a sense of normalcy again?
Perhaps...But clearly, fate didn’t plan to wait that long.
What do you mean?
Do you want to know how that whole incident ended? And what ended up happening to the lab and the subjects?
...Yes. I would like to know very much.
Well, I’ll tell you what I can. To be honest, after I tracked down Subject 5, and brought him into the lab, I decided to back out of the project, and retire. I...I couldn’t stand to look at these people suffering, through no fault of their own. They were just unlucky enough to become infected.
If I recall, Subject 5 was mentioned on the report Kaede found...Said that he was an elementary school student who murdered three of his classmates on a train, in broad daylight and in front of many people.
Yeah...He was an 8 year old kid too. Never learned his name, just found out he was infected and carted him over to the scientists. By the time I found that out, I’d had enough, and bailed.
Still kept it a secret though. I thought Tengan was doing a good thing trying to save these people, so I just let him be. Had no idea what was going on with him and Chisa at the time.
That’s fair. But...what happened after that?
I was called back by Chisa in regards to the incident. A month or so after the final subject was brought in...something went horribly wrong.
...Go on.
The way I understand it...Subject 5 had a strange and unnatural reaction to the treatment they were giving him. It had a different effect on his body compared to the other three. We never got a chance to figure out why.
Why not?
...
Every person in that lab at the time...The scientists, researchers and even the other 4 test subjects...
In the space of a single night...they were all MURDERED by Subject 5...!
!!!!???
!!!!???
*Rantaro drops his bottle of water in shock, and what’s left of the contents spills out onto the rug.
That...That’s IMPOSSIBLE!
Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense! Are you seriously trying to tell me that an entire conglomerate of people, including what I assume would be high profile soldiers...were murdered by an 8 YEAR OLD BOY!?
Yes.
...!?
Such confidence in your answer...!? You’re not kidding us, are you?
I might be a bit of a sleazeball, but I don’t talk about genocide lightly. The catastrophe I saw when I returned to the lab spoke for itself. Clearly, Subject 5 had inherited Junko’s unbridled passion for violence, and executed it...by executing everyone else.
And that kid...Like I said, he wasn’t normal. Something happened to his body when he received the required medicine, which made him more rabid...stronger...and more dangerous.
But...so many Foundation members must have been reported missing overnight if that’s the case. There’s no way in hell Tengan could have covered that up!
Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. Tengan had the lab closed following Subject 5′s genocide, and the Foundation never had a chance to document all the missing persons...
Why not?
Because almost immediately after the lab closed...
The Final Killing Game began...
Tengan used his KILLING GAME as a COVER STORY!?
Part of me thinks that covering up the existence of the lab may have been the REAL reason Tengan orchestrated that game in the first place. An incident on a more dramatic scale to cover up a previous one.
Thus...only one person who knew of the lab, that still remains alive to this day...is me.
Why did you never tell Kyoko?
I couldn’t! The incident ended the night all those men died, and Kyoko had too much to deal with upon taking the mantle of chairwoman. I never intended to hide this forever, but long enough where the Foundation didn’t have any problems left.
...I have just one more question, Mr Kizakura...
After the incident that caused the lab to be shut down...What happened to Subject 5? Was he executed?
...I have no idea.
What!?
Wh-What do you mean you have no idea...!?
Subject 5 escaped from the lab, and vanished into the night when he murdered everyone in his way. That was the last anyone ever heard of him. We never caught him, nor saw from him again.
So...either he somehow died and no one ever found out his true identity...or...
*Shuichi and Rantaro both look out the window.
He’s still out there somewhere...!
#danganronpa survivor#danganronpa#danganronpa v3#drv3#danganronpa 3#dr3#rantaro amami#shuichi saihara#koichi kizakura#kazuo tengan#rise and shine arc
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I’m sorry this is going to be a little long… oops? I finally have a long weekend and now that I’m home I’m ready to dive into TNT (which I’ve been holding off for so long it’s insane I didn’t cave in earlier lol)
“Yunho would recommend we all stop drinking water if Mingi said it was a good idea.” I actually giggled at this and scared my parents’ cat lmao T^T This is hilarious and I already love the character dynamics! Also, kudos to woo for helping mc by giving her lozenges, I already love his character juygtfdfghj (I have a feeling he’s gonna be my favourite)
Oh gosh Mingi’s “it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you” and Yunho's “I’m just worried about you, I want you safe” had me melting on the floor. T^T
As someone who finds… the whole abo thing slightly… *sigh* how do I put it nicely? A lot of it goes very close to the nc category and always manages to make me uncomfortable especially since boundaries are not set before and just... Yeah. So, the fact that they’re talking about it beforehand and setting boundaries makes this so much better? I mean I know you said that ch 3 borders on dubcon, but they did talk about it so I guess that worked out well?
Bruhhhhhh I LOVE HOW YOU’VE WRITTEN MINGI HERE JKHTYRDFGCHJH the no-nonsense, level-headed guy~ T^T (who also runs away when things calm down lmao... Well... We can give him this one though, the aftermath is quite awkward)
JKGFVHKJIU You’ve got me all blushing and giggling with the dialogue especially the “Alphas are meant to provide,” He reminds you, “so let us.”
I love the awkwardness and the lingering feelings that are there throughout chapter 4~ And the last line obliterated me jkhgfjlui T^T She just wants her yungi T^T
OKAY CAN I SAY I LOVE JUNG WOOYOUNG? Remember when I said he’s gonna be my favourite in the beginning (lol I started writing this ask like… 3 hours ago oops?) I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON FOR THAT HAHAHA~ Can I get work friend!WY too please?
Oh gosh, okay Seonghwa! LMAO I love how he took the whole thing in stride. We love an unphased man~ And he offered himself up for the next heat??? AND THE WAY HE DOES IT OML. “you’re pretty, I’m pretty.” I was literally rolling on the couch in laughter.
Oh gosh, Sannie being the voice of reason is so on brand. (And side note, the whole, “but being a romantic doesn’t mean you have to let people hurt you” seems like such a San thing to say I— *sob*) I honestly love chapter 5 so much? Can’t wait to see how the friendship between mc and woosanhwa grows (because I literally love them so much rn ahaha) and how things turn out with yungi~
P.S. sorry if this is weird and feels more like a smash of random words jskmsns T^T I'm always kinda nervous to send asks but I loved the fic so much I just had to tell you ;-;
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! okay so i was literally giggling and clapping my hands reading this review i LOVE it thank you so much for taking the time. it means so much to me that you would do this 😭
but also YES to work friend wooyoung, like in my opinion he just has the makings for the perfect best friend character and there's so much more to come with him and the MC here. he's the most fun to write every time, he gets to have the best dialogue lol
also regarding your note about dubcon/noncon, i couldn't agree more! i'm comfortable reading both of those things if called out clearly in a fic, and i recognize why it's a kink, but it's really a sensitive topic that isn't for everyone and should be handled delicately. that was a big reason why i wrote the consent scene pre-heat in, and i'm glad that resonated with you! i've mentioned this on the blog before, but there will be a noncon scene in a later chapter between the MC and another character however, i just want to be clear it is not actually sexual, it's more just the implication of it and reader grappling with being an omega and feeling like she doesn't have the autonomy she wants to have. i really hope that is taken well by everyone, but just wanted to mention it again since you talked about it and for any other readers that may not have seen my earlier note.
also wait yes protective mingi / alpha mingi makes my brain spin. i'm excited to write yunho later on being a little more self assured about everything because he was leaning more hesitant in earlier chapters and letting mingi take the lead.
thank you SO much for your comment again, you pulled out some lines that honestly i was really proud of when i wrote them, so this comment means a lot.
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🌺 Promise Flower | PJM 🌺
Synopsis: Jimin is a popular dance student and the best one at his university. Mina is a photography student and has known Jimin since high school. An idea for a photo project finds Mina getting closer to him than she ever has before. She learns how big his heart is, but also learns how closely he guards it. Every time she thinks he'll let her in, he pulls away again. Is it even worth the trouble?
Pairing: college student!Jimin x fem!oc
Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, alcoholism
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|| Ch. 8: Embarrassed ||
I wake up the next morning with a terrible headache. It’s been a while since I’ve had so much to drink in one night. The sunlight creeping into the room is burning through my dry eyes. Was I really that drunk?
“Morning, Sunshine.”
I turn over in the bed and see Jimin stepping out of his bathroom. For some reason he’s not wearing a shirt. Why? Where did his shirt go?? I look at him dumbfounded trying to replay the previous night in my head hoping I didn’t say or do anything that would cause regrets.
“Hey,” I mumble holding my head.
“Hang on,” he says smiling and walking out of the room.
Typically I would stop him and tell him to get off of his feet, but right now I can barely see straight. What a fucking hangover.
“Here,” he says returning with some pills and a bottle of water. “For your headache.”
“Thanks,” I say tossing the pills in my mouth and drowning them with water. “How are you awake and functioning right now?”
“I’m not a lightweight like some people,” he jokes sitting next to me on the bed. “I can make you some hangover soup.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say laying my head back on the pillow. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”
“No?” He says raising an eyebrow. “Do you remember throwing up in the middle of the night?”
“I what? Did I really?”
“Yup,” he giggles. “You fell asleep then woke up 10 minutes later stumbling to the bathroom. Don’t worry though, I made sure you got there.”
“Shit,” I whisper. “Sorry. I guess I had a bit more than I’m used to. I didn’t…do anything else embarrassing, did I?”
“No, at least nothing that I thought was embarrassing.” Something about the smile on his face is telling me otherwise.
“What else happened?”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember being on the couch…we were watching something, or trying to, I remember that much.”
“Anything else?”
“Umm…” my head is killing me and trying to remember everything last night is only making it hurt more. What else even happened?
“Do you remember coming to bed?”
“No. Wait, I think? How did I get to bed?”
Jimin continues smiling not saying a word. I think harder about last night. He was pulling me by the arm into the bedroom after he said we should go to bed. After we kissed. We kissed. Holy shit we were making out.
“Remember now?” He asks reading the expression on my face.
Suddenly I’m embarrassed hiding my face behind the bedsheets. He only smiles and pulls the sheets away revealing my mortified face.
“Are you shy now that you’ve sobered up?” He asks tucking a bit of my hair behind my ear.
“No, I mean kind of. Shit, no. What I’m trying to say is…” what am I trying to say? We kissed. We made out. And I’m not upset about it, but I was so drunk. What the hell am I supposed to say?
“I’ll make the soup for you,” he chuckles. “I’ll make sure you feel better, don’t worry.” He stands up and walks out of the room leaving me laying there lost in my mind.
He’ll make sure I feel better? Does he remember what we did last night? Does he…want to do it again? Maybe a go at it sober to make sure it wasn’t just a drunken mistake? Also I’d like to remember it better. No, what am I saying?
I can hear pots clattering and utensils clanging around in the kitchen. I pull myself out of my thoughts and find the strength to get up and go see what Jimin is doing.
“You should lay back down,” he says dumping a handful of veggies into a pot of broth. “I’ll bring the food to you.”
“I told you you don’t have to. You should stay off your leg.” I can tell he’s putting most of his weight on his good leg and I know he probably shouldn’t.
“I’m fine,” he smiles. “Once everything is in the pot I’ll sit down until it’s ready.” He continues adding items to the pot and tossing some seasonings on top.
I open my mouth to protest more but his smile takes the sound before it comes out. Why am I so weak just looking at him? He’s standing there with the most gorgeous smile on his face as he prepares soup with no shirt on.
“But, your leg…” I mumble, suddenly forgetting how to function. What the hell is wrong with me?
“I’m ok, really. I’m almost done anyway.”
I watch as he gives the pot one more stir and puts the lid on as it simmers. He opens the refrigerator and grabs two sports drinks.
“You need to hydrate after all that drinking and…vomiting,” he says handing me a bottle.
“Thanks. I’m sorry about whatever happened last night.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. I had a lot of fun.”
“Really? I didn’t do anything to kill the mood?”
“No,” he laughs. “What do you think we did?”
“Well…I know…we kissed…”
“Do you think you did something to kill the mood while we were kissing?”
“No, I mean I don’t know. It’s kind of a blur. I’m just apologizing in case I did do something.”
“You didn’t,” he reassures.
“That’s good. But umm…I have a question though…where is your shirt?”
“Soaking.”
“Soaking? Why?”
“I helped you make it to the bathroom last night, but a lot of what you threw up made it on my shirt and not the toilet.” He smiles as if he’s amused by it, but I’m mortified at the thought of him having to deal with drunk me throwing up all over him all while he’s barely two weeks out of surgery.
“Oh my god, Jiminie I’m so sorry! I’m not usually this terrible when I drink. I’ll wash your shirt for you, where is it?”
“Mina,” he says chuckling and shaking his head. “Chill, I took care of it. And when did you start calling me ‘Jiminie’?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. Just now. Last night too.”
“You must have heard me wrong.” He didn’t hear me wrong, but I’m so embarrassed for so many reasons already, I don’t want to add calling him a cute nickname to the list.
“If you say so,” he chuckles. “Go sit down, I’ll bring your food.”
“You should be the one sitting. I can get my food.”
“Mina, you’ve been taking care of me for weeks now. Let me take care of you this once. If my leg starts bothering me I’ll sit down, I promise.”
I can’t argue with him. Not when he’s like this…all cute and domestic. I can only nod and make my way to the couch. I watch him from the living room as he turns the stove off and prepares two bowls.
It’s clear that he’s happy to be able to move around on his own. He still has a bit of a limp, but he’s been following his physical therapy religiously and it shows even after just a short time.
Even so, I still want to get up and at least meet him halfway so he’s not limping around with two bowls of hot soup in tow, but the second I start to get up he tilts his head at me with the sassiest “stay put” look that I’ve ever seen from anyone that wasn’t a parent. That scared me back down.
“Eat it up,” he says handing me the bowl. “My grandma used to make this whenever I was sick.” He sits next to me and stirs his soup around with his spoon. “When I got older I learned that it was hangover soup. I also learned how good it is at curing hangovers.” He chuckles a bit looking into his bowl. This soup seems to be taking him back to some cherished memories.
I take a bite and nod in satisfaction. It’s delicious, filled with a bit of meat and veggies. There’s nothing fancy about it, he didn’t use exotic ingredients or anything, but it tastes like home comfort. It tastes like a warm hug laced with tender loving care. I have to take another bite just to make sure I’m not exaggerating.
“This is really good!” I say taking a third bite. “What did you put in this?”
“It’s my grandma’s secret recipe.” He takes a few bites and hums with a smile.
“Your grandma is amazing.”
“I know,” he chuckles.
We both finish off our bowls and he takes them into the kitchen. He doesn’t clean them, but he claims Hoseok will be home later today and he’ll most likely clean up for him. He says that he does clean, but not right away, which is the opposite of Hoseok.
Once again we find ourselves turning the tv on to serve as nothing more than background noise while we talk to each other the entire time. We discovered a new movie we both would love to watch, but we decided we’d do it at another time. We also found a drama that we want to start soon. I love that we have a similar taste in shows and movies. We continue talking over the tv and I can feel my headache gradually going away until it becomes a distant memory.
The entire time Jimin has been very attentive. He asks me every so often if my head is feeling better. He asks if I need more medicine or anything else to eat or drink. He massaged my scalp and let me rest my head in his lap as he ran his fingers through my hair. His touch is so gentle and soothing I find myself falling asleep.
I napped for about an hour, and when I woke up I was still in the same spot resting in his lap. I thought he would have tossed me to the side at some point. I look up at him and he’s still awake quietly scrolling his phone. He notices me stirring and smiles as if my big head hasn’t cut off the circulation to his leg for the past hour.
“How was your nap?” He asks.
“It was good. My head feels better.” I raise my head off his lap and rub my eyes to clear my vision.
“That’s good. I wanted to move you to the bed, but I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“That’s ok. Sorry I fell asleep on you,” I chuckle.
“You don’t have to apologize. You look cute when you’re sleeping.” He smiles and I can feel every drop of blood in my body rush to my face.
“You’re just saying that,” I say bashfully.
“No I mean it. You always look cute when you’re sleeping.”
“Probably not cuter than you.” I can’t believe I just said that. But shit, if he keeps smiling as adorably as he is right now I’ll say any and every stupid ass line I can think of.
“Yeah…you’re probably right,” he says with a cheesy smirk.
“Wow, such modesty,” I sarcastically huff. “That’ll be the last time I try to compliment you.” I grab a pillow and throw it at him making him erupt in giggles.
“How dare you throw a pillow at this face?” He laughs tossing the pillow back at me.
“You celebrities are all the same, so full of yourselves,” I joke.
“But you like it,” he says with a teasing smile.
Sometimes I can never tell if he’s just playing around or if he’s reading right through me. No shit I like it. I like everything about him. I like kissing him. I want to kiss him again. Right now. Maybe I should just do it and see what happens. Instead my phone decides to buzz constantly from a string of text messages.
[Tae]: MINA!
[Tae]: You didn’t go home last night
[Tae]: Why??
[Tae]: How am I supposed to come by and tell you about what happened last night if you’re not at home?!
[Me]: I’m at Jimin’s
[Me]: What happened last night?
[Tae]: I need to see you! I need to SHOW YOU!
[Tae]: When will you be home??
I don’t know what he’s on about, but his string of messages continues faster than I can respond. Jimin looks on with confusion on his face.
“Your phone is blowing up,” he says with a little concern. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah,” I smile. “It’s Tae. He says he has something to tell me and show me. I guess he went by my place and realized I wasn’t there.”
“Oh.” Jimin pauses, still watching me texting back and forth with Tae. “Does he always go by your place whenever?”
“Sometimes I feel like he’s at my place more than his,” I chuckle.
“Are you going to leave now?” I don’t know why he’s asking as if I’d never come back again. His eyes are big and innocent like a puppy that wants to play just a little longer.
“Well no, I’ll catch up with him later.”
“Oh ok, if you need to go you can. Don’t let me keep you.”
“You’re not keeping me, I’ll just meet him for dinner later.” My smile is met with his reserved nod.
Something is odd, but I can’t tell if I’m just reading too deep or if something is bothering him. I mean, he’s like this a lot whenever I’m about to go somewhere. He’ll look at me with the same eyes as Blossom, which he keeps on the bed, and ask me if I’m leaving with his bottom lip poked out in a pout. I’m weak to the way he looks at me and that’s part of the reason why I’ve spent so many nights here. But he’s probably just lonely since Hoseok has been gone. Hoseok should be back soon so maybe he won’t feel so alone. Unless there’s another reason why he’s like this?
Maybe we should talk. About the kiss. I think we need to figure out what it meant, if it was just because we were drunk or if there’s more to it. If there’s more to it then maybe we should discuss it further. I don’t know. I just feel like the elephant in the room needs to be addressed. I’m not sure how to bring it up though.
Tae and I agreed to meet at my place for dinner at 8. It’s only 5 now so I figure there’s no problem with me staying a little longer to at least say hi to Hoseok when he returns and congratulate him on his win.
Jimin says he’s happy that I’ll stay a bit longer, but he seems a bit more reserved now. It’s like a switch flipped and he went from being flirty and playful to shy and quiet. My attempts to talk to him are met with short answers and forced smiles. I’m so confused because I thought we were having a good time. Why did he suddenly start acting like I was some sort of stranger?
Thankfully not much time passes before Hoseok comes barreling through the door to save us from the sudden awkwardness. He inspects Jimin from head to toe and interrogated him briefly to make sure he’s been taking care of himself properly. Once he’s satisfied he goes on to tell us all about his trip.
Jimin is back to his perky self when Hoseok is around and I begin to think that maybe I was thinking too deep and he just really missed his friend. It’s clear that they’re very close to one another, almost like blood brothers.
I figure I should leave them to catch up. I start feeling like the third wheel and I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever they may want to share with each other in private.
“Thanks for taking care of him,” Hoseok says hugging me after I announced that I’d be going home.
“Have fun with Tae,” Jimin says. While his words seem like they would be playful, his delivery is very monotone. It’s catches me off guard a bit how emotionless he seems to be right now.
It was weird and I cant stop thinking about it as I go home and wash off in the shower. We were enjoying ourselves, what made him suddenly build a wall between us? Did I say something wrong? Maybe he suddenly thought about me vomiting on him last night and got repulsed. I really wish I hadn’t gotten so drunk.
Does he think the kiss was a mistake?
#bts#bts au#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts fluff#park jimin#Jimin#Jimin au#jimin fluff#jimin fanfic#jimin fic#jimin x original character#jimin x oc#cross posted on ao3#cross posted on wattpad#tw depression#tw anxiety#tw panic attack#tw alcoholism#friends to lovers#college au#university au#fluff
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