#These pieces were good and its 4/13 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eddies-house · 9 months

Text

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter One - Damn Mailbox

W/C: 5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)

A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜

Masterlist

Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe. Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect. Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements. Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos. You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward. Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door. Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home. A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with. Lower expectations created less disappointment. If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.

It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.

It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white. Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure. And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time. It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map. Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.

You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods. But it only intrigued you. From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone. The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up. That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens. The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into. Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here. But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal. So you’d try to make it work.

The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings. You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak. The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response. As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence. The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind. Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.

The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40. The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener. Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure. It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center. The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected. A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry. The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.

Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings. It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning. In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before.

By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain. You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless. Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place. But first, you wanted to take it all in. You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet. The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie. The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste. Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking. But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.

At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes. You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove. Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.

Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled. Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street. From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.

The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight. You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way. A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.

You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing. And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch. The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette. He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.

“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”

It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves. He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him. Or rather his interaction with you. Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven. And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.

Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world. He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him. You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one. That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself. And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed. Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.

–

Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done. By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later. Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town. Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life. Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things. It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power. Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long. At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with.

If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.

There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today. The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.

Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car. You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning. Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck. With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey. The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated. But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from. So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square. You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.

This was it. A fresh start where no one knew your name. This would be good for you. At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.

Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.

–

You weren’t lost. You were just…exploring.

Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’. At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek. There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind. This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right? Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here. You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.

Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time. As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed. You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks. It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley. Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.

From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map. The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square. The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite. Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness. The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come. A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.

Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality. Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate. Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far. People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered. You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square. Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’. In return, you graced them with a polite smile. It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships. If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.

Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce. Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular. And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.

The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either. A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically. Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head. First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now. Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand. Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.

You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then, no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible. The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for. She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register.

“You’re new. But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?” She lightly teases.

You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window. She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes. You could already guess that she was quite the character.

“Don’t let them scare you off.” Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally. Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon. “We don’t get many newbies. They’ll get it outta their system.” Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.

“Thank you.” A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right? New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all. Or maybe you could fly under the radar? It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.

This was fucked. You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain. Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place. Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel. Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers. And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state. A mid life crisis in your early twenties.

“Miss, your change.” The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.

“S-sorry.” You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you. She hated your guts.

“No prob–”

It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person. She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself. That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.

You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car. Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience. Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough. A small misstep causing you to trip? No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks. Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep? You would consider moving all over again.

Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time. What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car. Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.

Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn. Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.

The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.

His expression was blank, unreadable. He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning. The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind. Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare. The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.

“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?” He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.

Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended. It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not. But you definitely don’t think you mean to.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.

“I-I uh, I’m leaving. It won’t happen again.” You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry. “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”

“Don’t let it happen again.” He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.

“Promise.” You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek. It’s too late, he already saw.

No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any. It was just an observation. “Now, get out of my lot.” It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.

So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time. With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window. Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works. Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’? You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.

“Left on Main. Then right on Cherry.” His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.

“What?”

“Next time. So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”

You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask. You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs. You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you. With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse. You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.

This place never felt so far from home. Nowhere was home. Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it. In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.

I don’t belong here.

I don’t fit in.

The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car. You were always doing your best. Always to please others. And it never worked.

~end~

Masterlist

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #bartender!eddie #eddie munson au #bartender!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

420 notes · View notes

heyimdove · 5 months

Text

Things of Note at @neil-gaiman ‘s NJPAC talk:

1. Do you people understand that he switches into accents when he reads? Do you people know he does a perfect Michael Sheen impression? did you know it’s also hot

2. He used to cold call publishers/mags to see if they’d publish his work. He’d lie when asked what other magazines he wrote for; they’d think he was more legitimate and would, therefore, be more likely to take him on themselves. “You couldn’t get away with that now” thanks to Google. Also, back then, “we had telephones and we used them,” but today’s publishers would not easily recover if you unexpectedly called them on the phone.

3. It was a personal point of pride for Neil to write for each of the magazines he’d claimed to have written for. He said “I didn’t lie. I was chronologically challenged.”

4. Neil made a deliberate effort to not be boxed in by publishers. He’d interviewed many authors who were unhappily boxed and did everything he could to avoid it, including declining big contracts from prestigious publishers (notably after American Gods). This is why he can write what he likes now. Comics writing spoiled him in this regard, as publishers mistook the medium for a genre, and therefore didn’t care what he wrote (so he wrote all the genres he wanted to in Sandman).

5. He hates Thomas Hardy thanks to being introduced to him in school. Regarding being forced to read Tess of the D’urbervilles, he said “I wouldn’t do that to a dog”. He hopes students, who might have liked him if they found him on their own, don’t encounter his work in school and hate him for it.

6. “The evil characters (you write) don’t possess you, you try to find the little bit of you in them….the little bit of you that is gloriously evil.”

7. “I touched the magic and passed it along” this was a line from Watching from the Shadows that especially moved me.

8. Terry was increasingly upset as the bidding on Good Omens increased (eventually reaching 150,000 - can’t remember if he said $ or £). For his part, when the book finally sold, Neil put on Iggy Pop’s Success and danced.

9. Anansi Boys should be out on Prime by the end of 2024!

10. Described Sandalphon as someone you want to “hit with a large oar”. (The woman next to me, who was extremely stingy with her applause, hooted like an owl at this and clapped til the last).

11. Pronounces Amazon as “Ama-zin” and Los Angeles as “Los Angelese”. This isn’t noteworthy, but I liked it enough to write it down.

12. “Being on a beach in bare feet” was the line that led Neil to realize David Tennant would be perfect for Crowley.

13. He is pictured on the ALA’s poster holding Wind in the Willows because, as a child, “it messed up my head.” He said he is “in love” with a chapter in the middle called The Piper at the Gates of Dawn where the characters meet Pan. It’s often left out of printings, which makes him sad because it is “strange, beautiful, luminous”.

14. TOATEOTL was originally planned to go to Broadway. Then, Covid. They did a “world tour” instead. Now that it’s wrapped, talks about Broadway are happening. He says all of adaptations of his work, this is his favorite.

15. “Disney’s Aladdin plays four times a day in Hell”

16. His favorite question of the night was “WHY did you think of the Other Mother?” He was tickled by the word choice of “why”

17. Asked the library in Sussex “What have you got in the way of really good horror for four year olds?” Obviously none existed so he wrote Coraline.

18. Talked about going viral for being in a falafel, seemed to marvel at the progression of the meme’s meaning.

19. “Tumblr is its own madness”

20. “Stephen King has fabulous stories about meeting fans in toilets, including being passed a book under the stall”

21. Read “The Day the Saucers Came” which I misheard initially as Sauces. Saucers is definitely better.

22. “You want to see me doing Dickens?” I laughed inappropriately at this. I was the only one.

23. I don’t want to say what pieces he read because I want you to buy tickets to his events. But it was very nice to be read to by Neil Gaiman.

It’s very worth it to go. I flew out from San Diego for this and would do it again in a heartbeat!

#neil gaiman

118 notes · View notes

superhero--imagines · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! /Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here ! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! / Part 20 here! / Part 21 Here! / Part 22 Here! / Part 23 Here! <This is Part 24!>

And a reminder that my book interest check is still open to run a campaign for the physical version of waking up in pjo, please make sure answer it if you're interested!

A/N :Okay, I think you've been waiting for this one! Hopefully it’ll take my mind of the fact that we were all simping for a person that takes the cringeat nudes

* This is bad

* This is really, really bad

* You watch Ares — Kronos now— in full possession of his body, two inky black voids staring back at you, mouth quirked up in a sadistic grin.

* Your hand tightens around your scepter, eyes flicking to Annabeth, Percy and Grover

* ‘Right now the priority is protecting the children.’

* You tap the ground twice, concentrating on space and time itself wrapping around you ementating a force field, you watch the familiar purple hue begin to take shape, electricity whirring, but before it can reach its crescendo, Kronos waves it’s hand and immediately the field disappears.

* ‘What?’

* “You dare use my own powers against me child?”

* Of course, Kronos was the titan of space and time, your powers won’t work on him.

* And your despair…is nothing compared to what he’s endured, to be cut into tiny pieces at the hands of your own children.

* ‘Hades.’

* But before you can kneel you’re pushed into the ocean, off of your home turf, and ankle deep into unfamiliar land.

* “And there will be no hitting the ground thrice, this is between you and I godling.” He hisses, roaming over you with a keen eye. “You’re just a godling, but I can smell it—the powers of fertility course through your veins.” He licks his lip, as if he’s already imagining devouring you whole.

* ‘What can I do in this situation? Annabeth? No, she’s only got that knife, Grover? No, he only has tin cans and they’re all gone anyway, Percy—‘

* Yes, Percy is the right option. He has a good weapon, and he’s talented too, the sea is his home turf and in the original he beat Ares.

* ‘But even so he’s no match for Kronos.’

* He’s only a twelve year old boy, he needs more time to develop into a hero.

* ‘But I can give him power.’

* A fertility god can grant someone the right to tap into their power, a near limitless supply. You could give that to Percy-

* “Why should you sacrifice yourself for someone else?” A voice whispers in your ear, snapping you out of your thoughts.

* Goosebumps rise down your spine and along your arms.

* “And why should you run from battle?” Another voice calls, you recognize this voice.

* ‘It’s Persephone's voice.’

* “Look at him child, look how he trembles. He needs you, to stay in that body, he’s still not strong enough to inhabit a god’s body while his soul is in Tartarus.” She whispers.

* And sure enough, Kronos is heaving, he has a cocky expression on his face, but you can see the strain across his face.

* ‘He can’t keep this up for much longer.’

* “Descendant of the gods, close your eyes and borrow our power.”

* ‘Well I’m screwed either way.’

* You close your eyes, and for a moment there’s total darkness, and then all at once four eyes open in front of you.

* Green. Purple. Gold. Pink. And Red.

* Staring at you as if appraising you on a pedestal, and then there’s a sound.

* It feels like the howl of wind, the sound of a box unlocking, and the sound of a bird chirping.

* You open your eyes, your body encased in a blue sheen.

* “Aren’t you tired of bending to the will of the gods little godling?”

* ‘I’m tired of you disrupting my sleep for three years.’

* You feel flowers grow out of your skin, encasing your arm, but it doesn’t hurt.

* “Don’t you want your revenge—“

* You raise your hand, the ground beneath him automatically raising as well, as large as any cliff.

* “—you could join me—“

* ‘First he was going to swallow me whole, and now it’s that I can join him huh?’

* You swipe your hand to the side, opening dozens of portals, a bright blue light leaves your scepter traveling through the portals and striking Kronos.

* “—we could rule Olympus together—‘

* ‘The jerk is still talking.’

* You twirl your scepter, transforming it into a bow and arrow.

* “—you will regret this!”

* “Shut the hell up!” The words leave your mouth like a siren’s screech, ichor curling out of his ear as he winces.

* You aim your arrow for his heart and shoot.

* The arrow becomes engulfed in blue light, like a blazing inferno, like—

* ‘It looks like hell fire.’

* There’s a scream and you avert your eyes as Kronos reveals his true form, when he’s gone Ares is left behind.

* Simultaneously whatever power you felt rush into your veins is now gone, leaving a very sore, fourteen year old behind.

* You wade through the water, holding a bleeding and fatigued Ares in your arms.

* “Wh-where am I?” A cough rips through him and you shush him.

* “It’s fine, I’m here now.” Golden light emanates from your hands, and you watch his wounds begin to close.

* “Well who would have thought.” He mumbles to himself.

* “So are you free later tonight?”

* “I’m fourteen you freak.” He gives you a toothy grin.

* “Give me a call in ten years then?”

* Before you can ask if he can get the hell out of here and to Olympus he’s gone in a crack of thunder. Disintegrated to dust before reorganizing into golden light.

* That looks familiar.

* You turn to them, to the two shocked children and the satyr who are staring at you with slack jaws.

* They want answers.

* ‘Well damn, me too. What the hell was that?’

* Before you can organize a single thought, you’re surrounded by policeman.

* ‘Well shit.’

A/N: And that was the soft end of the second arc, I hope you guys liked it! There's a few more parts until the hard end, and I think I have a few more spots on the tag list for anyone interested!

And a reminder that my book interest check is still open to run a campaign for the physical version of waking up in pjo, please make sure answer it if you're interested!

Tag list :

@holybatflapexpert @atomicsoph @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek

@marsbars09 @yizhoutv @alicesolengg @luxaryllis-primaryacc @time-shardz @cryinghotmess @crow-with-a-hoodie @the-nerdy-fangirl @crackedpumpkin @geekyandgay98

@lazydreamers @agentsofblinks @justsomestuffiguessman @elodietea @mxacegrey @angelic-simp @astrial @babypink224221 @weaponb33 @redactedhimbo @heart-charming @psychomanias @aliinunderland

@karnellius @lunavixia @cerberus-the-cutie @bes2005 @girlcrafter408 @loser-keiji

378 notes · View notes

nerdalmighty · 6 months

Note

What are your top picks for your favorite Good Omens fanfics? 👀

-AnnTickwittee

Oh my dear AnnTickwittee, THANK YOU for this ask. There are a bunch of great ones out there but here are some I've loved recently! Also, everyone PLEASE feel free to leave more recs in comments or reblogs or tags! I LOVE a good fic!

Weirdly, most of my faves were written before S2 premiered - PLEASE recommend me some good S2 stuff, and ones you'd consider staples in the GO fandom - I've missed out on a LOT of great content - help me find it/catch up! (Note: All fics listed below are COMPLETE and feature happy endings.)

---

Summary: AU, retelling of “Beauty and the Beast”. Quite honestly, sending Aziraphale off into the forest to be held hostage by a giant snake in a cursed castle isn’t even the worst thing Gabriel’s ever done to him, and at least it means a change of scene. But then neither the snake nor the castle turn out to be quite what he’s expecting…

My Review: Fave fave FAVE at the moment! I discovered this one from this tiktok, fully thinking it was going to be a silly little romp and was instead met with beautiful prose, adorable banter, and moments that literally made me go "AWW" out loud (which I NEVER do). I meant to read a few chapters per night before bed and then accidentally read the whole thing in one go. I stayed up until 4am reading and then woke up 4 hours later STILL thinking about it. Aziraphale is the perfect lead in this one, with Crowley as the wily yet lovable snake that lives in a cursed/enchanted castle with some familiar faces. CLASSIC pining ensues. The author does a great job of world building and character development and I find myself wishing I could read it again with fresh eyes. It's beautiful and adorable and I can't recommend it enough. Favorite quote: "'I love him,' he said. 'Let me in.' And the gates swung open before him."

---

Summary: In good weather, one can see the lighthouse at the Rock from the shore: a dot on the horizon, a distant star flashing red and white and red again. It’s been dark for a fortnight, of course—ever since the incident that every newspaper had breathlessly written about, that the paper-boys on the corners had shouted themselves hoarse over. This is where Aziraphale is headed: it is his duty, after all, to find out what happened, to make sure that the beacon can be safely lit once again. He does not expect Crowley to follow him to the windswept isle, to the lonely lighthouse at what could just as well be the edge of the world. Crowley follows him anyway.

My Review: THIS ONE! This one is a good old fashioned mystery! The humans believe this lighthouse is haunted, especially since its last three keepers vanished without a trace, but Aziraphale and Crowley know that can't possibly be the case. As such, they decide to investigate for themselves. It's an adorable slow burn period piece that had me weeping at certain points with twists and turns abound, and I really liked how the author handled the mystery and lore! Deep lore is tough to do convincingly and I found myself believing everything the author said. I can't tell you how thrilled I was when I KIND OF clocked what the author was going for with their mystery. Their explanation for everything was far better than anything my monkey brain could have come up with. Also that S2 ep of OFMD that featured a lighthouse in the beginning came out after I read this fic and I got all giddy thinking about Aziracrow here. I literally don't think I'll ever see a lighthouse again and not think of this gorgeous fic. EDIT: Also, here's a YouTube video that appeared in my recommended shortly after I read this. It's super interesting that disappearances like this have happened in real life 😱

---

Summary: Two months after the failed apocalypse Aziraphale finds the first dark feather growing in his wings. A story about middle grounds, ineffable plans, and what happens when the world doesn't end.

My Review: Another fic I found on Tiktok. The edit itself was so gorgeous I decided to give it a go and was not disappointed. It was written before S2 was even announced so it takes some liberties with fanon (Crowley was Raphael in the canon of this world, etc), but it's a lovely, relatively quick read. Crowley and Aziraphale are on their own side, finally, and soon, others join their ranks. All while God watches from afar. The prose is beautiful and I come back to the tiktok all the time (I saved it onto my phone lol). It was also fun to go back and rewatch the tiktok after reading and realize that the editor stitched together parts from each chapter into something new and amazing. It's not a romantic fic, not in the way the others are; it cares more about the aftermath of an apocalypse and shades of gray and how the universe came to be in the first place. I love the POV of God reminiscing on creation and thought it was very well written. Absolutely loved this one! (@anntickwittee, this was the fic I was referring to in the tags of this post, which is probably what prompted you to leave this ask in the first place! 😊)

---

Summary: When Crowley drops a bomb on a church, Aziraphale falls in love with him. This should be a secret, but unfortunately, Aziraphale's never been much good at keeping them.

My Review: A one-shot expanding on the 1941 minisode (2019) BEFORE the S2 minisode canonically expanded on it. Recap: Aziraphale's just realized he's in love with Crowley (thank you Michael Sheen for that AMAZING acting choice) and this fic is the author's interpretation of what might have happened after the show cut away from the burning church. I was floored by how many parallels made it from this fic into the actual show both directly and indirectly (Aziraphale says "Not as such" at one point and I'm pretty sure I burst into tears and/or yelped loudly). It's got a good bit of angst to it, the same kind from S2 that makes you scream "WHAT ARE YOU DOING! HE'S RIGHT THERE!" with a happy ending that helped heal my shattered heart. I definitely cried reading this one (affectionate). It's extremely fluffy at the end which EYE LOVE, so if that's your thing, I highly recommend! Favorite Quote: "'I’m afraid I’m quite terribly in love with you,' Aziraphale said unceremoniously. Crowley, who had been in the process of sitting up, promptly fell off the sofa."

---

Summary: After Aziraphale goes back to Heaven with the Metatron, Crowley reflects. And 4,400 years ago in 2407 BC, in the city of Uruk in ancient Sumer, he and Aziraphale fall in love with humanity, and each other. - “What are you doing here?” asked Aziraphale. Crowley lifted an eyebrow and felt himself start to smile. “I should ask you the same. What are you thinking, coming here with your wings out and the blessed light of Heaven raining down upon you? You’re scaring the mortals.” Aziraphale blushed. Crowley dutifully looked away. It felt disrespectful not to.

My Review: This one-shot is a love letter to history and humanity. I think I found it on twitter? Unfortunately I don't have a link to the tweet or the author's tumblr. What I really love about this one is that the author adds footnotes like the original Good Omens book does. You can absolutely feel the love and care that went into writing and researching for this particular fic, which I can really appreciate as a fellow writer. (For all my Bildad the Shuhite stans out there, this story takes place after, but the vibes are VERY SIMILAR. If you even care.) Crowley and Aziraphale are in Uruk to keep an eye on the humans as they try to build a structure tall enough to reach God (the Tower of Babel). Theoretically, they can both return to their respective sides, but opt to stay on earth (with each other) for 10 years to watch the construction unfold. Pining ensues, NSFW ensues, and as the author puts it, "now featuring Aziraphale as a little country girl tending her sheep ♥" I highly recommend if you want to be sucked into another time period/biblical story and feel MANY different feelings (with a happy ending!)

---

I have more bookmarked that I could absolutely recommend if anyone is interested, but these 5 are just the ones that have stuck out to me the most recently!! Believe me, I could go ON, but this post is long enough for now.

If you DO read any of these, please chat with me about them, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Happy reading!

#i've been WAITING to make something like this #thank you SO MUCH #my blog isn't OFFICIALLY a good omens account but I've wanted to post fic recs for such a long time #please please PLEASE send me fic recs if you have them!#i've got a fever and the only prescription is more good omens fics #anntickwittee #thanks for the ask!#good omens #fic rec #good omens fic rec #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #anonymous #answered #mine #emma blabs #long post #ao3 #archive of our own #great show #love them #:)#you ever wish you were more articulate #you ever wish you could convey to someone else how badly you need them to consume this particular piece of media #and feel the exact same things that you did #and then maybe they could help articulate the wistful longing you're filled with after consuming that particular piece of media #yeah #that

68 notes · View notes

templetogavage · 4 months

Text

Monthly Measurement: December 2023

To celebrate December 2023, here’s a roundup of 31 posts from last month that I quite enjoyed.

December 10th 22:35: https://www.tumblr.com/peanutbuttergainer/736379009300086785

This excellent photoset depicting a funnel feeding and its aftermath shows off @peanutbuttergainer in some excellent positions. Click through for some more photos.

2. December 12th 16:57: https://www.tumblr.com/exxjockk/736538917387550720/do-you-have-any-clothing-which-you-just-cant-fit

@exxjockk shows off in an outgrown shirt. Check out the rest of the tumblr for a record of his impressive gain.

3. December 13th 10:31: https://www.tumblr.com/mortiskiller/736605222096551936

Denial roleplay is always good- who doesn’t want to watch a fat guy get fatter while pretending he’s getting thinner any day now? @mortiskiller has a great sense for storytelling, and his voice is an excellent instrument- I haven’t watched the video in full, but I don’t need to in order to sincerely recommend it.

4. December 15th 1:38: https://www.tumblr.com/lovingbarbariancomputer/736752892123414528

While the associated story isn’t to my taste, the picture and the writing were sufficient for this one to make the cut. In general, @lovingbarbarbariancomputer tends to tie American values, culture, and aesthetics to fattening men in a way I personally quite enjoy- I’d recommend a quick sampling to see if you like any posts yourself. 5. December 15th 18:03: https://www.tumblr.com/gentlerubz/736814869056274432/something-ex-vegan-idk

Todd Ingram’s poutine habit practically demands this treatment. @gentlerubz delivers, showing the ex-vegan character after he’s completely ditched his old diet. Excellent art as always. I recommend skimming the blog for characters you’d like to see fattened up.

6. December 19th 11:24: https://www.tumblr.com/beauxned-blog/737152167138508800

Deeply embarrassing to find a man with so little body fat as attractive as I do, but sometimes football players just have something special. Much thanks to @beauxned-blog for sharing this picture of James Ferentz. 7. December 19th 17:40: https://www.tumblr.com/chasing-gayns/737175782238076928

At this time of year, anything Santa-themed tends to draw my focus. Cute guy in red chugging milk with the caption “Santa in training”? I’m easy to please. @chasing-gayns has made a pretty compelling advertisement for his Patreon here, if I’m honest, so I’m rewarding it by spreading it.

8. December 20th 7:58: https://www.tumblr.com/thetumarchive/737229785122668544

@thetumarchive is providing an important service here, supplying feedist Christmas prompts. A bit late to be sharing them on my part, perhaps, but there’s always next December.

9. December 20th 18:31: https://www.tumblr.com/overfed-meathead/737269629996695552

From the beginning, @overfed-meathead has had a unique look, due to the commitment to building muscle and fat, but this picture really shows off just how hard he’s gone on it. The only thing that could improve this photo would be him snacking with the other hand.

10. December 21st 9:31: https://www.tumblr.com/13uckaroo/737326241807482880

@13uckaroo mostly posts furry art, which is not usually my thing, so I had to share this piece, which is definitely my thing. I love the art style, and I love watching a gorgeous man turn into a Santa.

11. December 22nd 10:39: https://www.tumblr.com/overfed-n-overweight/737421120372932608

Thanks to @overfed-n-overweight for sharing this gem. Here’s a cute fat guy performing some athletic feats. Look at how proud of himself he is!

12. December 22nd 17:04: https://www.tumblr.com/fat-male-celebrities/737445350859784192

It’s not the largest change, but something about this progression posted by @fat-male-celebrities strikes me as particularly hot. Partially the beard, partially the grey, and partially that Mauricio Pochettino is a former player turned manager.

13. December 23rd 11:05: https://www.tumblr.com/thegainingdesk/737513343630344192

@thegainingdesk has done something I never would have expected- posted a gaining-related statement fic for The Magnus Archives. If you don’t know what that means, you may enjoy it less than I did, but it’s a short horror-themed piece about a man being fattened up by his landlord, so give it a shot even if you don’t have the fannish context. If you like this style, check out https://www.tumblr.com/thegainingdesk/737185437925457920/the-grommr-profile-of-dorian-grey.

14. December 24th 13:35: https://www.tumblr.com/pettyheft/737613389259538432

@pettyheft plays the part of a fat Santa chugging his milk. No cookies in sight, unfortunately- but perhaps they’ve already been eaten.

15. December 24th 16:43: https://www.tumblr.com/sandwichfella/737625208927748096/2-month-before-and-after-im-going-way-faster

@sandwichfella ended the year with a 2 month before and after. Not bad, though of course I’m looking forward to the 1 year before and after…I’ll keep an eye out.

16. December 24th 17:26: https://www.tumblr.com/largeluke24/737627917164658688/get-more-from-largeluke-on-patreon

A fat boy in a Christmas sweater shaking his belly like a bowlful of jelly. A very festive present from @largeluke24 this year.

17. December 24th 22:53: https://www.tumblr.com/thebeautyofbigger/737648509966254080

@thebeautyofbigger decided to dress up as Santa getting lightly buzzed before his big sleigh ride- I question whether this is ideal for someone about to make a trip around the world, but I approve of the extra calories.

18. December 25th 2:24: https://www.tumblr.com/boneyardbellybabe/737661769138536448

I actually have this same outfit, albeit in two parts rather than as a onesie. @boneyardbellybabe wears it better.

19. December 25th 10:52: https://www.tumblr.com/sometimesgaining/737693743745007616

What an excellent present! And I’m glad we dispensed with the need for wrapping paper, better to see what we’re going to get. @sometimesgaining looks incredible here- the bow is a nice touch, but the camera quality also does wonders for the already gorgeous belly on display.

20. December 25th 10:59: https://www.tumblr.com/ntls-24722/737694166033760256

The rare post from outside our little containment zone that I will include, here’s a post about how annoying it is when sexy Santa takes are muscular and not fat. Fat Santas are way sexier.

21. December 25th 18:31: https://www.tumblr.com/pigjolt/737722622306140160

I’ve already included a few along these lines, but @pigjolt looks so good in this festive sweatshirt chugging milk that I couldn’t resist. Merry Christmas indeed.

22. December 25th 23:33: https://www.tumblr.com/snackkattackk/737741579277713408

I love how little @snackkattackk is trying with this costume to be anything other than a sexy Santa. I mean, of course, you have the accoutrements, but that shirt is leaving little to the imagination.

23. December 26th 10:02: https://www.tumblr.com/fat-male-celebrities/737781147804778496

A fun selection of photos from @fat-male-celebrities showing a chubby footballer, Kevin Pannewitz. I don’t know the context for the last two photos, but I appreciate the belly peeking through.

24. December 26th 22:28: https://www.tumblr.com/roundnfuzzy/737828117777874944/onlyfans

Santa jiggling his bowlful of jelly. Transfixing preview from @roundnfuzzy.

25. December 27th 12:19: https://www.tumblr.com/devilmaychub/737880382974869504/every-day-ive-been-eating-so-much-cheesecake-late

A sweet little description of being a gainer with a sweet tooth. @devilmaychub may be straight, but his description here applies just as well for those of us on the other team. Grab a dessert while you read it.

26. December 27th 12:54: https://www.tumblr.com/anorthsidecub/737882576848666624

Sometimes a simple GIF is all you need. All it’s missing are some milk and cookies, which I will choose to imagine @anorthsidecub has just off-screen.

27. December 27th 15:04: https://www.tumblr.com/dangercocktail/737890742552395777

A beefcake showing off his belly. Enough said. @dangercocktail might be more known for fiction, but I might also check out the rest of this Tumblr now.

28. December 27th 16:04: https://www.tumblr.com/dilfcontent/737894555383447552

While his brother may have achieved fame outside of football circles recently, @dilfcontent has correctly identified which Kelce I’d like to see more of.

29. December 27th 16:33: https://www.tumblr.com/babelnimrod/737896386296692737

Just a big fat guy, looking fat. @babelnimrod always shocks me, somehow, whenever I see photos. I don’t know what it is, but that belly always looks fatter than I remember. Well done.

30. December 28th 22:23: https://www.tumblr.com/tytoalbion/738009007160213504

I Can’t Believe It’s Not Gainer Content. Either way, a cute guy with a belly belongs on my blog. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good bulk.

31. December 30th 18:16: https://www.tumblr.com/urges-to-gain/738174632959655936/aftermath-of-a-pizza-stuffing-do-i-look-bigger

What can I say? A fat man eating and rubbing his jiggly belly is exactly what I like to see. Thanks to @urges-to-gain for giving us a nice note to end on.

I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays (or, at least, were grateful for the excuse to pig out). Here's to December, and to 2023, even if it's a bit late.

#monthly measurement #gayning and encouraging #male weight gain #content type: roundup

41 notes · View notes

hbyrde36 · 3 months

Text

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 14

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7

Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11 Ch 12 Ch 13 ao3 link

*Eddie*

It was eerie walking through the burnt out remains of Hawkins lab. It would have been a surreal thing either way, but it was worse now that he was remembering.

Ever since he’d worked with El earlier that day, more and more had been coming back to him in bits and pieces—flashes of growing up trapped inside white walls, his early childhood wasted in the cold unfeeling hands of Dr. Brenner and his colleagues.

He made his way quickly to the building’s basement, slipping into the Upside Down through a newly reopened crack in the wall. It looked almost exactly as he had always pictured it—a cold, barren, and slightly alien landscape. A dark mockery of the town he’d come to know as home.

He walked on, choosing his direction based on instinct alone, trusting himself that he knew the way to the Creel house even if he’d never actually been there. He just had a gut feeling and let himself follow it. If he was going to do this, if he had any hope at all of getting Steve out of this situation alive, he’d have to trust himself—all of himself.

Chittering growls in the distance made Eddie freeze in place, trying to discern where they were coming from and make sure they weren’t headed his way. Just as suddenly, he also heard the soft footsteps of something coming up rapidly behind him, too light to be a demogorgon or even a demodog, but still concerning.

Before he could even manage to turn and check on the something, it ran right into his back with a quiet, “oof.”

He whirled around with his hands up ready to fight, only to come face to face with a wide-eyed and startled Eleven.

“What are you doing here?!” He hissed.

“What are you doing here?”

“El!”

“Eddie!”

The growling intensified, seeming much closer and in greater numbers than before. The sound sent shivers down Eddie’s spine.

“Okay maybe we shouldn’t be yelling.” He whispered, and took her by the hand, pulling her along at a jog in the direction he’d been going. They didn’t slow down or stop until he was sure they’d lost the unseen pack of predators.

“I should really be making you go back. Everyone’s going to be worried when they find out you’re gone.” He said when it was safe—safer.

“And they will not be worried about you?” She argued.

He shook his head, sputtering. It wasn’t the same thing at all!

She was…

And he…

“I’m an adult!”

“You need me,” she said, tearing herself out of his grip and putting both hands on her hips, in startling similarity to her adoptive big brother.

“El, you’re just a kid! Steve wouldn’t want you putting yourself in danger like this.”

She quirked a brow and raised both hands palms-out at a nearby fallen tree trunk that was at least as big around as she was tall. It lifted into the air seemingly of its own accord, though Eddie knew better, and was flung clean across the road to the other side.

“I am strong. We can get Steve out and fight Henry, together.”

She made a hell of a point, though he still didn’t like it. If anything happened to her he’d never be able to forgive himself.

“Fine.” He said between clenched teeth and motioned to the street ahead.

“He would not like you being in danger either, Eddie.” She said softly, slipping her hand back into his as they resumed their journey.

“I know.”

When the Creel House finally came into view Eddie was still struggling to come up with any sort of plan, and as they approached the front door with its cracked and filthy stained glass window, resigned himself to playing it by ear.

He was almost certain they no longer had the element of surprise on their side, having realized along the way that there was very little chance Henry didn’t already know they were coming. The way there had been far too easy to traverse, almost as if he were letting them in. Eddie couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

Still, they took care in avoiding the intricate web of vines that ran up and down the staircase on their way to the top floor of the house. No need to make things easier for their enemy if they actually had somehow flown in under the radar.

Eddie pushed the attic door open as quietly as he could and tiptoed inside, El following closely behind. The first thing he saw was Steve, strung up in a corner across the room by his arms and legs with the same tendrils that had littered the stairs, that seemed to be scattered all over this hell dimension.

His body was disturbingly limp, head lolled to one side, eyes closed, and Eddie hoped with everything he had that he was just unconscious.

Without taking so much as a second to glance around the rest of the space, Eddie rushed towards the place where Steve hung, only to find himself unable to move—his feet becoming glued to the floor about halfway there. Out of habit he looked down first, expecting to find one of those snake-like things holding him back, or or even some substance sticking him there, but there was nothing to see.

Eddie swiveled his head around and finally he saw him. Vecna—Henry, hovering with the aid of his own set of tentacle-like vines that seemed to grow out of his back, in the middle of the space in front of a large boarded-up window. He had a single long-clawed hand held in the air aimed in Eddie’s direction.

Eleven stepped out in front of Eddie, mirroring Henry’s stance and using her own power, somehow distracting him enough to sever the connection.

As soon as he was free from his invisible bonds, Eddie ran to Steve’s side, hands flying to his neck to check for a pulse. He sagged in relief as he felt a strong steady beat against his fingers, and briefly rested his forehead against Steve's chest, feeling its shallow rise and fall with each wheezing breath.

“I’m here, sweetheart. We’re gonna get you out, don't worry.” He whispered into the fabric of Steve’s shirt and pressed a kiss through it right over his heart.

“The same way you got Eleven out when you were both small children?” Henry quipped, having somehow overheard him. His voice was deep and gravelly, more a growl, like the creatures who served him, than actual human speech.

Eddie breathed Steve in, committing the feel and smell of him to memory one last time before turning to face the monster of a man that might in fact be his biological father, putting himself between his past and his present.

“Let him go.” Eddie demanded.

“And why would I do that, Eddie?” Henry asked, drawing his name out as if to mock the very idea of it, an expression of distaste pinching his disfigured face.

“Because, if you let him go… I'll stay.”

“We.” Eleven said firmly, stepping up to stand next to him—adding herself to the human shield standing between her brother and Henry. “We will stay, but only if you agree to let Steve go and leave the rest of our friends alone.”

“Is that what you think I want?”

“Isn’t that what this has all been about?” Eddie blurted out. “Sure, you wanted to get back at Eleven for sending you here, at me for abandoning you, but you wanted us by your side once and now you’ve taken the one thing that guaranteed we would come to you.”

“You think I took him to draw you out?” Henry threw his head back with a deep rumbling laugh, as he was slowly lowered to the floor. “I took him to hurt you, to hurt both of you. You serving yourselves up for me like this is merely a bonus.”

With a casual flick of his wrists, Henry sent both of them skidding across the floor until their backs smacked into the wall. More of Henry’s never ending supply of sentient vines began to coil themselves around Eddie's legs, starting at his ankles and snaking upwards until he was too entangled to move. Another set had taken hold of his wrists, pinning them out at his sides. Eddie struggled in their hold, trying to get any part of him free, to try and fight back, but it was no use. His bindings only grew tighter and tighter.

All he could do was turn his head and watch as the same happened to Eleven right beside him. She cried out, but the sound was cut off abruptly as a final slimy tendril wrapped around her throat. Her eyes went wide, tears streaming down her face as she was slowly choked into unconsciousness.

Henry must have been sandbagging before. He’d let El free Eddie from his hold, it was the only explanation. The power he’d just displayed was far beyond what he had shown when they first entered the attic.

But why?

Just to fuck with them? Just to make them think they had a chance? What did these mind games do for him—what did it prove?

Maybe he just enjoyed tormenting them.

Eddie screamed El’s name as her small body went limp and soon found his own head being wrenched back. His heart beat frantically as he was pinned in place against the wall by another tentacle sliding across his forehead and a final one around his throat, constricting his airway.

“It didn’t have to be this way.” Henry said quietly to himself, almost sounding regretful.

Eddie wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, tried to make his mouth form the words but could only open and close his lips like a fish struggling out of water. Before long, black spots began to dance over his vision, and Eddie could do nothing but glare at his would-be father as the darkness slowly overtook him, vowing to himself that if he ever woke up again he would see him dead. One way or another.

Miraculously, he did wake again.

Slowly, at first—small bits of sensory information flooding his consciousness. The feel of the hard floor beneath his cheek, the chill of the air that surrounded him, its stale and musty smell, the taste of ash sitting on the back of his tongue.

His head was pounding, but he was alive.

He took silent stock of his body, finding that, apart from the pain in his head and a bit of rawness around his neck, he was mostly unharmed. He was also no longer tied up.

Finally, he opened his eyes and sat up. Henry was still there back up in his high position, but he was in a trance, or at least he seemed to be. Though Eddie wouldn't put it past him to be putting on a show again. He looked next to him, half expecting, half hoping to find Eleven to be sprawled out similarly free, but she was gone.

He looked around in a panic, scrambling to his feet when he saw she was now hung over in the corner with Steve as if on some kind of gruesome art display made special for him. He ran to check on her. The ties that bound her were looser now, merely holding her up in place just like her brother. She was paler than ever but her pulse was strong.

She was alive.

He didn't understand why Henry hadn’t killed them when he had the chance, unless he’d been bluffing when he said drawing them out wasn’t his goal—unless he wanted something from them. Frankly, Eddie didn't care what his motivations were, he was sick and fucking tired of all of it. Henry’s mind games, his own fear, and doubt, and guilt. He had to find some way to end this.

“Ah, you are awake, good.” Henry said, drawing Eddie’s attention back to the rest of the room.

“What do you want? Why are you doing this?” Eddie asked. Less for an answer and more to buy some time for him to think, and for El to wake up. He couldn't do this alone, he knew that now.

“If you would only stop and think about it logically for a minute, you would see that I am not the evil villain you think I am. I’m the reason you were able to free yourself from that place, after all. Without me you would still be living under Papa’s thumb.”

It was true, in a roundabout way, but Eddie wasn’t fooled. “Then why don’t you just let us go and leave us alone if you’re not the bad guy in this story?”

“Humans are a unique type of pest, don’t you think?” Henry continued conversationally, as if they were discussing current events, or the weather. “Multiplying and poisoning our world all while enforcing a deeply unnatural structure of their own creation, as if it were some kind of improvement over the natural way of things. Some call it order, I call it a straitjacket. A cruel, oppressive world built on a foundation of made-up rules. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades. Each life a shadow, a lesser version of the one before. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce, and die. Everyone is just waiting for it all to be over. All while performing in a silly, terrible play, day after day. I didn’t want that for myself, nor did I want it for you. We can make our own rules, and restore balance to this broken world. Burn it down only so that we may save it, together.”

Together—together—together.

The word echoed in Eddie's mind like the ringing of a bell. Evoking thoughts of Wayne, Claudia, and Dustin—the boys. His friends, his family. Even Hopper, who he’d never liked but had unflinchingly had his back since the day he’d heard about the scared little boy who’d escaped from Hawkins lab.

A flash of white behind Eddie’s eyes, and he saw him, Hop. There were others with him too. Wayne for sure, marching along right next to him. The others were fuzzy though he thought he got a glimpse of Chrissy’s ponytail. They were all walking down an abandoned strip of road, ash falling lightly around them. He saw it all in a split second before the vision fell away.

“Son, Five, Eddie—you are capable of more than you could possibly imagine. You can see things, yes, past, present, future; but if you wanted, like me you could reach into others minds, explore their memories. With practice and my help you could influence their very thoughts, their feelings. You must see how this ability could be used for good? To control that which comes after, in our new world. To make sure it never comes to this again.”

Eddie feared for a moment that Henry would know what he’d seen. He knew the man was able to reach inside and root around in people’s brains, but no reaction came. He wondered if his own abilities served to block his father out. He would still have learned much through Steve’s mind and others, but to his relief it seemed as though he couldn't read Eddie himself.

He couldn't be sure exactly when the vision had found him from. In the now? In the future? He chose to believe it was in the present and if he could only stall Henry long enough, help would arrive. He hummed, crossing his arms over his chest and doing his best to look interested, if suspicious, hoping it would prompt Henry to continue.

“But first you must disabuse yourself of this idea that all human lives are precious. They are nothing but a source of power now. With each life I took back then I became stronger, more powerful. You and me? We are the only ones that matter. I had hoped for a time that Eleven could be like us, but she doesn’t have the constitution for it.”

Henry sighed, and there was that suggestion of regret again, as if he had truly cared about El at one point. Eddie didn’t buy it.

“When Papa finally realized he could not control me, he tried to recreate me. He began a program. Its subjects were powerful but none came close to having my abilities, the ones Papa was so desperate to wield. He came up with a new…experiment, and nine months later you were born.”

“You are better than they are.” Henry said, pointing a claw at his two captives. “Superior. For the first time in your life you could be truly free. Imagine what we could do together. We could reshape the world, remake it how we see fit. End them. Cut your ties to this pretend life you’ve been leading, and join me.”

And Eddie couldn't help it. He shook his head and began to clap slowly.

“For someone who claims not to be a villain it was one hell of a monologue, I'll give you that. I guess I can see where I get my storytelling abilities from. But, uh, I do have to ask—what the fuck is wrong with you? And where in that twisted, rotted-out brain of yours did you get the idea that I would ever, ever, go for that?”

“We are family.”

Family—family—family.

Another flash and he could see them, his real family, approaching and opening the front door of the Creel house. Inwardly, he could have cried in relief.

Outwardly, he scoffed.

“You’re not my family. Wayne, the only father I’ve ever known, he’s my family. Claudia and Dustin, and the boys, they are my family.”

He began to take short slow steps towards where Steve and El hung, which happened to be the furthest point from the attic door, keeping Henry’s eyes on him and away from where the others would hopefully be entering any minute.

Eddie gestured to El as he spoke. “She may have been lost to me for a while but Eleven is my little sister. And Steve…” He trailed off, smiling sadly to himself as he pictured his boyfriends face the last time he’d seen him awake—smiling, and warm.

“You said I was better than them, superior? But that’s where you’re wrong. There is no one better than Steve Harrington. He cares about people. He took in a girl he knew nothing about for no reason except it was the right thing to do. He loves with his whole soul, never expecting anything in return. That is greatness, that is power. And I would rather die right now than spend one day without him, or her, or anyone else I care about, in your new world order.”

Eddie stuck his hand into his pocket, trying to be casual about it, palming the small pocket knife concealed there before pulling the hand back out. For what good the small blade would do him.

“So, no, daddy dearest. I will not be joining you. I am nothing like you, and I never will be, even if we do happen to share DNA. You are nothing more to me than a monster who needs to be put down.”

Henry snarled, thrusting his clawed hand out once more, the unseen force sending Eddie falling backwards, landing on the floor hard. It stunned him for a moment, knocking the wind out of him as well as the knife from his hand. Before he could recover he was snatched up by the ankle, dragged across the room nearly to Henry’s disgusting feet, and then hoisted up to be dangled upside down in front of him, their faces inches apart.

Something small but heavy fell from his breast pocket to land with a metallic clink on the wood beneath him. He glanced down, barely registering the sight of his old Zippo lying there that he’d completely forgotten he had on him, before a gunshot rang out.

It was loud in the small space, or maybe that was because the bullet had whizzed right past his head to graze Henry in the shoulder. His body jerked with the blow and Eddie was dropped instantly.

He was dazed from the fall and the fact that he’d lost all hearing in his right ear, replaced by a high-pitched ringing sound. Hands grabbed him under the armpits from behind, at the same time someone, Robin he realized distantly, appeared in front of him, first scooping up his fallen lighter and then taking hold of his legs, helping to carry him back and away from the firefight.

More shots rang out and Eddie spun his head around just in time to see Hopper getting another shot off while Wayne reloaded, both of them brandishing matching hunting rifles.

When they finally came to a stop, Robin started fussing over him, as did Chrissy—who was, apparently, the person who’d gripped him up from behind. But he waved them off, slapping their hands away and shouting at them that he was fine and to check on Steve and El. They looked like they wanted to argue, but one glance at the two others hanging limp in the corner was enough to convince them to go.

“The lighter!” He yelled to Robin. “Everything down here hates fire, use the lighter to release them.”

Trusting the girls to that task, Eddie turned his attention back to the fight, watching Wayne step up to take his own shot while Hopper re-loaded. He also noticed for the first time that Nancy and Jonathan were there too, though they were stuck in the doorway, barred entrance by more of the vines. They must not have made it through before Henry realized he was being ambushed.

Jonathan hacked at the tendrils with an ax, while Nancy went at them with a can of Aqua Net and a lighter. Improvised flamethrower, color him impressed.

Eddie took a few deep breaths, sweeping the ground with his eyes for any sign of his dropped pocket knife, the only weapon he’d brought into this place with him.

His search was interrupted by the sound of both men’s rifles clattering to the floor, one after the other. Eddie’s head shot up and he had the perfect view of Wayne and Hopper both being lifted off the ground as if by invisible strings. The men’s bodies grew stiff as their heads were forced back and blood began to seep from their eyes and ears. It was the classic Vecna attack and he had no idea how to stop it.

Henry locked eyes with Eddie through the space between the two floating men and did his best approximation of a smile with his lipless mouth. Eddie jumped to his feet on shaking legs and limped towards them.

“Stop this!” He shouted, and it was the strangest thing—like his voice reverberated off the walls and back to him.

Henry looked shaken for a split second, but the emotion was gone as quickly as it had come. He made a show of considering his two captives before striking out with one of his hands, and sent Hopper’s body flying across the attic. He hit a wall and slid down, landing in an unmoving heap at the bottom of it.

Wayne began to make a gurgling noise, his eyes bulging, blood pouring out of them in increasing amounts.

“Mr. Wayne! No!” El shouted, running straight at Henry with both hands raised. Eddie didn’t know when she’d woken up but he was so fucking grateful for it. She screamed wordlessly, blood already trickling from one side of her nose from the effort.

Wayne fell instantly, released as Henry was forced to focus all of his energy on holding Eleven back.

It was like a juggling act. Henry could only keep so many balls in the air at once for so long, and that number seemed to be dwindling as he got tired. There were so many of them, and only one of him, it should have meant they had the upper hand finally, but nothing they did ever affected him for long.

Eddie lunged for Wayne, throwing himself down at the man's side while he sputtered and gasped for air.

“Hey, Asshole.”

Nancy, who had taken up one of the fallen rifles, shouldered the weapon, aimed, and fired—landing a perfect shot directly in the middle of Henry’s forehead.

El was freed from his psychic grip as Henry rocked back from the force of the bullet, but somehow he didn’t go down.

And Eddie? He’d had enough.

Why didn't he go down? Was he the fucking Terminator or something?!

Eddie was exhausted, frustrated, feeling all but hopeless as he’d watched his people get hurt again and again.

How dare Henry be stronger than all of them combined!

How was that fair?

They were outmatched.

He felt worthless, his powers no help to them in a fight like this.

Unless…

He thought back to that small room, the day when he’d been trapped together with Brenner for hours as a little boy. How he’d tried and tried but it was never enough, and he’d gotten so angry, and overwhelmed, and frustrated, and it had built and built until finally he’d just burst with it—slammed his small fist down on that table and sent all of Papa's papers flying.

Eddie felt similarly now, it had been building up in his blood since the moment he’d woken to find Steve gone, a rage simmering in his veins, flowing through his body like an electric current—all of it meeting at his center, coiling, getting tighter and tighter until he had no choice but to snap.

He screamed his fury, releasing it from his body as he pounded both of his fists down into the hard wooden floor.

Eddie was no longer a child, and though his power was wild and untried, it was fierce. He’d had enough sense to try and control the blast at the last minute, sending most of it forward rather than out in all directions. His own people staggered in place but those on their feet had managed to retain that footing.

Henry, on the other hand, had been knocked flat on his ass and Eddie was determined to keep him there. He threw a hand out using it to help focus what power he could still feel hovering just there outside of his body, concentrating on using it to keep Henry pinned to his spot on the floor.

Eddie stood, staggering closer to his target and felt a presence fall into step next to him. It was Eleven, adding her power to his as she held her own hand out to help lock their enemy in place.

His hand shook, his arm ached, and blood ran in thick hot rivulets from his nose down his chin, but he would not stop. He refused to falter when they finally had Henry on the hook.

Nancy stepped into sight on the other side of Henry’s splayed form, reloading the rifle she still held in her hands and aiming it down at her target. Jonathan joined her wielding a gas can Eddie hadn’t noticed before, something they must have carried in with them all the way from the cabin, and began splashing it all over Henry’s body, soaking him in the accelerant.

Jonathan dropped the gas can, and pulled out the lighter Nancy had been using earlier from his pocket. He tried several times to light it but it just wouldn’t catch.

Before anyone even asked, Robin appeared at Eddie’s elbow brandishing his own shiny silver Zippo. With one hand she flicked the lid up and struck the little wheel. The flame sparked to life instantly and she tossed it right down into the middle of Henry’s chest, setting his whole body alight in a millisecond.

Robin smiled, her face shining in the bright light of the fire.

“Flambé.”

Chapter 15

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world💜

Taglist: @newtstabber @goodolefashionedloverboi @adaed5 @buckleybarnes @soaringornithopter @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @bestwifehaver @5ammi90 @sofadofax @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @hardboiledleggs @mentallyundone @epiclazershark @herebedragons404 @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @the-s-is-silent @brbsoulnomming @goinsteddie @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga @thestarslittleking

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #fanfic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #steve and el sibling supremacy #good uncle wayne

30 notes · View notes

georgies-ftts · 2 months

Text

my thoughts and opinions on this weeks episode as someone who didn’t have time to watch last weeks episode, has never watched live american telly before and has discovered a new found hatred for your adverts. Also i swear a lot.

let’s begin

(spoilers obviously don’t be a knob)

1. he cannae be captain he’s only got two stripes on his epilette why are we focusing so much on this man

2. Bobby eyeing up that gun I like that (the acting)

3. this guy is giving me uncanny valley and i don’t like it

4. hehe dongle

5. i mean fair enough… in and out just like he said

6. Hen love of my life where the hell have you been loca

7. “and you won’t be anymore either” that’s actually dead funny to me

8. husbands that saw together survive trauma together <3

9. “everyone survived” i know foreshadowing when i see it

10. there’s a lot of drunk driver hatred (as deserved) somethings gonna occurr

11. oh he’s dead… lol karma fuckhead

12. Hen, i love you but why can noone on telly give me actual realistic CPR… break them ribs girl

13. christ these american adverts are weird

14. let me tell you advertising prescription medicine isn’t actually a normal thing to do

15. I don’t know boss man am no a dr but that’s an awful lot of blood are you sure you should still be breathing????

16. “Are you happy” “Yeah, Yeah I am” i have a feeling that’s all about to change buddy

17. just me or can anyone else not see a fucking thing that’s going on this episode why’s everyone in the dark for?

18. moving on from that i love the lighting in the office scene… chefs kiss

19. EXCUSE ME SHE WAS DOING HER JOB, NEXT YOU’LL SUSPEND HER FOR CODLING THE DRUNK DRIVER AND GIVING HIM TEA AND CHEEK KISSES PISS OFFFFF

20. Why do American comm’s systems always fail whenever you actually need them

21. They were axed to pieces. I will let you off -_- this time…

22. “I didn’t shoot him” honestly… same i hope you get yer pay out boss

23. Athena please for the love of god pop a paracetamol or a codeine and chill the fuck out

24. cause it has never been hard enough for them you just had to add a bastard bomb

25. ITS BEEN 5 MINUTES WHY MORE ADVERTS

26. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ADVERTISING TO YOUR CITIZENS

27. The Rookie ad i love it carry on

28. If he wasn’t under the influence then he was just being a cunt and hen had every right to react as such thankyou very much

29. Oh my fuck what is happening - don’t tear them apart i’ll start crying

30. Bitch you’re taking on water stop being a pussy and help

31. “Don’t test me.” Queen, you rag his arse

32. “port stabilisers are gone” surely you should be tilting like a bitch right now or did i miss a frame

33. MORE FUCKING ADVERTS????

34. why’s that lizard from london?

35. WHY ARE YOU ADVERTISING DEMENTIA MEDICATION THAT IS LITERALLY ADVERTISED ALSO AS A DEATH PILL WHAT DO YOU MEAN COMA AND DEATH THATS NOT HELPING

36. “i didn’t save him either” he quite literally refused your help despite being detained

37. didn’t get that SS Menow reference… try the Mayflower next time

38. “Saving the ship” “course she is” GIVE THEM ONE MOMENT OF PEACE PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU

39. okay good they are tilting like a bitch i will shut my mouth

40. NO STOP TILTING LIKE A BITCH I DONT CARE ABOUT REALISM I TAKE IT BACK NO

41. HOW MANY MORE ADVERTS DO YOU NEED

42. i don’t know but all your meds just seem to be doing the opposite of.. you know… keeping you alive.

43. woah therapy flash back get me one of those

44. you forgot to mention imminent death in your therapy session Mr Sir

45. “We did what we had to do” YOU’RE ALLOWED TO LIVE TOO.

46. “I couldn’t save my first family and I can’t save you either” and what if that was my last straw Robert Nash

47. ABC you can tone down the writing now i’m fucking sobbing

48. FUCK YOU AUSTRALIAN MAN I WAS CRYING MY EYES OUT

49. glad the us also have those Haribo ads

50. first time in my almost 20 years of life where i’ve seen an ADVERT for ANTIDEPRESSANTS that also actively make you MORE DEPRESSED

51. Hen i knew you were slaying you’ve never not slayed <3

52. no need for it was there mr boss man? no didn’t think so

53. You have no jurisdiction past the Gulf of Mexico??? ummmm??? distressed cruise ship full of your citizens???? idk??? do something????

54. oh. welp. no surviving that one, have fun with poseidon my loves

55. i don’t know about you but once i’ve been capsized like that in anything bigger than a kayak im giving up…

25 notes · View notes

blueskittlesart · 9 months

Note

hiiiiiiii so um. ik a while back you posted a doodle of yourself with short hair and i’ve been thinking about cutting mine short—do you have any tips about picking a style or anything that might not be obvious about having short hair?

oh fuck yes I do! I've had short-medium hair in a few different styles since I was thirteen (im 20 now, so it's been a while) and I recently buzzed my head for the second time so i'm pretty experienced in this area lol!

first thing you should know is that if anyone has ever suggested that you don't have the "facial structure" for short hair or that you're not gonna look good with it is full of shit. no one tells men they don't have the face for short hair. i promise it's gonna look good. chop that shit off

in terms of style, be aware of the amount of work the style you pick is going to take. when I first cut my hair short the reference photo I gave my stylist was of a heavily styled cut--something that would take gel and hairspray and a lot of effort to maintain every day. The base cut was fine, but it didn't look like my reference photo without a ton of effort on my part, and at 13 I wasn't really willing to put that kind of effort in, so my hair ended up unstyled and kind of flat and weird for a while. if you're someone that doesn't like to put a ton of work into styling their hair every day, pick a style you can just wake up and go with. my personal favorite lazy bitch haircut is the buzzcut that i currently have. insanely low maintenance and comes with the added benefit of stopping weird men from talking to you in public. perfect haircut.

Also be aware of how your cut is going to grow out and/or how often you're going to have to get it trimmed to keep it looking the same way. that was something i remember being really surprised about when i first cut my hair off--when your hair gets to a certain length, it grows more slowly and you don't have to cut it as regularly to maintain its health and your look. when you have shorter hair, your hair grows FAST, and if you're not planning on growing it out you're going to need much more regular trimming to keep it in check. Make sure that that's in your budget or that you have the time and skill to trim it back yourself! Alternatively, if you're planning on growing it out after the cut, look into how it's gonna grow out so you know what to expect in terms of look and styling. I like to buzz my head mid-summer and let it grow out for about a year before shaving it all off again, because I know that I like all the stages of growing out that cut and I know how to style all of them. there's always gonna be an awkward stage of growing out your hair, but make sure that you're not gonna spend a ton of time hating your look just to get your length back if that's your plan!

my final advice: if you're looking for a specifically masculine haircut as an afab person, do not go to the same older female stylist you've been going to since you were 10 years old. trust me. You can show that woman a picture of a whole grown man for reference and you will still be leaving with a karen cut. she is incapable of giving you what you want. Either try to find a stylist who you trust to use your reference faithfully, go to a male barber, or cut it yourself! especially if you're going for a simple buzzcut or something similar, it's really easy to cut your own hair at home with a pair of electric clippers from amazon. I've been cutting my hair with safety scissors and some clippers borrowed from a friend for going on 4 years now. it's easier than you think!! youtube tutorials are your best friend.

now onto things you might not know:

listen to me. this is the single most important piece of advice i can give you. buy spray-on sunscreen and SPRAY YOUR FUCKING HEAD. there is no hell like a peeling sunburn all over your fucking scalp. it will happen and you will not expect it and you will want to die. you are going to think your hair is thick enough that it won't happen and it is going to happen anyway. do not take chances with this shit

you do NOT need nearly as much shampoo and conditioner for a short cut as you are instinctively going to put in your hands after years of having long hair. think, proportionately, about the product-to-hair ratio you were using BEFORE your haircut, and do not squirt out more than like a nickel-sized pool of product at the absolute most. your bank account and your hair will thank you.

short hair still needs to be taken care of especially if you're bleaching/otherwise chemically treating it regularly! if you're putting harsh chemicals in your hair you should be using restorative treatments afterwards regardless of length. no matter how short your hair is it can still get stringy and gross and break!!

in that same vein, you CANNOT be applying bleach to your short hair in the same way you do for your long hair. listen to me. Drugstore bleach cannot be sitting directly on your scalp for more than 20 minutes. if your hair is short, any amount of bleach you put in it is going to end up sitting directly on your scalp. i know it's tedious to do multiple passes but chemical burns are even more tedious. please do not put bleach on your skin

also in regards to bleaching/color, keep in mind that your semipermanent color is probably going to have less longevity in your short hair than it did in your long hair. Since all your hair is close to your scalp now, it's taking the brunt of your shampoo regimen and therefore the dye is going to wash out quicker than it would in long hair where most of the dye is further away from the scalp. if you're regularly trimming your hair to keep it your desired length, you're also going to be cutting out a lot more color than you would by just trimming dead ends on long hair. you may find yourself spending more on hair dye if you dye your hair regularly!

#hope this helps <3 i am very much looking forward to the growing-out phases of this current buzzcut cycle i already miss my pigtails lowkey #but i do still love my short hair and i think everyone who wants short hair should go for it!! its so fun and freeing #asks

81 notes · View notes

maggiedanikka · 1 year

Text

Superstar (Part 1)

Pairing: Rooster x f!reader, (blink and you'll miss it, unrequited) Hangman x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, good ending promise

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 19.7k (holy sh*t)

Summary: “I’m no one special, just another wide eyed girl, who's desperately in love with you.”

Rooster is sure he's in love with this girl. Only problem is, he's never seen or face or know her name

No use of y/n

Based of off Superstar (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift

Author's Note: It's me, Hi. This one shot is so freaking late y'all. In all honesty I started writing this August around the time I finished writing Naked, but life and school happened and now here we are. It felt amazing getting to stretch my writing skills again for anything other than research papers, and I'm on winter break so it seems as good a time as any. I'm not going to give anymore excuses, but I promise this is worth a read. This is the longest single piece of work I have ever written. It ended at 65 pages and almost 20k words in my drafts. Its so long that Tumblr won't let post the entire one shot in one post so im splitting it in two, but dw send part will be posted immediately after this is posted. I also didn't have anyone edit this, so I apologize for any grammatical errors (most likely tense consistency bcs i suck at those) I hope you all enjoy reading it as I did writing it and I hope it tide y'all over until I can write the next chapter of Let Me Go. Here is Superstar.

Bradley Bradshaw’s voice was an enigma to you. How could anyone's voice be so hoarse and yet so strong?

As an air traffic controller for the Navy, you’ve heard every type of voice imaginable. The gruff demanding ones from the Air Boss, the shrill screams of pilots having to eject due to a bird strike, the quiet dulcet tones of a shy WSO, and everything in between.

The first time you heard his voice through the comms, you weren’t exactly starstruck per se, just a bit thrown off.

“This is Dagger 2, asking for clearance for take off.”

It’s not like you didn’t know who the pilots flying this mission were. Everyone in the goddamn Navy knew who they were, they were the best of the best.

You even saw their pictures. And thought some of them were cute (especially the one rocking the Miami Vice Stache). But hearing their voices was different from reading their files.

Though most of the details of the mission were classified, you had a basic idea and knew that there was a good chance that someone wasn’t coming home.

“This is Dagger 2, asking for clearance for take off”

The voice repeated. You snapped out of your thoughts, the voice was smooth as honey and it had just a hint of fear but yet so heavily determined. Your heart really went out to the poor pilot.

“Dagger 2, you’re clear for take off.” You said, trying to convey as much sympathy as you could in those words.

The actual mission itself didn’t last longer than 3 minutes. Working for the navy, you should’ve been used to the high stakes situations that often go hand in hand with these kinds of assignments. But you couldn’t help but sit on the edge of your seat during the duration of the mission.

There were a few initial hiccups, you felt like you were watching a movie as you listened to the daggers communicate with one another. Their nervousness (and to be honest your own) upon seeing the SAMs and your both concern and irritation at Lieutenant Bradshaw’s cautiousness.

Yes, his by the book and precise flying is part of the reason why he was considered one of the best, but if he didn’t throw that shit out of the window and speed up he will end up getting himself killed. And even though you didn’t necessarily know him, this possibility filled your body with so much dread.

You felt relieved (well only slightly, they hadn’t made it out of the woods just yet) when Rooster finally got out of his own head and sped up. The two miracles were successfully pulled off and the 4 jets had made it past Coffin Corner. Now it was a dogfight all the way home.

You commended just how level headed and pragmatic the pilots were as they evaded the SAMs and attacks that were thrusted upon them. You knew if you were in the same situation you would’ve panicked and blown up by now. Your admiration was interrupted by the mayday call of Captain Mitchell.

A heavy tension set in the control room, everyone was shocked at what just transpired. It was interrupted by the voices of the other daggers. Notably Lieutenant Bradshaw and Lieutenant Trace.

Phoenix had announced that she and Lieutenant Floyd were heading back to home base, along with Payback and Fanboy. However, you were yet to hear confirmation from Rooster, with the last thing he said went along the lines of going after Maverick.

You held your breath as you heard Admiral Simpson demanded his return. The control room was met with silence, and you knew exactly what he was going to do.

It was less than 5 minutes when it was confirmed that Lieutenant Bradshaw’s plane had been shot down after attacking an enemy plane. His beacon went dark.

Lieutenant Seresin requested clearance for take off but was rebuffed by the Air Boss. You had to take everything in you to not shed a tear.

A thick silence fell over the entire ship. The mission was technically a success but you wouldn’t be able to tell based on the solemn look on everyone’s faces.

Even after the remaining daggers returned on the ship, no one wanted to leave the control room. The entire ship was at a standstill.

That was until a beacon marked “Rooster” started beeping on the screen.

No it couldn’t be.

“Sir, Rooster has gone supersonic.” You told Admiral Simpson with a gulp, trying to contain your hope.

“An F-14 tomcat has been spotted sir.” Another ATC announced.

“Maverick.” You heard someone say, not sure who but you did not care at that point. What’s important is that they were alive!

But it was not time to celebrate just yet. Two bogies were spotted alongside the F-14 Tomcat. And everyone knew this meant a dogfight was about to commence.

The situation looked more and more grim. An ancient F-14 against Fifth Gens? It was unlikely for the two pilots to make it out unscathed yet alone alive.

But by some grace of God (or possibly Maverick’s unbeatable skill, probably both) they managed to take down two bogies.

Rooster managed to turn on the plane’s radio to contact the ship. You felt relief which was instantly thwarted by the news that there was still one Fifth Gen, directly in front of the plane.

You knew they needed help. You looked at Admiral Simpson desperately, hoping that he would allow the Reserve Dagger to go assist. But Cyclone seemed frozen and you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

“Dagger Reserve, are you ready for liftoff?” You spoke into the mic, the other people in the control room looked at you in shock.

“Finally!” The elated voice of Hangman came through the comms.

Admiral Simpson shot you a hard glare, if only looks could kill, you’d probably be as screwed as Maverick and Rooster. But you knew you had to do something.

“Yes this is Dagger Reserve asking clearance for takeoff.”

“Dagger Reserve, you are clear for takeoff. Bring our boys home.” You said with a small smile, if you get fired and discharged, possibly thrown into the ocean it’ll be worth it knowing what you did to save the aviators.

Hangman shot down the Fifth Gen with ease, earning him his second confirmed air combat kill. You knew that the other pilots would never hear the end of it. But all you cared about is he saved HIM.

Rooster’s laugh and banter with Hangman might’ve been the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard.

Seeing him on the tarmac reunited with the rest of his team had to be one of the highlights of your career with the Navy, if this was the last moment you had in the branch then you were perfectly content.

“What you did was reckless insubordination! If there was another fifth Gen out there, we would’ve lost 3 of our best pilots and 2 planes worth millions of dollars!” Admiral Simpson had chastised you.

“I have half a mind to dishonorably discharge you!” You 're ready to accept your punishment with grace. You were however surprised at his next words

“But your actions saved 2 of our men.” He added with a gulp.

“You are clear from punishment, but DO NOT make this a habit!”

“Yes sir.” You told him with a steady voice.

“Thank you sir.”

“You are dismissed, go join the rest of the fleet.” He told you.

You ran down to celebrate the returning pilots, but so was everyone else. You could only see a glimpse of Captain Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradshaw past the dozens of bodies approaching to greet them.

But even from where you were standing you could see the beaming smile and bright eyes of the mustached pilot. And from that exact moment you knew you were a goner.

———————————————————————-

Next time you heard his voice was a few weeks post mission. Apparently he accepted a post to teach at Top Gun.

You were decently shocked to learn that the team assembled for the mission decided to stay in Miramar. Especially since they basically got their pick of post anywhere in the world.

But you figured Lieutenant Bradshaw, or rather Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw (remembering his promotion), decided to stay because of his recent reconciliation with Captain Mitchell.

“This is Rooster asking for clearance for takeoff.” He said through the comms.

“You’re still here?” Shit. You did not mean to say that out loud.

You heard back a chuckle from the pilot.

“Yes, I decided to stick around Fightertown for a little while.”

“Sorry sir.” You replied grateful that he couldn’t see the blush that was forming on your cheeks.

“You are clear for takeoff.”

“Thanks sweetheart. Roger that.” You felt your cheeks grow hotter as he took off into the air.

“ATC you still there?” He asked you once he was at cruising altitude.

“Yes Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, I am still here.” Hoping that he forgot your earlier words and needed something official.

“Any reason why you were shocked at my staying?” He asked you.

You gulped at his question. Was this allowed? You’ve never had a pilot ask you a question before that didn’t pertain to instructions, both on the ground and in the air.

After a breath you answered his question.

“I heard about your promotion, and the offer to be posted anywhere in the world. Just surprised you chose to stay here.”

“Sometimes a family is worth more than any accolade or prestigious post.” He told you. You could tell he really cared about Maverick, but was not sure about the history of that.

Would asking him be crossing a line?

“Why do you stay in fightertown?” He asks you.

“Not for anything as noble as your reason Lieutenant Commander, just an assigned post.”

“Well I hope you’re liking Miramar. Actually grew up here.” You were surprised that he was still speaking to you, considering he was in the sky for a reason, and normally pilots didn’t maintain this much conversation with Air Traffic Control.

“I really like it so far, having some trouble with making friends though.” You don’t know why you admitted this to him, especially through comms that other people are definitely listening in to. And especially to a Naval hero who definitely would have no interest in the life of a lowly ATC.

“Well, consider me your first friend sweetheart.” He responded and he actually sounded genuine. You couldn’t help but smile at the aviator's words.

You were about to respond when you were interrupted by Hangman through the comms.

“Usually I would encourage this, but you can flirt later, Rooster, we gotta shoot down Mav.”

Your little bubble had been burst as you remembered why you had to clear him for takeoff earlier.

“That’s my cue, talk to you later, friend.”

“Have a good exercise Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.” You respond with a smile you know he’d never see.

Your shift ended before they finished their exercise, so you didn’t get to give Rooster clearance to land (or maybe you just hoped to speak to him again). But from what you heard, it was the closest the team got to finally shooting down the infamous Captain.

You knew that one day they could surpass the pilot, but you were glad that they were able to learn and grow (and stay) a little longer at Top Gun.

In an effort to make more friends you agreed to go out with some of your fellow ATCs that night. Which is how you ended up in a bar on the beach called ‘the Hard Deck’.

Your co-workers were nice enough, and you were honestly glad that you weren’t spending another night with a plate of pad Thai watching yet another crappy Netflix rom-com.

Imagine your surprise when Rooster and his crew of pilots walked into the very same bar. They went straight to the pool tables and were currently arguing over who got to play first.

“God definitely has favorites, because they are so fine.” Your co-worker Laura sighs.

“I wanna climb Seresin like a tree.” She adds.

“I’m more of a Coyote and Payback kind of gal.” Your other co-worker Sara remarked.

“But I wouldn’t kick Fanboy or Bob out of bed, they look like they know some tricks.”

She said as she took another drink of her martini. You agreed with their judgements but couldn’t help but only have eyes for one of the pilots.

“Good choice.” Your other co-worker Lia tells you after following your gaze.

“Bradshaw definitely takes the cake.”

You blush upon being caught staring at Rooster.

All your co-workers nodded in agreement with Lia.

“He’s not as pretty as Hangman but he’s somehow more fuckable.” Laura comments.

You couldn’t help but feel possessive as the other women also stared at Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw with hungry eyes.

But it’s not like you had any right to that feeling, he wasn’t yours, he didn’t even know who you were.

The conversation moved on to other topics, it could’ve been anything from the weather or the latest Naval gossip but you were only half paying attention. You were honestly just glad that they were done ogling a certain pilot.

You really liked the Hard Deck. It was now clear that it was a Navy spot and it was really cool to see the usually serious people from work loosened up in civilian clothes.

The night was bustling and while you were glad for some company, you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. All these women knew each other and had all these little jokes with one another, and you were an outsider that had a bit of a neurotic streak.

You were wondering if this was a pity invite, and you were slowly leaning to a yes but you were already here, might as well make the best of it.

You prepared yourself to jump back into the conversation, when the music from the jukebox had abruptly stopped. And while the men booed, you saw that the women all stopped and stared at the piano. Or rather the person at the piano.

Lo and behold, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was seated at the decades old instrument, his fingers expertly playing an old Elton John hit. Of course he would have an affinity for the 80s, as shown by his mustache.

If you thought his speaking voice was beautiful, his singing voice was downright heavenly. He had this low tenor that was so strong and made “I’m still standing” sound sensual. How is that even possible?

Obviously you weren’t the only person that thought so, you saw women dancing in front of him, singing along and obviously trying to get his attention.

For the other women (and some men) that weren’t, were singing along and staring, were all bewitched at the pilot’s skill. And really, who could blame them?

He had this air of confidence that even the cockiest of pilots could never compete with, he was a superstar. In the air and the ground.

When he (sadly) finished his song, the entire bar cheered and chanted his name. He did a silly dance and seemed to have no care in the world.

You couldn’t help but fall for him a little more.

——-——————————————————————

“This is Rooster, in the air calling for Air Traffic Control.”

You just started your shift less than 2 minutes ago and did not know that Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was already in the air.

“This is Air Traffic Control, what do you need, Lieutenant Commander?” You ansered, trying to keep your voice calm, hoping your little crush on the aviator wouldn’t show in your voice.

“It’s you!” Rooster exclaimed.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir?”

“You’re the ATC from the other day? The one that agreed to be my friend.”

A blush crept onto your face, you were surprised he remembered your interaction.

“Um yes sir.”

“You got off the comm lines so quickly the other day. I didn’t get to invite you to hang out with me and meet some other new friends at the Hard Deck.”

Your heart grew warm. He was serious? He wasn’t just trying to be polite?

“I was at the Hard Deck sir. Saw you there with your squadron.”

“Oh shit, really? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Seemed rude to just insert myself, sir.”

“Plus you seemed preoccupied with your adoring fans.” You said with a giggle.

“It was an amazing performance.”

“Oh yeah? Are you a fan?” You heard him ask, already seeing his smirk in your mind.

“Oh yeah definitely! Consider me the president of the fan club sir.” You quipped.

“So what does the role of “president” entail?”

“You know, make t-shirts, teach the Rooster 101 class, and of course host the weekly meeting where we talk about how hot and talented Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is.”

“So you think I’m hot?”

Your face grew warm in response, and cursed yourself for accidentally flirting nonsensically. And prayed to whatever higher power that no one was currently listening to the comm line.

“Oh um-.” You began to respond.

“No! Sir-…um I just…”

“You know it’s frowned upon to lie to your superiors.” He said in a serious tone.

“Oh no I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to-“

“ATC….”He interrupts, with an inflection at the end of the last letter

“Yes I think you’re hot Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw” You confessed with a gulp.

He let out a hearty chuckle.

You were completely mortified and you don’t think your face has ever been this hot before. If you thought you didn’t have a chance before, more so now. You were debating whether you should disconnect now and go back to your job (I mean this is technically your job, but not the flirting part).

You were broken out of your inner debate by Rooster

“Thanks sweetheart.”

“You know you don’t have to keep calling me Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw right?”

“You can call me Rooster.”

You were thankful for the subject change.

“Okay Lieutenant Comma-“

“Sorry, okay….Rooster.”

“Now that’s better.” He said with a slight laugh, you could already see his dazzling smile now.

“How about you ATC? What should I call you?”

“Oh you can call me-“ you began to say.

“This is Lieutenant Finch asking for clearance for takeoff.” You were cut off by the comm.

You sighed, back to real life.

“I’m sorry Rooster, I got to go back to duty.”

You cut off the comm lines before he could respond.

————————————————————————

Next time you saw him, he was walking down a hallway with Lieutenant Commander Trace by his side. He was talking so animatedly, his hands waving around as he delivered his point.

It sounded like he was gushing about a tail spin maneuver that Maverick pulled off, and god he’s so beautiful. When he speaks it’s like you couldn’t help but listen. Hell! you bet a reading of the F-18 NATOPS would sound like absolute sin coming from his mouth.

You were so caught up in his voice that you didn’t notice how close you were to passing him.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat as your shoulders brushed against his as you walked in the opposite direction. Even through your thick khakis, you can feel how muscular his shoulders were. Damn this man works out.

“Oops sorry ma’am” he stopped and turned to you. His eyes were concerned that he hurt you from a measly bump. This man could not be real.

“I didn't mean to bump you. And as put together as I seem to be, I am actually a huge klutz and a hazard to pretty girls.” He said with a chuckle and a wink.

You tried to respond to him, but only a squeak managed to leave your mouth. Starstruck that he’s speaking to you for the first time, not through a comm line.

Wait and he called you pretty! You were now fighting a blush creeping on your cheeks. But to the two aviators it looked like you were not amused

“Stop bothering her Rooster, she obviously has places to be.” Phoenix chastises him.

“I apologize for my bothersome friend.” She turned to say to you. And all your pathetic shy ass can do is nod.

“See you around! And sorry again!” Rooster says once more as Lieutenant Trace pulls him away and down the hallway.

———————————-—————————————

Okay, you were not doing this on purpose, well sorta. Sometimes in the midst of your constant daydreaming, your subconscious kinda just takes the reins and dictates your actions.

Which is how you found yourself coincidentally choosing a work schedule that lined up the most perfectly with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s flying times.

You hoped for another conversation with Rooster, hoping to redeem yourself from your words (or rather lack thereof) during the hallway debacle.

But the Lieutenant Commander seemed very focused on the exercise that they’ve been working on for the past week and has not been speaking to you as much as of late.

You were of course sad, and you felt a pit in your stomach grow larger and larger each passing day that your conversations started and ended with “you’re cleared for takeoff”.

You almost wish that your stupid infatuation would go away so that you didn’t feel yourself crushed at the end of every single work day.

But you would catch a glimpse of his smile on the tarmac and your heart would fill with so much longing once again.

It had been almost a week since your last true interaction with the aviator, you were beyond pathetic at this point.

At last, he finally called in after he was in the sky.

“Is the president of my fan club there?” He called into the comms.

Was he talking about you? I mean who else would he be talking about considering the topic of your conversation last time.

Unless he talks to all the ATCs like this, flirting with them until they become flustered and red as a tomato. He’s probably done this with Sara, or Laura or even both! The thought filled your stomach with dread. Should you stay silent and pretend you didn’t hear him? Or maybe he actually needs something, it would be unprofessional of you to not help your superior or maybe-

“I know you’re there, I can hear you thinking”

Rooster has a habit of breaking you out of your anxiety induced thoughts.

“Are you calling for me Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

You heard him clear his throat, expectant.

“Oh I’m sorry, Rooster.” You corrected yourself.

“That’s better” He said with a chuckle.

“Sorry I’ve been radio silent the past week sweetheart, have had a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me! You’re one of the greatest pilots in the world, no need to worry about me.” You assured him, and maybe you were a bit self-deprecating but it was true.

“No need for all of that ATC, I’m just a guy in a plane. And were friends, remember? It’s not fair of me to leave you in the dark.”

Damn. AND he's humble? How can this man be anymore perfect?

“ Thank you Rooster.” You replied with a small smile.

“Sorry again for going ghost, this is a bit of a hard week for me” He continued.

In any normal circumstance, asking for elaboration would seem like prying, but your conversations with the Lieutenant commander have been less than normal as of late. You still had no clue where you got the courage to ask.

“Oh, why is that?”

“Wanna know all my secrets already sweetheart?”

He somehow managed to avoid the question AND make you flustered. He’s good.

“How about I let you know my stories over dinner?”

You just felt your heart jump out of your chest and into another dimension. There’s no way THE Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was asking you out.

This had to be some kind of game, one that he’s no doubt played a million times before. Rooster had no shortage of women who wanted him and the fact that he’s asking you out of all people was unbelievable. There was no way.

“Um like a date?” You ask him nervously.

He chuckles at your response, amused at your edginess. But to you it sounded like the thunderclap before the lightning strike of rejection.

You just wished he’d get on with it. Hoping he lets you down easy so you can move on from this crush and actually do your job.

“What else would I mean?” He finally responded.

Your entire body felt like a cracked glow stick. You felt bright and overheated, but also cold as ice as you’ve somehow lost feeling in your extremities.

So he was asking you out! You were determined to apologize for every time you’ve said God’s name in vain because if Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was asking you on a date, then there is no doubt that the higher power was real.

But the reality of the situation had set in. If he was this quick to ask you out despite not knowing your name, or what you look like. What’s stopping him from changing his mind and moving on to the next ATC or bartender or crossing guard who gave him admiring attention just as quickly?

You came to a swift realization.

It was against your nature and your better judgment, as your heart was beating out the seams to say yes to Rooster’s invitation. But you had to be smart about this.

You had to play the game.

“I’m gonna have to say no sir.”

You can feel the regret setting in already.

“Wow, I think that’s the first no I’ve gotten in…. That might be the first no I’ve ever gotten.”

Great, now you’ve bruised his ego, you had no idea if this tactic was working for or against you.

“Well, I think dinner might be a little further down the line, that’s if you think you can handle it?” You somehow gathered enough courage to (fake) confidently challenge Rooster.

“Oh is that so?” You can hear the intrigue in his voice through the line.

“How about a phone number?” He offers amused

“Hmm… maybe THAT I can agree with.” You responded matching his playful tone.

“In one condition.”

“Oh yeah? And what is that sweetheart?”

“Shoot down Maverick in the drill today.”

“Is that it? I can do that, easy.” There was the cockiness the top gun pilots were famous for.

“That’s funny, considering you haven’t been able to do it in the past 3 weeks.” You jested.

“Ouch, first you reject my invitation, and now you insult my skill? Way to kick a man while he’s already down sweetheart.” He grimaced playfully.

“Gotta give you some kind of challenge sir.” You couldn't hold back the giggle forming in your throat.

“Okay deal, anything to hear that laugh again, outside of these comm lines.” He chuckled.

Oh shit. You completely forgot that you are flirting with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw though a military operated and very public comm line.

“I was wondering when the two of were going to remember the rest of us can hear EVERYTHING.” You heard the voice of Lieutenant Commander Seresin chortle.

You felt your ears burn red in embarrassment.

“Getting rejected over comms Bradley? And here I thought you had game.” Captain Mitchell added. Both of them were laughing at their fellow aviator.

“See what I mean sweetheart? I promise I’m a much better conversationalist when these assholes aren’t around.” Bradley insulted the other two pilots.

“Don’t listen to him ATC, I’ve known him since he was still in diapers , and I promise you, this is as good as he’s gonna get.” Captain Mitchell remarked to you.

“Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on him for you either.” He added jokingly.

“Trust me Captain Mitchell, I’m counting on it.” You replied with equal fervor. Maverick responded with a playful tone.

“Sounds good ma’am, hope I don’t disappoint .”

“I’m going to get into position, You two can join me once Bradley is done with his disastrous flirting.” He added before going radio silent, lifting his jet to prepare for the dogfight.

“Hypothetically, if I shoot down Mav, do I get your number?” Hangman teased.

“Walk the walk first, and maybe I’ll consider it.” You quipped, but you knew that the only aviator you’d want to give your number to was Rooster.

“Good enough for me.” Hangman replied.

“Watch me beat you Rooster, in the drill and with the girl.” Hangman chuckled playfully before going radio silent, presumably getting into position.

“Double timing me with Hangman sweetheart? Now thats a killing blow.” Rooster smiled, slightly annoyed at your flirtatious exchange with Seresin but happy that it was just the two of you once again.

“You know how bumptious Lieutenant Commander Seresin can be. I just said it to get rid of him.” You explained.

“Now for you, I am completely serious. Shoot down Mav and you got yourself a phone number.”

“Yours right?” He asked.

You let out a hearty laugh, one that had caused the other ATC’s currently in the control tower to look at you with concerned expressions.

“Yes. Mine.”

“You never know, you could very well give me Admiral Bates’ number. I just wanted to make sure.” He replied.

“Plus its always a bonus to hear you laugh.”

This man never seemed to run out of lines. You had to hold yourself back from melting into a puddle in your seat.

“Well lets see what you got then Lieutenant Commander.” Was the last thing you said as he finally went back up to position.

As much as you wanted to stay tuned into the dogfight like you were a suburban dad cheering on their favorite football team, you did actually have a job to do.

You were in the middle of analyzing flight patterns and putting together a presentation for your co-workers when you heard the sudden call on your headset.

“Hello, this is air traffic control.”

You were greeted with a loud thunderous cheer.

“I did it ATC! I shot down Mav.” Rooster howled.

“Is this true Lieutenant Commander Seresin?” You asked Hangman.

“As much as I tried to sabotage him, yes Rooster did somehow managed to shoot down the old-timer.” Hangman confirmed with a groan.

Shit. Now you have to actually give your number to Rooster.

“Soooo ATC, I’m waiting for the magic numbers.” You could already see the victory smirk on his face.

“Ughhh fine a deal is a deal. But I am not going to give out my private phone number on a monitored line. I’m just gonna have to get it to you another way.”

“Okay fair enough. How are you gonna do that?” Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw queried.

“Don’t worry about it, just know you’ll get it.”

“Or you know you can just give it to me face to fa-.”

“Goodbye Rooster.” You interrupted and dropped the line before he could continue.

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

You honestly did not know how you were going to get your number to Rooster. You wouldn’t dare to see him face to face. He’ll take one look at you and know that you were nothing special and he’d lose interest. The only reason he was this enthralled was because you were a mystery to him.

You could always go back on your deal and tell him you were kidding about the number, but you knew that was an asshole move and you were not the type to break agreements. You had to figure out how to get that number to him without him seeing you.

At least then you can speak to him and possibly flirt with him for a little longer before he inevitably loses interest..

You were sat in the comm tower, your head resting on the back of your hand, watching Rooster joke around with Mav and Hangman down in the tarmac beside their F-18s. Even from all the way up here you can see how bright his smile was. He was so beautiful.

You were snapped out of your admiration by the three aviators walking off the tarmac, probably to rest and sit with the other pilots in the hangar. You saw your window of opportunity, in the form of (no pun intended) Rooster’s open canopy on his jet.

If you could sneak down there and place a piece of paper with your number on his dash then you would have fulfilled your side of the deal.

If anyone were to ask, you were not a stalker, you were just very observant, especially if you’ve been watching these pilots for the better part of the last few weeks and knew that they were going to spend at least the next 15 minutes in the hangar until they returned to the tarmac. You had to make your move NOW.

You scribbled your number onto a piece of discarded paper.

“I’m taking a 10!” You announced to the control room before running out clutching the note to your chest.

You quickly ran down from the tower and quickly onto the tarmac, making sure to duck and turn your head away as you passed the hangar (just in case).

You couldn’t remember the last time you ran this fast, probably not since basic training. You quickly manuevered around all the F-18s until you reached the one marked with the label LCDR Bradley Bradshaw “Rooster”. You’ve never seen his jet this up close, you wanted desperately to run your hand through the marking of his name, to touch something that he has.

No. You have to remember you’re here on a time-constrained mission, and you had to get out of here not only before the pilots come out, but also before anyone in the comm tower can spot you down here.

You quickly flung yourself up the ladder up to cockpit of the jet and trying to place the piece of paper as rapidly and as gently as you could on the dash. When you finally let go of the paper and saw that it was securely in place, you hopped off the tiny ass ladder and started to speed walk back to the direction of the comm tower.

Your heart was beating a million times per minute and you did it without anyone seeing you. You could see the door to the tower in the distance, and were beelining towards it. That’s until you heard a clear

“HEY!” Coming from behind you.

You turned around and were greeted by the suspect face of Lieutenant Commander Seresin. He was standing probably a good 25 feet away and slowly walking towards you.

“Who are you? What are doing down here?”

You had to think of an excuse fast, with as little words spoken as possible. You couldn’t risk him recognizing your voice and telling Rooster. Then all of this would be over too soon.

“Just routine inspection!” You tell him, making your voice higher and hopefully indiscernible from your normal speaking voice.

“Goodbye!” You waved at him before sprinting away and around the tower so he couldn’t see that you were going into the comm room.

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

As much as you'd like to think that you successfully made it down and back from the tarmac completely undetected, you knew that running into Hangman could’ve ended disastrously. You needed to learn to be more careful especially now that your number could possibly already be in Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s possession. Which means you have to commit to this game.

You put your number in his plane almost 11 hours ago and even though the work day has long ended, and you knew that the pilots leave together at around 5pm and would inevitably end up at the Hard Deck for a few hours.

However it is now nearing 11pm and you still had no notification from anyone other than your mom. No texts, no calls, just email alerts and a few instagram DMs from some old high school friends.

You sighed as you stared at the clock. Maybe he didn’t see the paper? Or he’s still at the Hard Deck?

You knew neither was unlikely because the dagger squad flew out and ran a few more drills later in the day so was in his jet and all the Navy men (or rather the disciplined ones) promptly left the bar at 10pm to prepare for their early work days.

He could’ve and should’ve contacted you by now.

But what did you really expect? That he was going to drop everything and call a random ATC that he had a few indecorous conversations with.

You definitely let this fake confidence build up too much in your head. You had to remember your place. Because who are you other than just a girl, when he was one of the superstar’s of the Navy? The frontliner and the apple of all the admirals’ eyes.

You see the clock flashing 11:15pm and you had a shift early in the morning. There was no use continuing to feel sorry for yourself. Some sleep would do you some good, and hopefully avoid the waterworks that would inevitably come.

You were well on your way to slipping into a deep slumber when you heard the loud text tone originating from your phone.

Unknown Number: Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you today sweetheart. I hope I get the chance soon. Sweet dreams :)

——————-————————————————————————

There must have been some sickness barreling through the base because the normally filled comm room was empty except for you manning the main desk.

Being solo wasn’t too bad, as there weren’t too many pilots scheduled to fly today.

Of course one of them being Rooster.

“Miramar Tower, F/A-18E Super Hornet , 10 southwest at 2,500, inbound for landing “

Speak of the devil, and he shall come

“F/A-18E Super Hornet , Miramar Tower, report entering left downwind Runway 24R.” You responded, keeping yourself professional despite feeling the butterflies in your stomach beating your ass upon hearing his voice.

“Report entering left downwind, F/A-18E Super Hornet . . . . “ He responded before adding

“F/A-18E Super Hornet entering left downwind Runway 24R.”

He was all business today, with absolutely no hint of the usual playfulness in his voice.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, you are cleared to land Runway 24R.”

He let out a slight growl, one you would miss if you weren’t listening so intently.

He hesitated for a moment before finally responding.

“Cleared to land Runway 24R, F/A-18E Super Hornet “

You saw his jet successfully land and reached for the button to disconnect when you heard Rooster’s voice flood your headphones once again.

“Do you remember what I said about calling me ‘Lieutenant Commander’ sweetheart?” He asks steely.

Fuck, he sounds so sexy when he’s stern. No man’s voice has ever had this effect on you.

“Yes sir, Rooster.” You said with a longing breath.

You curse yourself for being incapable of being subtle.

“Normally I would say no ‘sir’ just ‘Rooster’, but I’ll allow it. Only because it sounds so good coming from your mouth.”

Holy shit. And you thought you weren’t subtle, you were usually clueless when it came to men flirting but even you could read that loud and clear.

“You sure you want to be hitting on me over comms SIR?” you said purring

“Would you rather me come up there sweetheart? So I can do it face-to-face” He said with the same gruffness. You can see him glancing up to the tower as he lifted his canopy and exited his plane.

“I dare you Lieutenant Commander.” You replied matching his salacious tone.

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson don’t I?.” The connection cuts off as he removes his helmet and rushes up to the tower.

You couldn’t hear anything over the sound of your pounding heartbeat, there is no way you just invited Rooster up to the comm room.

It couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes when you heard the door burst open and saw Rooster enter, his skin still glistening from sweating under the California sun.

He looked like a Greek god, and you had to stop your jaw from physically dropping at the sight of him.

“Finally done hiding from me sweetheart?” He greeted you teasingly.

You slowly approached one another. You opened your mouth to respond with a flirty response but the words seemed to be stuck in your throat.

You didn’t even notice how close you were to him. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. You were staring straight ahead and avoiding his gaze. Choosing to maintain eye contact with the lowered zipper of his flight suit. Giving you a glimpse of the hard planes of his chest underneath.

Your breath hitched as you felt him grab you by the waist and pull you bodies together. His hands felt so hot on your body and you still couldn’t bring yourself to look up into his gaze.

That is until he placed a hand on your chin and gently pulled it up to look into your eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re all shy now sweetheart?” He said with a smirk and he tugged your bodies closer.

“Where’s all that talk from earlier?” He whispered as he kissed the skin beneath your ear, before moving his lips to your jaw and leaving soft caressing kisses trailing down your jaw, down to where your neck meets your collarbone

Okay, you have definitely lost the ability to breathe, let alone to speak several moments ago. If he wasn’t currently holding you so tightly your legs would’ve given out from under you.

All you could feel was him and all your mind can think of is Rooster. Rooster. Rooster.

He finally brought his head back up and stared at your lips. He licked his before he finally closed the distance between you and-

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

You woke up in your bed in a cold sweat.

Holy shit, it was just a dream. It felt so real.

You could’ve sworn you could still feel his hand gripping on your waist and his hot breath on your ear.

You glanced at your alarm clock to see that you overslept by 30 minutes!

You quickly got up and got ready, you swear to God you had never gotten ready faster in your life. But you still managed to be 15 minutes late.

Your supervisor was not happy. But you were normally punctual so they allowed you this one oversight. As long as you swore to never repeat it again.

You finally caught your breath and settled in your station. You were relieved that you didn’t miss too much.

But since you were late Rooster was assigned to a different ATC on his flight plan for the day.

This did make you sad but in a way maybe it was necessary for today.

First because you could not possibly hold a conversation with him after the erotic dream that you still hadn't physically recovered from, and second because you were actually becoming pathetic.

You had set 4 simple rules for yourself when you joined the Navy

Stay Focused

Always be punctual

Sleep early to be well rested, and most importantly

Do not get involved with Navy men.

You somehow managed to break all rules in the last few weeks.

You had a wet dream that caused you to break your perfect punctuality streak. A dream that was about a certain pilot that caused you to stay up late and has spent the better part of a month distracting you.

For the lack of better phrasing, you really needed to get your shit together.

But when you stepped into the mess hall after a fairly productive half of a day, and saw his face, you remembered just why you were so enamored.

A smile from him was worth breaking the rules you set for yourself.

——————————————————————————————-

You were probably home for less than 10 minutes when you heard the text notification coming from the living room.

You wiped your hands on a dish rag and walked out of the kitchen to grab your phone, which you almost dropped upon seeing who the text came from.

The text last night was completely unexpected and was definitely part of the reason why Rooster somehow made it into your dream. And even though you were half asleep at the time, you managed to save his number under “Rooster ✈️🐔”.

Which is how you knew you were staring at a text from said aviator.

Rooster ✈️🐔: Missed you today :(

You have been carefully analyzing the text for the last 30 seconds you laid eyes on it. He missed you??? What does that mean? He had your number for the better part of two days and he only managed to contact you when you were almost asleep, and after a day of ignoring him.

Asking him what he meant would be too obvious and would make you come out as naïve. So you did what any rational woman with a crush would do. Deflect.

You: Do you have a problem with emojis or something?

Rooster ✈️🐔: Huh? What do you mean?

You: I can’t remember the last time I saw someone use emoticons unironically.

Rooster ✈️🐔: Are you making fun of me? I personally think emoticons are neat

Rooster ✈️🐔: And I don’t know how to download emojis :/

You felt like a schoolgirl as you felt your face break into a grin at his antics.

You were formulating a reply when you were interrupted by the screen indicating an incoming call from Rooster ✈️🐔.

You stared at your phone in panic and let it continue to ring. Holy shit he was calling you. At least in text you can formulate a plan and have a carefully crafted response. You did not have that luxury with a voice call.

But what are you going to do? Ignore it?

You had to make a decision fast. Okay yes, it will be a little more nerve wracking to speak on a voice call but that's better than nothing right? And you spoke to him all the time over comms, even though technically it is different because those conversations can be hidden under the guise of carrying out your job and you did not have that safety net in this situation.

After a few seconds you thought “Fuck it” and pressed the green button.

“Hi” You answered with a breath.

“Oh thank god, you actually answered” He responded, teasing relief in his voice.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t?” You asked him as if it was the most outlandish thing in the world (even you were seriously debating it less than a minute ago).

“Well lets look at the track record, you rejected my dinner invite, doubted my skill as a world class pilot, left me on read last night, and just made fun of my emoticons.”

“The signs were all pointing there.”

You bursted out in laughter at his rantings.

“Wow! And now you’re laughing at my misery, a man just can’t win with you can they sweetheart?” He feigned hurt.

“I’m sorry Lieutenant Commander, I didn’t realize it was so easy to hurt your feelings.” You teased him.

“AND were back to Lieutenant Commander? You do not pull your punches, do you?”

“I’d like to think we’re past all those formalities, outside of work please call me Rooster, or rather yet, call me Bradley.” He asserted.

“Sometimes I forget your full god given name is Bradley Bradshaw. Brad Brad. I’m making that your name on my phone” You continued to tease with a giggle.

“Did your parents know what they were subjecting you to?”

“Ha Ha very funny, unfortunately they were the main ones who made the Brad Brad joke.” He admitted dejected.

This caused you to laugh again.

“Hey this is not fair! I don’t even know your name to make fun of.” You could practically hear the pout in his voice.

“You know I’m gonna find out your name eventually sweetheart, so why don’t you just give it up now?”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You wanted to finally tell him your name, you did. But that just opens a can of worms that would lead to reality, which you were not yet ready to face.

“I can’t call you ATC forever sweetheart..”

“Well.. what do you want to call me?”

“Preferably your name?” He suggested.

“You only get one chance to choose so try again.” You warned.

“And make it good”

“Okay fine I’ll bite.” He finally gave in.

“Lets see, what to call you….”

“Well you laugh a lot, and most of the time at me, so I think I want to use something related to that.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to make fun of.” You quipped.

“Fair enough. Just know I only let you because I actually like the sound of your laugh.”

You felt the blush creep onto your cheeks again.

“Clock is ticking, and you’re wasting your time flirting. What is it gonna be?” You goaded him.

“Okay Okay, but don’t think I won’t continue later.”

“I have no doubt about it”

“So something pertaining laughing…hmmm. Giggles?”

“If you call me Giggles, I’m hanging up and blocking you.” You threaten him.

He responded with his own laugh, and god if you didn’t love his as much as he claimed to like yours.

“Chuckles?”

“I prefered Giggles.” You grimaced

“Merry?”

“Too Christmas-y”

“Chirpy?”

“That sounds like a name for a bird or something you’d call your grandma. How are you so bad at this?”

“I’m trying!”

“Try to pick something better than all of those please, and do it in the next 30 seconds or I revoke your naming permissions.”

“Fine…Okay! I got it!”

“Cloud!”

“Cloud?” You asked

“Yes! Like flying on Cloud 9!”

His selection brought a smile to your face. You pretended to think on it.

“It’s acceptable.”

“Yes!”

“See? I’m not completely useless, and it fits because I’m flying on Cloud 9 whenever I know you’re my ATC.”

His admission caused your breath to catch in your throat. He really did know how to make a girl feel special, even though you knew you had no actual chance with him in the real world.

“I bet you say that to all the ATCs.”

“Well they are responsible for making sure that I don’t crash into other planes on the runway. Gotta keep them happy somehow”

You laugh at his joke, but holding some sadness because even though he was joking, in a way it felt like it held some truth.

“But seriously, you have no idea how much joy you brought me yesterday. Both with our conversation and seeing that you actually gave me your number. Which is why I was really sad that you weren’t my ATC today.”

He sounded sincere, but you tried to keep yourself from taking his lines to heart.

You smiled.

“Speaking of your number, how the hell did you get that piece of paper into my dash?”

“There was no one else I saw near my jet except my squad and they were with me the entire time. When did you manage to do it?”

“A girl doesn’t reveal her secrets Rooster.” You jested

“Speaking of secrets, pray tell why it took you over twelve hours to use it?” You asked him, you had to know.

“Yeah, sorry about that late text sweetheart… I stayed out at the Hard Deck with Mav a little later than usual. It was my dad’s death anniversary and I honestly spent most of the day sulking and dreading leaving my apartment.”

“Oh.. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You responded sympathetically, now feeling guilty at asking such an intrusive question.

“No worries sweetheart, the minute I heard your voice on comms, it brightened my day, even more so when you gave me your number.”

“So thank you for the boost and the motivation to finally kick Mav’s ass in the sky.”

Your heart felt warm hearing that you had that effect on him, you woul’ve believed his words if you didn’t know better.

“You’re welcome Bradley.” You finally called him by his real first name, admittedly it felt right coming from your mouth.

You both sat in comfortable silence when you were interrupted by the smoke alarm in your kitchen. It hit you that your dinner was left on the stove forgetten during your conversation with Bradley.

“Oh shit, I’m pretty sure I just burnt my dinner. I gotta go before I set my entire apartment on fire.”

Bradley chuckled at your unintentional lapse of memory.

“Okay sweetheart I’ll talk to you soon.”

You ended the call.

You managed to clear out the smoke out of your apartment, but unfortunately did not save your chicken.

You had to settle for a frozen hot pocket that had been in your freezer for God know how long, but hey it did the job and beggars can’t be choosers.

You felt the tiredness from the busy workday hit you and you decided it was a good idea to turn in early. You showered and finished your nighttime routine and settled into your bed with your phone on your nightstand.

Your phone flashed once again to signal a text. Apparently, Rooster had the same idea about an early night.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Goodnight Cloud <3 I’ll talk to you tomorrow

You: Goodnight Bradley :)

——————————————————————————————-

You were honestly pleasantly surprised at how consistently you and Bradley communicated.

It followed the same schedule. During the days, you were usually his ATC so he would of course flirt with you over comms, and you’d try to maintain come decorum of professionalism, but would eventually flirt black. Persistence is key and Bradley is nothing if not persistent.

When he wasn’t in the air during work hours he would sneakily text you his little random thoughts he had during the day.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Have you ever noticed how small Hangman’s mouth is?

You: What?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: No seriously look at it. His mouth is always scrunched up even when he smiles.

You: Why are you staring at Hangman’s mouth?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: We’ve been stuck in this meeting and he keeps chewing that stupid toothpick, its distracting.

You: Didn’t realize you had a thing for Seresin, Brad Brad? 🤔

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: ???????

You: You just said his mouth is distracting

You: Its okay Rooster, just say you wanna kiss him, the tension between you is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: I don’t want to kiss Hangman >:(

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: You wanna know who I do wanna kiss though?

You: Let me guess…..

You: Bob!

You: Or better yet, Cyclone 🤪

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: No :(((

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: I wanna kiss you

You: Let’s Play 8 Ball!

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Ha ha you’re hilarious

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: If I beat you then can I get a kiss?

Read 2:13pm

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Ouch :(

On weekday nights where he didn’t go to the Hard Deck, you would have your nightly phone call at 7:30pm sharp where you would both stay on the phone while you both cooked dinner. You would catch up on the little things during the day that you didn’t text about and just mostly got to know one another.

You can admit that yes, what initially drew you to Rooster was his beautiful smile and his skill as a pilot. But the more you spoke to him the more you saw not just Lieutenant Commander “Rooster” Bradshaw. But you also saw Bradley.

You quickly saw that he was kind, humble, and so caring of others.

“Hey Cloud, I’m sorry for calling you so late.” You noticed his tone was more solemn than usual and checked the time, it was nearing 8pm.

“It’s fine Bradley, you’re not that late.”

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“Payback and Fanboy flew into a jetwash today….”

“They had to eject.” He answered dejectedly

“I heard about that. Are they okay?”

Laura told you about the incident a little earlier, she was the ATC for the flight. The ear-splitting static that hit her headset after the aircraft collided with the ground was enough to shake even the most experienced ATC. So you couldn’t imagine being the pilot and the WSO in that situation.

“They’re at the hospital overnight for observation. I stuck around to make sure they were okay.”

It was very strange for you to hear Rooster so despondent. You knew he cared about his friends, and he would do anything for them, but it felt like there was more to the situation.

“You’re very thoughtful for that Bradley.. I’m sure they appreciated it”

“It was my fault, Cloud.” he confessed.

You were taken aback at his admittance, but you would’ve heard if there was someone that was directly responsible for the accident, it involved aircraft worth millions of dollars after all.

“They flew into my jetwash.”

“Bradley, that wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have controlled their flight path.” You tried to reassure him.

“But I shouldn’t have been so reckless!” He exclaimed.

“If I wasn’t so busy trying to outdo Coyote, I wouldn’t have almost hit a bird strike and had to slow down, and they wouldn't have gotten caught in the wash.”

You didn’t want to tell him he was being irrational for blaming himself for a situation that was clearly out of his hands, you knew there was something more there.

“But they’re fine right? Everyone is okay. No one was seriously hurt.” You explained to him.

“Yeah no one got hurt….THIS time.”

His statement piqued your interest, you were getting somewhere.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, finally letting go of the pretenses.

“That’s how my dad died.” He confessed.

In a way you knew about LTJG Nick Bradshaw and his untimely death during his Top Gun training, but none of the sordid details. It felt disrespectful to dig into Rooster’s family without him knowing.

“Oh..” You couldn’t think of what to say.

“He and Mav flew into a jetwash and when they ejected…my dad hit his head on the canopy. Dead on impact.”

You kicked yourself for thinking he was being irrational. Now all his self blame and his aversion to throwing caution to the wind while flying finally made sense. It also made his relationship with Maverick a lot clearer to you.

On one hand, you were thrilled that he was confiding in you. But on the other hand you were also heartbroken for Bradley, he lost his dad so young and as much as you wanted to hug him, and let him cry on your shoulder, you couldn’t.

“Were you close?” You settled on asking him.

“We were, he’s the reason why I worked so hard to be where I am now.” He reminisced.

“I’m sure he is very proud of you Bradley. You are not only an incredible pilot, you are also an selfless, caring, and incredible man.” You reminded him.

“He would give all the credit to my mom.” He lightly chuckled.

“She raised me alone after my dad died.”

“She never remarried?” You asked

“No, she said that dad was her soulmate. She would never find another man like him.”

You can tell how much love Bradley had for his parents, and the love they shared for one another.

“It sounds like they were really in love.” You smiled

“They were. My dad would always serenade my mom. He loved the 50s and the 60s so everytime he saw a piano he would wail out ‘Great Balls of Fire’ while my mom would act embarrassed, but she would eventually sit on his lap and sing along.”

“That’s beautiful Brad, they really were soulmates.”

“I hope I can find a love like theirs someday.” You sighed dreamily.

“Who knows? Maybe you already have.” He responds softly.

A comfortable silence settled between you for a few moments.

“Hey Cloud”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime Bradley.”

You noticed that it was now getting late and exhaustion was starting to take over your body.

Bradley seemed to notice this as well.

“Do you think I can sing to you Cloud? Like my dad used to with my mom?”

“I would love that Brad.”

You slowly fell asleep to the sound of his voice singing ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You’.

And like that, there was no denying, that you’re falling even deeper.

——————————————————————————————-

You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up. It has been months since you and Rooster started talking regularly and you couldn’t help falling in love with him a little more everyday.

The problem is, you knew that his patience was wearing thin, as he was asking you more and more frequently when he can see you face to face or even know your real name.

You knew you owe him all of that, but how could you tell him? When you know in your heart that once he sees you and knows you. He would know you weren’t worth his time.

That realization kills you because he means everything to you. You’ve shared your hobbies, your stories, your dreams with him.

How can you go on living without him in your life once you know the feeling of him being there.

He has planted himself a permanent spot in your heart, and once he’s gone, there will be a gaping hole left in his wake.

He was being as kind and as patient with you as he could, but you couldn’t blame his growing anxiety about your identity.

It also didn’t help that you were constantly under the scrutinous eyes of Lieutenant Commander Seresin. After he caught you on the Tarmac, he seemed very suspicious of you. Like he knew you were up to something but just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Luckily you’ve been able to fly under the radar around him. Yes he could be a little ignorant and too much of a flirt for his own good but he was smart as a whip and you knew that if anyone could figure out what you were doing it would be him.

You were currently sat with ATCs in the mess hall, on the other side of the room from where the dagger squad has decided to congregate. You were trying to subtly sneak glances at Bradley.

He looked particularly handsome today, his sandy hair was slicked back and his tanned skin glowing. He even had his signature Ray Ban Caravans on. You normally hate when people wear sunglasses indoors but he made it work without looking like an asshole. And it looks damn good on him.

You sighed and as you moved your focus away to not arouse suspicion you noticed Hangman look at you with narrowed eyes. You pretended not to notice.

Your attention was diverted by the vibration of you phone signaling a notification.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Is potato salad supposed to be green?

You smiled when you saw it was a text from Bradley

You: Depends, do you normally eat 2 week old potato salad?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Mav said it was okay :(

You: Mav also thinks anything not cooked in a microwave is gourmet.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Okay fair, its going into the trash.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: You know what is gourmet though? ;)

You: Mav

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Not funny :(

You tried to hold in your laughter to no avail and it was loud enough for the other ATC s to look at you in confusion.

“Sorry, just saw a funny meme.” You explained, the ATCs accepted this explanation and went back to their previous activities.

You looked up again to catch another glimpse at Rooster when you saw Hangman staring at your phone in your hand with wide eyes. Then looked down at Rooster also smiling down at his own phone, and then back at you.

You could see the wheels in his head turning, and then he made a face that made it clear that he connected the dots.

Oh shit. You had to get out of here.

You quickly packed up your food and sat up, not bothering to say goodbye to your fellow ATCs.

You ran out the mess hall and down the hallway but before you could turn the corner a hand pulls you back.

You are now face to face with Lieutenant Commander Seresin. He looked at you for a few seconds

“You’re Air Traffic Control right?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes sir I am.” You said trying to disguise your voice the same as you did on the tarmac.

“Don’t play games with me honey, I know that’s not your real voice.” You gulped

He still had a grip on your arm so you couldn’t run even if you wanted to. Curse these Navy men and their workout routines.

“Tell me your name, and that’s an order.”

You were sweating under his gaze, you’ve never felt more panicked in your life.

You tell him your name in your real voice.

He finally released his grip on you and also seemed to drop his serious demeanor.

“I knew there was something about you! You’re the ATC that old chicken has been flirting with over comms aren’t you??”

You nod looking down at your feet. Damn it, there goes your whole relationship (if you can even call it that) with Rooster, because Hangman is definitely going to rat you out.

“You see, Rooster was telling the squad that he was in love. And so of course we ask him who she is.”

“But how surprising was it when he said that not only has he never seen her face to face, he doesn’t even know her name.”

He was now pacing up and down the hallway.

“Then I remembered that day where he bet you your number if he shot down Mav, he magically got a piece of paper with a number on his dash seemingly coming from nowhere.”

“But it wasn’t a magic trick at all, was it?” He asked you rhetorically.

“No sir.”

“Exactly! Because I caught you sneaking off the Tarmac moments before Rooster jumped into his plane and happily announcing that he got your phone number.”

“I saw your face, so you are both the ATC over comms and the girl he talks to, the one he says he’s in love with.”

You looked up shocked at his statement.

“He’s in love with me?”

You looked up from the ground with hopeful eyes.

“Yes he is.” Hangman tells you matter of factly.

“You’ve presumably been talking to Rooster for months, but you've yet to meet him in person, let alone even tell him your name.”

“What game are you playing here?” He asks you

“It’s not a game, I do care about Bradley.” You sighed.

“So then what is it?”

“Sir, can we not please talk about it here?”

You anxiously look around and see that people were now in the hallway exiting from the mess hall. And god forbid that Bradley was one of them.

“Fine.”

“Meet me at the Hard Deck after work.”

——————————————————————————————-

You were seated at the bar in the Hard Deck, your left leg bouncing anxiously.

You checked your watch, 5:47pm. Hangman said to meet him here right after work and you basically sped off the base to get to the bar on time.

You’ve been nursing the same beer for the past almost 30 minutes. You couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

What was taking him so long? Did he forget? Did he already tell Bradley?

A million more questions swirled in your head. But you knew that if Hangman didn’t show up you were basically screwed.

Your self pity was interrupted by the booming sound of naval aviators strolling through the entrance, with one of them being Bradley and of course Hangman.

You were simultaneously trying to avoid Rooster’s gaze, while trying to catch Hangman’s attention.

When you finally caught his eye, you gave him a panicked questioning look. He gave you a subtle nod while continuing his conversation with the rest of the squadron.

The crew made their way to their usual spot in the back with the pool tables. Hangman excused himself from the group nodding towards you.

You kept your eyes on him as he made his way to you.

“Jimmy, can I get a beer?” Hangman asks the bartender.

“Lieutenant Commander.” You greeted him as he sat on the stool directly beside you.

He returned the greeting by saying your name.

“So let’s just get this out of the way. Did you tell Bradley?” You asked him, feeling a large brick settle in your stomach.

“You can relax.. I didn’t tell Bradshaw.” He replies

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relief flooding your body.

“But don’t think that you’re off the hook, you have some explaining to do.” Hangman added.

“What do you want to know sir?” You swallowed nervously.

“First of all, who are you exactly?”

“I’m no one, I’m just an ATC.” You told him, looking down at your hands.

“Well you’re clearly not ‘no one’ if you’ve caught Rooster’s attention.” He rebutted.

“You’re little avoidance tricks might work on Rooster, but they won’t work on me.”

“And I know all your excuses for not meeting him are complete bs.”

“So why are you hiding from him?”

Now that’s the million dollar question isn’t it? It has been months since you started talking to Bradley, you spoke to him every single day, and fell asleep to the sound of his voice every night. Why were you hiding from him?

“I-.....I don’t know.” You confessed to Hangman.

“Then whats stopping me from getting up and telling Rooster who you are?” Hangman asked you with a raised eyebrow.

You stared at him, the words lost in your throat.

“Nothing then I guess..” He got up and started his way to the back.

You pulled his arm back similar to how he did to you earlier that day. He looked at you and your hand on his arm.

“Please don’t…I beg you.”

He sat back down on his stool giving you a questioning look but gave you the time to get your thoughts together.

“I never intended for it to go on this long or this far..” You explained.

“Bradley is so important to me. I knew he was special the first time I ever heard his voice.”

“It was during the uranium plant detachment from a few months ago. I risked my whole damn career to save him.”

“I released the dagger reserve without Admiral Simpson’s approval.” You continued.

“That was you? You gave me clearance that day?” His eyes finally lost the skepticism and was replaced with admiration.

“I did, everyone in that control room was completely frozen. I couldn’t just let them die.”

“But that doesn’t explain this whole situation you have going on with him.” He questioned

“That was the last I expected to ever see of him, but you all decided to stay here in Miramar and I made the mistake of speaking to him a little too long over comms.”

“That’s to be expected honey, Rooster is a big ol flirt.” Hangman chuckled.

“Well not as a big of a flirt as me though.” He winked at you.

He was trying to ease your worries and you appreciated that from him. Especially since he thought the worst of you less than 10 minutes ago.

“And of course you and Mav have heard how he got my number over comms and thats currently where we are now.” You finished.

“Okay so thats the backstory, and you clearly care about him and he cares about you.”

“So it still doesn't answer why you haven’t told him who you are.”

“Think about it this way Lieutenant Commander…”

“You, Phoenix, Payback, Coyote, and Rooster. You are some of the most important and most revered people in the Navy short of the Admirals.”

“You are the first in command, you are the best of the best in the entire world.”

“What do I? A low level ATC, have to offer Bradley?.”

“I am just me, and he is who he is. I could never be a person whos good enough for him.”

“But didn’t I just tell you? Bradshaw is in love with you.” Hangman argued.

You smiled sadly, turning your head to glance at Bradley at the pool tables. His head thrown back in laughter at something Fanboy said.

“Maybe..he is.” You turned back to Hangman.

“But one look at me and he’ll change his mind.”

“I don’t understand. Do you think you’re-” Hangman’s response was interrupted by Rooster popping up behind you both.

“Hangman, I thought you were getting a beer?”

You suddenly felt lightheaded, the sight of Rooster standing so close to you making your heart beat a million times per minute.

“Whos your friend?” Rooster asked Hangman while looking at you with a smile.

You wouldn’t dare open your mouth and speak, risking Bradley recognizing your voice. You stared at Hangman with pleading eyes, hoping he didn’t give you away to Rooster.

Hangman looked at Rooster and back at you, pausing for a moment.

Hangman finally speaks telling Rooster your name. Fuck. You were naïve to think he’d keep your secret.

“We actually just met, she’s getting over a case of laryngitis so her voice is a little hoarse.” Hangman explained.

You smiled at him, silently thanking him for not revealing your charade.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You let out in a hoarse voice, turning to look at Bradley.

He reached out and shook your hand and you can feel your stomach doing backflips for finally getting to touch the man that you’ve spent several months falling in love with.

“Well I’m sorry to hear that ma’am, I hope you feel better.” Bradley offered politely.

“I’ll leave you and Hangman to your conversation.” He excused himself and returned to the pool table, you stared at him longingly as he walked away.

Hangman looked at you in amusement.

“You got it bad, don’t you honey?” Hangman asked with a slight chuckle.

“That obvious?” You asked him

“Couldn’t be any less subtle if you tried.”

“Which makes it so funny that Bradshaw had no clue its you.” He chortled.

“Me personally, if I were him, I would know it was you the minute I saw you.” He added with a smirk,

Leave it to Hangman to be an insatiable flirt.

“Thank you for helping me out.”

As big of an asshole Hangman can be, he really did have a good heart.

“Your secret is safe with me honey.”

——————————————————————————————-

@luckyladycreator2

@lunamoonbby

@n3ssm0nique

@and-claudia

@marrianena

@hummusxx

@writeroutoftime

@abrielleholland

@eroda-harry

@maxi-milf-dot-com

@jake-h-ngm-n-seresin

@8oopsiedaisy8

@dempy

@playswithsquirrellls

@bayisdying

@mysticaldonkey

@zzazzao

@arianna-bradshaw

@pinkwritingdoll

@xattislc

@calsjack

@1bakubabe

@paulina1998

@peaches-1999

@sopheeg

@cowboybarbie

@marvelsvalhalla

@bethebella

@bespinnn

@manwalaage

@sweet-creature98

@8lyme

@ashann7

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@maudeeloise

@ambearsstuff

@parker-natasha

@wishingwell-2

@my-soulmate-is-mycroft

@carolinecakes

@angzls

@saintnourah

@ebonyhogan24

@taytay3212

@fangirl-316

@babyspiderling

@iangiemae

@yogabigooby

@gracie145

@choslover

@maudeeloise

@cursedandromedablack

@marland56

@ynbutbetter

@turningtoclown

@dilfsandtherapy

@strawberryblogg

@unluckymonaghan

@queeniesdiary

@emilyniamh369-blog

@shaded-recs

@romxnticist

@Iyv127

@xoxoloverb

@marchingicenotes7

@supernaturaldawning

#rooster top gun #rooster imagine #rooster angst #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #rooster #hangman #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin #Top gun #top gum maverick #top gun one shot

240 notes · View notes

cressthebest · 2 months

Text

Art Heist, Baby! thoughts pt. 13

chapter 31:

1. why are they still letting regulus drive 😭😭

2. is reg just kissing james in front of all his favorite art pieces in the louvre??? like??? james is left breathless every time.. i love them

3. james says he’s gonna marry reg one day!!! i’m so excited to read the proposal that’s gonna happen in the last chapter!! (let me be delusional plssss)

4. …. is this gonna be a dorlene proposal in paris? wait!! i have such high hopes. this isn’t me being delusional, this is me actually making a guess. god i hope it’s a proposal

5. SHIT I WAS RIGHT RED ALERT RED FUCKING ALERT ITS GONNA BE A PROPOSAL!!! MARLENE IS GONNA PROPOSE TO DORCAS FUCK YEAH

6. SHE SAID YES!! DORCAS SAID YES!!!!!

7. nobody told james it was happening until moments before cause they knew he would be crying tears of happiness 😭😭😭😭 he’s such a fool i love him so much

8. sirius loves photography and regulus remembers!! sirius is surprised reg remembers, but he does!!

9. france is bad for sirius, with so many bad memories, but together him and reg are gonna paint better ones <333333

chapter 32:

1. the black brothers are fixing their bond <333

2. i don’t like that tom riddle is back. i’m very suspicious. watch him be the one to kill reg

3. god, sirius is gonna meet up with the family of those who shot him. i’m so worried this isn’t gonna end well

4. sirius just invited james and reg over to their flat they get once the heist is over. i’m sobbing

5. i love how peter is talking about how it feels to be on the outside of knowing it all, and now everyone paired off except him

6. the more and more they make plans for the future, the more worried i get. cause i know that’s gonna break me

7. god i hate lestrange

8. thank god they got out of the second exchange with no wounds

chapter 33:

1. wolfstar ✨🌙 that’s the bullet point

2. DORCAS AND MARLENE ARE STRAIGHT UP JUST HAVING THE WEDDING???? RIGHT NOW??? TOMORROW NIGHT??

3. “There was no wedding registry, but both Sirius and Remus were under the impression that a good espresso machine was the foundation for a good marriage, and therefore was necessary.” god both of them are so sleep deprived

4. “Sorry. Have you seen Dorcas? You are the hottest person I’ve ever seen Sirius but both of us combined couldn’t upstage her on her worst day. Besides, Marlene would probably sneak in here and shave each of our eyebrows off just to make sure of it.” remus is absolutely correct on all accounts

5. ““Evan looks good all the time,” Barty frowned and Remus and Sirius shared a knowing glance.” 👀 👀 remus and sirius know what’s up

6. james did an apology blow job 😭😭

7. reg speaks italian and everyone including sirius is pissed off at his skill. and barty can speak it too

8. james is gonna get a blow job at the dorlene wedding. and i just. y’all. it’s like twelve people big. they’re gonna notice you’re not there

9. sirius caught them afterwards 😳😳

10. barty and evan are staying true to character by buying dorlene a whole bunch of sex gifts 😭😭 i love them

23 notes · View notes

scary-grace · 5 months

Text

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 20) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

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 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

Chapter 20

“Sorry about the clothes,” Spinner says as the two of you walk down the front steps of the hospital. “Himiko picked them out.”

“It’s fine,” you say. As long as you have clothes that aren’t bloodstained and torn to pieces, you don’t care what you look like. You’re just glad to be headed home.

Nobody exited the near-apocalyptic conjurer fight in good shape, but some of you were worse off than the others. Nemuri was almost blasted apart trying to defeat the giant, and although she survived it, collecting the shreds of her essence back together is apparently a slow process. Keigo took a pretty sizeable hit protecting the kids, while Aizawa had to deal with a beastlike Nomu chewing the hell out of his leg before Hizashi blew its head off. But you and Tomura were by far the worse off. You’ve been in the hospital for two days. Tomura will be in for another three at least.

Most ghosts are healthy when they permanently embody themselves, but apparently it’s different for ghosts who use their own conjurers to do it. Tomura is starvation-level thin, with severe contact allergies to almost every type of medical equipment in the hospital, and the injuries he got from the fight and the rescue from the world between were bad enough to land him in the ICU at least temporarily. They had to put him in an induced coma, too. He’s had meltdowns or panic attacks or some kind of fit every time he’s woken up.

“He’ll bounce back quickly,” Mr. Yagi assured you when he came to visit. “I did.”

That was how you learned that Mr. Yagi embodied himself from his conjurer, too – except she gave him permission to do it, when she realized she was going to die of cancer anyway. Mr. Yagi’s permanent embodiment involves chronic issues with his lungs and his stomach, all of which you’re familiar with after working as his assistant for years. Chronic, but manageable. Sometimes over the past two days, it’s seemed like Tomura’s allergic to the entire human world.

Spinner told you that permanent embodiment creates complications, but you didn’t realize just how severe those complications would be. There’s no legal record of Tomura’s existence. He doesn’t have ID or health records or health insurance. There’s no next of kin who’s empowered to make decisions for him while he’s under heavy sedation, dead to the world. Hizashi’s working overtime to forge some kind of documentation for him. The doctors have been hinting that they won’t release him without it. Legally, you don’t have any right to be involved in or updated on Tomura’s medical condition, but he managed to identify you as somebody important before he went under, which means you get a little more information than you would have gotten otherwise. The doctors have been referring to you as his girlfriend. Apparently he called you his human.

Tomura might not have a next of kin, you do, and the doctors called your parents when you were too doped up on painkillers to stop them. You managed to talk them down from coming to visit, mostly by lying and then promising that they can come visit you soon. The last thing you need is for them to come here right now. Things are too chaotic. It’s hard to think that anything normal will ever happen again.

Like today. Jin and Spinner are picking you up from the hospital and driving you home to a house that, for the first time since it was built, doesn’t have a ghost in it.

When you and Spinner make it down the steps, Jin’s idling the van near the curb with Atsuhiro snoozing in the back row. Jin bursts out laughing at the sight of you, ignoring Spinner hissing at him to shut up. “No wonder Himiko wouldn’t let me see what she picked! Ready to get out of here?”

“Yes.” That’s not quite true, though. The sharp pain in your chest as the hospital vanishes around a curve in the highway tells you that you’d rather have stayed until Tomura could come with you.

You’ve been there, the few times they’ve tried waking him up. He’s promptly freaked out each time, and while your presence settles him a bit, the fact that he’s now in a human body, experiencing the world as a human does, is way more than you can calm him down from. Luckily for you and Tomura, the embodied ghosts stepped in to help. Since last night, there’s been one of them stationed in his room at all times, ready to corral him, ready to explain, so nothing else in his hospital room goes up in dust. Tomura lost a lot of his ghostly powers, but he’s still got more than enough left to raise hell.

You don’t want to leave him there. You want to stay there until he wakes up for good, and not leave until you can bring him home. But your health insurance won’t pay for more than the two nights you already spent in the hospital, and you have a bad feeling about who’s going to be on the hook for Tomura’s hospital bill. You have to go home. You’ll be back to visit tomorrow after work, but tonight you have to go home.

“How did he look?” Spinner asks Jin. Spinner came to get you, while Jin brought Magne for her shift in Tomura’s room. “You saw him, right?”

“He looks like hell.”

“He looks like he’s looked the entire time,” Atsuhiro says sleepily from the back row. Then, to you: “They mentioned removing the feeding tube in two days. His body is burning calories rapidly, and if he doesn’t have enough in reserve, he’ll have a heart attack when he starts moving around.”

“Great,” you mumble. “Did he wake up at all?”

“Not perceptibly to the staff,” Atsuhiro says. Ghost stuff. Again. “I was able to tell him that you were being released today.”

You sort of wish Atsuhiro hadn’t done that. Tomura’s going to think you’re leaving him, and based on the conversation you had the day before things went to hell, he didn’t want to embody himself for anything less than a sure thing. You’re a sure thing. About as sure as it gets, given that you were ready to get sucked into the world between along with him rather than let him go. But he’s not going to know that until the two of you talk. And you can’t talk to him while he’s got a feeding tube down his throat.

When you left the neighborhood three nights ago, you left it in the back of an ambulance, so you didn’t get a good look at everything that happened. Now it’s daylight, and what you see isn’t pretty. A weird fog still hovers over everything. Almost every plant on the block is dead, courtesy of being flash-frozen a dozen times over, and the pavement and asphalt on your end of the street is pitted and ruptured and cracked, courtesy of the giant. Nobody’s house escaped getting knocked around a bit, but you know yours took the largest amount of damage – window smashed, porch roof caved in, fence down, yard chewed to bits – so when you get out of the car and make your way closer for a look, you’re expecting the worst.

What you’re not expecting to see is a new fence, in the process of being painted greyish blue. You’re not expecting to see Himiko and a girl you vaguely remember meeting at her birthday party painting it. And you’re definitely not expecting Izuku to pop out of absolutely nowhere, hands smeared with dirt. “Hey, you’re back! Are you okay?”

He waits long enough for you to confirm you’re not about to keel over, then pivots. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“We already told you what happened,” Spinner says. “Don’t bug her.”

“You did tell me! It was great,” Izuku says. He refocuses on you. “But you spent the most time with the conjurer, didn’t you? And you got away from him! How did you do it?”

It occurs to you, sort of suddenly, that you haven’t told anybody exactly what happened. Everybody’s clear on the important details – kidnapped by conjurer, tortured by conjurer with the intent of Nomufication, escaped, rescued by what Jin inexplicably decided to call the Vanguard Action Squad. Nobody’s asked you more until you right now. And you should probably tell somebody, just to get it on the record. “Um, it was –”

“Izuku! Leave her be,” Inko scolds, stepping out onto your front porch. You should have guessed that at least one of Izuku’s parents would be present, but you’re still surprised to see her. “I’m sorry to startle you. We were hoping to be gone by the time you got back so you’d have a quiet house.”

A quiet house. A house without Tomura in it. “It’s okay. Um – why are you here?”

“We’re helping patch things up,” Izuku says. “I’m filling in the footprints in the yard – Toga says there was a huge Nomu here – like, building-sized –”

“Bigger,” Himiko says. She looks over at the other girl, who looks worried. “I didn’t fight that one. I did lots of other fighting.”

“And Toga and Uraraka are fixing the fence,” Izuku continues. You forgot that Himiko picked out a different last name than Jin’s when she embodied herself. You’re not sure why. “Mom was keeping an eye on the guys who came to fix the window and the roof and Dad and Kacchan are in the backyard clearing out your dead plants! There are a lot of them. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it.” You step through the gate, barely avoiding putting your hand in wet paint. “The fence looks really nice, Himiko. You guys didn’t have to do this.”

“The old fence matched Tomura’s new hair. We had to fix it,” Himiko explains. “Now it matches his old hair.”

“He has new hair?” Uraraka asks.

“Yeah, it’s white now. He looks like an anime villain,” Spinner says, and Himiko giggles. “I didn’t know your fence was supposed to match your hair.”

“It’s not. That’s why we’re fixing it.”

“Thank you,” you say to Himiko and her friend. “And – thanks, Izuku. I’ll tell you about all the stuff later.”

He beams at you, then goes back to filling in a massive hole in your yard. You thank Spinner and Jin for the ride home, and Atsuhiro for sitting with Tomura, then make your way into your house. The last time you were here, you could barely walk. You were oozing blood everywhere and you were in agony, but you remember seeing Tomura on the porch and stumbling into his arms and feeling for just a moment like everything would be okay. Everything is okay. But just like Aizawa said of you being turned into a Nomu, this came at a cost – and you weren’t the one to pay.

There are a few bloodstains on the front porch steps. You collect some varnish from your hall closet and come back out to paint them over.

“My dear.” Mr. Yagi’s feet appear in your field of vision and you look up at him. He looks miserable, his mouth trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were taken from the parking lot. I knew the conjurer could be near. I knew you were in danger. And instead of ensuring your safety I allowed you to –”

“You weren’t responsible for my safety. I was,” you say. You’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped the conjurer. If he hadn’t grabbed you from the parking lot before work, he would have grabbed you when you went outside on your lunch break or when you headed home. “The bracelets you gave me helped me get away from him. I wouldn’t have escaped without them.”

Mr. Yagi looks surprised. “Is that so?”

“When he noticed them, he broke one. It released all this energy and threw him across the room. That’s how I got out. And me and the ghost who helped me escape used the other one to blow up the building we were in.”

“My master must have known he would break them,” Mr. Yagi says. He smiles slightly, sadly. “She was a master tactician. And speaking of her – I suppose it’s no longer relevant, but I brought over the notes Izuku and I took from her journals, if you’d still like to read them.”

“I’d like to.” You’ll need something to do tonight, when you’re here all alone for the first time. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit together on the steps until the varnish dries and the smell of food begins to drift out of the kitchen. You go to investigate and find that Inko’s turned your kitchen into some kind of industrial cooking facility. “This is for tonight,” she says, gesturing to a pot simmering on your stove. “I’ve made things for the next four days also. The list on the counter is a list of common food sensitivities, in case Tomura picked up anything during his embodiment. And if you have any questions about anything, please call me.”

You feel a lump growing in your throat, making it hard to swallow. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Inko says. She smiles at you. “I would have liked someone to talk to, when it was me.”

You nod a few times, manage to thank her. Then you excuse yourself to the bathroom, so she won’t see you struggling not to cry.

You’re not sure why you’re so miserable, why it’s so hard for you to hold it together as everyone heads home for the evening. The only thing that helps even slightly is when Phantom comes home, brought over by Shinsou and Hizashi, who’ve been keeping an eye on her for you. She’s so happy to see you that she leaps a full three feet off the ground and knocks you over, which hurts. You hug her close even though you can tell she’s dying to zoom ecstatically around the house and look up at Shinsou and Hizashi from the floor. “Thanks for looking out for her. I owe you.”

“That’s the closest I’m gonna get to getting a dog until I move out. It’s great,” Shinsou says. Aizawa and Eri are committed cat people, but Shinsou’s said multiple times that he likes both. “So you got out of the hospital. Are you, like – good?”

“Great,” you say. It’s a good thing you and Shinsou aren’t ghosts, because if you were, you wouldn’t have a prayer of getting away with the lie. “It’s nice to be home.”

Hizashi nods impatiently as you pick yourself up off the ground and Phantom goes tearing off to inspect the house, Shinsou in hot pursuit. He has a folder tucked under one arm, and he holds it out to you. “Here. ID and birth certificate for him. I’m working on the rest.”

The ID is right on top, complete with a photo. “How’d you get a photo of him?”

“Took it in the hospital. Fixing the background and photoshopping his eyes open was a bitch.” Hizashi looks pretty proud of himself anyway. “I made him the same age as you. He looks it at least. The birthday is an approximation of his summoning date. I couldn’t use his embodiment date. I didn’t want the doctors asking too many questions about how he had the worst birthday ever.”

“Thanks.” You inspect everything a little closer, then nearly drop the folder in shock. “Shigaraki Tomura? You gave him his conjurer’s last name?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” Hizashi says. “It flows pretty nicely, right?”

You guess it does, except for the part where you’re going to think of the conjurer every time you use Tomura’s new full name. “Thank you,” you say again, uselessly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t helped.”

Hizashi looks as uncomfortable being thanked by you as you are doing the thanking. “Don’t worry about it. His shit’s a lot easier to forge than the Nomus’.”

Shinsou and Hizashi stick around for a little longer, checking out the repairs and marveling at all the food Inko cooked, then head home. You shut and lock the door behind them, and all at once you’re home alone. Just you and Phantom, like you thought it would be when you bought this place. Phantom is wandering from room to room, greeting you when she passes by but very much looking for something. Looking for Tomura.

“He’ll be home soon,” you promise her. She knows who you’re talking about. She whines. “I miss him, too.”

You feel aimless, and you feel sick. You should probably eat something. You fill a bowl from the pot Inko left on the stove and settle in on the couch to pick at it, staring at nothing if you’re not looking into the bowl itself. It tastes good, but you’ve got no desire to eat it. You eat it anyway. If you’re going to be miserable no matter what, you might as well do it on a full stomach.

Part of you thinks it’s normal to feel wrecked after everything that’s happened. You were kidnapped and tortured. You watched your ghost die in front of you nineteen times. You almost got force-fed a ghost and almost turned into a Nomu and almost watched your house be destroyed and almost killed somebody and almost lost your ghost to the world between. Only a crazy person wouldn’t be upset. But at the same time, it’s a whole lot of almost. It could have been so much worse. It almost was. What is there for you to be upset about?

Your phone rings and you pick it up just for somebody to talk to. It’s your mom. “When I called the hospital they said you’d been discharged today. Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s been a lot. I just got home.” It’s probably not good that your default is to lie to her. “Everything’s fine.”

“Everything isn’t,” your mom says severely. “I raised you. I know you. Even over the phone, I know that tone in your voice.”

“How do you know me, Mom? We barely talk. We barely talked even when I was a kid.” You shouldn’t say this. Now’s not the right time to say this, but you’ve started, and you can’t stop yourself. “Everything’s not fine, and I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you. Not with anybody! The only person I want to talk to about it is Tomura, and he’s –”

In the hospital, in an induced coma, with a feeding tube down his throat that they won’t remove for two more days. Your own throat closes up, and your mom is silent on her end of the line. You brace yourself for her to blow up at you, to talk about how you never let her in, how the distance between the two of you is your fault. Instead: “You must be really worried about Tomura,” she says. “How is he doing?”

“He’s – they think he’ll be out in three days,” you say haltingly. “It’s – it’s worse for him than it was for me. I was healthier to start with. But they said he’ll be home in three days.”

“Are you going to visit him tomorrow?”

“I want to,” you say. “I have to go back to work, too. My boss said he’d give me as much time as I need, but I need to save it for when Tomura’s home.”

“When he’s home,” your mother repeats. “You live together?”

Oops. “Yeah. For a while now.”

“So it’s serious.”

“As serious as it gets,” you say. For a moment you’re overwhelmed by the memory of clinging to his hand as the world between dragged him in, refusing to let go even if it meant you’d be pulled in, too. “I’m – this is it for me, Mom. He’s it. I’m not leaving him.”

“I would never ask you to leave him,” your mom says, surprised. You shouldn’t have said that, should have known that the weight behind it wouldn’t make sense to her. “I’m looking forward to meeting him, once the two of you have recovered from all of this. You still haven’t told me what happened.”

You haven’t told anyone. “It’s hard to explain,” you say. Your phone begins to beep again, signaling an incoming call, and your stomach lurches when you see Magne’s caller ID. “I’m getting a call from the hospital. I have to go. Sorry –”

“Go,” your mom says immediately. “I’ll call back later. I love you.”

You manage to mumble that you love her too, then end the call and accept Magne’s. “What’s happening? Is he okay?”

You hear Magne speaking to someone else, but you can’t hear what she’s saying, and then her voice is there again, right in your ear. “Tomura’s awake,” she says. “They’re trying to sedate him again, but he’s a little upset. You can imagine.”

You can imagine. “Can I talk to him?”

“That’s why I called you, honey.” Magne puts you on speaker, and you hear her voice from a distance. “You’re right by his ear. Go ahead.”

“Tomura,” you say, and you hear a strangled sound. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Nobody there wants to hurt you. They’re just trying to help.”

You imagine him arguing that it hurts anyway. Probably also that it’s not helping, and he still feels like hell. “The sooner you get through this, the sooner you can come home,” you tell him. “That’s where I am right now. Me and Phantom are waiting for you. We’ll be here when you get back. Three days, right?”

“Right,” a doctor confirms from somewhere in the offing. “The wounds are healing well. The nutritional deficiencies are the main concern now.”

“You’ll be home soon,” you promise. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow.”

He’d be protesting if he could talk. Probably saying that he’ll be asleep tomorrow if he lets them sedate him again. “I’ll be there,” you say. “You’re fun to hang out with even when you’re asleep.”

You wonder if he’ll hear what you’re calling back to – all those months ago, when you were trying to keep him out of your bedroom at night. “I love you. I’ll be there tomorrow. Tomura –”

“He’s out,” Magne tells you. She laughs quietly. “We all knew you had him wrapped around your finger, but it’s really something to see in action.”

You close your eyes. “Thanks for sitting with him. It would be harder if you weren’t.”

Magne says something about how it’s not a problem, even though it is, and you thank her again and hang up the phone. You wish you were there with Tomura in the hospital. Even if you can’t talk to him, you can hold his hand. You could get used to the warmth of his skin and the new rhythm of his pulse and the sight of his white hair, before he comes home to you for good. You finish your soup and lift Phantom into your lap. She was with you at the start of all this, before all of this. She’s the only thing right now that feels like home. She lets you hug her and licks your face a few times, and for some stupid reason, that’s when you start to cry.

#lovhalloweenhorror #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #shigaraki tomura #ghost story #loser nerd ghost boyfriend

40 notes · View notes