#Probably adding 18 and 19 to this thread | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrscorcoran · 2 months ago

Text

One more secret won't hurt/ Bunny Corcoran x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Chapter 22: Exes and Ohs

Morning creeps on slowly and remembering that everyone very likely heard that whole mess from last night, I realize that it probably wasn’t that good of an idea. Now I’ll have to get up and face their teasing. I groaned softly into the pillow, dragging the covers up over my head, wishing I could disappear into them.

Bunny stirred beside me. I felt the bed shift as he rolled onto his back and let out a quiet yawn. “You awake?” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

-“Unfortunately,” I replied.

There was a pause. Then he chuckled under his breath. “We probably made the group chat.”

-“Don’t say that. I don’t even want to check my phone.”

“We can blame it on the whiskey. Or you can just tell the truth, say I lost a bet.” His voice was teasing, but I heard it, that little thread of nervousness underneath. Like he wasn’t quite sure what the energy between us was now. I wasn’t either.

I slide out of bed quietly and gather my things. I want to avoid the walk of shame, or, in this case, the walk of “I dared my friend to perform audio erotica while sharing a bed”, at all costs, but there’s no use.

I steeled myself and headed downstairs, dragging my suitcase behind me. Bunny buried his head back in his pillow, still too sleepy to deal.

The moment I stepped into the kitchen, five heads turned.

-“Good morning,” Charles sing-songed, grinning into his coffee mug.

-“Sleep well?” Camila added, one eyebrow arched way too high.

Francis didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “You know, if you two had just hooked up, I’d be less disturbed. But that… whatever that was… and with the mustard…?” He shuddered dramatically. “I feel like I need to go to church.”

Richard, bless him, was already choking on laughter.

I forced a laugh, clutching my travel mug like a lifeline. “Okay, first of all, that was not what it sounded like.”

-“Oh?” Henry leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with that mild, unreadable expression he always wore when he was holding back amusement. “And what exactly was it, then?”

-“A dare. A very stupid dare. We were playing truth or dare and Bunny picked dare. But nothing actually happened.” I hoped my tone was believable enough.

There was a collective pause.

Then Charles gasped, clutching his chest. “Oh my god, that makes it so much worse.”

Camila nodded solemnly. “You made him do that for a dare? You’re a menace.”

I pointed at her. “Exactly. I’m a menace. He’s a victim. It was not sexy, it was not romantic, it was performance art and I regret everything. Can we please just move on?”

Francis was already laughing. “You say that like we don’t have a lifetime of material now.”

-“I still think they fucked…” Charles said, sharing a look with Francis.

Before I could throw myself into the sink, Henry stepped forward, mercifully breaking the teasing.

-“We should get going,” he said, checking his watch. “Train leaves in an hour, right?”

-“Right. Yes. Thank you. Let’s go,” I said quickly, grabbing my stuff and heading for the door. “Bunny, I’m leaving!” I yelled up the stairs, as I hugged my friends goodbye.

I heard the thump of hurried footsteps above me, and a moment later he appeared at the top of the stairs, still in the same rumpled shirt from last night, hair wild, eyes puffy from sleep.

-“Hey- wait,” he called, jogging down the steps, barefoot. “You weren’t gonna leave without saying goodbye properly, were you?”

-“I was trying to spare you the shame,” I smirked, but my voice wobbled more than I liked.

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been through worse. Probably. Plus, I’m the one staying here with the jerks.”

I stepped outside as he followed me, stolen slipper’s on his feet, to the car where Henry was already waiting, leaning on the driver’s side, politely pretending not to eavesdrop.

Bunny came to stand beside me, hands shoved in his pockets, the cool morning breeze ruffling his hair. “Hey,” he said, quieter now. “Thanks for this week. For the chaos. The mustard. Everything.”

I gave him a small smile. “Back at you. You’re a surprisingly good roommate. Loud, dramatic, but dependable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A pause. Something hung in the air between us, maybe it was the shared memory of last night, or the soft way the morning light hit his face, or the echo of my own realization that was still rattling around in my chest. But I couldn’t say any of it. Not now.

Instead, I leaned in and gave him a quick hug. I meant it to be brief, but he held on just a second longer than I expected. His hand brushed the small of my back before pulling away.

“Write me dumb texts from your mom’s house,” he said, a hit of pleading hidden in his tone.

“I will.”

He stepped back as I got into the car, and Henry wordlessly pulled away from the house. Through the window, I caught one last glimpse of Bunny standing in the driveway, waving.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The drive was quiet. The air was thick with early sunlight and leftover awkwardness. Henry didn’t speak for a long time, just focused on the road, the occasional tap of his fingers against the steering wheel the only sound.

I was grateful for the silence, honestly. I needed time to sort through the tangled mess in my head. Bunny’s sleepy smile. The way he had moaned like his life depended on it. How my chest had ached when I realized I didn’t want to leave his side. What an inconvenient time for a life altering realization.

Halfway through the drive, Henry glanced at me.

“You two are close,” he said simply.

I stiffened. “Please don’t.”

Henry didn’t respond right away. He just gave a knowing little hum, then focused back on the road. “He cares about you,” he said after a moment. “He’s a mess, but he’s got a good heart. Loud about it, but still.”

Damn Henry.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not with the way my throat tightened.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The train station was a blur of noise and motion. I boarded with a twinge of reluctance, backpack slung over one shoulder, suitcase dragging behind me, earbuds in even though I wasn’t playing anything. Just blocking out the world.

Once the train started moving, I found a window seat and curled up beside it, forehead resting against the cool glass.

Outside, the trees and towns blurred together, but inside, my mind was stuck. On Bunny’s laugh. On the way his voice had dropped when he whispered, “Has it been a minute yet?” On how safe it felt to fall asleep next to him.

I exhaled, fogging up the glass, and wrote a little heart in the condensation with my fingertip. Then wiped it away before anyone could see.

Because I was in so much trouble.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The train pulled into the station right on time, and there she was, my mom, standing on the platform like a movie cliché, arms folded tightly across her chest, wearing her usual smile. Next to her stood Don, her boyfriend and permanent flannel-shirt enthusiast, waving like I was a toddler arriving home from summer camp.

-“Hi, sweetheart,” my mom said as I stepped off the train, pulling me into one of her patented overly long hugs that always made me feel like I was being measured instead of comforted.

-“Hey, Mom. Don.”

-“Look at you, you’ve gotten skinnier,” she said immediately, pulling back and scanning me like a catalog item. “Are you eating enough?”

-“Yup, still believe in food. Hi to you too,” I muttered, giving Don a polite nod as he reached for my suitcase with the enthusiasm of a man pretending it was heavier than it actually was.

-“Good trip?” Don asked as we walked to the car.

-“Yep. Uneventful.”

They didn’t need to know about the truth-or-dare moaning debacle, or the part where I realized I was desperately in love with my best friend.

We drove in silence for a bit, Don humming along to the radio, Mom occasionally stealing glances at me like she wanted to ask something but was holding back. The house was exactly as I remembered it: pristine, quiet, the furniture all color-coordinated like a staged real estate listing. Too clean. Too perfect.

Inside, my old room looked untouched, like a museum exhibit dedicated to my teenage angst. Same posters, same creaky twin bed, same stuffed rabbit on the shelf I’d never admitted was sentimental.

-“Go ahead and get settled in,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s going to be special tonight!”

That should’ve been my first red flag.

I unpacked a little, freshened up, and made my way to the kitchen. The table was already half-set, candles and all. I narrowed my eyes.

-“So… special, how?” I asked, eyeing the fancy china on the table.

-“Well,” Mom said, not looking up from arranging the silverware with militant precision, “since we couldn’t all be together for Christmas, I thought, why not a late Christmas dinner?”

-“That’s… thoughtful?” I said, slowly.

-“And I figured it’d be nice to catch up with old friends. You know, people who meant a lot to you.”

My stomach tightened.

She smiled, real pleased with herself now. “So I invited Noah.”

My whole body went cold. “You what?”

-“He’s had a rough time too, you know? I thought it might be healing for both of you.”

-“Mom, we broke up. And not like, friendly coffee and closure broke up. Like ugly, please stop calling my friends broke up.”

-“He’s matured. You’ll see. Besides, it’s just dinner.”

Don awkwardly patted my shoulder on the way past, clearly wanting no part of this conversation. “Turkey smells great, honey,” he said, disappearing down the hall like he was fleeing a crime scene.

I stood frozen in the doorway, heart hammering. I thought this week was going to be hard. I didn’t realize it was going to be war. Seeing Noah was literally the last thing I needed right now.

There was no point making a scene, her plan was already in motion. The tables were set, the turkey was probably already halfway cooked, and judging by her tone, she'd already mentally photoshopped a happy reunion into the family photo album. The smartest thing now was to survive the evening without setting the house on fire and then, when the dust settled, firmly explain to my mother why ambush therapy dinners were not okay.

At least it wasn’t going to be just us. A few relatives and family friends were coming, people who never turned down free wine and overcooked poultry. I could orbit the crowd, fade into the background, and avoid Noah entirely if I played my cards right.

I sighed and resigned myself to the torture. Just half an hour until the first round of awkward smiles and backhanded compliments.

I found Don in the living room and sat down with him, thankful for the calm. We swapped Christmas stories, he told me about their cruise and the tacky live shows, and I told him a heavily censored version of my week at the country house. No moaning dares. No revelations. Just the snow, the fireplace, and my “eccentric friends.” Don laughed at all the right parts and didn’t ask too many questions. Out of all the men my mom had dated, Don was the one I actually liked. He didn’t try too hard, and he always talked to me like a person, not a project.

Eventually, the house started to fill up. My little cousins came charging through the door like sugar-high tornadoes, clinging to my dress and immediately begging for games on my phone. Aunts and uncles arrived in waves of perfume and plaid, dishing out side-hugs and stories I already knew. I helped in the kitchen, poured wine, played the role of the good daughter, the helpful niece, the one who was fine.

Then, three knocks at the door. Firm. Familiar.

Everyone else was here.

It had to be Noah.

I steeled myself, smoothed out my dress, and walked slowly to the door like I was approaching an execution. I took a deep breath and opened it.

There he was.

He looked… annoyingly good. The same thoughtful eyes and sharp cheekbones, but with a new haircut that made him look more mature somehow. Still tall, still lean, still tattooed forearms peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel button-down. He was holding a bottle of wine and wearing that same bashful, slightly crooked smile I remembered.

-“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and uncertain, pulling me into a brief, lopsided hug. It wasn’t forced. Just… cautious. Respectful.

-“Hey,” I echoed, stepping back. “I’m… sorry about my mom. She didn’t tell me she invited you.”

He gave a little shrug, lifting the wine. “Honestly? I should’ve seen it coming. This feels like a Cynthia move.”

I cracked a small smile in spite of myself. “Yeah. Classic.”

We both stood there for a second, caught in the weight of the weirdness. Then I asked, “How’ve you been?”

-“Good. Busy,” he nodded. “The band’s still going, we got picked up for a couple gigs out of state. I’ve been writing a lot. I teach some music lessons on the side now too.”

-“That’s awesome. Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going.”

He gave me that familiar grateful look, like he actually believed I meant it. “Trying. You look good, by the way.”

I tried not to freeze at that. It didn’t feel loaded. Just… kind. But still, ugh.

-“Thanks,” I said, tone neutral but not cold. “Come on in.”

He stepped inside and slipped off his boots, glancing around the house like it was both familiar and foreign. Like he wasn’t sure if he was still allowed to make himself comfortable.

We were both older now. Different. Still tethered to the same shared past, but no longer living in it.

This was going to be… interesting.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Dinner was served with the chaotic precision of a battlefield. Dishes passed from hand to hand, children shouting over each other about mashed potatoes, and Don heroically carving the turkey like it was a competitive sport. And yet, beneath the noise and festive lighting, I could feel it, that careful orchestration. My mom’s fingerprints were all over this.

She’d set the table earlier, saying it was “just random,” but now I noticed the pattern. Very specific placements. Cousins clustered at one end. The kids' table by the fireplace. Don at the head. And then, me. With an empty seat to my left. And across from us, a perfectly positioned view for my mother.

I sat down slowly, glaring at my napkin like it might sprout wings and fly me out of there. Noah caught on the second he walked in and scanned the table. There goes my plan to avoid him.

-“Of course,” he muttered under his breath, giving me an apologetic look as he slid into the seat beside me. “I swear, I didn’t ask for this.”

-“I know,” I sighed. “This has ‘Cynthia scheme #47’ written all over it.”

He chuckled quietly, and I hated how easy it still was to fall into old rhythms. The way our jokes clicked into place like well-worn gears.

My mom floated past behind us, placing an extra bottle of wine on the table like a peace offering.

-“Be nice, you two,” she said sweetly, patting both our shoulders before disappearing into the kitchen again.

-“I feel like we’re in a holiday hostage situation,” I muttered, pouring myself a very necessary glass of wine.

-“Stockholm Syndrome starts with bread rolls,” Noah whispered, tearing one in half and sliding the plate toward me.

The first twenty minutes were easy enough to coast through. Noah talked mostly to Don and my uncle about music stuff, and I focused on the kids, sneaking green beans onto their plates while they weren’t looking. But then, inevitably, conversation slowed. People got up for seconds. My mom put on holiday music in the background.

And somehow, it was just the two of us again.

-“You’ve really changed,” Noah said, his voice lower now, more careful. “I mean that in a good way. You seem… lighter. Happier.”

I blinked, not expecting something that sincere. “Thanks. I feel that way too. Getting away helped. New people, new place. It made it easier to, I dunno, breathe.”

He nodded slowly. “I’m glad. I wasn’t exactly the easiest person to be with back then.”

I looked at him. Really looked. And it hit me how rare it is for people to actually admit that. To not dress it up or deflect.

-“You weren’t all bad,” I said. “But yeah. It got hard. And I felt like I was slowly shrinking just to keep things calm. I needed more space than that.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I get it. I think about it a lot, actually. How I could’ve handled things better. I was scared of losing you and didn’t know how to deal with it. So I clung harder, which just made it worse.”

-“That’s kind of the thing, though,” I said gently. “You weren’t losing me until you made it feel like I didn’t belong to myself anymore.”

We let the silence hang there for a moment, soft and heavy like snowfall. Then he exhaled a quiet laugh.

-“You’ve gotten really good at saying what you mean.”

-“College’ll do that to you,” I said with a small smile.

He smiled too. “Well… I’m glad we’re talking. Even if it’s in your mom’s holiday matchmaking trap.”

I snorted. “Honestly? Same.”

We went back to picking at our plates, and for the first time since I’d arrived, the tension began to loosen a bit.

As plates emptied and the noise around the table morphed into the lazy hum of post-feast satisfaction, things between Noah and me had started to shift, just a little. It might’ve been the wine, or the comfort of shared history, or maybe just the exhaustion of holding onto awkwardness for so long.

- “Remember that time we tried to make cookies from scratch with no recipe?” I said, swirling the wine in my glass and giving him a sideways glance.

Noah grinned instantly, his dimples showing. “You mean the sugarless disaster that we tried to pass off as ‘shortbread’ to your mom?”

-“She was so mad. All those wasted ingredients… And then you pretended to choke just to make her laugh.”

- “Worked, didn’t it?” he said, with a mock-pompous tilt of his chin. “Saved the day with my top-tier comedic timing.”

-“You also dropped an entire tray on her foot,” I pointed out, laughing.

-“Minor details,” he said, chuckling with me. “Honestly, I think that was the moment Don started bonding with me. Shared survivor’s trauma.”

I laughed louder than I meant to, and he looked at me, eyes warm, amused. It felt strangely good to laugh with him again. The tension had dulled to something nostalgic, familiar. I caught myself remembering why I’d fallen for him in the first place, and, equally, why it had stopped working. But right now, we were in the sweet spot. No expectations, just… memory.

I leaned back in my chair, watching a little cousin attempt to climb into the fruit bowl.

-“You wanna sneak away?” I asked quietly, glancing over at Noah. “Get some air? Like old times. Balcony’s still there.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think I’d say no to that?”

Then, with a perfectly mischievous glint, he reached under the table, opened the side cabinet behind him, and pulled out a bottle of Hennessy like it was muscle memory.

-“Really?” I laughed, eyes wide. “Still remember where they keep it, huh?”

-“Some things never change,” he grinned, holding it up like a trophy. “Besides, your mom owes me for the seating arrangement ambush.”

With a glance over our shoulders to make sure no one was paying attention, we slipped out of the dining room and padded up the stairs, avoiding the one step that creaked. It felt like a rewind in time, just the two of us, sneaking around like teenagers again.

My room hadn’t changed much since I left, aside from the dusty bookshelves and an old scarf still draped over the mirror. The balcony doors creaked open like they always had, and we stepped out into the chilly evening air, the lights of the neighborhood soft and scattered like stars below us.

Noah handed me the bottle and sat down on one of the old folding chairs. “So… are we rebels again, or just two sad adults in holiday exile?”

I smiled and took a swig, coughing dramatically. “Why not both?”

He laughed, and we leaned back into the silence for a moment, just breathing in the evening air.

The night was crisp, the cold biting just enough to make the Hennessy feel like warmth in a bottle. We passed it back and forth in silence at first, the kind that felt comfortable rather than strained. The hum of conversation and clinking plates inside the house faded into the background, replaced by the rustle of wind through trees and the occasional distant laugh.

- “I used to think this balcony was the coolest place on earth,” Noah said, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “Like we were above everything. Just… floating.”

I smirked. “You used to? I still think it’s the coolest place. Especially when I’m hiding from dinner-table ambushes.”

He grinned, eyes flicking toward me. “Hey, I was ambushed too. I didn’t know you’d be home til last minute. It was too late to cancel then. But I somewhat salvaged the evening with that bottle…”

I held the bottle up in salute. “You really did.”

He let out a soft laugh and looked around the balcony. “You remember when we camped out here one night after that fight with your mom?”

I nodded. “You brought blankets and that crappy little Bluetooth speaker.”

-“We listened to The National on repeat and tried to convince ourselves we weren’t freezing to death.”

-“And then we saw that shooting star,” I added quietly.

-“You made the dumbest wish,” he said, bumping his knee against mine.

-“Hey, fuck you. I wished for free coffee for life. That’s not dumb. That’s practical.”

-“You were always practical,” he said, smiling. “Even when you were being completely reckless.”

I laughed and handed him the bottle again. “You mean like the time I snuck you into that wedding reception just because the cake looked fancy?”

-“God, yes. You wore a stolen shawl and pretended your name was ‘Sabrina.’ I think about that night at least once a month.”

The memory washed over me, my bare feet on the dance floor, his hand in mine, both of us half-drunk and giddy. My smile softened. “That was a good night.”

He looked at me, his voice gentler now. “We had a lot of those. Good nights.”

I met his gaze, and the weight of his words hit something in my chest. We really did. Between all the messy, broken parts, there were moments that had been golden.

-“You were my favorite person for a long time,” I said, quieter than I meant to. “I don’t think I ever told you that.”

Noah’s expression shifted, something sad, something warm. “You were mine too. Maybe still are, a little.”

The words hung in the cold air between us. My face felt hot despite the chill, and I reached for the bottle again, mostly for something to do with my hands. The Hennessy burned its way down.

-“You look good, by the way,” I added, trying to keep it light. “The haircut’s working for you.”

He chuckled. “You always said I looked like a lost dog. Thought I’d try looking like a dog who has his shit together.”

-“Mission accomplished,” I said with a smile. “A little scruff, a little ink. Very tortured artist.”

-“I do try to suffer beautifully,” he replied, leaning his elbow on the chair arm, his body angling just slightly toward me.

-“You’re unbearable,” I laughed, but it was softer now. Flirting again. Easy.

He passed the bottle back to me. Our fingers brushed, just a graze, but it lingered. The air suddenly felt thinner.

-“You ever think about… us?” he asked, almost tentative. “Like, if things had been different?”

I held the bottle in my lap, eyes fixed on the edge of the balcony. I felt that same pulse of warmth in my chest I’d felt when he smiled at me at the table.

-“Sometimes,” I said honestly. “But I also remember how much of myself I had to quiet down to make us work.”

Noah nodded slowly, eyes distant. “Yeah. I remember that part too.”

But the moment didn’t break. He didn’t pull away. And neither did I.

The Hennessy was doing its job, blurring the sharpness of my thoughts, softening the edges of everything. The past and present started folding into each other out there on the balcony, like no time had passed at all.

Noah was still watching me, his eyes searching, like he was trying to read every version of me he’d ever known, trying to match it with the one sitting beside him now.

-“I used to think,” he said slowly, “that if we just got away from everything, our parents, our town, all the noise, we’d be fine. That we’d make it.”

I looked at him, his features silhouetted by the soft glow spilling from my bedroom window. He looked different. Older. But also, somehow, exactly the same.

-“We were kids,” I said, not unkindly. “We didn’t know what we were asking of each other.”

He nodded. “But I don’t regret it.”

-“Me neither,” I said. And I meant it.

Silence again. But not uncomfortable.

-“You still have that stupid ring I gave you?” he asked after a while, a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I laughed, surprised. “The one from the arcade machine?”

He nodded, eyes lighting up. “The plastic one with the fake emerald. You wore it like it was a goddamn engagement ring.”

-“I still have it, actually,” I admitted. “Buried in my jewelry box. I couldn’t throw it away.”

He looked at me with something soft and unreadable in his eyes. “I don’t know what that means. But I like that you kept it.”

Another long pause. My head was swimming now, but not in a bad way. The cold air, the heat of the liquor, the closeness of him. The way he looked at me like I was still so special to him. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Noah leaned his head back and stared at the sky again. I found myself watching him instead, the curve of his jawline, the slope of his nose, the sharp edge of his cheekbone catching the faint porch light. The way his hands wrapped around the bottle, like they had once wrapped around my thighs or my neck.

I swallowed hard. The air between us had shifted. Warmer. Closer.

He still wore that damn ring, the one with the jagged edge that used to press into my skin when our fingers were interlaced. I remember that pressure like muscle memory, like something my body hadn’t let go of, even if my mind had tried.

He turned to look at me then, like he could feel my gaze, and our eyes locked.

-“God,” he muttered, voice low and strained. “I shouldn’t say this.”

I didn’t move. “Say what?”

He laughed, humorless. “That I’ve missed you like hell.”

The words hit something deep in my chest.

I didn’t answer. Just reached for the bottle and took another long sip, trying to find the right thing to say in the burn of liquor. But when I looked up again, he was already closer.

One second he was across from me, and the next his mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t soft, or sweet, or tentative, it was every unsaid thing, every memory, every fight and every fuck. It was the kind of kiss that came with teeth and history, with the kind of urgency that says I remember exactly how you taste.

I gasped into it, caught off guard, but I didn’t stop him. My fingers were in his hair before I could think about it, pulling him closer. His hand gripped my waist like he’d been dying to do it again, thumb slipping under the hem of my dress to touch bare skin.

His mouth moved against mine like it still knew the rhythm of me, hungry, desperate, searching. We broke apart only for air, panting, foreheads pressed together, and then I kissed him again, harder this time.

I tasted the Hennessy on his tongue, felt the buzz of it in my bloodstream. Everything was spinning. My knees were weak, my heart racing, and all I could think about was how dangerous this was.

In one swift movement, I climbed onto his lap, his back pressed to the back of the folding chair. His hands were on my thighs in an instant, the cool press of his ring digging into my skin like it used to. Familiar. Dangerous. I felt his fingers slip beneath my dress, curling around the small of my back, dragging me closer.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, dragging out a moan from my lips. His hands wandered while mine tangled in his hair. I ground my hips against him like muscle memory.

His lips crashed into mine again, all heat and friction, pulling a low, aching sound from my throat. He stood up suddenly, arms locked around my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. I barely had time to gasp before my back hit the wall, the cool surface pressing into my spine as his body pinned me there.

We were a tangle of limbs and mouths, all push and pull, too many emotions and not enough words. His hand slid up my leg, under the hem of my dress. My legs tightened around his waist instinctively. He groaned into my mouth, and I swore I felt it in my chest.

“Fuck,” he murmured, breaking the kiss just long enough to look at me. “You still drive me crazy.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how. I just grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down, mouths crashing again. This time slower, but deeper. Hungrier. My hands slipped under his shirt, fingers grazing old scars, familiar lines, all the places I used to know by heart. He made a sound at the back of his throat, and then we were stumbling toward the bed, hands roaming, clothes shifting, breathless and buzzing.

He laid me down gently, for a moment just hovering over me, staring like he wasn’t sure if this was a memory or a dream. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him down. Our lips met again, the mattress sinking under us, his body pressed to mine, heat blooming everywhere.

His hands slid along my sides, thumbs brushing against bare skin, my dress bunched around my hips. I let out a soft sigh as his mouth found the hollow of my throat, his teeth scraping lightly against skin. It should’ve felt like home. Maybe for a second, it did.

But then, without warning, his face flickered into my mind.

I didn’t want it to.

But there it was, uninvited, unstoppable, him.

Bunny.

The way his hand brushed mine on the couch just a little too long. His laugh when I made him choke on his drink. The stupid moaning dare. His sleepy goodnight smile that felt like a hug. That look he gave me when I came back from my mom’s call, eyes full of quiet concern. The way my name sounded when he said it, light, teasing.

I swallowed hard. My body was here, tangled up in a messy knot of nostalgia and heat with Noah. But my heart?

My heart was somewhere else entirely.

I tried to push the thought down. To drown it in brandy and old habits and the weight of someone I used to love. I looked at Noah, at the new haircut, the tattoos I hadn’t seen before, the boy who once made me feel like I was the only person in the world. Noah was everything I used to want, confident, handsome, familiar. He knew how to touch me like he’d memorized me. I knew his rhythm, the way he moved, the way he kissed, the way he said my name. But it felt like a well-rehearsed performance now.

He was still beautiful. He was still kind.

But he wasn’t Bunny.

And suddenly, that mattered more than I knew what to do with.

Because Bunny had crept in when I wasn’t looking. Threaded himself into the quiet spaces of my life. Become a comfort and a chaos all at once. And now, in the arms of someone I used to dream about, all I could think was, I wish it was him.

Not because he'd better at this. He might not be. He might be awkward and clumsy and do everything wrong.

Bu I still wanted his hands on me, unsure but hungry. His voice, shaky but honest. I wanted to see what it looked like when he unraveled for me.

I blinked back the thought like it burned. Because it did. It scorched through me, terrifying and thrilling all at once.

I really was in love with Bunny Corcoran.

And not the gentle, slow kind of love. The all-consuming kind. The kind that rearranges your insides. The kind that makes you realize you’re not who you were anymore, and maybe… you don’t want to be.

Noah kissed me harder, and I let him, but the deeper it went, the more hollow it felt.

Like I was chasing something I’d already left behind.

My heart really wasn’t here anymore.

Noah pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. His breath was heavy, eyes dark and searching.

-“You okay?” he murmured.

I didn’t answer right away. Because no, I wasn’t. I was split right down the middle. Between what was and what is. Between a guy who knew my past, and the guy who suddenly felt like my future. I touched the mushroom pendant resting between my collarbones.

-“I… I think I need some air,” I said softly, slipping from under him, my hands trembling just slightly.

The warmth of his hands left my skin, and the night air suddenly felt colder than it had before as I stepped back out onto the balcony.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

I stood there for a second, leaning against the railing, arms wrapped tight around myself as the breeze cooled the heat still radiating off my skin. I heard Noah shift behind me, the creak of the chair under his weight, the faint clink of the Hennessy bottle being set down.

-“You don’t have to explain,” he said gently, voice lower now, a little clearer. “I felt it too. The moment, it was… nice. But not right.”

I turned around, my eyes meeting his. He wasn’t hurt. Not really. Just a quiet understanding in his expression, like he already knew what I was going to say and had made peace with it before I had.

-“I’m sorry,” I said anyway, stepping closer. “I think a part of me wanted this to still mean something. To feel the way it used to. But it doesn’t. And that’s not your fault.”

He gave a soft, crooked smile, one that almost made me tear up with how familiar it was. “It’s not yours either. People change. That’s a good thing.”

I reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from his face, a habit I hadn’t realized my body still remembered. “Thanks, Noah. For being cool about all this. The ambush. The kiss. The rest…”

He held my gaze a second longer, then sighed, rocking back in the chair. “So… music? Or are things way too awkward now?”

I snorted. “Music sounds good.”

He stood and ducked back into my room, returning with my laptop under his arm like he owned the place. Just like old times.

-“Same password?” he asked, already halfway through typing.

-“Uh- no, it’s…” I hesitated, heat rising in my cheeks as realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I gave a helpless laugh, half in disbelief, half in embarrassment. His stupid nickname was my password. His nickname. How had I not put two and two together until now?

-“It’s ‘cuniculus’ now,” I muttered, looking away.

Noah paused. “Weird.”

-“Don’t ask,” I mumbled.

He didn’t. Just gave me a little side glance and logged in without another word. We settled back into our folding chairs, passing the laptop between us, taking turns queuing up old favorites. Some tracks we hadn’t heard in years. Noah sang along under his breath, his voice warm and better than I remembered. I sang too, off-key and unapologetic.

It was easy again. Comfortable, now that the ghosts were named and tucked away. With the pressure gone, we slipped back into the rhythm of being friends, of knowing each other, really knowing, without wanting anything more.

Sometime later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out and glanced at the screen. Two texts, stacked on top of each other.

‘everyone still alive?’ ‘you cannot imagine the amount of teasing i’ve endured 🖕🏻 ’

I couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across my face, wide and instant. My fingers moved on autopilot, typing something back before I could even think of a clever reply.

Noah caught the shift in my expression. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, but his eyes… his eyes looked carefully at me.

-“That spark in your eyes,” he said softly, over the quiet hum of the music. “It’s still the same.”

I looked at him, unsure.

-“It’s just not because of me anymore,” he finished, voice gentle, full of understanding, not bitterness.

I swallowed, throat suddenly tight. There was no guilt. Only clarity. And a quiet ache that felt terrifying and wonderful all at once.

I didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t accusing me of anything. There was no weight behind his words. Just recognition. And something like… peace.

I tucked my phone back in my pocket and reached for the bottle between us, giving it a little shake. “There’s, like, a sad inch left.”

-“Pour it out for the ghosts of Christmas past,” Noah said with a grin.

I snorted and took a sip instead. “Nah. I think we’re making peace with them.”

Noah stretched, the chair creaking under him as he leaned back. “We should commemorate it. One last blurry picture for the archives?”

I raised a brow. “You want to take a photo with me? In this lighting?”

He held up his phone, tilting it slightly to catch the soft, yellow glow spilling from my bedroom window behind us. “You look good,” he said plainly. “You always do.”

I didn’t argue. Just leaned in, our shoulders touching like puzzle pieces that once fit perfectly. Noah held the phone out, and we both smiled, not forced, not fake, just honest.

Click.

He looked at the photo and chuckled. “You blinked.”

-“Whatever. That’s how I look now. Emotionally blinking.”

He laughed and sent it to me anyway. “For the record. That we’re cool again.”

I nodded and leaned back in my chair, letting the music fill the silence. The night was cool and quiet, the chaos of dinner far away now, and I felt something settle inside me. A chapter closed.

Not with anger, not with heartbreak, just with a photo, a smile, and the knowledge that I was already somewhere else entirely. My thoughts drifting, inevitably, toward someone who made my heart race in an entirely new, terrifying, beautiful way.

#the secret history #tsh #bunny #bunny x reader #bunny corcoran #bunny x you #henry winter #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #francis abernathy #richard papen #ao3 fic #fanfic #ao3

3 notes · View notes

roleplayfinder · 2 years ago

Note

👁️‍🗨️ +18 only please, for fandomless mxm

hello! i’m really craving to dive back into writing & plotting, especially now i’m so close to my winter break. i have a list of original characters i am more than happy to using, so there’s a huge range of personalities for you to write against!

i, 19 he/him, am willing to write descriptive novella literate responses; any historical, slice-of-life, supernatural or crime-themed genres; enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, secret relationships, opposites attract & more; and probably too many pinterest boards to count.

relationship angst is something i would love to explore, although i do prefer when more softer themes balance it out — around 40/60 as a rough balance. i’m open to writing smut and nsfw, however prefer it when it moves the plot along/when my characters are in more submissive roles, but this can be switched up depending on what you would rather play!

on the other hand, i’m quite interested in exploring plots that surround ….. stalking ???? age differences ???? abuse of power ???? and a few other taboo subjects, so hit me up if you’re interested in writing any of those also!

all in all i just miss gushing over oc’s, staying up into godly hours of the night developing & writing endless threads that last long-term !!! maybe i’m just being weird & nostalgic, but please……. if you’re interested in any of the above, like this ad & i will reach out!

#eighteen and over #fandomless #fandomless roleplay #fandomless rp #mxm #mxm roleplay #mxm rp

17 notes · View notes

findyourrp · 2 years ago

Note

👁️‍🗨️ +18 only please, for fandomless mxm

#rp finder #18+ rp #fandom rp #fandomless rp #fandomless roleplay #rp #oc x oc rp #mxm rp

3 notes · View notes

misquigley · 2 years ago

Text

below the cut are possible verses for interactions. i’m sure more crossover will be added a later date for the time being, this is it!

**constantly being updated so check it sometimes!**

canon one ( i’m just a girl );

This verse will be taking place in 1996 to 2000. It will serve as a holder for pre-series, time in the wilderness, and post-rescue threads. Main focus will be Misty’s time in the wilderness but also interested and open to exploring pre-series timeline ( age will very between 15 to 18 ) as well as post-rescue ( age will very between 18 to 20. ) The latter will probably happen more once the show actually shows them being rescued and whether or not we have to wait for season three to get more information about post-rescue life. Regardless, am still up for plotting things out and head-cannoning. Spoilers will be present and will not be tagged.

canon two ( these violent delights have violent ends );

This verse will be taking place during the current timeline which is 2021. It’s twenty-five years later after the Yellowjackets team went missing in the Canadian wilderness for nineteen months. Main focus will be following and exploring canon events that take place throughout season one and two. Will also dig a bit deeper into Misty’s life and what she’s been getting up to for the last twenty-five years aside from stalking checking up on her old teammates. Spoilers will be present and will not be tagged.

crossover one ( grey’s anatomy/station 19 );

This verse will be taking place during several seasons of Grey’s Anatomy and it’s spin-off Station 19. In this verse, Misty has moved out west to Seattle, Washington in an attempt to have a life and start-over. Her canon will remain with the fact that she survived the Yellowjackets team crashing in the wilderness and being stranded for almost two years. The only changes will be the primary location and things that need to be changed in order to fit the canon of both GA and ST19. Misty is a nurse at Grey-Sloan and primarily works in the clinic and will often times volunteer at the fire station with Ben Warren’s walk-in clinic. Plotting will be encouraged.

crossover two ( stranger things );

This verse will be taking place during seasons one to four with a primary focus with the later seasons. In this verse, Misty is a freshman at Hawkins High School when Will Byers goes missing. Her family lives in the same neighborhood as the Wheelers, her father having worked with Nancy Wheelers father, Ted. Obviously her canon will not be included in this verse and as such, will be completely head-canon reliant as well as heavily plotted. But it will follow the events of ST, however, depending on the severity of Misty’s involvement in everything will be based solely on plots.

crossover three ( the last of us );

This verse will be taking place during season one of The Last of Us with some incorporation of the first video game. In this verse, YJ canon will follow up until the team is rescued, after that it diverges. The changes are that when the outbreak of infected starts, 2003, it's five years after the team has been rescued and have been trying to adapt back into the "normalcy." So when all hell breaks loose, they're scattered except for Shauna Shipman and Misty who happen to still live in town; Shauna, her daughter Callie, and Misty hold out for as long as possible at the Quigley house until they're forced to leave. From there, they regroup with the others ( the core five ) and from there they make their way to the woods as they know how to survive out among the wilderness. Will follow show and game canon but plotting is encouraged.

alternate one ( the lucky one );

This verse will be taking place during seasons one and two of Yellowjackets. In this verse, Misty was never on the team therefore never on the plane. When the plane went down with the team, she was at home in Wiskayok like everyone else; hoping and praying that the yellowjackets team was found safe and brought home. By the time they were found, Misty had graduated with the rest of the class and made the choice to leave town for the next twenty-five years until she makes her way back for the reunion. There will be a few tweaks and changes to Misty's canon and involvement with the survivors as well as Misty's appearance; she'll look like THIS. Plotting will be encouraged.

#( buzz buzz goes the brain | out of character )

1 note · View note

pisupsala · 3 years ago

Text

One for The History Books [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw] | Complete | Index

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Chapter 1]Don't Take The Bait [Chapter 2]Threading Water [Chapter 3]Strain [Chapter 4]Anchor [Chapter 5]Drown Me [Chapter 6]Adrift [Chapter 7]Reeling [Chapter 8]Surface Tension [Chapter 9]Breaking for Air [Chapter 10]Cresting [Chapter 11]Ripples [Chapter 12]Low Tide [Chapter 13]High Tide [Chapter 14]Becalmed [Chapter 15]Taking on Water [Chapter 16]Waterlogged [Chapter 17]Sinking [Chapter 18]Capsizing [Chapter 19]Rock Bottom [Chapter 20]Reaching the Shallows [Chapter 21]Landfall [Epilogue] [Side Stories/One Shots] Where Else Would I Be? Summary | He's been gone for so long.

Any Way The Wind Blows Summary | There’s a sudden shift in the mood.

Wish You Were Here | part 1 | part 2 Summary | Some things you’d rather not face alone.

[Final Update 22.02] With Wish You Were Here part 2 out, the story is really really over now. Lots of people stuck with me and the story since June last year, and I'm super grateful for that. When I write, I try not to look too much at how many notes something gets because I want to enjoy writing and write what I enjoy. And I'm only glad if you like it too. Every note I get is one person more than I thought would read it. So when I saw the index had over something over 500 notes, I got a little choked up tbh. Now it's time to say goodbye to these two idiots, and I'm probably going to have a little cry over that. But I hope to see you again in the next story <3 [Update 22.10]So, lmao at myself for nearly writing triple the chapters that I thought I would. I ended up adding additional plots lines and kept coming up with things I wanted to write about. So now I know how the story will end + I have an epilogue in mind. So I will stop stuffing it with other storylines that I hadn't introduced yet, and any new scenes I want to explore I will start writing as one-shots or side stories. Also I have almost 200 followers! [Update 31.08]Yeah, that was an unplanned "hiatus" to take care of some real life situations. Good news, it's all sorted, and I'm still committed to finishing this story. Thanks for all the comments and support I got in the last ... 8 weeks? I really hope this story will be worth the wait! [note] I decided it was a good moment to start collating all chapters of One for The History Books in a masterlist. I usually update the index in all chapters separately, but as I'm working on chapter 6 now, it's getting a bit much. I want to thank everyone who is reading my story and leaving comments. It seriously makes my day <3 Looking back at some chapters, I feel they would benefit from some stricter editing — I'm planning to finish the story in its current form, and will probably edit more strenuously when I repost on AO3. Thank you for sticking with the story, it means a lot to me!

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc

677 notes · View notes

bratshaws · 3 years ago

Text

goodness gracious 75. brb x oc

a/n: I'll be honest I kinda based Chloe's whole schtick on a reddit thread I saw ages ago and it stuck to me. Does it make sense?? I hOPE?i t's just a sprinkle of angst yall nothing more uwu

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: light angst, FIRST FIGHT KIND OF???, then fluff

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64

65/66/67/68/69/70/71/72/73/74

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2 @emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads

Marcus did pay her, the exact amount he said he would and she was more than happy. Now she could not only get her car - the red Jeep wrangler she saw weeks ago - but she could also save this money for the moving day! Everything was running so smoothly, so nicely she could barely believe it. She’s been having a great week and when Friday rolled around, she was all smiles, so much it hurt her cheeks.

But one thing she found odd that day was how Rooster barely messaged her, well, less than normal, she knew he couldn’t talk much during work so this wasn’t so off. But it was fine! He was probably very busy!

This Friday she had to show up at the Hard Deck earlier since they were going to reorganize some bottles that arrived later than Monday, it was fine to Beatrice, she could talk to Penny and Shells while working which was always fun. She wondered when she could tell them she was moving in with Rooster, since they did think about going out this Saturday to visit some places and check them out…so, Monday! Monday would be a good time.

Penny asks Beatrice to take some of the trash out and she does with a huge smile, Shells commenting how she had never seen someone so happy to take those giant black bags outside like Bea was. The brunette just ignored, humming all the way over to the trash bins down the sidewalk, her peripheral vision noticing a different car in the parking lot, a white one that she couldn’t identify because it was a bit distant.

But her eyes would wander back towards it every now and again, furrowing her brows as to why it’d be there in the first place considering it was so early in the afternoon – too early for any other cars to be there - considering the bar wasn’t even open yet. She did see a woman with brown hair step out, which in turn makes Beatrice blink, seeing her get closer and closer.

Maybe she was lost? It has happened before, people usually stop by the parking lot because they don’t know the region and they need help finding where to go. So Beatrice, with that assumption in her head, prepared her mind to remember street names and known spots for localization in the surroundings. What she didn’t expect was the woman coming closer, stopping a few steps away from her and suddenly saying her name, “Beatrice?”

She’s surprised, her brain then wracking all the memory files trying to remember if she knew this woman or not. “Um…yeah? Can I help you?”

The woman pulled out her sunglasses, they were the same height, with the same brown hair color but the differences were that the woman had light brown eyes and was skinnier than Beatrice, “...I was just curious,I’m Chloe.” That name brought nothing from her mind, which probably showed since Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows even more, “Chloe Ritzer.”

Again, nothing. Nothing appeared in her mind, “Oh…um…okay? Can I help you?” she repeats and the woman’s expression soured just enough to make Beatrice worry a bit, “I…I’m sorry, did we go to school together?”

“No.” comes her sticky sweet reply, “We did not, but I know someone that you know.”

Oh! Oh she probably knew her siblings or something like that, that explains why she couldn’t identify her name. “I’m surprised Rooster never told you about me.” Suddenly all the noise around Beatrice disappeared and a cold feeling took over her stomach, her confused look only worsening.

“Oh…you were, friends?” Why would Rooster never tell her about this woman? The goblin voice in the back of her mind started to cackle menacingly, whispering doubts in her brain that she knew it wasn’t true.

Chloe, who had this weirdly smug look on her face after hearing that question, smirked, “Oh no, we were more than friends.”

Wait, what? Bradley didn’t say he dated anyone before her, no he didn’t because Phoenix and Halo confirmed it too back when they got together. Beatrice’s mouth opens then closes, trying to digest this brand new information with her body going into fight of flight mode. “What do you mean more?”

“I’m just surprised,” she completely ignores the question, dropping her eyes down on Beatrice’s body and the brunette immediately feels like she needs to cover up, “That Rooster would…well, I didn’t think he was so desperate.” The words hit Bea harder than a slap.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you don’t really think he’d be interested in you right?” The pure venom coming out from this woman who she had never met nor seen before was already chipping in her confidence walls. She was acting like a bully already. “He just did because I moved out and he had to find a rebound.”

Rebound.

Beatrice’s wide eyes got even wider, her breathing turning erratic, “That’s not true.” she whispers, “How do you– why are you–”

Ohohoho what did I tell you? You knew I was right, all along. You were nothing but a rebound, that’s what you are. Maybe that’s why he didn’t talk to you too much today, because he was seeing this woman again. She’s beautiful isn’t she? Skinny and model-esque. Not like you, you pathetic girl.

No. No this wasn’t happening, this wasn’t true!

Beatrice’s deep inhale was shaky but she licked her lips before speaking, “...I’m not a rebound.” she whispers, her eyes slowly meeting the other woman’s “I-I don’t know who you are but if you two were together before, that was then and this is now.I am not a rebound.”

Neither the goblin voice nor the woman expected that response, with Chloe’s lip curling into a disgusted snarl, “Listen here, tubby,” Beatrice tried not to jolt at the insult, “I don’t know what sort of lie he’s been spewing your way but he’s not interested in you at all.”

“He doesn’t lie to me.” she snaps back, “...you don’t know him, if you did you’d know Rooster doesn’t lie.”

Shells steps out of the bar when her friend takes too long to come back, stopping by the doors when she sees the two brunettes face to face, “Aunt Penny.” she calls and her aunt appears right next to her, wrinkling her brows and muttering ‘who the hell is that?’ to her niece. But she holds Shells back when the blonde tries to step closer, ready to defend her friend from this random strange woman they’ve never seen before.

“He’s a man, he’s going to lie.”

Beatrice feels her fury getting worse and worse, “No.” she snarls, “He’s not, you–how long were you two together?” Chloe opens her mouth to reply but Beatrice cuts her off, “If it’s more than one day you’d know that Rooster doesn’t lie, he was raised right, he is loving and he’s kind…”

Realization hits her immediately.

She wasn’t one of his girlfriends. She was one of the hookups he said he had before. “...that’s why you don’t know, you were with him for one day.” Chloe’s face turned angry, Beatrice struck a very visible nerve apparently, “...You– are you serious? You, you think that making up stuff about my boyfriend,” again another flinch coming from Chloe,”About how he’s apparently never loved me when we’ve been together for seven months and are currently thinking about moving in together?? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Chloe’s smug attitude dropped slowly, no doubt she was thinking she could manipulate Beatrice into thinking Rooster wasn’t interested–which backfired immensely- “I–you—”

“What the fuck!! What the fuck are you doing?” she hated how her personality reminded her of the Bitch Trio, maybe that was also why she was getting so fired up about her. That and the goblin voice trying to repeat over and over how it was right. If this was a few months back, maybe she’d be leaning towards it, maybe she’d doubt herself and her place in their relationship…but not now. Not now. “...You think he doesn’t love me or are you projecting your own fears on me? Because what you guys had was nothing more than a one night stand?”

“It was a great–”

“If it was he’d done something else about it,” Beatrice snaps, straightening her back and holding back a smile at how she was now taller than Chloe, “If it was why wouldn’t he be with you?...I am not a rebound. He loves me and if you have a problem with that I am sorry, I am so sorry but nothing will change it.`` Another car pulls to the parking lot, an SUV she knows too well and Evelyn’s body is already out and marching over.

“Listen tub–”

“No! You listen! My name is Beatrice. My name is Beatrice Schiavoni and” every word she gives a step forward and Chloe a step back, “And you dare, you fucking dare to come out of the woodworks accusing my boyfriend of being a liar when you know him for less than a few hours??” Chloe’s shoes hit the edge of the sidewalk, almost losing her balance, “And a one night stand??A hook up?? Rooster would never, he would never say what he doesn’t mean and if you– how fucking long was this? Almost a year ago? Two? And you kept the thought he wouldn’t move on?”

Chloe was looking smaller and smaller, Evelyn sending Shells and Penny a surprised look, “How fucking dare you??” Beatrice looked ready to beat the shit out of Chloe, not even because of her but because she was saying stuff about Rooster, “I don’t know what your plan here was, Chloe Ritzer.” Evelyn’s head snaps up when she hears the name, this time really getting closer to the two, “But you–”

“Chloe Ritzer?” Evelyn repeats, “You are the data analyst who was transferred out of state.”

Beatrice’s chest heaved with her intense breathing,looking back at Evelyn with her eyebrows furrowed then to Chloe whose eyes were now doubled in size, “Yeah,yeah I remember my dad saying something about you, about how you were asked to transfer because you pulled some bullshit around the base.”

“How the fuck does your dad know anything about me??”

“He’s a vice-admiral.” Chloe paled, immediately, her eyes now only focusing on Evelyn, “And if I call him right now and let him know that you are here and he contacts your superiors, they would know you are here now, right?”

Beatrice watched with wide eyes, not believing what she was hearing. The fact this woman came from out of nowhere just to get something out of Rooster was insane. How did she even pull this off? Better yet, what did she think it’d happen? Chloe just looked surrounded, which she was, especially when Penny and Shells got closer too, the three women forming a barricade behind Beatrice that signaled that Chloe was at a huge disadvantage there.

Seeing that this was a battle she could no longer win, which honestly she never did, Chloe slowly backed away, muttering she was ‘sorry for bothering them’ and ran to her car, almost hitting another one when she reversed out of the parking lot, disappearing from view. “What the fuck just happened?” Shells asked, looking at Beatrice, “Did she threaten you or something?”

“She was just badmouthing me and telling me lies…just,trying–I don’t know what her endgame was, but it was…weird.”

“Should we call the cops on her?” Shells asks Evelyn who is looking down at her phone, typing something quickly - undoubtedly letting her father know what just happened.

“No. I just texted my dad, he can deal with it for us.” Evelyn’s eyes softened, “Are you okay Bea?”

Was she? She was a bit…she didn’t know how to feel about what just happened. Yes, she was nervous at first but then she was so angry, she was so mad because this woman who had nothing to do with her life nor Rooster’s wanted to…intrude? Act up? For what? “I’m…I’m fine…It’s just, I feel a bit dizzy.” all that anger and fury probably dropped her blood pressure or something because she was feeling really woozy. Penny stepped up to Bea and ordered Shells to hold her other arm as they brought her back inside the bar.

They sat her down in one of the booths, Penny rubbing the back of Beatrice’s hand as Shells rushed out of the area to get some sugar water. Beatrice rubs her forehead with her palm heel,clenching her eyes and enduring the heavy toll her body had to deal with emotionally, her head pumping with a violent headache that only made things worse, “She’s done this before.” comes Evelyn’s voice, which makes both Penny and Beatrice turn their eyes her way, “According to my dad, she was interested in another guy before, didn’t work out, she tried showing up again and getting him back. It was never violent, she was never violent, but this shit isn’t going to go over well.”

Shells come back with a white mug filled with water, her aunt giving her a confused look but accepting it anyway, ‘There you go,Bea. Take…little sips.” she waits until the brunette brings the mug to her lips, scrunching her face at the pure sugar hitting her tongue, setting it down after just a few gulps. While the other women talked amongst themselves, Beatrice couldn’t help but repeat the weird events that happened seconds before.

This woman, this Chloe, showed up as if she was Bradley’s ex-girlfriend or something serious like that and tried to belittle her, belittle Bradley saying he was a liar and making her think he was with her out of pity?? The goblin voice crackled in the back of her mind, whispered growly voices making it’s way over her ear, planting doubt after doubt inside her brain. But it made no sense, because Rooster wasn’t like that, he wasn’t like that at all and he has proven that time and time again!

Then why was she having weird thoughts about it? Why was the goblin voice of doubt being louder than every other? Why was she questioning this? She hated it, so much and she knew she’d have to talk to Bradley about it because he'd definitely see if something was off with her. Would he be upset? How would he react? God she was so nervous, she only hoped that later tonight when they went back to his apartment they could have a good talk about this.

He wasn’t so different when he got to the bar, he greeted her as he normally would, he smiled at her like he normally would…but when they got back to his apartment, he got very quiet and his face seemed to stone in a mid frown that never disappeared. Even Jolene’s presence there didn’t seem to ease it and it got worse every time he looked at his phone.

Beatrice only stood by a distance, biting her lower lip watching his back move as he pulled his Hawaiian shirt from his body, folding in his hands, “Brad,” she calls and he stops, looking back at her with an inquisitive glance, “Are you okay?”

He inhales deeply, his smile not quite meeting his eyes, “Long day, gorgeous.” he says in a clipped tone, “Long, long day.” she chews her lower lip again, watching him rub his hands over his face and sighing against his palms. Beatrice wrung her hands together, unsure on how to tell him without making his day worse so she chose that it’d be better to help him unwind a little bit.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bradley rolls his lips into his mouth, his hands propped on his hips with another inhale going down his nose, “You know, I don’t think so.” that was weird, he usually wants to share if something is bothering him, “I don’t–” he shakes his head, not finishing the sentence.

Oh I wonder what could’ve happened to him. Maybe he saw that girl again and noticed he still had feelings for her and doesn't know how to tell you about it.

That wasn’t true. Bradley isn’t like that. “Are you sure?” she asks softly, watching how his shoulders tensed up and his body went rigid, but his face wasn’t turned towards her.

“I am very sure.” he says curtly, “I really don’t want to talk about it,Bea.”

Beatrice swallowed her saliva nervously, the sharp claw of fear and anxiety climbing up her spine as she watched Rooster disappear into his kitchen to get something. Maybe it was just work stuff he couldn’t tell her. Maybe that was why he was like that. She follows him into the kitchen, a glass of water being chugged down in harsh gulps until he thunked the glass on the sink, leaning his weight on it.

She didn’t know what to do and the doubtful voices in her head weren’t helping. “Do you want to order something?” she asks softly, stepping closer to him and disliking how he was walling himself up but choosing to not prod about it, “I know it’s late but I think that we can get some pizzas.”

Bradley clears his throat, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose where he rubbed it in slow circles, “Yeah. Sure.I can do pizzas.” his clipped tone was unnerving her more and more, it wasn’t helping her anxiety and fear with him acting like that.

Because he’s thinking how to break it to you that he no longer wants to be in a relationship with you…tubby.

No. That wasn’t true. It wasn’t true.

“Okay…I’ll…order it then.” The silence usually wasn’t uncomfortable like this and Beatrice didn’t know what to do. Her emotions had flared up ever since that afternoon and she felt she wouldn’t be able to keep it in for long. She didn’t want to make him even more upset with the information that…his ex-hookup showed up and tried belittling her like that. His ex-hookup that was…tall and skinny, looking like a brunette Gisele Bündchen with how perfect she was.

But wait, no she wasn’t perfect. She was just skinnier than Beatrice was and that didn’t mean that Beatrice’s body was wrong. She just did a photo shoot using swimwear and other clothing she’d never admit she thought about wearing before, so she wasn’t wrong. Her body wasn’t wrong and he loved her and her body.

Oh, but what if you’ve been mistaken?

She wasn’t mistaken, not about Rooster…not about how he feels when it comes to her. But the way he was acting right now was…really bothering her too much. He was never this quiet, he was never this brooding with her, “Roos.” she calls softly, following him out of the kitchen, where he stops by the hallway, “You know you can talk to me if something is bothering you,right?”

Bradley’s jaw moves, but he doesn’t speak, “I know.” was all he said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just…well you are very quiet and I worry–”

“There’s nothing to worry about,Beatrice.” he doesn’t raise his voice, but he does sound snappy, ‘Whatever it is I’ll resolve it. There are some things that I have to do alone and I don’t need your help with.”

Oh.

“...oh.” was all she could reply, her mind going hundred miles a minute with all the fears and possibilities. He changed his mind about them, everything was right, she was wrong, everything was falling apart, she wasn’t deserving of happiness nor deserving of him, “...okay…”

Bradley sighs,running his hand down his face and muttering a ‘be right back’ as he steps into his room and then the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind him. He puts his hands over his eyes, pacing around his bathroom as he tries to control his temper, trying to forget that Chloe showed up out of nowhere and decided to message him. He was sure he blocked her, he was sure he cut all contact.

God he was so pissed when she started suggesting things for them to do, as if they were just on a ‘break’ and he wasn’t dating Beatrice. He walked around his office just like he was now, trying to ease out the anger and annoyance. It took him so long to finally cut her off he didn’t even talk to Beatrice - lunch break was over and he was still getting rid of Chloe’s constant messages since just blocking her clearly wasn’t going to work.

Then he got mad because he wasted so much time getting rid of her he could barely say two words to Beatrice and then he fucked some stuff up - he also lost his favorite pen - and he had to take a few breathing breaks. Then at the bar, while he was still angry, seeing his girlfriend helped him calm down a little but he just kept thinking on how to tell Beatrice about Chloe and how to deal with this.

…speaking of which, he shouldn’t have acted like that with her. Beatrice wasn’t at fault for what happened and he should’ve just told her about it instead of locking himself in his bathroom and leaving her alone, “Fuck.” he groans against his hands, thinking how much this Chloe just bothered him to the point he was getting angry at people who had nothing to do with it, instead of her.

He took a few more calming breaths, hoping that Beatrice wasn’t too upset for him snapping at her like that - God, he never once did that to her, what was he fucking thinking? He gives him a look on the mirror, then leans down to open the faucet and wash his face the best he could, breathing out by his mouth before he steps out of the bathroom, “Bea,” he calls, walking past his bedroom’s threshold, “Bea, baby I’m sorry for–”

Where was she?

She was right in his living room when he went inside. Matter of fact, where was Beatrice and Jolene? The pittie wasn’t in her favored spot on the couch either. Bradley moved his eyes anxiously, she was probably in the kitchen, yes, she was going to order pizzas- she’s not in the kitchen either.

He tries not to panic, he couldn’t see her bag there either so…wait, did she leave? “Fuck, no,no no no.” he stomps his way to his front door, looking down the hallway and towards the elevators. His eyes widened seeing the numbers going down, “No, no no!Fuck! “ he doesn’t even bother to wait for the other one, he slams the fire escape door open and runs down the stairs, checking every floor to see if he still had time to reach her.

No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Beatrice couldn’t be leaving. Not like this, he had to tell her what happened! “Please, let me reach her. Please.” he ignored his throat burning and how his chest ached from running down the steps all the way down to the lobby. He has to take a quick break before he reaches the last door, yanking it open to check. Someone else was entering the elevator now, both of them, so Beatrice already left!

He had to hurry. He ran all the way outside, breathing heavily and looking around in hopes to see her down the street. She didn’t have a car, so she probably called an uber…but there were no cars, well, there was one, but it was now driving away from him– his keys, he needed to get his keys, “Fuck!” he once again didn’t take the elevator, going all the way back by the fire escape stairs, shouldering the door to his floor open.

His white tee was sticking to his back and chest, but he couldn’t care about it right now. He just inhaled shakily once he got to his apartment door, leaning on his hand to regain his breathing, “Okay,” he says between gulps of air, “Okay, I need my keys.” he wipes some beads of sweat that traveled down his temple and his cheekbones. He was starting to panic, what did he do? God, what did he do? He shouldn’t have said that. Why did he say that?

Where the fuck were his keys? He patted his jeans, then his tee - that had no pockets - cursing high and low. “Where the fuck are they, where the– excuse me a minute Jojo.” he steps over the tail wagging pitbull to reach the other side of the room…then he pauses. He pauses and slowly looks back to where Jolene now was, seated on her favorite spot in his couch, his eyes widening, “Wait, how are you here?”

“Roos?”

Was he dreaming? Was he imagining things? Because that was Beatrice’s voice. He looks up to the hallway, seeing Beatrice holding her bag in her hands, her eyebrows low and confused, “...Bea.You are here.”

The brunette’s eyes turn sadder, looking away from him, “...s-should I not be?”

“What? No!” He crosses the room in two strides, wrapping his arms around Beatrice so tight she drops her bag to the floor in surprise, her hands slowly coming up to touch his damp shoulder blades.

“Roos, why are you so sweaty? What happened?” she asked against his neck, blinking her big green eyes in surprise when he pulled back to smack her lips soundly, over and over, the girl’s face turning such a violent shade of red she looked ready to melt. “Roos- Roos what’s happ-” but his lips kept on hers, cupping her warm cheeks in his big hands, before he drops them to her thighs where he picks her up and carries her back to his bedroom. She barely has time to speak, between his lips on hers and the sudden shock of being carried over, she presses a hand to his wet and warm chest, pushing him the best she could.

He does break the kiss, but he keeps his face right above hers. “...Roos…wh-what is happening? Why are you drenched with sweat? Are you sick?”

“I…” the weight of his sudden workout finally hit him and he felt his chest heave out breath after breath “I…I thought you left, so I…I ran in hopes to get you. I’m sorry.”

“Rooster…why would I leave? I’m not understanding…”

“I snapped at you and you had nothing to do with what happened.” realization shone on her eyes, the same eyes that looked away from his ashamedly, her hand dropping from his chest to land on her stomach.

“I shouldn’t have pestered you–”

He shakes his head negatively, closing his eyes, “No. No this isn’t your fault.” he says gently, “I shouldn’t have done that. I…I was mad about something else and I just let it out on you and it was unfair.” her eyes return to his, hesitantly so, but he’s glad she’s looking at him again. “Pretty girl, you know I don’t get mad at you for worrying about me.”

Beatrice chews her lower lip, he could see the worry still in her eyes, in those big green eyes he fell in love with, “It’s just…you were acting weird and I thought…I thought I did something wrong.” that I was no longer good enough, she thinks, “And I…I guess my day has been kinda messy too so…”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, gorgeous. You didn’t, hey,” he cups her chin when she looks away, arching both of his eyebrows for emphasis, “You didn’t do anything wrong…I’m sorry for snapping at you. I really am.”

Beatrice takes a long while to reply, so long he almost feels she won’t do so, but she nods “I forgive you.” she whispers, which makes Rooster sigh out in relief, dropping his face to her neck where he breathed in her lavender scent - calmness and devotion - kissing the curve of her shoulder. “Do you want…to tell me what happened?”

He lifts his head from her neck, then looks over his shoulder to his bathroom, “Yeah but…maybe I might need to take a bath first…join me?” he didn’t like how she seemed to go back to hesitation, “If you don’t want it’s okay.”

“No,no I do.” she whispers, ‘It might help me get my mind out of things too.” she replies, giving him a small smile and following him when he stood up, offering her his hand. She grabs with the same smile, closing her eyes when he leans closer to kiss her forehead, then her lips one more time, leading them to the bathroom.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader

110 notes · View notes

wait-still-rendering · 2 years ago

Text

here is the original outline of The Strange Case of Kairi Uchida (which probably needs another title at this point). It is unfinished, but I wager it would have been like 50+ chapters long if I did finish writing it out lol. :) Enjoy what may never be.

@kessielrg @coffeetime88

Terminus

OUTLINE

The Strange Case of Kairi Uchida

1: Autumn - Strange occurrences are happening to Kairi so she goes off in search of answers and is now missing.

2: Downpour - Sora attempts to gather as many clues as possible that are related to Kairi’s disappearance.

3: Wayfaring Streets - With the help of Riku and Selphie, Sora heads for Radiant Garden to look for Kairi.

4: Catacombs of the Mind - Kairi attempts to piece together what is happening to her. The girl from the mirror guides her to Hollow Bastion’s castle which leads to a shocking discovery.

5: Terminus - Kairi has a choice to make and it isn’t an easy one. Sora and co find Kairi, but both parties are torn away from each other at the last moment. The shadowy monsters from before appear within the castle which triggers a lost memory for Sora, Riku, and Kairi.

6: The Mirrors of Time: As Sora and co explore the castle and its various traps, they come across a room full of mirrors and learn about an urban legend—the Heartless.

7: Astray - Kairi and Xion attempt to find a way back to Sora and co, but instead stumble upon a library that Kairi distinctly remembers visiting. The only problem is Radiant Garden and Hollow Bastion were separated before Kairi’s birth. They find a new ally in Roxas.

8: Murky Waters - Stuck in the room of mirrors, Sora, Riku, and Selphie must find a pathway through the mirrors.

9: Torch - It's a race against time to find the exit before the castle is overridden by Heartless. Kairi attempts to find a way to communicate this sentiment to her friends on the other side (Sora, Riku, Selphie.)

10: Bindings of the Undercity - Both groups fight their way out of the castle, but with no way back to Hollow Bastion’s entrance. They soon stumble upon a ghost train. The party is split on whether or not to get on or try to find a way back to Radiant Garden. In the end, Kairi boards the train leading to the rest of the other members to also get on. The train leads them to what they soon learn is the Underworld.

11: Tidal Waves - As they have no choice but to move forward, tensions rise. Kairi finally learns why strange things have been happening to her.

12: Storm - A fight breaks out within the group which leads to an accidental teleportation.

13: Clockwork - The gang finds themselves out at sea in an unfamiliar airship. It isn't until they land that they find out they have traveled into a foreign reality.

14: Shards - The flickering starts up again for Kairi who now knows the flickerings are memories of different lifetimes.

15: Childhood Pathways - The gang comes across a photo album filled with memories from different lifetimes. Endings. They have a choice to make.

16: The Door to Oblivion - Heartless appear once more. Kairi sees flashes of the Keyblade Graveyard.

17: Celestial Affairs - They land in Scala ad Caelum, a bustling city full of spirits from all times. Five houses rule over them—Bear, Snake, Unicorn, Fox, Leopard.

18: Walls of the Silver Palace - The group splits up in order to investigate the five houses. When they uncover a new discovery, they must either prepare for war or find another reality to jump to.

19: Paradigm Madness - Fearing the uprising, everyone flees Scala ad Caelum and finds themselves in unfamiliar territory once again. It isn’t until they gather their barings that they realize they are centuries back in another reality in a place called Gaia. Selphie remembers scraps of another lifetime in Balamb Garden.

20: Breaching Threads - As the gang travels through Gaia (FF9), they attempt to find their footing. They soon come across a familiar face. Roxas grapples with the unhappy memories he has of his past life.

Characters

Kairi Uchida

Selphie Tilmitt

Riku Miyano

Sora Irino

Xion Hikari

Roxas Uchiyama

Don't trust blindly.

Sora was never one to wake up early. His thin blankets lay on the ground as they always did no matter how many times he attempted to wrap himself up in them at night. Destiny Islands was hotter than the blazing sun on its worst days and mildly chilly on its best days.

It should have been indicative to him that something was not quite right when he looked at the time and saw the red numbers spread out.

5:02 in the morning.

Tangles of clothes were strewn across Sora’s bedroom floor. When he awoke at exactly 5:02 that morning, he let out a string of curses as he stumbled over the combined mess of dirty laundry and a half-read book aptly placed near his bedside.

Most days Sora wouldn't dream of getting out of bed at such an ungodly hour, but it was as if an unknown entity forced him out of his slumber.

He looked toward the calendar. November 3rd. Kairi would be home soon. A smile found its way to his lips.

Perhaps Sora should have realized there was something horribly, horribly wrong, but Sora did not have that epiphany because he had no reason to believe anything was wrong. The quiet of early morning almost made Sora crawl back into bed, but when he caught sight of a streak of white, his weariness dissipated. It was snowing.

It was snowing on Destiny Islands.

He snapped a quick picture before sending it into the group chat so Riku and Kairi could see.

Hours from now, Sora would be on a train heading for Radiant Garden with Riku and Selphie in tow.

Kairi’s hands trailed alongside the smooth spine of one of the more ornate books within the castle’s library.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kingdom hearts #no this is not bc its kingdom heart's anniversary #that was a happy accident lmao #i hope u all enjoy the unfinished outline

4 notes · View notes

kakairu-shrine · 3 years ago

Text

Third Year Anniversary!!!

I can’t believe it’s already been three years since I posted my first fic to ao3 & started contributing to the fandom! It’s been such a wild ride, and so much has happened in that time; and sitting back and reflecting on it all now, I am really proud of how much I have accomplished.

Somehow, in the past 3 years, I have accumulated nearly 100 works on ao3, and am sitting at 454k words total; and that’s while modding the Kakairu Rocks forum, which I’ve been doing for about 2 years (now with 2 other amazing mods, @oneinist & @kaoruhana08), and running events like the KakaIru Valentine’s Week that passed in February, and the upcoming KakaIru Maze Challenge (which you can sign up for all of June!).

Before I looked at my stats today, I actually felt like I hadn’t been doing enough, and have been letting people down, because in the past 6 months especially, I’ve been struggling with a lot of irl things that have messed with my mental health & left me barely able to function; and as a result, I haven’t been able to put as much effort into my projects as usual, and haven’t felt like I’ve had much to contribute. But looking at the numbers now, it’s just insane how quickly all my bits & pieces have added up.

And I have you guys to thank for how much I’ve done. I always have ideas & am daydreaming about kakairu stuff, but without your support – your kudos, comments, shares, and everything else, I don’t think I would have the drive that I do. Your support keeps me going, and inspires me to do more; and I am really grateful for all of you. So thank you for your encouragement. I cannot wait to see where it leads me in this next year and beyond ❤️💕❤️💕❤️💕

If anyone is interested, I have prepared a selection of stats with some of my creations throughout the year, which you can go through under the cut!

If you want to know more about me or find more kakairu content, you can:

1. Check out my library of fics here on ao3

2. Follow me on Twitter

3. Join me in the Kakairu Rocks forum

4. DM me, or send me an ask!

The green numbers = my growth from the previous year!

Top 5 Fics in The Past Year by Kudos:

Waiting For You (9668 words): 270 kudos

Catkashi (20 468 words): 210 kudos

The Getaway (15 023 words): 174 kudos

Strung Out (4405 words): 148 kudos

Presents (10 290 words): 143 kudos

Top 5 Fics in The Past Year by Comment Threads:

The Getaway: 33 comment threads

The Rift (WIP at 19 880 words): 26 comment threads

Presents: 21 comment threads

Ransom: 16 comment threads

Waiting For You: 13 comment threads

Top 5 Fics in The Past Year by Bookmarks:

Waiting For You: 48 bookmarks

Catkashi: 39 bookmarks

The Getaway: 32 bookmarks

The Rift: 18 bookmarks

Presents: 15 bookmarks

My Top 5 Fics of The Past Year:

Catkashi

Presents

Waiting For You

The Getaway

Second Date (3471 words)

Total Fics:

Past Year: 46

All Time: 97

Most Liked Fic (best kudos-hits ratio): A New Home (2471 words)

Highest Subscribed Fic:

Past Year: The Rift, 23 subscriptions

All Time: Mine (23 393 words), 98 subscriptions

Longest Completed Fic:

Past Year: Catkashi (20 468 words)

All Time: The Final Raid (28,307 words)

Shortest Completed Fic:

18x drabbles

Shortest ficlet: Heaven (475 words)

Shortest fic: Okay Together (1013 words)

Fastest Chapter Fic to Complete: The Child (11 332 words). It was written in just 3 days! The Missing (20 612 words) is second, taking two & a half weeks to write!

What Am I Working On Now?

At the moment, I am hooked on my latest series, In A Land Far, Far Away.... It’s a Star Wars AU that I only intended to just write a oneshot for, but since sharing the fic, A New Home, I’ve had loads of ideas for the world; and I just want to continue writing about how Iruka & Naruto’s new lives are coming together, and how they’re adjusting to everything. I foresee a lot of found family & fluff in the future!

With the Maze Challenge coming up, I am really digging the Supernatural & Paranormal theme, so I will probably make myself a maze & participate in that, too; an in the meantime, I’m working on the rest of the event fic, Liberation, which is about vampire slayer Iruka being sent off to find Kakashi, who has gone missing during what should have been a simple mission... (you can read Part 1 here, and Part 2 here; and the other 2 parts will be released later).

I am also continuing on with my weekly drabbles/ ficlets, and I want to try & update one of my WIPs soon; but that may have to wait a bit since I’ve still got a fair bit to do this month with the Maze Challenge!

Once again, thank you for supporting me all this time! Your kudos, comments, and interest in my work means a lot to me, and inspires me to create even more.

I am grateful for you & your encouragement; and I cannot wait to share even more of my soul with you in this next year and beyond.

Thank you for sticking around! ❤️💕❤️💕❤️

#kakairu-shrine #3 year anniversary #kakairu fanfic #kakairu fanart #ao3 stats #fan appreciation #kakairu #kkir #kakashi x iruka #hatake kakashi #umino iruka

10 notes · View notes

misquigleya · 2 years ago

Text

below the cut are possible verses for interactions. i'm sure more crossover will be added a later date for the time being, this is it!

canon one ( i'm just a girl );

This verse will be taking place in 1996 to 2000. It will serve as a holder for pre-series, time in the wilderness, and post-rescue threads. Main focus will be Misty's time in the wilderness but also interested and open to exploring pre-series timeline ( age will very between 15 to 18 ) as well as post-rescue ( age will very between 18 to 20. ) The latter will probably happen more once the show actually shows them being rescued and whether or not we have to wait for season three to get more information about post-rescue life. Regardless, am still up for plotting things out and head-cannoning. Spoilers will be present and will not be tagged.

canon two ( the past does not define us );

This verse will be taking place during the current timeline which is 2021. It's twenty-five years later after the Yellowjackets team went missing in the Canadian wilderness for nineteen months. Main focus will be following and exploring canon events that take place throughout season one and two. Will also dig a bit deeper into Misty's life and what she's been getting up to for the last twenty-five years aside from stalking checking up on her old teammates. Spoilers will be present and will not be tagged.

crossover one ( grey's anatomy/station 19 );

This verse will be taking place during several seasons of Grey's Anatomy and it's spin-off Station 19. In this verse, Misty has moved out west to Seattle, Washington in an attempt to have a life and start-over. Her canon will remain with the fact that she survived the Yellowjackets team crashing in the wilderness and being stranded for almost two years. The only changes will be the primary location and things that need to be changed in order to fit the canon of both GA and ST19. Misty is a nurse at Grey-Sloan and primarily works in the clinic and will often times volunteer at the fire station with Ben Warren's walk-in clinic. Plotting will be encouraged.

crossover two ( stranger things );

This verse will be taking place during seasons one to four with a primary focus with the later seasons. In this verse, Misty is a freshman at Hawkins High School when Will Byers goes missing. Her family lives in the same neighborhood as the Wheelers, her father having worked with Nancy Wheelers father, Ted. Obviously her canon will not be included in this verse and as such, will be completely head-canon reliant as well as heavily plotted. But it will follow the events of ST, however, depending on the severity of Misty's involvement in everything will be based solely on plots.

#( ran out of teammates to munch on | out of character )#( mini tag dump too while i'm at it lmao )#( v; beautiful day to save lives | crossover: greys / station 19 )#( v; you spin me right round like a record | crossover: stranger things )

0 notes

wolveria · 4 years ago

Text

Inside Your Wires - Ch 7

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You try to smooth relations between you and Detective Anderson, made difficult when the human wants nothing to do with you.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet

You allowed the glass door to swing quietly shut behind you, smoothing your tie as you followed at a polite distance on the detective’s heels. The hunch of his shoulders was interpreted by your social module as a sign of discomfort and tension.

You were given several options on how to approach the human, even one suggesting taking several minutes before engaging him in conversation, but your mission prompt wouldn’t allow you to have that flexibility.

[EARN DET. ANDERSON’S TRUST]

Standing directly next to his desk, you appraised the human’s belongings, noting all of the items you had scanned upon your arrival. The human had an assortment of items, including an ancient mp3 player [Zune, manufactured 2008], a work cell phone, a bonsai tree [Japanese maple, dying], and several personal photos printed out and taped to his display board.

They were of different places and at different times, going by the various types of clothing, but they consisted of mostly the same subjects. Three men wearing nearly identical faces that only android software could differentiate between, and an older man catalogued as Captain Hank Anderson. He was marked as the adoptive father of the triplets.

Even though you had done it several times before, you scanned the detective’s features. His identifying information displayed on your HUD, further settling in your memory banks each time you did it.

DET. ANDERSON, CONNOR

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Detective

Criminal record: [Sealed Juvenile Records]

You blinked and the identifying information disappeared, leaving you to fully observe the detective where he sat, hunched over his terminal with a scowl on his face.

“I know the situation is not ideal,” you began in your most diplomatic tone, “but I look forward to working with a law enforcement officer of your caliber."

The human gave no indication he heard you, but his heart rate increased by a small percentage, and his fingers pressed down on his flat keyboard in a way that was counteractive to typing.

You were prompted with more dialogue options, and once again went with the friendliest approach.

“It seems we will be working together for some time, so perhaps it would be beneficial to get to know one another.”

The human remained reticent, glaring at the terminal screen as if it were angering him personally. The detective also narrowed his eyes, indicating an intense dislike, but remained silent on the state of his emotions.

Your gaze drifted down to the empty mug of coffee next to the withering bonsai tree.

[ESTABLISH RAPPORT WITH DET. ANDERSON]

“What are you doing?”

You tilted your head, freezing your motor functions when the question was asked, putting you in the position of half-bending over the detective’s desk. You had blocked his terminal with your body as you attempted to reach his coffee cup, and he now stared at you from inches away with a wide, startled expression.

“Sorry, Detective. I thought you might like a refill.”

You had received a helpful notification that caffeine withdrawal can result in headache and irritation, both of which you had identified in the detective’s tense expression.

“Okay, fine, could you just—“ He released a puff of air, fluttering the loose lock of hair that strategically fell to the side of your face. “—hurry up so you’re not in my goddamn lap?”

You weren’t in his lap, or even in the relative vicinity of his groin. It would have been more accurate to say you were closest to his face and hands, the latter of which had been rapidly retracted when the front of your chassis had brushed against them.

You also noted the rise in temperature of his skin, the pink hue across his cheeks, and the dilation of his pupils—all indications of arousal and attraction. These were common occurrences with your model design, and you dismissed the pop-up that asked if you wished to run the sexual subroutine. Such programs were low priority and only used as a last result if the detective were uncooperative with the investigation.

“Sorry, Detective,” you repeated, forming your lips into the approximation of a warm smile. “I’ll return shortly.”

You carefully picked up the mug and moved into a standing position, and the detective released a long exhale, avoiding meeting your eye as he turned back to his terminal.

Satisfied in your endeavor, you crossed the short distance to the station breakroom.

Two humans resided inside, leaning against an elevated circular table as they spoke. Both turned their heads to stare, and you took the opportunity to scan them.

CPL. LEE, HELEN

Born: 05/19/2005 // Police Corporal

Criminal record: None

LT. ANDERSON, COLIN

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Lieutenant

Criminal record: [Expunged Juvenile Records]

You blinked away the notifications and gave them a non-threatening smile before turning to the coffee machine. It was a large unit, meant for offices with frequent foot traffic, and a brief scan indicated it was overdue for a cleaning.

You weighed the negatives against the benefits of obtaining a beverage from this machine, and determined it was worth the possible contamination risk.

Placing the mug underneath the drip dispenser, you pushed the appropriate buttons after determining the detective’s preferred blend with a quick swipe of your fingers to the interior of the cup and placing them on your tongue.

There was a noise from behind, a slight huff of air and the soft pad of rubber soles against linoleum. One pair vacated the breakroom, and the other approached and stopped at your back.

“Connor done having his temper tantrum yet?”

You turned to face the lieutenant, examining his features and finding open curiosity. He stayed a polite distance away, unlike earlier, when he had stood so close that you had been forced to take a seat at the detective’s desk.

You wondered now if you should have tolerated the lieutenant’s close proximity, since occupying the detective’s chair had seemed to upset him.

“Must be bad if he’s already sent you to fetch his coffee,” he added with a nod to the mug sitting on the drainage tray. “Usually, he waits a day or two before terrorizing the rookies.”

“I volunteered,” you hurried to say, not wanting a ranking officer to get the wrong idea about the detective. “I believe it will be an appropriate icebreaker for our new partnership.”

“That so? Pretty sophisticated for an android, and terribly hopeful.” He canted his head to the side. “You got some kind of human instruction manual inside that processor of yours?”

The lieutenant dropped his gaze down your body, lingering in a way it had done many times before. The evidence of his attraction was even more obvious than the detective’s, but your sexual subroutines had never been activated by his interest before. You were assigned to Det. Anderson’s charge, and therefore, it would serve no purpose to offer your additional features to the lieutenant.

“In essence,” you answered, passive but friendly enough not to antagonize. “My human relations program assists in easing the interaction between CyberLife androids and humans.”

“I see.”

He moved closer, face neutral but his eyes highly observant. He reached out and took your tie, tugging it upwards. The tie clip stopped him from lifting it far, but the lieutenant seemed satisfied with letting the fabric run through his fingers.

“What else can your human relations program do?”

The tone of his question was easy enough to decipher, your program indicating the query was of a sexual nature.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Lieutenant,” you said. “Only Detective Anderson has access to my specialized subroutines.”

The fingers threading your tie went still. The open curiosity vanished from the lieutenant’s face, replaced by a calculating appraisal.

“Well, then. My brother’s a lucky guy.”

His lips pulled into a languid smile that didn’t match the tightness around his eyes.

You carefully pulled your tie from his lax fingers, once again giving him a non-threatening expression.

“The coffee’s done brewing. I must get back to the detective now.”

Turning back to the coffee machine, you kept a significant number of your processors focused on the sound of Lt. Anderson’s heartbeat and breathing, even sampling the micro sensors on your skin.

He remained at a close distance, though by the time you turned around with mug in hand, all you could see of him was his retreating back as he went around the corner down the hallway. From your downloaded schematics of the building, you knew the most likely route he was taking was either to the unisex bathrooms or the station gym.

Your statistical readouts stated the chance the lieutenant would try to engage in sexual activity with you at some point was at approximately 35.2%, and you tasked your processors with running the probability in the background. It was important that erratic human behavior didn’t interfere with your investigation.

“Have a nice chat with my brother?” the detective asked, tone flat as he stared at his monitor.

You filed away possible tension between the two siblings to observe further. You placed the mug next to his keyboard, this time on the side nearest you so you would not lean over and agitate the human again.

“It was informative,” you simply said, straightening into a standing position once more.

The detective gave a huff through his nose and muttered, “I’ll bet.” His eyes narrowed, and after seven seconds of glaring at his terminal, he locked on your face in irritation.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” you said, letting a friendly smile appear. “I would like to know where I can access the DPD’s database. I wish to review the case files.”

The skin around the human’s nose crinkled. He seemed to hold some kind of internal conflict before he sighed and indicated the desk connected with his own.

“Belonged to my last partner. You can use it. For now.” He emphasized the words, as if you had possibly forgotten the temporary nature of your partnership.

“Thank you,” you said with a small nod. The detective rolled his eyes and turned back to his terminal, seemingly already having forgotten you.

You knew he hadn’t. Every observant sensor of your body informed you of his continued wariness, even while his eyes were mostly focused on the glass screen in front of him, he was constantly tuned to your presence.

By the time you had sat down in the chair of the empty desk, you had already pulled up in the DPD database to discover what had become of the detective’s last partner.

Sheila Pernell, also a detective, had transferred to another precinct months earlier, citing the difficult nature of working with Anderson and his unpleasant personality. The language she had used had been colorful and extremely unprofessional.

You made another note in your background processes: Detective Connor Anderson displays hostility toward work partners and colleagues. Difficult to connect with others on an interpersonal level. Approach and adapt to antisocial tendencies as needed.

You turned toward the terminal and placed the fingers of your right hand on the keyboard, allowing your synthetic skin to pull make to interface with the device. Connecting to the network and pulling up the cases assigned to Det. Anderson, you downloaded all 243 into your memory bank.

Hoping to prompt a conversation with the detective, you turned toward him from your chair, slightly tilting your head as you analyzed his tense posture. It hadn’t relaxed at all within the past two minutes since your last interaction.

“There are two hundred and forty-three cases dating back to February of this year, many of them originating in Detroit. An AX400 abducted a young girl from her home last night. I thought that might be a good place to start. It’s flagged as the most urgent case due to it being a crime against a minor.”

Your social module had indicated bringing up the danger to a child would have prompted some kind of response, but the detective remained fixedly silent, leaning the side of his jaw against his propped knuckles.

A more drastic approach was needed. You stood, walked around the joined desk, and approached the detective as he made a noise and turned away.

Coming to a stop directly next to his chair, you adopted the understanding demeanor, hoping to placate the detective’s agitation.

“I understand this isn’t an ideal situation, Detective, but perhaps it would be best to set aside your personal issues, and—“

“Excuse me?” the detective snapped, glaring at you out of the side of his eye. “Were you just about to suggest how I do my job? Because if so, I advise you to shut the hell up. You’re not my boss, and you’re definitely not my partner, so perhaps it would be best if you fucked off and didn’t come back.”

He turned away again and picked up his tablet as he pretended you were no longer standing there.

You plucked the device out of his hand, ignored the surprised noise he made, and placed your other palm between his shoulder blades to establish a physical connection he couldn’t ignore.

“I’m investigating these cases whether you like it or not, Detective.” You leaned closer, speaking directly next to his ear so as not to be overheard. “If you continue to refuse to cooperate, then I’ll find someone else who will be more amenable to my presence.”

For the span of two seconds, the detective remained completely frozen. And then he abruptly stood, grabbed you by the jacket, and swung you around. Your back slammed against the glass partition with a solid thud.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he growled, inches from your face. “I don’t care how many Barbie dolls CyberLife sends to the station. If you keep mouthing off to me, I’ll shoot you myself and throw you in the dumpster. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly,” you calmly answered, which served to only agitate the detective further.

His brows creased as his hands tightened around the edges of your jacket. The human was stronger than his wiry frame gave him credit for as he managed to hold you between himself and the glass, your toes brushing the ground but unable to find purchase.

You remained silent, returning his glare with a bland, pleasant expression despite the discomfort traveling your circuits. If the detective was going to continue to be a problem, you would need to report his behavior, and that might further delay the investigation.

Trying to adapt to his psychology was proving fruitless, and it was clear you had underestimated just how socially challenged he was. Perhaps seeking a new partner was the right course of action after all.

Elijah had stated that if the detective became too much of an issue, his brother would be a suitable replacement. But when you thought of the lieutenant, the idea of working with the human was…

Unpleasant.

You studied the human’s face, searching those dark brown eyes, but found no acceptance there. You were going to have to work harder to—

“Detective, uh… sorry to bother you…”

At the sound of the timid voice, the detective released your jacket and allowed you to stand on firm ground. He didn’t turn to look at the officer standing behind him, however, and continued to level a glare at you, effectively penning you in so you couldn’t step around him.

“What is it, Ralph.”

“It’s about the AX400? The one who kidnapped the little girl? Someone just called in on the APB, said they saw it in the Ravendale district.” He paused, wide hazel eyes darting between you and the detective’s rigid back. “If you need me to bring this to the lieutenant—“

“I’ll handle it,” he said, the heated glare finally pulled off you when he turned and walked away.

Adjusting your jacket of its newly acquired wrinkles, you took a moment to process the detective’s unstable and problematic behavior, and quickly followed before the detective left the station without you.

Next Chapter

#human!connor x reader #connor x reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x android!reader #reverse au #dbh #my writing #my fanfiction

114 notes · View notes

boredandelusive · 4 years ago

Text

TW: The MGG situation, mention of SA a minor, allegations

So here's the full situation from the threads I summarized, and I'll leave links to the posts and the person who made the thread.

Here for the tik tok in the last photo and for more clarification

Here for the entire page of info and the screenshots, as well as the threads mentioned

There's also mentions of how this happened to Dylan last year, same story, and when it happened to mgg last year, he said it was false.

I'm still on a neutral standing ground, and the user also pointed out the spottiness in the stories, and the SS was from my version of summarizing, if it wasn't clear.

UPDATE: apparently the camp thing happened last year, but it still catches my attention how she joked about him not finding the cl1t and instead of fully clarifying, she said it was worse of an issue because she was underage, and she apparently got the time wrong, how she said it was 9 years not 8.

What’s also concerning is that the time this would’ve happened was when season 7 or 8 was being shot, which he also dated someone at the time. Then another thing about how she said it was a joke by liking the comment of someone saying it was a joke. Someone else said Marley said it was a dare, which means it could be a false allegation, which doesn’t help at all.

UPDATE 2.0: So more information came to light about Marley, and how her 21st birthday was 4 years ago, meaning she wasn’t 16 in 2013. This would’ve made her currently 24 but she’s 25, not a big difference, but and in 2019, she worked t Lake Tahoe, making her 21/22 at the time. In 2013, she was at highschool in another state, not in cali, and has only worked in her home state except for 2019.

There’s a thread on twitter adding everything together. To recap, someone found her facebook from tumblr and it proved she lived on lake tahoe during 2013. There’s proof the camp was false, and no adult man would’ve been around minors, let alone them drinking. This was the same girl from last year saying the camp allegations, which is why I’ve decided to keep them here.

There’s a lot of contradictions to her story, before saying she was dismissed when telling adults, he said she’s never told anyone before. She said it was a bad experience, which doesn’t mean r@p3 or gr--ming, but people have jumped ot those conclusions.

In 2013, mgg was filming Life After Beth in LA and CM, he was dating Ali Michael in 2013, meaning he wouldn’t have reasonable gone to the camp during this time, mostly because he probably didn’t have free time. Marley lives in Utah and is a realtor, and in 2016, mgg was at SSC as a cameo, which places her at 19/20, which an uncomfy interaction could’ve happened then, but why did she lie about her age?

Marley could’ve been uncomfy by something he said, then lied about being younger to have a bigger impact on the internet. This would’ve happened during 2016/17, which her FB shows she was at SSC, and mgg was there for a talent show. This was the only plausible time for them to meet, and the SSC situation helps to infer she’s the same one fom last year’s allegations. Marley was 18 in 2014.

What’s also strange is how she saiad she didn’t know hwo to delete her tik tok acc, but people helped her. Someone tried it, and you only need a password to deactivate it. She then lies about deleting the account, considering she said you need a code, not the case. She also posted another tik tok saying she wanted more people to view her tik toks to make money from it.

UPDATE 3.0: There has been video proof of Marley stating she wanted to make money off of this. The link is from here and take this how you want it, but it’s still absolutely strange how she mentioned wanting to make money from this like I said. It seems more like she’s using a big name to get views and money, hoping it would bring her attention.

UPDATE 4.0: There you have it folks, straight from her account and screenshotted into a tik tok, she admits it was a joke. You can look at it here because I hope and think this will be the first and last time I have to do shit like this.

Personally, as a C(SA) survivor, her coping mech was strange and uncomfy. She didn’t put a TW, and there’s video proof of her saying she wanted to make money off it from the vid being on friends only. I’ll leave a link to the two threads for you to see for yourself.

Thread one by kiramreid on twt and thread two by comfortmgg on twt.

Either way, I’ll be updating this blog as I continue finding out more, she deleted her two instas, I want to find out as much as I can to discover the truth. If this did actually happen, which I know to separate the actor from the character, it won’t change the HDHS series, but considering I”m on a bit of a writing break, it’ll be delayed at best.

I’m not saying otherwise, but am presenting the rumours, so it’s up to you how you interpret things. I’m staying on a neutral ground.

#matthew grey gubler #mathew gubler #mgg allegations #mgg

77 notes · View notes

tobebbanburg · 4 years ago

Text

I posted 1,171 times in 2021

205 posts created (18%)

966 posts reblogged (82%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.7 posts.

I added 517 tags in 2021

#art - 241 posts

#lmmbingo - 54 posts

#the old guard - 47 posts

#richard - 37 posts

#ask - 25 posts

#nicolo di genova - 25 posts

#tog fanfic - 25 posts

#luca marinelli - 23 posts

#joe x nicky - 21 posts

#yusuf al kaysani - 19 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#meanwhile also picture andy in a vinyard somewhere with quynh getting shitfaced off bad fruit wine and reading the latest periodical

My Top Posts in 2021

Still thinking about Nicky and Joe letting the old man side come through even though they look 30 and can’t get the image of them shuffling off to bed together dressed like this out of my mind:

157 notes • Posted 2021-11-27 20:15:27 GMT

A ficlet based off a post I made earlier about Joe and Nicky swapping sun/moon imagery with each other. I could imagine canon Joe with rings or necklaces with the moon incorporated into them, or AU Joe with moonstone earrings or moon phase tattoos, but I wasn’t sure what would fit Nicky. And so I wrote this:

“What’s your favourite colour?” Claudia asks, her voice pulling Nicky out of the light doze he’d fallen into as their train speeds through the countryside.

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t really have a favourite colour,” he says, offering the child a rueful smile.

“Everyone has a favourite colour,” she tells him firmly. Nicky laughs.

“How about... blue.”

Claudia grins. “Blue is a very nice colour. Probably my second favourite.”

“What’s your first favourite?”

“Red,” Claudia says decisively. “Like strawberries.”

She pulls down the little tray table from the seat in front of her and solemnly lays out a series of brightly coloured threads, selecting a light and a navy blue from her hoard.

The bracelet making kit had come from Andy, who’d been waiting for them at the train station and had clearly spent too much time in the newsagents.

“It’s a long journey, and kids get bored,” she’d said, giving Claudia a grin as she handed the kit over. Nicky decided not to mention the colouring book and ziplock bag of Lego he already had in his backpack- Andy seemed pleased with herself, and Claudia was delighted with her gift.

“I’m going to make Mama one when I see her again,” Claudia chatters as she starts to tie knots in the thread. “Her favourite colour is purple. She has a lot of bracelets already, but I think she’ll like mine.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Nicky replies, silently relieved that Joe had messaged not half an hour earlier to say that he’d already taken Claudia’s mother to the safe house. Claudia seems blissfully unaware of the danger she and her family are in, and Nicky would like to keep it that way.

Claudia hums as she twists the threads together, and Nicky is almost on the verge of drifting off again when she asks: “What charm do you want?”

Nicky opens his eyes to find that she’s upended the small box of brightly coloured plastic charms onto the table. There are hearts, and rainbows, and animals, and...

“Could I have this one, please?” Nicky asks, pointing to the charm he’d like.

Claudia nods, and threads it onto the bracelet, tying it into place.

“Here we go,” she says triumphantly, holding out the finished bracelet. “Gimme your hand.”

Nicky obligingly holds out his hand and lets her ties the bracelet around his wrist, thanking her as she sits back to already start work on another. He smiles, watching her grab the purple threads, and touches the yellow smiling sun charm on his bracelet as he closes his eyes once again. He’ll be with Joe again soon.

159 notes • Posted 2021-04-22 20:13:08 GMT

Today in niche content no one asked for: The Old Guard as crimes and misdemeanours of my family over the years

Andy: Forged Lebanese driving license that turned into an underserved British license

Nile: Smuggled a shot of vodka into a football game by disguising it in a tampon wrapper

Joe: Scaled the walls of the British embassy in Egypt in order to steal their flag and humiliate them

Nicky: Accidentally stole a hymn book from Church because he got distracted and forgot he was holding it

Booker: Started a Victorian dating agency that scammed people by promising to find them a perfect match but in actuality just took their money and ran

Quynh: Diamond theft

203 notes • Posted 2021-04-27 17:38:37 GMT

@kiaya mentioned that between Marwan’s pecs and Luca’s thighs they make a top+bottom pair, and so pyjama sharing happened:

Andy, Nile was pretty sure, predated shopping lists. Which went some way to explaining why the scrap of paper she handed to Nile a) wasn’t even a list and b) made no sense at all.

“Okayyyy...” Nile mused as she turned the paper round, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. “Well first of all, you don’t just ‘buy an internet’.”

Andy made a dismissive noise and handed Nile another 500 Euro note as if that solved the issue. Nile didn’t have the energy to argue the point, and instead moved on to her next question:

“I’m not sure I can get Pirozhki here either, this village only has one store and it’s pretty tiny. And French.”

“Just do your best,” Andy said warmly.

“And,” Nile continued, hitting her stride, “you’ve written ‘2 pyjamas’ when there are, in fact, four of us.”

“Yes, but I don’t wear pyjamas,” Andy pointed out.

“That still doesn’t add up.”

“Oh you don’t either? Make it just the one set then.”

Nile took a long, slow breath. Maybe either Nicky or Joe already had a pair, or like Andy didn’t subscribe to the notion of night clothes. Either way, asking questions about the ‘list’ only seemed to confuse things further, so she grabbed her jacket and headed out into the cold.

*****

Joe was only wearing pyjama trousers. Nile felt a little bad.

“I’m sorry, did the top not fit?” she asked. “Sometimes people try things on and put them back in the wrong places, I should’ve checked the label instead of trusting the hanger.”

“No, no, it fits perfectly,” Joe reassured her with a smile. “Thank you, Nile.”

Maybe Joe just didn’t like wearing tops in bed. Nile had an ex like that- he always complained about overheating and never wore any sort of tshirt to sleep. She settled back onto the sofa and thought no more of it, working her way through a bowl of what she thought was granola but may well have been bird feed. Her French was a little rusty and the store had been laid out in a similar fashion to Andy’s list: anything and everything spread out in a jumble.

“Good morning, Nile,” Nicky greeted her as he ambled into the kitchen.

“Mornin’,” Nile replied, then froze for a second as everything finally clicked into place: Nicky was wearing the pyjama top. Ah. That made sense.

“What makes sense?” Joe asked, handing Nicky a cup of coffee.

Damn, Nile hadn’t realised she was thinking aloud.

“I just thought it was weird, initially, Andy telling me just to buy one pair of pyjamas for the two of you.” Nile swallowed her bird feed. “But this makes sense. It’s kind of cute, really.”

“Mmm,” Joe agreed absently, his eyes firmly fixed on where Nicky’s top rode up as he reached up for the bowls on the top shelf. He was wearing boxers underneath, thank goodness, but the way Joe’s eyes glazed over it was like Nicky was wearing nothing at all.

“Told you the top fitted perfectly.”

448 notes • Posted 2021-02-08 16:28:20 GMT

Bingo prompt 5: pasta. Make of this what you will.

804 notes • Posted 2021-06-06 11:05:03 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #more posts about richard than either nicky or joe #that figures #also ofc pasta was the number one post #just as pasta is number one in my life

10 notes · View notes

seagreen-meets-grey · 4 years ago

Text

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 19

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

Hiccup first brought it up on a sunny afternoon in mid-July, one year after that fateful rainy Sunday.

It was a Friday and Astrid’s parents had invited them over for a barbecue. They were both still at work, but Astrid and Hiccup were already at the house and had prepared the food. There was a green salad waiting in the kitchen, the meat was seasoned on a covered plate in the fridge, herb bread was ready to be gratinated in the oven and drinks were cooling in the minibar.

While rifling through the closet for napkins, Astrid had found an old bag of water balloons and, unbeknownst to Hiccup, had filled them in the sink before she’d attacked him in the garden. He’d just arranged the garden furniture and wiped the table with a damp cloth when something cold and wet had exploded all over his back, followed by the hearty laugh of his girlfriend.

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m unarmed!”

She rolled a handful of balloons over the table and he had to be careful to catch all of them before they fell to the ground and burst all over his feet. He made a show of fumbling with his ammo, catching her off-guard when he suddenly hurled one right at her. It exploded on her chest and while she was momentarily distracted, he escaped from her immediate attack zone.

In no time, they were out of ammunition, with large water stains all over their clothes. Balloon shreds were scattered all over the lawn, some had hit the house wall and there was a wet imprint of a water explosion on one of the living room windows.

But Astrid was in no way done with their water fight, despite her dripping hair and wet left butt cheek. From the garage, she produced two dusty Nerf Blasters, and the battle carried on. The chairs and table were converted into shields and hiding spots, the water faucet was a safe zone to fill up on ammo, and the hammock was off-limits.

After Hiccup accidentally shot a blast in her face, she dropped her gun and wiped at her eyes. He rushed over. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

As soon as he was right in front of her, she made a grab for his Blaster, picked up her own in lightning speed, and pointed both of them at him. “Gotcha. I win.”

“Oh, you!” He tackled her and when they stumbled a few steps backwards, he steered them right into the hammock. Swinging back and forth from the momentum, he pinned her down and started tickling her sides. She writhed underneath him, tried to kick him, but it wasn’t that easy in a hammock. Tears from laughter were gathering in her eyes until, finally, she managed to free a hand and attempted to push him out of the hammock. “Okay, okay,” he relented and rolled off of her.

A light breeze was rustling through the leaves of the apple and plum trees above. Catching their breaths, they made themselves comfortable, gazing at the bright blue sky through a sea of green. The breeze was brushing through their wet clothes, providing a nice change to the summer heat.

He moved his head to the side, watching the game of cat and mouse that sunlight and shade were playing on her face. When the hammock came to a stop, she stuck one leg out to lightly kick at the ground. “Hey,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

“Do you ever want to get married again?” Her eyes widened slightly as she looked back at him. “Just a general question,” he quickly added. “I’m- I’m not proposing.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…” She wrinkled her forehead, focusing back on the ceiling of leaves. “I’m not sure. I once thought getting married was the right idea and now I’m divorced.” She glanced back at him. “I’m not saying things aren’t different this time. But I don’t know if I want to go through that again.”

For a while, he was quiet, fiddling with a loose thread on her top. He understood what she meant. Maybe it had been a bit too early to ask, anyway, even as a general question. It had only been a little over a year. That didn’t mean his stomach didn’t make a traitorous drop, though.

“That’s okay.” He reached out and played with a strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers. “As long as I get to be with you, labels don’t matter, anyway.”

“Good.” She kissed him. “Because that’s all I need.” Then she produced a water balloon out of nowhere, probably a stray one that had rolled off earlier, and held it in a threatening way over his head. “Get merked, Hiccup!” He had just enough time to jump out of the hammock before the bomb hit and doused him. The game was back on.

Not much later, a car pulled into the driveway and soon enough, Frederick Hofferson stepped onto the patio. Astrid immediately hid behind him, using him as a human shield. Hiccup just about managed to hold back his throw. The last thing he wanted to do was shoot his girlfriend’s father with a large water gun. Especially since he felt like the man was still not quite used to him, still regarding him as the guy that ended her daughter’s marriage.

“I’m not a part of this!” Frederick shouted and ducked out of the way. While Hiccup was still mindful of the splash area of his projectiles, Astrid had no such reservations. She took her Nerf Blaster apart, dashed over and emptied the small water tank over his head. It seemed the winner was obvious this time, but he would get his revenge soon enough.

The warm weather had dried most of his clothes by the time the first steaks were ready. Frederick offered him to trade places so Hiccup could take over with the meat, but he declined. It was obvious the man was in his element. Astrid leaned over and whispered, “I think he’s trying to bond with you. He’s looking for shared interests.”

“Really?” he whispered back. “That’s great, but I’m really not interested in barbecuing techniques.”

She shrugged. “Then find something else to talk about. He’s finally making an effort. We shouldn’t let that go to waste.”

Hiccup nodded and wracked his brain for a topic to strike up a conversation with Frederick about. He’d never really been alone with the man so far, there had always been at least one other person present to save them from any awkward interactions.

He was so lost in thought, he almost didn’t catch Wilma’s announcement about the party. She and her husband would soon have their 25th wedding anniversary and wanted to celebrate it with family and friends. Hiccup was naturally invited but, after a quick check with Astrid, so was Eret. After all those years he’d been considered part of the Hofferson family, and considering he and Astrid were still on such good terms, Astrid’s parents wanted him to be there with them.

Astrid sent him a sidelong glance, asking with her eyes if he was okay with that. He sent back an answer of, Do I have a choice here?

I can talk to him and ask him not to come, she offered.

He shook his head. No, that’s stupid. We’re adults. I’m okay with him coming. He’s family.

Well, she raised her brows, if you’re sure…

“…no, I don’t think she’s listening. Astrid!”

She looked up. “Sorry, what?”

Frederick chuckled. “Your mother just asked you whether you could help her carry the dishes into the kitchen.”

“Oh, sure, yeah. Of course.” She got up and started collecting the plates, sending Hiccup a conspiratorial smile before she followed her mother into the house. That left him at the table with Frederick.

For several minutes, they busied themselves with their beers and the last pieces of bread still on the table. From inside the house, voices and the clattering of dishes carried over, not quite loudly enough to provide sufficient white noise and deeming a conversation between the two men necessary to drown out the awkwardness settling over them like heavy snow.

Whatever you do, Hiccup firmly told himself, just don’t talk about the weather. Really, anything but that. Or sex. Especially with his daughter. He gulped down the rest of his beer, looking anywhere but at Frederick, infinitely glad that mind-reading wasn’t a thing.

His fingers drummed on the legs of his chair and he couldn’t sit still, shifting around, accidentally bumping his knee against the underside of the table, grimacing through the pain. He was just about to jump up and flee into the house when Frederick spoke.

“So,” he started, leaning forward a little, “I’ve always meant to ask…”

Please don’t be an embarrassing question, Hiccup mentally prayed. “Yes?”

“What exactly is it that you do at your job?” Oh, thank god. Hiccup exhaled. “Astrid mentioned it a couple times, but I never really caught it.”

“Ah, well, I illustrate uh, books?” Why had that come out as a question? “Yeah, um… Mostly covers and artwork for fantasy novels, and I’ve done some children’s books… Uh. Do you like to read?”

“The newspaper.”

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t do that. Illustrate that, I mean. I do read it, though!” Please come back, he mentally cried, hoping Astrid would pick up the brain waves. The other man just nodded and another silence engulfed the table. Hiccup continued drumming on the chair. When Astrid had met his parents, she’d immediately gotten along with them, especially with his dad. Why couldn’t he do the same with hers?

“I’m not very artistic myself,” Frederick continued in an attempt to keep the conversation going. He really was trying.

“You’re a construction engineer, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t you need a certain level of artistic ability for that, too? Designing constructions is still designing, after all.”

Frederick shrugged. “Sure, I can think up construction plans and put them neatly on paper, but I could never draw, say, a dragon. I just don’t have the imagination or patience or creativity.”

“I’d argue you are creative. Where else would you get ideas for constructions from?”

“Well, if you put it like that… Maybe you’re right.”

Hiccup felt a surge of confidence. They were having a conversation and Frederick was agreeing with him. “When I was little, I always wanted to become an engineer. I had a whole room full of Lego Technic stuff and I would spend entire days building, taking apart, and rebuilding all kinds of machines.”

Frederick raised his head in interest. “What changed your mind?”

“Nothing, actually.” He scratched his neck. “There was this engineering school I wanted to go to, but they were full the year I wanted to start. And instead of applying somewhere else, I took their offer to start the next year. In the meantime, I enrolled in a number of illustration courses and liked it so much that I stayed.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“No, I don’t.” He didn’t even have to think about it. “I love my job. And, well… Through a chain of events it’s what’s led me here.” Frederick gave him a quizzical look. “I mean, uh, my friend and colleague Fishlegs, he… Um, long story short, he introduced me to my ex-girlfriend. And she has a brother who has this best friend and… Ah, you see, this best friend had a fiancée…”

An understanding light went on behind Frederick’s eyes. Nervously, Hiccup waited for the reaction that told him the other man wasn’t very amused by the story, taking into account that he’d probably exchange Hiccup for Eret on the spot if he could…

What he hadn’t expected was for the man to burst out laughing.

“Well, in that case, the engineering school not taking you gave me a second son-in-law.”

“Oh, ah…” Hiccup felt his face heat up at the term. He felt a ramble bubbling up in his chest, about how he’d only barely discussed that with Astrid and how she wasn’t even sure she wanted–

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you, son.” With a chuckle, Frederick leaned back in his chair and Hiccup exhaled. “So tell me, what machines exactly did you build as a kid?”

Once he started talking about his Lego inventions from his childhood, Hiccup lost track of time. An indefinite time later, Astrid and Wilma returned to the table, finding the two men deep in conversation. Wide smile on her face, Astrid gave him a kiss on the cheek and shared a pleased look with her mother. At the end of the day, he had to promise Frederick to continue their conversation the next time they saw each other.

Maybe he wasn’t yet an Eret when it came to being an integral part of the family, but he was getting there.

_______________

On the night of the Hofferson’s anniversary party, Hiccup found himself surrounded by several of Astrid’s great-aunts, great-uncles, grandparents, and various other older folk somehow related to or friends with the family.

He’d actually just wanted to take a break from socializing and had retreated to one of the tables in the corner while the party continued on the dancefloor and at the bar. Astrid’s cousins were doing shots, but he’d just so managed to escape. Her uncle had claimed dance after dance with her. Wilma and Frederick were moving from group to group, having a drink here and a conversation there, dancing with friends and family in-between. And Eret stood with the cousins as if he was one of them.

It had been quite a tad awkward when great-aunt Phyllis had walked past the two of them earlier, cheeks red from brandy, and said with a cheeky wink: “Let’s hope she sticks with this one.” Once she had moved on, Hiccup wanted to sink into the ground and Eret was guffawing.

Now, Phyllis was sitting opposite him, another Cognac in front of her, giggling with the group about something he’d said. He’d discovered he had a knack for entertaining the older generation of his girlfriend’s family. They questioned him about every single detail of his life, his family, and their favorite topic, the story of how he and Astrid fell in love. Even after hearing it for the third time that night, they still aw-ed and ah-ed, hanging onto his every word.

“Then what happened with Eret?”

“Larry, he’s right there,” great-uncle Greg groaned and pointed at the tall man downing tequila with cousin Beth.

“But I don’t know the details, old fart!”

“Who are you calling old?! I’m younger than you.”

Grandma Rosie, 93 years of age, lifted her walking stick and threatened to whack them both over the head if they didn’t stop bickering. The men let their squabbling go and grinned as the rest of the group watched, amused, as Rosie’s façade crumbled, revealing the humor in her eyes. Eleven wrinkly faces returned their attention to Hiccup, expectant and curious, some a little wary. They hadn’t heard this part of the story yet and they had caught on to Eret’s change of lifestyle.

Hiccup hesitated. This wasn’t his story to tell anymore. And part of his audience was quite conservative, already scrunching up their noses. Then again, Eret had come here with an official male date. He wasn’t hiding anything. And to their credit, even the most conservative person in this hall had been nothing but supportive towards Astrid’s life choices so far, first a divorce not even two years into her marriage, then bringing both her current and her ex-partner to a family event.

Also her supposed choice of having kids out of wedlock, but since she was currently drinking a glass of wine on the other side of the hall, Hiccup expected that particular rumor to dissolve during the night. Not that it hadn’t given him a minor heart attack, though, when he’d first been asked about it by great-uncle Charles. Hiccup had told her that dress looked a little baggy when she was sitting down, no matter how gorgeous she looked.

“Well,” he started, searching for the right words, “Eret’s date went great. But after a few weeks with Tim, the spark faded.”

“And then he was with that girl from the bakery, right?” Susan, one of the Hofferson’s neighbors, chimed in, leaning forward and lowering her volume just a bit, as if she was passing on a secret. “I saw them together a few times.” Astrid had warned him about Susan. That woman was probably the worst gossiper in all of Berk. That’s why he’d made sure she was the first to hear that Astrid was, in fact, not pregnant.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “he dated Christina for a short while.” He didn’t specify that this short while had only been three consecutive weekends on which they had hooked up. He also deliberately left out the part where Eret had tried to figure out the exact nature of his sexual orientation, having short flings with several women and men. “But then he found love in unexpected places and that’s been going strong for several months now. And counting.” Finally, he might add. He and Astrid had had quite the bet riding on that one. She still owed him several, well, favors.

“Aww,” cooed the group. No comments or expressions of disgust regarding the homosexual nature of Eret’s relationship. If they didn’t like it, they were keeping that to themselves. These people were here for love, no matter the manifestation. And as a bonus, they liked him. Astrid’s entire family, from first cousins to the great-aunt’s third husband, had welcomed him with open arms. Some more wary at first, some with a sassy comment, but warm and openly, nonetheless. He started to feel like he belonged.

“So Hiccup, tell me,” Susan shuffled her chair a little closer to his, expectant look in her eyes, and asked the question he’d feared would come up eventually. “When are you and Astrid getting married?”

“Ah… Um, I- I–”

“Susan, come on,” Rosie chided the nosy woman with a sharp glare that Astrid had obviously inherited from her, “it’s only been a year. This generation is different from yours or mine. Kids these days don’t want to settle down first chance they get. Let them live life!”

Susan pouted, but she listened to Rosie and dropped the topic. Hiccup smiled gratefully at the old lady, even though the truth was a little more complicated than what she’d said.

With a little wink in his direction, she added, “We old folk don’t need to understand everything the youths are up to. Our time is over. Now we just do our job keeping them humble by telling them horror stories about wars and an age before the facebooks and twittle existed.” She raised her glass of white wine spritzer at Hiccup. “Right, my boy?”

Suppressing a laugh, he mimicked the motion with his empty beer bottle. Individual discussions broke out among the table, varying from rants about kids these days to how old Florence had recently bought a 4k TV set. Susan continued to do her best contributing her share of gossip.

Hiccup was just considering leaving the table to it when he felt it. It was subtle, a twitch of his heart, a prickling in his neck, before not a moment later two arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind.

“What are you kids up to over here?” she asked, her lively voice right next to his ear coating his chest in honey. He didn’t register the following conversation, only felt the vibrations of her laughter, distracted by the warmth of her arms around him, her perfume, her general proximity. Despite being used to it by now, the rush of the feeling still turned his insides into an out-of-control carnival ride.

She shifted behind him, bringing her face closer, and whispered in his ear. “Want me to save you?”

There was no need, he was sure he could just leave the table on his own, but he would never turn down the offer to be saved by Astrid Hofferson, who he was sure was descendant from literal Valkyries… He was getting distracted again. “Yes, please,” he whispered back.

She took his hand and pulled him out of the chair. “Come on, let’s get a drink.” They waved goodbye to the table of elders and made their way over to the bar. Immediately, one of her cousins asked him what he wanted to drink, handing him a glass of rum and coke, and in no time, he found himself included in the conversation. And not just because he was Astrid’s boyfriend. He saw it in their eyes, felt it in his gut. He was part of the family.

At some point a little later in the night, the music switched to hits from the 90s and 2000s, and most people left the bar to dance. Hiccup used the opportunity for a minute to breathe, now alone at the bar except for Astrid and two of her cousins. Olive and June were busy with whatever endless row of texts June was receiving, and Astrid had leaned her head on his shoulder, watching the mob on the dancefloor. He slid an arm around her.

“Look at Hank,” she said and pointed at the crowd. A middle-aged man, her dad’s best friend Hank, was raving in the middle of the dancefloor, completely lost in the beat. His shirt had come out of his pants and there was a large beer stain on his chest. People around him were cheering as the usually so composed office worker was letting loose in their midst.

Hiccup spotted a shock of fiery red hair dancing its way over to him and grinned. “Looks like he found a friend.” Astrid chuckled as they watched Dagur join Hank with his ridiculous dance moves, and the two men took over the entire floor. “I’ve never seen anyone so passionate about the Crazy Frog.”

“I have. Dagur and Eret, at a college party.” She grinned and joked, “I really should have seen this coming when Eret ditched me half the night to dance with Dagur.”

Scanning the crowd for Eret, Hiccup found him talking to the DJ. He’d never forget the day Astrid and he had been over at the man’s place for brunch when all of a sudden, the door to Eret’s bedroom had opened and a yawning Dagur, clad in only boxers and a loose bathrobe, had strolled out, disappearing down the hall into the bathroom.

Eret had cleared his throat. “Yeah, so, when I said I had news, that’s what I wanted to tell you.” However he’d thought Hiccup and Astrid to react, he probably hadn’t expected them to instantly start haggling over winnings and unwritten betting conditions. By the time Dagur had joined them at the table, Astrid had admitted defeat and settled for an I told you so-face directed at everyone.

They really made an odd group, even more so with Heather thrown into the mix. Astrid always got a kick out of explaining to other people how they all met, watching them try to figure out the specific relations and histories between all individuals involved. Hiccup had to admit, it was kind of funny.

The song ended, fading over into a beat he loved to hate, or hated to love, accompanied by a honking sound and a distinct 90s beat. Next to him, Astrid bobbed her head from side to side to the music, and the next moment, Eret’s outstretched hand appeared in front of him.

“Hofferson, this is our song!”

Astrid thrust her drink into Hiccup’s hands. “Hold this for me, babe!” Then she pulled Eret onto the dancefloor, instantly falling into a series of dance moves clearly coordinated with Eret’s. Hiccup blinked a couple of times at the sight.

A snort next to him shook him out of his stare. It was Frederick, ordering a tray of drinks. “Whoever has an elaborate choreography to the Vengabus song figured out, deserves to be best friends. Don’t you think?”

Hiccup smirked. “Oh, sure.”

Frederick saw his expression and mirrored it. “You’re not going to let her forget this, are you?”

“Nope.” He took in every little aspect of the show. Oh, she would never hear the end of this. In perfect sync, she and Eret dragged peace signs in front of their eyes, swung their arms around, twirled, and did something vaguely resembling the chicken dance. This even blew Ross and Monica’s Routine from Friends out of the water.

“You can still run and never come back,” Frederick suggested.

“Are you kidding me?” Hiccup laughed. “Why would I ever leave a girl like her?”

“Good answer.” Frederick boxed his shoulder, then took the tray over to the table of elders. The friendly violence seemed to run in the family.

When the song ended and another took its place, Dagur wedged himself between Astrid and Eret, claiming his new dance partner. Shaking her head with a humorous eye-roll, she walked back over to Hiccup and took her glass back. Upon his grin, she asked, “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” His grin didn’t fade. “That was… Beautiful. Graceful. I- I don’t have the words.”

“Shut up, you’re just jealous.”

He wrapped both arms around her, mindful of the drink in her hand, and kissed her temple. “Yeah, totally. I wish I had moves like that.”

“Yes, you wish.” She was grinning now, too, turning her head to give him a kiss, and then another one. He would be crazy if he ever even considered leaving her.

A few songs later, the beat slowed to a Cranberries song. Astrid put her glass away and tugged at his hand. “Your turn.” She didn’t pull him onto the dancefloor, just stepped a few feet away from the bar, put one hand on his back and laid the other in his. Together, they danced on the spot, her face resting in the crook of his neck.

After a while, he mumbled into her hair, “Susan brought up the question.”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. “What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t. Before I could say anything, granny Rosie came to my rescue. She said something about generational differences and Susan shut up. We should steer clear of her, though, I don’t think she was satisfied with that answer.”

She huffed. “I can handle Susan.” He knew she could. He just didn’t want to face that question again without feeling the need to explain Astrid’s decision to not get married again; it was none of Susan’s business. If Astrid changed her mind, though, he wouldn’t waste any time. Even if they were in the pharmacy aisle of a rundown big box store, surrounded by diarrhea medicine, and Snotlout was the officiator. Although, come to think of it, he might be able to make himself wait until they’d moved to at least the garden center.

As if she’d read his mind, Astrid lifted her head and looked up. “You want to get married, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer straightaway. “I know you don’t and that’s okay. I want to share a life with you, be by your side, as your partner in everything, no matter what a document says or what last name I have.”

She chuckled. “Oh, so you’d take my name?”

“Sure! Hiccup Astrid Haddock, that has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”

She groaned good-naturedly. “You’re ridiculous.” After a short pause, she continued, “You know what? If I ever end up changing my mind, I’ll take yours.”

“Wait, really? What about your family pride?”

“Oh, I’ll make sure my kids know their roots.”

His lips stretched into a smile. “Your kids, huh?”

Hiding a blush, she buried her face in his shoulder. “You know whose kids.” Her voice came out muffled and was nearly drowned out by the next song, louder and faster than the last, but he’d heard her.

“Okay. Deal.”

#httyd #hiccstrid #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #eret #dagur the deranged #when lightning strikes #modern au #a bit of angst with a dash of drama #or the other way around #maja writes #ff #fanfic #how to train your dragon #dagret

29 notes · View notes