#so i had to find a video of maisie to make something with it

[auroracalisto]

good enough

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x gn!reader, 8k words tw: MAJOR MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE. divorce, cussing (lots of f bombs at some point), lots of arguing, angst, at one point, reader is said to have had depression before. the reader and bradley are both idiots and neither one of them can properly deal with shit. macho man rooster ends up letting fear gets the best of him and he literally ruins his own life bc of it LMAO, possibly ooc if you squint, possibly questionable actions when it comes to friends, this is dramatic as hell (and i loved every minute of it), self-doubt, angry characters, regret is strong here, rooster fears death and makes it a personality trait™ a/n: based on the song "good enough" by maisie peters. sorry for all of the tws, but i just wanted to try and mark all the boxes. but fr i love bradley. this is purely a play on the song i named, and is just a piece of fiction. a dramatic piece of fiction. like literally take rooster and place him in some angsty romance novel, but cut out the smut. that's this. i am also so sorry for the length of this. i just... started going and i couldn't stop. LMAO

Your heart lurched to your throat as you stood there, his head turned away from your lips—he was avoiding your touch. He didn’t have to say it for you to realize it.

You hesitantly smiled, backing down. Maybe he just had a bad day. It happened pretty often, so taking it personally wouldn’t have benefited you in any way.

He was your favorite person, and you knew you were his. You two were best friends until the end of time. That’s how it had been since even before you two got married—that’s how it would stay.

The television that sat in the living room had long since been turned off. The fan perched in the corner of the room silently hummed along, providing little relief to the California heat that plagued your home.

"Rooster," you began, rubbing the back of your neck. Sweat stuck to the palm of your hand, and you grimaced as you quickly wiped your hand off on the seat of your pants. "How was your day? I know it's been busy—"

"—we need to talk," he said, cutting you off.

He didn't even give you a chance to question things as he walked past you, sitting down on the sofa in your shared condominium. You blinked slowly at your husband, but you gave a small nod. Your feet moved on their own accord as you sat beside him. You placed a hand on his knee, and he only pulled himself away from you.

You swallowed thickly, nerves getting the best of you. Had you done something to offend him recently? Did something happen with Maverick again? You had thought they were doing well—the videos Natasha had sent you were proof enough of that. It warmed your heart to know that he was finally finding himself in this crazy world.

Maybe it was just hot. Yes, that’s it. The heat was getting to him. It had been getting to everyone on base, and at work. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was the same thing here.

"Bradley…?" You said nothing more than his name, watching him with nothing but pure adoration behind your eyes. He meant the world to you. There was nothing he could say or do to change this, even if he was avoiding you.

The man looked at anything but you. His dark brown eyes stared at the black television, and then they moved to the grey carpet just beneath his boot-clad feet.

You must have just vacuumed. He could see the indentations, and that’s what he chose to focus on as he searched for the right words to say. But they never came.

"I want a divorce," he said.

It was so simple. Those four words.

And just like that, your world came crashing around you.

Where was this coming from? Did you do something to upset him?

The words swirled around in your brain, repeating over and over until it hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your chest. He wants a divorce.

You sat on the edge of the black sofa, eyes fluttering shut as you took in a deep breath. Your hands rested in fists on top of your thighs as you wracked your mind for an explanation. You couldn't find one.

There was nothing that could justify whatever this was.

How long had he been thinking about this?

"Where… where is this coming from?" you asked. You just had to know.

"I don't want to talk about it. Just… please."

"What?" You looked up at him in disbelief. "You—you want to divorce me but you won't even give me a reason?" you asked. Your eyes burned as you held back your tears. You couldn't cry. Not now. If you cried that first tear, then surely, they would never stop.

"I have never asked you for anything, Y/n. Please, just say yes.”

"I don't understand where this is coming from, Bradley," you said, reaching forward to take ahold of his hand. "Please. Talk to me. I want to understand what's going on."

Rooster clenched his jaw, looking down at your hands. Your wedding band glinted in the soft glow of the light overhead. The beautiful piece glared at him as he fought to find the right words to say—but nothing he could say would make this better. Not now.

The words left him without a second thought.

"I don't love you."

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no, no. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be telling you the truth right now. He did love you. He married you! Why would he ever ask you to marry him if he didn't love you?

Why would you plan your life together if he didn’t love you?

But even though you could create more and more questions in your mind, trying to placate every emotion coursing through your veins, nothing made sense.

You pulled your hand away as your tears finally began to fall. If he didn't love you, you wouldn't force him to be with you any more than he wanted.

Rooster inwardly grimaced, but he wasn’t about to let you see that. He needed to be strong—he needed to save face and keep on digging in the same grave he had started.

"Just… just tell me when."

"When what?"

"When did this happen? When did you fall out of love? I—I thought you loved me, Bradley. I love you."

He pursed his lips. He seemed to hesitate as he allowed his eyes to meet yours. Rooster's blood rushed to his ears, and his fingers itched to grab onto something. To grab onto you. But he couldn’t. He couldn't even look at you properly when you looked so sad, but he forced himself to do so anyway. You deserved that, at least. You deserved to be looked at when he was ending the relationship you fought so hard to keep.

"I don't know. It just… happened."

He was lying. He had to be lying. There was no way he was being honest—he loves you. He loves you, and this was all just some bad dream. Some bad joke that Hangman put him up to. Maybe Fanboy was in on it, too. Surely, someone put him up to this. They had money in a bowl somewhere, waiting for your reaction so they would know who won. He’d whip out his phone soon and text them the result.

But the way he looked at you… you knew he was telling you the truth. He wanted a divorce. This was happening, whether you wanted it to or not. There was no cruel bet, no ulterior motive.

This was happening.

Every moment of the past three years pierced your brain—Bradley asking you out in the middle of the Hard Deck. Meeting his friends. Picking out your wedding rings. Becoming Y/n Bradshaw. The kisses you shared. The whispered conversations, the happy smiles, the—

He was your life. He is your life. You love him more than life itself.

But he loved you.

Loved. Past-tense.

He did love you. Something changed. What had changed?

You abruptly stood up, roughly wiping your tears away. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be near him right now. Your heart was far too heavy, weighed down by the immense burden of his confession.

"Alright," you said. "I… I won't force you to stay with me. I would never do that to you, Bradley. I would… I would never, ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You held back a sob, fists balled at your sides. “We can get a divorce."

Relief spread across his face. He couldn't smile, though. This ended up being a lot harder than he expected it to be.

"Thank you," he said. He stood up, towering over you like usual. "I appreciate it."

You gave a curt nod, averting your gaze. Your tongue poked out, nervously wetting your lips as you cleared your throat. He appreciated it.

Were you just a joke to him?

"I will… I will make arrangements. I will leave by next week."

"What? You don't have to do that. There's no rush—"

"—I'll leave by next week," you cut him off, no longer looking at him.

What was he doing? You didn’t need this. You didn’t need him. As you took a step forward, the tears began to fall. Your husband forced himself to stay put as you rushed off to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You found little comfort in the blankets that now surrounded you, tears wetting the pillow on which you rested your head night after night. You found little comfort in the place you spent with your husband, time after time, lamenting how much you loved each other. Planning the future of your life—of your family. Of your relationship that should have only grown in love.

The memories of this bed burned in the back of your mind. You could hardly breathe as the sobs plowed through your body.

This wasn’t fair.

This couldn’t be real.

Rooster slowly sat back down, burying his face in his hands. His elbows dug into his thighs, a choked sob catching in the back of his throat. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to say that to you. It was far from the truth. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

This was for the best.

This would keep you safe.

As the sun peered through the grey curtains, setting just beyond the horizon, Rooster stood up. He wiped his tears away, instantly hardening. He had done this time and time again. He would hide, folding back into himself like a metal chair—he’d be there for people when he was needed, but he would be just out of the way until then. He wouldn’t bother you any longer than he needed to.

This was for the best—you wouldn’t have to live your life wondering what could have been.

If he died, that was that. You would move on, and he could rest peacefully in the afterlife.

His father hadn’t ever given his mother a chance to do something like that. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake.

Three years had passed.

Three, long and grueling years had inched by, taking your misery along with you. The New Year would pass over and over, and the only thing you would write on your resolution list was: Move on.

But you never could. That list ended up in the garbage only weeks after drafting it up.

How could you when the love of your life left as he did? How could you when you knew he was the only thing that kept you going, even if you were hundreds of miles away?

They would never say it out loud, but your friends never quite said anything about why he divorced you—why he fell out of love. But why would he tell them something like that? Rooster generally kept to himself. It wasn't something that he would have been very honest about, to begin with.

You knew they knew something more, but they never said anything. You never expected them to, either. They were your friends as much as they were his, and they had been his friend for far longer. You couldn't blame them. Whatever they knew—that was his business. But you kept silent, allowing yourself to wallow in self-pity for more than you should have.

But just like you couldn't blame them for keeping his secrets… who could blame you?

You had your own life before Rooster, yes, you did. You didn’t depend on him. You were independent, and you had your own interests and everything. You didn’t need him. But with his confession, it was as if everything you had ever known had been tossed out of the window of a speeding car in an instant, shattering against the run-down pavement. Pieces flew everywhere—you'd never be able to find them again, let alone put them back together.

You'd never have enough glue for something like that.

You would never be able to repair the gaping hole that was in your heart.

And you knew it was silly. You shouldn’t have ever let yourself trust someone so completely. But you never thought something like that would happen. Rooster was so easy to love.

He was such a happy person—he exuded confidence. He was the epitome of an amazing human being. And yet, he still fell out of love with you.

You never believed someone could just fall out of love so easily.

So, instead of remaining in the very place you felt like you were sinking in, you did what you thought was best. You packed your things and moved to Virginia. At least there, you'd be far enough away that he'd never find you. The mileage did little to comfort you, but it was something.

At least here, you felt like you could breathe.

Changing from the west coast to the east coast was drastic—but you adapted. You had to. You couldn't continue living in the very place that was threatening you at every given minute. You couldn’t continue on in a place where at every corner, something reminded you of him. It was driving you into a familiar depression—one that you had known before Rooster, and one that you would now know after Rooster.

When you left, Phoenix was devastated. Other than Bob, you were her closest friend. She never stopped talking to you—she never stopped being friends with you, even when you moved across the country. When Phoenix asked you to come in to visit, you hesitated. But then she promised you that Rooster wouldn't be there. That he would be visiting some family he had up north—his girlfriend's family. He would be using this free time to get to know them better.

You wouldn't say you were happy for him. Hell, that was far from the truth. Despite the fact you no longer wore your ring on your finger, it was always on a chain around your neck. Your heart still beats for him, no matter how many times you had tried to move on. And you did it all. You tried everything that Google said to do. One night stands, going out with strangers, having people set you up, hell, you even tried therapy. But it never worked.

Why would it? Rooster was the love of your life. He was the one you had seen yourself dying with—he was the one you wanted to grow old with. And he didn't want that in you. He didn't see the same things.

He didn’t see your relationship as a rising sun just beyond the mountain tops. He was already there with the setting sun, disappearing beyond the horizon. He had been there, at the end of your relationship, far before you even had a chance to find the middle. He had made peace with the end. You couldn’t even find peace in the beginning.

After much pestering and a FaceTime call from both Phoenix and Bob, you were convinced to join them back in California for a week. But your only condition was that Phoenix would be paying half for your plane ticket. She agreed in a heartbeat.

So that's why you stood here now, in front of the old dormitory in which you used to visit your friends in. You had already been to the hotel you'd be staying at, and you took a taxi to the base.

The grey building towered over you, making you feel far smaller than you actually were. Memories sat behind those walls, waiting for you to relive them, even if you didn’t want to.

It only took one text message to Natasha before she came barreling down the sidewalk, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Bob was not far behind, and Hangman was taking his sweet ole time. You didn't know he'd be around, but you felt better knowing he was—you had been close before Rooster sent in the papers. He helped you pack and get your things to Virginia.

You hugged Phoenix tightly, smiling up at her.

"It's been too long!" she nearly shouted, excitement running through her body. As she pulled away, Bob pulled you into a hug. He greeted you as he had so many times, with a hug and a simple ‘hello.’

Last but not least, Hangman sent you a smile. He pulled you into a hug, despite the fact he used to be one of the last people you would expect it from. You melted into the hug, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"It's… it's good to be back. I'm glad to see you guys."

"Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy are already at the bar. Said they'd just meet us there. You ready?" Phoenix grinned.

You were as ready as you would ever be. You gave a small nod to your friend, and before you knew it, you were on your way to the very place you met your ex-husband. The Hard Deck.

It was suffocating, standing in that corner all alone. Your friends played pool, and you watched as the different colored balls sunk into the pockets that lined the edge. Hangman stood off to the side, beating some stranger in darts.

Rooster had always been good at that.

Lost in your mind like you had been so many times before, the sound of a glass falling at the bar made you jump.

And then you saw him. Your own glass slipped through your fingertips, crashing onto the floor. Shards littered the wood floor. Phoenix yelped your name in surprise, coming to your side immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on your arm to try and comfort you. You continued to stare, and she eventually looked in the direction of your gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as she tried to find something to say.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near you.

And he was looking right at you.

"Y/n, it's okay, he's not—"

You pulled your arm away from Phoenix, taking a couple of steps back before you took off running in the direction of the restrooms. It was as good of a hiding spot as anywhere, and you'd be able to collect yourself before going back out there. You couldn’t possibly run past him—he’d stop you. Or at least, try to follow you. Phoenix would make him leave. Surely, she wouldn't just let him stay.

You locked yourself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat. You took in a deep, releasing a shaky breath as tears clouded your vision. A hand pressed to your mouth, elbows digging into the meat of your thighs as you tried to keep yourself calm.

This wasn't happening! She promised he wasn't here. Why would she lie?

Maybe she didn't know.

The bright light in the bathroom was far too much.

The dripping water from the sink struck the porcelain—plip, plip, plip.

The noise from the bar was deafening as you sat there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Loud voices echoed through the building, striking your ears in an instant. But the more you cried, the more your sobs became the only thing you heard.

It had been ages since you cried over him, so why now? Why were you so triggered by just seeing him?

You tried to calm yourself down but to no avail.

You loved him. You love him. You never stopped. You couldn't just stop.

You tried so hard. You spent years trying to forget the man who ripped your heart in two with four simple words.

But the universe had a funny way of working. It seemed to work against you in every way possible, no matter what.

You could never win.

You would never win.

No matter what, you were never good enough.

You hadn't been good enough in school. You weren't good enough at work. And you hadn't been good enough for Rooster, even when you were married. You weren't good enough for him, now, either.

There was a knock at the bathroom door before you heard it creak open. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to keep quiet, choked sobs caught in your chest.

Worn shoes popped up underneath the stall door you found refuge in. Those same damn shoes you bought him once for Christmas, four years ago. He had been so excited—they were almost the exact same pair his mother had bought him one year for his birthday. His father's favorite brand—his favorite style of shoe.

God, you searched everywhere for those damn shoes.

And he kept them.

Silence enveloped the bathroom, save for your stifled sobs. You rested your shoulder against the old paneled walls, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore him. But he knew you were there. It was far too late, now.

Rooster stood there, fist raised to knock on the stall door. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What would he even say? What would have been good enough?

Three years had come and gone without you. Three long years in which he felt as if he was drowning, just existing. He would have been better off launching himself into that ocean, the same as his father. His wedding band was stuffed away in some kind of pocket, always near him or on his person in some way. He tried to get over you—one-night stands, blind dates, even going as far as asking Hangman to find him a girl.

It worked, for a while.

He started dating Kristie—a sweet woman who worked as a nurse on base. But she saw right through him. She knew who he was, and what was going on in that head of his.

She wasn't mad—a bit disappointed, yes, but it didn't stop her from breaking up with him and canceling their planned vacation up north together.

She wasn’t you. She would never be you.

And he didn’t think he would ever see you again.

Rooster found himself in the middle of the Hard Deck, never once expecting you to be there. None of the Dagger Squad had said anything about you. He didn't know you were even going to be in town.

He felt like he couldn't breathe when he laid eyes on you.

The yellow lighting cast a soft glow on your skin. You were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but damn, you looked even more beautiful now. Maybe it was just the years that had passed him by.

The walls of his small corner of the world couldn’t fall on him sooner.

The glass that crunched under your shoes became the only thing he heard until he watched as you ran back into the hallway.

In a split second, Hangman was beside him, obviously pissed.

"What the hell, man? Why aren't you with Kristie?"

"She broke it off."

Hangman clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe this was happening, but then again, Rooster had his head far up his ass more often than not. Hangman punched him in the arm, just enough for it to hurt.

"You need to leave," he said, watching as Rooster recoiled in pain.

"What?" Rooster looked at him in surprise. "No."

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Was this idiot really that much of an asshole?

This time, Phoenix spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. "We promised you wouldn't be here. You're supposed to be up north. You're supposed to be far away from here!"

"You promised?" Rooster stared her down.

"Well, yeah, you asshole! You broke their heart. They didn't even want to come here in the first place. God, I should've just gone to see them instead of dragging them out here," Phoenix groaned, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

Rooster hesitantly took a step forward.

"Rooster, get out," Hangman said, voice low.

He shook his head. He needed to talk to you.

"Rooster!"

He broke out into a run, and before Hangman could follow, Phoenix grabbed his arm.

"What the hell?" he stared at her in disbelief.

"Just let it happen," she said.

"Let what happen? Watch Y/n get their heart stepped on all over again?"

"Just… just let it happen."

Phoenix would wait for you to berate her, later. But for now, she could only wish her friends would try to make up. She could only wish that Rooster would gain a pair and grow up. Her heart ached for you as she watched Rooster run back to the bathrooms, knowing that she couldn’t ever take the pain away from you. The only one who could do that was Rooster, himself, and even then, she wasn’t sure if that would happen.

And now, he found himself standing there, the silence deafening in the small space. The light was bright in the enclosure—brighter than he remembered. His hand was still hovering, his arm growing heavy as he debated on knocking.

Should he just leave? Should he do as Hangman said and walk out? But he couldn't just leave. Not now. Not when he knew he made the biggest mistake of his life, telling you all that bullshit.

You used your sleeves to wipe your tears away as you shakily got to your feet. Your fingers struggled to even unlock the stall door, but when you did, you swung it open. Rooster had to back up just to avoid being hit with the metal.

The two of you just stood there, bright light casting shadows onto the old tile floor. Not a word was said as Rooster stared at you.

You were exactly as he remembered, if not better. You had changed your hair since the last time he saw you. He kept the mustache, and his hair was still cut the same. You kept the same style and the same makeup (or lack thereof).

You still looked at him the same… even if it quickly changed into one of anger.

You were still so beautiful.

His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to talk to you, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to you. Nothing he could say would make things better.

He was such an idiot.

You stepped forward, walking to the stark white sink. You grabbed a few paper towels and wet them before carefully wiping the remnants of your tears. You stared at your reflection in the rounded mirror, your lip caught between your teeth as you hiccuped.

"Y/n?" Rooster tentatively began. He raised a hand to touch your shoulder.

You immediately moved away from his touch, glaring in his direction.

His fist clenched beside him as he watched you.

You tossed the paper towels in the trash and pushed past him, quickly leaving the bathroom.

"Y/n," he repeated.

As you walked, he followed.

Your friends stood in their respective corner, knowing they should intervene. Yet they stayed, hoping that somehow, Rooster would fix his fuck up. They couldn’t keep watching the two of you fight some imaginary battle—they couldn’t watch the two of you wish your life away for something that was quite literally at the tips of your fingers.

Phoenix wasn't too sure if he'd be able to fix this. Hangman honestly wanted to hang a man.

You shoved the doors open, walking into the cool California night. It wasn’t like the cold in Virginia. Virginia’s winters were unforgiving—the snow that would fall would chill you to your very core. Virginia winters would put southern California to shame in an instant. At this very moment, you wished you were there, standing in the chilling wind, begging for some kind of relief—at least then, your body would become numb even if your mind was still running a mile a minute.

Nothing could have prepared you for what had transpired. Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man you fought so hard to forget.

With no car, you continued walking. You'd call a taxi at some point. Right now, you just needed to breathe.

But you had yet to realize Rooster was still following you.

The man grabbed ahold of your wrist, making you stop in the middle of the damn parking lot. Cars and trucks alike littered the parking spots. A few people walked past you as they went into the bar, ignoring the tension that stood in the middle of it all.

You whipped around, jerking your arm away from him with wide eyes. "What's your fucking problem?!"

Rooster paused, body going rigid as he waited for you to continue.

You had never yelled at him, even when he asked for a divorce.

"Why the fuck are you even here? You're not supposed to be here! You have a fucking girlfriend. Get away from me. I don't ever want to see you again."

Tears sprung to your eyes once more. You tilted your head back, wishing they would just stop. The stars stared down at you, mocking you where you stood. The sky was so close, and yet so far away.

God, would this man ever make you stop crying?

"Y/n—"

"—just go away! I don't want you here!"

"Please," he began, "I need to talk to you. I need to apologize."

"Apologize?! Oh, that's rich! Just leave me alone. You did enough damage when you asked for a divorce. Just leave me alone."

"Y/n, please," he continued. "You… please just hear me out."

"I heard you out once, and it was the worst fucking time of my life," you said. "I'm not listening to you ever again."

You turned back around, set on leaving—this time a bit faster. But his words grounded you in your spot, heart leaping to your throat once more.

"It was a mistake!"

You stared at the gravel that crunched underneath your feet. You could feel your pulse rushing through your body, fast and unsteady.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

"It was a mistake, Y/n," he said, his voice far quieter this time. "I never should have asked for a divorce. I never should have said anything. I should—I should have just—"

"—what, toughed it out? Let me realize you stopped loving me when you started cheating on me or some shit?"

His eyes widened in surprise.

"What? No. No, Y/n… I… I never should have said anything. I never stopped loving you."

What?

You couldn't breathe—your lungs constricted in your chest, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Your body burned as you looked up at the night sky, stars littering the vast ocean of darkness. They still mocked you, but this time, dark clouds rolled in. Perhaps the sky knew just how you felt. The moon cast a soft glow on everything in its path.

Tears blurred your vision once more.

He never stopped loving you.

You let out a sob, turning to face him.

"What?"

"I never stopped loving you," Rooster lamented. "I… still love you."

"Then… then… why?"

"I couldn't do it to you."

"What? Do what?"

"I couldn't die! I couldn't die and leave you a widow. I couldn't end up with the same fate my dad had, leaving you just the same as my mom," he said.

"Well you're not fucking dead, are you?!"

Rooster paused, lips parting to speak.

"You're not dead. You're standing right in front of me, telling me that the reason you fucking divorced me was because you didn't want me to be a widow?! I would have been less upset if you had fucking died!" You took in a deep breath, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You did not have to do that. You did not have to make me miserable. You did not have to make me feel like the one person who loved me was an entire lie!”

Rooster winced. Your words pierced his soul like a sharp bullet, ricocheting off the crevices of his very soul.

"Fuck off, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, fists clenched at your sides. "I never want to see you again."

"But Y/n—"

"—no! No, I'm over you, you bastard! I don't love you anymore. I haven't in years. You're still in love with me? That's great. Fucking deal with it. You deserve to feel the pain of not knowing. You deserve to lose yourself in everything you thought was yours.”

Bradley Bradshaw had never felt as if he wasn't good enough. When he was faced with adversity, he worked harder. When he felt bad about something, he did more to try and overcome that. He had never felt as if anything he did wasn't good enough. But in this very moment, he stood there, wondering how in the world he could have fucked up so badly.

He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough, for you. That much was evident as he watched you once again walk away from him, disappearing into the night.

His eyes fluttered shut and he held back his tears as he stood there, waiting for lightning to strike him where he stood. Surely, it'd be better than having to go back into the Hard Deck after a screaming match like that.

He deserved it.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He opened his eyes, head darting in the person's direction. Hangman watched him for a moment before he patted his back.

"You fucked up, man," he began, averting his gaze. "Now you've gotta fix it."

"But how?"

"For fucks sake, Rooster," he groaned. He ran a hand through his perfect hair, musing it from the stress of his friend. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought Rooster might actually be a pretty smart guy. This dude was dumber than a box of rocks, and this just proved it.

"They still love you, you know," Bob said, arms crossed over his chest. "We heard what they said, but they're just hurt. You really did a number on them."

He glanced over his shoulder. The Dagger Squad stood there, all watching him as he stood there, in the middle of the parking lot.

This… was all his fault.

Those four simple words should have never left his mouth. He should have been spending the last three years with you, not trying to forget you. Because if he were to have died in that time, it would have at least been with you and not with the overwhelming ghost of you haunting his every waking move. He could have at least left you behind knowing you were loved instead of wondering if he ever truly loved you at all.

Time passed slowly in the month it took you to finally calm down from the emotional rollercoaster Rooster had you on. You were back in your apartment, the east coast calling your name (even though the west coast screamed for your return; the sandy beaches and the salty water just weren’t the same, here).

Your heart ached—every romantic thing you saw made you want to cry. It all reminded you of your ex-husband, and now, there was no changing things. In your anger, you had told him you never wanted to see him again—that you didn't love him. You made sure he knew that when you left him standing in the middle of that damned parking lot.

What a lie that was.

But if he could tell lies, why couldn't you? Why couldn't you force him to live with the idea that you didn't love him, just the way he did that to you?

Regret became you.

You wondered if that’s how he felt all this time—regretful.

Did Rooster even have a bone in his body that was capable of feeling anything other than pride?

Maverick would know.

Did he know about all of this? He had been Rooster’s best man at the wedding. Surely, he knew something.

Your arm rested over your eyes, blocking out the sunlight that peaked through your curtains. Saturday mornings never got easier for you. Hell, no morning did. Getting up was a constant chore. You had already gotten ready for the morning, but you slipped right back into bed, not wanting to deal with the idea of being a live, somewhat functioning adult at the moment.

Your phone began to ring, loud and in your ear as you lay in bed, staring at the back of your arm. With a groan, you rolled over and picked it up.

Phoenix was calling you.

You answered after a moment of your fingers hovering over the bright buttons. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone.

"Hello?"

"Y/n? Hey! So, uh, quick thing, and I promise you I didn't know about it until Bagman just said something, but he gave Rooster your address."

Silence enveloped your bedroom as you processed what she had just said.

"What?!" You immediately sat up in your bed, gripping your phone with unforgiving strength. "What the hell!"

"I know," she continued, voice laced with worry—she didn’t know how you were going to take this. "I know, and I'm sorry. But, uh, he said that Rooster is probably gonna show up within the next hour or so. He caught the earliest flight out there."

"Why?"

"Why?" Natasha echoed. "Y/n, why do you think?"

You fell silent. You stared down at the blankets that pooled at your feet.

Day after day, you wondered if Rooster would show up, begging you to take him back. But the sun continued to set, day in and day out, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.

"Y/n, I know he's an asshole,” Natasha said. “I know he broke your heart. But… Rooster's been through a lot. He might not have realized how bad of an idea it was until he went through with it. He’s… he’s done nothing but regret it ever since.”

"I know he's been through a lot," you said, voice far quieter than it had been. "I know he has. But… but that's no excuse. We were married. I was his partner. He took that away… he took that all away.”

"There's no excuse for him," Phoenix said. "I’m not making one. You’re… you’re my very best friend. But if he shows up and you don't know what to do, you have two options. Turn him away, or… hear him out. Whatever you do, I’m here one hundred percent of the way.”

You swallowed thickly. Without saying anything else, you hung up the phone, tossing it onto your bed. You buried your face in your hands—it seemed to be the only thing you could do recently that would actually allow you to catch your breath.

And then, your doorbell rang.

That was far less than an hour.

The shrill ding of the bell resounded in your brain. You would have to get that changed to something less annoying.

Getting out of your bed and walking down the hallway was the easy part. It was opening the front door that made you want to die as your hand slowly grabbed onto the knob.

You can just turn him away. It'll be okay, you told yourself. He will leave if you want him to.

With much hesitation, you opened the door.

Rooster stood there, worried he had gotten the wrong door and Hangman had given him some shit directions. But as you appeared in the doorway, relief spread across his features. He was dressed in those same shoes you had given him. He wore a pair of jeans, and he wore one of those stupid Hawaiian shirts that he loved so much.

You still had the pink and yellow one you had stolen before you left him in the top left drawer of your dresser. It still smelled like Rooster… but the laundry detergent you had was the same exact one you had used when you were married to him.

Everything you owned reminded you of him.

"Y/n?"

"Bradley."

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. He nervously wrung his hands together as his eyes looked anywhere but you. This wasn’t that confident, macho man you knew. This wasn’t Rooster.

This was Bradley Bradshaw, in the flesh.

His heart was on the line, and he could only hope that the universe would grant him one last wish—let you believe him. Let you understand him.

He would understand if you turned him away. He would leave, and he would never bother you again. But he hoped that you’d accept him for who he is—for everything he has been.

Again.

Even though it took him so long to realize his mistake. Even though he made so many mistakes just to find himself trying to take it all back.

Rooster never thought he was perfect, but hell. The universe really didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, did it?

"Listen, I know you said you didn't want to see me," he began. "But I can't… I can't keep doing this."

You stayed silent.

Bradley was a lot of things. Stupid, funny, a great, flaming ball of firey anxiety. And still, the love of your life, even now.

Nothing would ever stop that from happening, even if he shoved his hand in your chest, pulled out your heart, and crushed it right in front of you.

Even now, after all this time, you knew you loved him.

He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I love you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never stopped. I just… fucked up. God, Y/n, I fucked up so bad. I never should have asked you for a divorce. I never should have said any of that shit. I thought I was protecting you. But the only thing I ended up doing was hurting you more, and I never wanted that to happen.

"I love you, so much, Y/n. I never stopped. I… you are the love of my life. But… but even if I loved you, it wouldn't stop life from standing in the way. My dad died. He left my mom all alone. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering, all alone, wondering what the hell you could have done to make things different. I couldn't let you have the same fate as my mom."

You stared at him, hands gripping the door.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

"I… I know I should have."

"So why didn't you?"

"I had already made up my mind…"

And once Bradley Bradshaw made up his mind, that was that. Most of the time, anyway.

Silence enveloped the two of you once more. Birds chirped in the background, cars honking in the backed-up traffic on the interstate not too far from your home. Life was still going on, just like it always would. Life would continue to find a way, even if someone left it behind—even if someone felt as if their world was crashing to an end.

Three years ago, if Bradley Bradshaw had shown up at your door, telling you he had made a mistake, you would have believed him. But watching him as he stood at your door this very moment, you weren't sure. You had every right to slam the door in his face, burning the image of his scared self in the back of your mind. But as you stood here, hands dangling down by your thighs, you knew you couldn't.

Were you stupid for what you were about to do?

Maybe.

But so was Bradley.

"I've started seeing a therapist," Bradley spoke, breaking the silence. "He said it would be good for me to at least… try to tell you why."

"Why you left me?"

He gave a small nod. "Yes. And… he made me realize it never should have happened. It was my fault. It was never yours."

You rubbed your eyes out of frustration, unable to stop yourself from sniffling. A groan escaped you, and he frowned in response.

"Y/n, I… words can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. I can't take back what I said. I can't change the fact that I asked you for a divorce because I was terrified of dying and leaving you alone. But… but I can do this," he said, licking his lips as he watched you.

You tilted your head in confusion, not sure where he was going with this.

Time moved slowly—just as slowly as it had when your world came to a startling halt.

He suddenly held out his hand, locking eyes with you once more. Dark brown eyes peered into yours; those same brown eyes you used to watch until you fell asleep in his arms. Those same brown eyes you stared into when you first said, “I do.” Those same brown eyes you looked into when he asked you for a divorce.

"Hi," the man said, a small smile appearing on his mustache-clad lips. "I'm Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw."

Your eyes widened, your heart leaping to your chest once more, but not because you were scared to face him. But because you couldn't believe this was really happening.

He… was starting over.

You were starting over.

Hesitantly, you took his hand, firmly grasping it before you shook it.

"It's so nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw," you said. Your eyes were still red from your tears, but you began to smile, pushing down the pain and regret of the last three years. It wasn’t worth it. The utter buffoon standing in front of you was worth it. "I'm Y/n Bradshaw," you continued with a grin. "Quite a coincidence, huh?"

Bradley just smiled, tilting his head to the side. You had never changed your name. In fact, you stayed the same, despite the icy shield around your heart. Not that he could blame you.

You were his Y/n. The love of his life—the reason he continued on, and the reason he believed in love, despite the fear that sucked the rational thinking out of him.

Because even when death knocked at his door, he knew you would be there. You would be there, just like his mom was for his dad.

Nothing could change that.

Not the divorce, not his lie that lasted for years. Not the untimely “confession” that left the two of you reeling for each other.

Nothing could change how he felt for you.

And with one instant, you knew your world was mending itself. You'd have problems—that you were sure. You’d have to work on communication; on both sides. But as you moved out of the way for Rooster to come in, you knew it would be worth it.

Love, no matter how much it hurt, was worth it.

Good enough or not.

"Why don't you come in, Mr. Bradshaw? I think we have a lot to catch up on."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, taking ahold of your hand.

"Only if you'll have me."

"Of course, I will."

This was a start. A new start.

A good start.

You were both starting over. And although you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, a part of you was starting to realize that you may have always been good enough—sometimes, fear was stronger than anyone’s resolve. Fear could make even the bravest people pause; it could cause stupid decisions and brash opinions that change everything a person knows. Minds were a powerful tool that could hurt everyone in its path.

You lived it.

You were still living it.

But like any great thing, sometimes starting over is the best way to go. Sometimes, opening your heart back up is the only thing you can do to move on.

Those same brown eyes you fell in love with peered down at yours, and for once in the past three years, you finally felt at peace. You were good enough. You always had been.

And Bradley Bradshaw was a good man. A great man, even. But even great men can fall short. Even great men can make mistakes. It takes an even greater person to face those mistakes head-on, and an equally great person to forgive and continue on loving, even if they never stopped, to begin with.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x male reader #bradley bradshaw x gn!reader #bradley x you #bradley bradshaw x you #fanfiction #tgm #tgm imagine #tgm x reader #rooster #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun hangman #top gun phoenix #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick x reader #dagger squad #dagger squad x reader #miles teller #rooster bradshaw #top gun fanfiction

[hellowhisperingstars]

I See you

Summary: Maisie has a bad day at daycare and you talk to Steve and Robin about your worries.

Pairing:  Ghost!Eddie Munson x Mommy!Reader x Psychic!Daughter

Words: 5K

Warnings: 18+, no y/n used, fluff, angst, ghosts, cussing, bullying, mentions of things from S4. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Part two! This one is still sad, so I apologize for that! Let me know what you think and please let me know if you have any requests! My inbox is open!

You can find more of my stories on my Stranger Things Masterlist!

You can also read this series on AO3!

Previous - Masterlist - Forward

That night you had a long conversation with Maisie about her dad and how he passed in an accident. You never want your little girl to know the terrors of the Upside Down so you danced around the subject. When she’s older… way older… like fifty, maybe then you’ll tell her. 

You also asked her to not let anyone else know that Eddie was still around and to be extra careful about talking to him in public. The town didn’t need to know that she was special. You didn’t want anyone to look at her the way they looked at Eddie. Plus, you were already a social pariah because you had a child out of wedlock in a small town. Not to mention she was the child of the so-called “cult leader” who everyone believes destroyed the lives of half the town. You knew he wasn't, his friends and family knew he wasn't but you still explained to Maisie that people will say mean things about her daddy but she shouldn't listen to them. They didn’t know him. 

But her dad was a hero. 

It's been at least a week since she dropped the 'your late boyfriend was haunting your house and he wants his Garfield mug' bomb and to say you were on edge was a little too on the nose.

You didn't know what to do. You had never raised a child before and for that kid to be a psychic, well that was just the tip of the iceberg. Both of you were learning how to walk down this path you were on, you just hoped the ground didn't fall out from under you as you went. 

It took a bit of fighting with yourself but you were finally able to muster up the courage to talk to Steve and Robin about this while Maisie was in daycare. Pushing the door open you looked around the Family Video for your two friends, usually one of them was at the front. Over the years they had been promoted to Manager and Assistant Manager so they ran the place now that Keith was gone. “Hello? Guys?”

The sound of crashing tapes caught your attention, a quiet “Oh shit..” was heard as Steve muttered to himself. Your head snapped to the right as you slowly started to move around the rental counter towards the horror section. 

“Welcome to Family Vide- oh! Hey!” He smiled as he walked out of the aisle and over to you engulfing you in a hug before he stepped back to look at you. When he noticed your pensive look his smile fell and he got worried. “What happened? Why aren't you at work? Is Maisie okay?”

“Maisie's fine.” You say holding your hand up. “I took the day off. But there is something about her I need your help with... Where is Robin?” 

Looking at his watch Steve frowned. “She’s on her break. Went to grab some coffee. Should be back soon.” 

“Cool,” You said, with a nod. Moving towards the counter you leaned against it. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as he went around the counter to lean on it next to you. 

“It’ll be easier if I tell you both at the same time.” You mumbled turning when the bell above the door rang. Hoping it was Robin you looked over your shoulder only to come face to face with Mrs. Cunningham who was sneering at you. Slowly you stood up and moved away from the counter so she could return her videos, licking your lips you wandered over to the kids section looking for anything Maisie would be interested in watching. She really liked The Little Mermaid.

Maisie sat alone on the swing set of her daycare, her little Mary Janes kicking the sand below her to make a small pile. She didn't like daycare. She was alone a lot and none of the other kids wanted to be her friend. Plus the old lady inside was mean. Looking up she glanced at the window of the building to see the stern looking old woman staring back at her. Maisie didn’t understand why she didn’t like her, she always left some of her lunch and her afternoon snack for her when the other kids didn’t, always made space for her at the table so she could join them when they colored. All the other kids didn’t seem to even notice her which confused Maisie since the lady was always there. She asked Miss Britney about her once but she told her that there was no lady.

Maisie looked over her shoulder when she felt a cold set of hands on her back giving her a gentle push on the swing. 

“Hey kiddo,” Eddie said as he smiled down at her.

“Hi. Mommy said I can’t talk to you outside of the house.” She muttered as she looked at the ground again kicking her legs out as he pushed her back again so she could go higher.

“Yeah, your moms smart like that.” He said as he pushed her once more. Looking over his shoulder at the other kids making sandcastles in the sandbox he turned back to her. “Why aren’t you playing with the other kids?”

“They don’t like me.” She shrugged with a sad pout. “They say mean things.”

“Well don’t listen to them okay,” He said as he moved to lean on the pole of the set as she swung back and forth. “You’re worth a hundred of them.”

“Mommy said you were my daddy.” 

“Well, your mom doesn't lie.”

“Why can't she see you?” Maisie asked as she looked up at him as she continued to kick her legs back and forth. Going higher and higher.

“I don't know, bug.” Eddie shrugged as he watched her. “Don’t go too high. I can’t catch you if you fall out here.”

Or maybe he could…Nah, better not test it, it took a lot of energy just to push her on the swing. 

Giving a quiet okay she let her legs dangle as she started to slow down. The two of them sat in silence for a while, Eddie watching her from his spot leaning against the swing set. It was strange to know that he had a daughter, that she was sitting on this swing. He was so proud of you for bringing this little girl into the world, but he was also incredibly sad he couldn’t be here to help you raise her like he wanted too. Glancing up at the school he narrowed his eyes at the old lady in the window for a moment as she glared at Maisie, you would think she would be more polite to the only living person that could see her. He watched her for a few more minutes until the daycare attendant walked from the building as she looked at her watch. 

“Time to come inside!” Miss Britney called as all the other kids started running to her. Giving a quick headcount she looked up and waved her hand giving the little girl a smile. “Maisie! Come on!” 

“Watch this daddy!” She said as she jumped from the slow moving swing landing in the sand about a foot in front of where she was before.

“Woah!” Eddie laughed as he followed her towards the house. “You're cooler than I am. You know that?”

Maisie giggled as she ran to the group and walked into the house. Turning she smiled at Eddie as he followed them inside. 

The old lady glared at him. “You're not supposed to be here. You take that devil child and get.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her his protective side coming out. No one was going to pick on her when he was around. Alive or dead. "Don't you dare call her that. She's just a kid, my kid. So if you have anything nasty to say you say, you say it to me, got it you old hag?”

The woman huffed in indignation before she disappeared. She'd be back. She was the old owner of this home before it was turned into the daycare, not like she could go anywhere. Eddie knew it was rude but he didn’t like the lady. Turning he gave Maisie a little wink as she sat down to color and he sauntered over to the long bench of cubies to perch on top of it. He'd be right here in case she needed him.

Once Mrs. Cunningham left you peaked around the shelf to see Steve glaring at her back as she walked to her car. 

“Why don't you ever stick up for yourself?” Steve asked, looking over at you. “What happened to Chrissy wasn't yours or Eddie's fault. It was Vecna.”

“Do you really think anyone would believe me? Trust me if I had the money I would just leave this place and never come back. But I don't want to leave you guys or take Maisie away from Wayne. She's all he's got.” 

Sighing, Steve gave you that look that said you were being stubborn. 

“No need to rock the boat when the boat's already capsized. I'm just the girl who dated the devil, remember?” 

The bell rang again and Robin walked in. “They didn't have any mocha so I got you vanill- hey!”

“Hey Robs.” You waved with a small smile. 

“I just saw Mrs. Cunningham walk out… you okay?” She asked as she handed Steve his coffee and leaned on the same side of the counter as you.

“Yeah. She just glared.” You wave it away. No point in being upset about it. 

“Great, now that Robins here you can tell us what's up with Maisie.” Steve said as he took a sip of his too hot coffee. He made a face when he burnt his tongue. 

“Is she okay? Is she hurt? Sick? I can run to the store to get her medicine if you need me too.” Robin asked quickly. Maisie was the first baby of the group and the need to protect her was strong in everyone. This little girl sure did have a lot of loving Aunts and Uncles. It made your heart swell. 

“She's fine.” You soothed, taking a breath you looked at them both. “But I think Maisie's a psychic.”

“She's what?” Steve blinked, rolling his sore tongue on the roof of his mouth to try and get the pain to stop. It didn't help.

“Psychic.”

Steve gave you a confused face as he looked between you and Robin. “You think she's… crazy?”

“That's psycho dingus.” Robin said, rolling her eyes at him. “Mai is like El or something.” 

“So she has powers?” 

You shrugged a little bit. “Well, she doesn’t have telepathy or anything like that. She's a medium. She can see and talk to ghosts.”

“But, I mean she's four… it could just be her imagination. Like an imaginary friend.” Steve said, taking another drink of his coffee.

“An imaginary friend who is named Eddie and looks just like her dead dad?” You argued as you looked up at him.

Steve choked on his coffee. You watched him sputter as he tried to breathe. “E-eddie?”

“That's what she said.” Wiping at your tired eyes you looked sadly at them. “She knew things that I never told her. Like that I called him Teddy. The jerk even opened every cabinet and drawer in my kitchen because he wanted that damn Garfield mug at his Uncle's. Twice now.”

“Did you or Wayne ever say anything about him in passing?” Robin asked as she fiddled with her coffee lid. “Maybe she picked up on something, you know? Or seen a photo?”

You shook your head. “No, we are very careful about what we say right now. She's already getting hate for being his kid. We don't want her being a bigger target for the town to go after cause she won't stop talking about him. I only told her that his name was Eddie after she mentioned he said she could call him Teddy. I have one photo in my room of him but it's at the top of a shelf that she can’t see."

“Can you… see him?” Steve asked quietly. Weirder things have happened here in Hawkins. “Eddie… I mean?”

You shook your head and looked down at the counter pushing a box of Mike and Ike’s across the counter. You would give anything to see him again. “No. Just Maisie. She described him perfectly, you guys. She told me about his hair and that damn green vest he was wearing when he died. Is this my fault? I didn’t know I was pregnant when we went into the Upside Down. Do you think the spores we were breathing did this?” 

Robin and Steve looked at each other before they both sorta shrugged. Steve crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned on the counter closer to you. “I don’t know. But I know it’s not your fault. This might not have anything to do with the Upside Down, it might just be a Maisie thing.”

Nodding you sighed leaning your forehead against the counter top. A Maisie thing… 

After your talk with Steve and Robin you tried to go about your day like normal, grabbed some groceries, a coffee, and when the time came you picked up Maisie from her daycare. 

She wasn't her normal bouncy self when she ran over to you. Her arms going around your neck as you pulled her into a hug. “Hi baby. Have a good day?”

Shaking her head she shoved her face into your neck as you held her close. 

“What's wrong? What happened?” Looking up at Britney as she walked over to you both. “What happened?”

“We had a little incident today.” Britney said as she gave you a sad smile. “I walked away to change one of the smaller kids and one of the boys called Maisie something mean and they got into a fight. Maisie has a few scratches but she gave that boy a black eye.” 

“What did he say?” You asked, trying to keep in your anger as you pulled Maisie away from your neck to check on her. She was a little banged up, nothing that wouldn't heal in a day or two. Her eyes were a little red around the edges from her crying.

Britney hesitated a bit before she took a deep breath. “He said his dad told him that her dad was a murder and that you were a witch... He also said that she was a freak, and his dad said he should stay away from her.”

Anger boiled hotter under your skin as you looked around for a kid with a black eye so you could give his parents a matching set. “Where are they? I would like to talk to them.”

“They're already gone.” She said holding her hands out to soothe you. “I told them that since he started the fight that he wasn't allowed back for the rest of the week. He needs to learn that he can't speak to someone that way. But in turn… Maisie is also suspended for the rest of the week since she hit him.”

“Shit…” You mutter, pulling her close to you again. You have to go back to work tomorrow. Would Hopper mind if she came with? You could have her color at your desk... or one of the teens could watch her… “Okay. I’ll.. I'll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry.” Britney frowned. “She can come back next week.”

“See you next week..” Sighing, you picked Maisie up and started towards your car. Maybe Wayne could take her since he has days off… no he needs to sleep since he hasn’t been able to switch to the day shift yet. Once at your car you helped Maisie into her seat you crouched down next to the car so you could be almost eye to eye with her. “Are you okay baby?”

Sniffling Maisie nodded her head as she looked down at her hands. 

Nodding, you brushed your hand over her head and gave her a quick kiss to the forehead before you closed her door and got into the driver's seat. Pulling away from the old house you turned on her favorite cassette and made your way through town towards home. It didn’t take you long to get back to Forest Hills and as you pulled into a spot by your house you looked back at Maisie through the rearview mirror to see her looking out her window, her breathing a little fast. “You see something?” 

She nodded her head and looked away from whatever she saw, “She has a scary face.”

“It’s okay,” You soothed as you unbuckle your belt. You were trying really hard not to freak out so you didn't panic her. Sometimes her sight scares you. “Just close your eyes and I’ll let you know when it’s okay to open them. Okay?”

You watched her nod again and shut her eyes tightly in that kid way like when they faked being asleep and you quickly grabbed your keys from the ignition and threw your purse over your shoulder as you got out of the car. Looking around you tried to see something, anything, that could be what your daughter saw but as usual there was nothing. Taking a deep breath you moved to her door and went through the paces of getting her out of her carseat before you lifted her into your arms, closing the door behind you and walking up the steps to your home. Unlocking it you moved to the side so the door could swing open and you closed it behind you, quickly you moved to the couch and set her down. “Okay, there we go safe inside. No more scary lady.”

Maisie slowly let one eye open as she looked around the living room, seeing it was safe, you saw her relax. 

“I still need to get the groceries from the car,” You said, helping her out of her jacket. “Why don’t you get comfy and then you can help me make dinner. That sound good?”

“Yeah!” She smiled, completely forgetting about the ghost outside the house, as she bounced off the couch and then down the hall to her room to change out of her day clothes. Maisie loved helping you make dinner. 

Smiling after her you left the trailer for just a few minutes to grab the bags from the trunk and locked up your car for the night and moved up the small steps to the front door. Turning you give one more sweep around the empty area, your eyes narrowed, and you square your shoulders. “I don’t care who you are or what you want but you leave my baby alone. You’re not welcome in this house.”

Turning you enter your home, closing the door behind you just in time for Maisie to run from her room in her home clothes. It was just a little dress that you made from an old set of curtains and a sewing machine from the goodwill but she loved it. “What’s dinner?”

“I was thinking of grilled cheese and tomato soup.” You said as you put the bag of food on the counter and started pulling out the cans of soup. “That sound good?”

“Yeah!” She smiled as she ran into the kitchen to pull the step stool out of the corner and up to her usual spot at the counter. She was a good little helper and you let her butter the bread as you started on the soup. The knife she used was a kids learner one so there was nothing sharp to hurt herself with. You smiled at her as you handed over four single wrapped things of cheese to open. 

Grabbing a pan from under the counter, you cleared your throat and started a second burner. “You wanna tell me what happened at daycare today?” 

 Maisie stopped peeling the plastic from the cheese to look up at you. “Tony was being mean about daddy and me. He was saying mean things that his daddy told him. I didn’t like it. I told him to stop but he didn’t.” 

You listened as you stirred the soup. Letting her tell you in her own time, you had learned from being around Eddie as long as you had that sometimes pushing for an answer would just make the other person feel cornered so you nodded your head giving a little ‘mhm’ as a cue to continue.

“I told him I would tell Miss Britney,” She said as started to open the cheese again. “But he pushed me and called me a tattle tale and a fr-freak. So I got up and I hit him.”

“Gave him a black eye.” You said, looking over your shoulder at her. “Who taught you how to punch huh?” 

“Uncle Steve.” She shrugged as she handed over the pieces of buttered bread now that you turned the burner for the soup off to cool. 

“Okay,” You’d have to talk to Steve about that. He taught a four year old to punch when he could barely win a fight? “How’d you get those scratches?”

“He put his hands on my face and he scratched me.” She pouted.

“While I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and your daddy, you can’t hit people, baby.” 

“I know,” She sighed as felt a zing up her spine and she looked around the kitchen to see Eddie standing at the kitchen door staring at you sadly. “Hi daddy.”

“Hi sweetpea,” Eddie smiled at her before he looked back up at you. Five years older but still just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. 

Your back went ramrod straight as you looked over to where she was looking and just saw the empty doorway. “He’s… um… here?”

Maisie nodded and pointed her little hand to where he was standing. “Right there.”

Your eyes moved around the empty space before you gave him a little smile. “Hi babe.”

He smiled as he took a step towards you. “Hi pretty girl.”

Maisie giggled behind her hand as she looked up at you. “He said you were pretty.”

“As he should!” You said smiling back at her before you finished making your dinner. 

The two of you sat at the table and ate your dinner chatting lightly about what's going to happen the rest of the week. You'd have to call Hopper later tonight and see if you can bring her down to the station. She had plenty of books she can read, pages to color, little toys she can play with. She'll be fine. You stared at her in awe as she told you about the rest of her day. You had to remind yourself that she was four, but she spoke so well for her age, guess that comes with having no one but adults for friends. She picks up on words and habits like a sponge. 

After dinner you set her up with The Little Mermaid and a puzzle as you washed the dishes. After a while you caught yourself staring at your daughter as she sang along with the movie a puzzle piece in her little hand as she watched Ariel sing “Part of Your World” and you wished you could be like her. Seeing so many scary things, dealing with people being rude for the hell of it, and taking it all in stride with only a few bad patches here and there. Really you wished you could see what she sees. Help her learn how to shut the bad things out. How were you supposed to protect her from the things you can't see? You could barely protect her from the things you could. 

So lost in your thoughts you jumped as you felt a cold spot grow on the small of your back. Like someone had placed their hand there. It was comforting. Eddie. It was like he was saying that everything would be okay. Looking over your shoulder you watched as a small puff of air left your lips in a little cloud like it did when it was winter. "Eddie, that had better be you or I swear to God…" You mutter trying not to get Maisie's attention. 

The feeling left a few seconds later, but that spot stayed cool for a while after that. You finished the dishes quickly and moved to your room to change into your pj's. Looking up at the photo you had of Eddie in your room you smiled sadly. You loved that photo. Eddie was sitting on his Dungeon Master throne in the drama room of Hawkins High, his arms wrapped around your waist as you sat on his lap, his nose was buried in your hair as you laughed at something he said. Pulling on one of Eddie's old band shirts that Wayne gave you after Eddie died you left your room and got comfy on the couch to finish the movie with your little girl as she pointed out things you never noticed before. 

You watched her yawn as the movie came to a close and you looked up at the clock to see it was time for her bath and then bed. Together you moved into the bathroom so you could give her her bath, the tub filled to the brim with bubbles as she played with her toys. Once you had scrubbed your girl clean, you wrapped her in a fluffy towel, and dried her off as you got her ready for bed. Tucking her into her little pink princess bed you kissed her forehead as you sat on the bed next to her. “Goodnight baby. I'll see you bright and early in the morning. Do you need anything before you're off to slumberland?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Do you remember what you say if you see something scary?”

“You’re not welcomed here. Get out!”

“Atta girl!” You smiled as you pushed her curls from her forehead. 

“Night mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled as she got comfy in the bed, making sure to grab her stuffed bear, Mr. Noodles, that Joyce bought her when she was born, before you stood up and left the bed leaning down to switch on her nightlight before you moved to the door turning off the overhead room light. You stood in the doorway for a moment watching her in the dim purple light of her little nightlight before you left the room leaving the door open just a crack in case she needed you. 

You took a few minutes to turn off the TV and clean up her puzzle pieces making sure not to lose any so she can continue it later. Moving into your kitchen you grab the phone off the wall and by heart you hit the buttons for Hopper and Joyce's home. You listened as the phone rang and rang before Jonathon answered. 

“Hello?” He said into the phone. 

“Jon!” You smiled as you leaned on the wall. “How are you?! Back from college already?”

“Hey!” You heard him smile as he said your name. “Yeah, got in this afternoon. How are you? How's Maisie?” 

You caught up with Jonathon for a couple of minutes before you got the courage to ask for Hopper.

“Everything okay?” Jonathan asked.

“Maisie got into a fight at her daycare and now she's not allowed back until next week. I just needed to ask Hop if I could bring her with me to work.” 

“Bring her here. I'll watch her.” Jonathan said as he pulled the phone away for a moment to say something to his mom about watching Maisie at their house. 

Joyce jumped at the chance to see the little girl and through the receiver you could hear her say “Of course! She's always welcomed here, you know that!”

Your eyes stung with tears as you laughed a little. The love you felt for your found family was otherworldly. “Jon, are you sure? I don't want to mess up any plans you have with Nancy.”

"Yeah!" He said, "Yeah it's fine. Nancy has to work tomorrow so it'll be okay. Plus I'm sure she'd love to see her."

“Thank you guys. I'll bring her by on my way to work. Is eight o'clock okay?”

“That’s perfect!”

Letting out a sigh of relief you thanked him again before you let him go for the night and grabbed your book from the counter. You liked to use the time that Maisie slept to read uninterrupted. Moving back into the living room you got comfy on the couch and opened the book to your saved spot. You had just started to get into the story when the lights started to flicker. Looking at the lamp next to you your heart started to race. Eddie said that the lights flickered when Chrissy was killed by Vecna. It couldn’t be… 

Slowly getting off the couch you dropped your book as you stared at the lamp as it continued to flicker randomly before you realized… It was morse' code. S.O.S. Eddie. Looking around the room you jumped letting out a little scream before you clamped your hand over your mouth to keep from waking Maisie as your TV turned on by itself. The static white noise was all you heard before you looked around for the remote that seemed to be missing. You needed to turn it off by hand. Slowly you moved towards it and got down on your knees so you could turn it off. The powering down sounds happened and you breathed a sigh of relief when the world went quiet again. Looking up at the TV your eyes went wide as in the reflection of the screen was Eddie. Sitting behind you so close you could feel the cold. You had been so preoccupied by the lights and the TV you didn't even notice the drop in temperature. Tears collected on your lower lashes as you looked over your shoulder at your empty living room and then back into the TV. "Eddie…"

He smiled at you. Looking as handsome as he was before the demobats attacked him. He looked healthy and whole. You couldn't hear him but you saw his lips move. "Hi baby."

"How…" Shaking your head you smiled at him with a watery laugh, you didn't care. Your daughter wasn't crazy and Eddie was here watching over you both.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #ghost!eddie munson #daddy!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #st s4 #echoes of you series

[hockybish]

have you guys seen those videos of the cat and mouse toys and the guy limiting the cat to only one mouse toy becasue it has so many and the cat keeps "losing" it so it can choose a new one?

i envision that with luke and either roger or candy. the cat loves its mousey toys but they keep losing them and maisie just buys more. luke will find the toys all other the place and hes sick of it. he finds them all and makes the cat choose one and only one to play with.

"which one do you want. you can only have one." luke places one of each color, so the cat has options. roger observes his options, looking back and forth between the five mice until he pounces on the red one in the middle.

"okay now listen to me kitty." luke made sure the cat had his attention, roger just stared at him. "don't lose this. i'm not giving you another one if you do. okay? you gotta look everywhere if you misplace it. the only way you're getting a new one is if this is destroyed or something."

feeling as though the cat understood what he was getting at, luke gave him a couple of head scratches. roger blinked at luke before grabbing the red mousey and running off.

luke thought he was solving a problem, but the next day would tell a different story. he got home from practice to roger crying. the cat had already lost the little mouse toy and wanted another one from the stash luke had. they looked everywhere for the thing, coming up empty handed.

"luke give him a mouse! he's so sad, look at him." maisie held roger up trying to comfort him. she had been hearing him cry for the past hour and she was sick of.

"ugh fine" luke went to get the mice so the cat could choose a new one, but he did reiterate the previous rules that were going to be broken the follwing day again. you see cats are smarter than you think, roger has a plan.

#luke x cute photographer #luke x maisie #roger the cat #au thoughts

[nyssasorbit]

How do you make your thumbnails they look so good omg

Thank you so much!! To be honest, I'm not entirely sure 😅 I reference Erik's array of thumbnails a lot, but I mostly just goof around and try to make something that looks visually appealing. 

However, in an effort to give you a serious answer, here's a long reply below the cut where I walk through my design process!

Sooo let's see. The first thing I decide on is the symbol! 

Now, the symbols Erik uses I assume?? are just stock photos he finds online, but the ones he chooses represent what the character is, and typically embody imagery one would first think of upon that description. While there's some exceptions: the vampires are fangs, the wolves are wolf/dog icons, the demons (minus Gavin and Cam) are horns, the elementals are their respective element. Some specific ones are Flyboi, who's an airplane, or Pizza Guy Boyfriend, who's a heart-shaped pizza. These are all recognizable enough without being too kitschy (i.e., none of the vampires have a silhouette of Dracula). 

The exceptions to the rule are Will, who's a crown because he's considered as the King, not another vampire, and James, who's symbol is the ETS logo, because for all intents and purposes, he is our voice of ETS. Another one is Avior, whose symbol seems to embody more his story/situation than his character. 

And this can get kinda creative depending on how you go about it. Kalila's is a bat masquerade mask, which plays both into her being a vampire (since bats are another form of "vampire" imagery) and a little about her character. Maisie's is a cowboy hat since her label is "country girl", but I could have also gone with something like a cowboy boot, or maybe even a lasso. Elliot's, Blake's, and my OC Ava's symbols all have a creative take on their respective symbols. Elliot's (and Blake's once) is a maze, representing how a dreamwalker can construct dreams. Blake's is something you could kind of attribute to being "cult-like". Ava's is a puzzle, putting a detective spin on the regular Dreamwalker symbol. 

Next is the layout! I reference back to the actual thumbnails for these a lot, trying to figure out how he makes them the way he does. I was a studio major, so I don't think I have much of an eye for graphic design, but I try, lol.

Erik has a lot of fun ones, and I notice he tries to experiment with layouts and things to keep them interesting. The more basic ones are general text with the icon around it like these ones:

This also includes him taking advantage of the circular-shaped icons to use as an O in the words, which eliminates the need for him to find space for the symbol elsewhere in the thumbnail. 

Others that I haven't tampered with yet also include things like shapes, repetitive/excessive text, "wall-to-wall" text, and text that interacts with the respective character's symbols like these: 

Which leads me to: Spacing! Now, I have no solidified guide to how I've been doing the spacing, since I've just been eyeing it and comparing to get it the way I want it. However, I do try to keep text evenly-spaced on the thumbnail as often as I can.  The words, no matter the sizing, are equidistant from each other, and I tend to line text up with the largest phrase if I don't choose to center it, like these: 

The symbol placement in relation to the text also depends on what you want the thumbnail to say. I've had to change the sentences a few times because I just couldn't get other ideas to work right, and some symbols are more difficult than others. Kalila and Sam's symbol was hard to figure out because Kalila's symbol is longer than Sam's, so trying to fit them in evenly-enough took some effort.

Then, colours!As seen above, Erik tends to use a single solid colour in his thumbnails, then balance it with white and shades of gray. Some characters seem to have their own "defining" colour, like the elemental boys in particular, and others are a mixed bag even when not considering the anthology videos. They can also vary between what you believe to be a "defining" colour for the character (i.e., Sam's videos tend to be in shades of red, Elliot's tend to be cool colours from what I can tell. I chose purple for my shadow elemental character as the next-closest option that wasn't black), or colours that fit the video scenario (i.e., the anthology vids [gaming, Springback, etc.]. My first Kalila icon is themed for Halloween, in the colours of candy corn, though he doesn't seem to ever use more than one solid colour for any one thumbnail.)

I noticed that Erik doesn't seem to use a pattern on his text for only a portion of it; he covers the patterns over the whole text minus the character and "edition" text. This helps the thumbnail itself look less cluttered (I think) and allows the character symbol to really pop.

And finally, the character label and "edition" text! Erik tends to move these around and, depending on what looks appealing and how your chosen sentence texts fits, this can travel around the bottom or sides of the thumbnail. The character label I usually try to pick as “honest” rather than something flattering or trying to add a “hook” to my character, personally. What’s the base part of their personality that will shine the most in their default? For Kalila, I chose “eccentric” as opposed to “cute” or “cinnamon-roll” (which is what I would probably consider her), and even despite the serious tone on Ava’s thumbnail, I chose to describe her as “plucky” since she’s normally a relaxed and outgoing. In Hestia’s fic, she’s described as “enthusiastic”, but the more honest label for her would be “lonely”.

The “edition” I try to follow the same course for, even though that’s a bit difficult to decide for a video and/or story that doesn’t exist. I’ve had to change a few of them a couple times since I didn’t have more than a small idea in mind, and I wanted to capture the whole events that would be in the video rather than one small part of it, such as referring specifically to whatever sentence is placed in the main part of the thumbnail. For example, Kalila’s subtext was initially “Celebration Edition”, but since a good chunk of that fic was Fred and Bri arguing, I chose “Surprise Edition” instead, since the meeting and pseudo-celebration were both kind of a surprise to them. Kieran’s changed from “Teasing Edition” to “Discussion Edition” since I imagined that Chrys and Ava teasing him would only be a portion of the entire video. It’s a part of it that would probably stand out, but that’s what the main text is for.

Annnnnnnnd I think that’s everything! There’s of course exceptions to all these probably arbitrary rules, and ways to break said rules as found in Erik’s own thumbnails! But this is just how I tend to break down how to make them for myself ✨

#shroom answers #redacted asmr #redacted thumbnails #sorry this one also got so long!! #also I hope you don't mind such a lengthy asnwer #wifi was out so I had nothing but time to type up a long response #lmfao #just had to format all the images

[creepylittlelady]

Visuals of a Distant Memory

Sometimes, I wonder what other people's lives must be like. What runs in their head every second of every day, what visuals they wake up to. What hues of green, black, pink, purple, reds and oranges they must see with their irises every time they wake up.

What were other peoples memories like? What do they remember, what did they feel, touch, smell and hear? Did they hear the yelling decibels of the people who created them? Do they feel the rocks of their bed as they slept in the wind and rain, the tugging of their hair? Do they remember the ache of loneliness in their hearts as they scroll around the internet, rummaging like a desperate hoarder for a place to call home?

What do they feel now, looking back on it? Probably melancholic. That's what everyone must feel, right? They remember. Everyone does. The sadness, the tragedy, the terror of life as it moves on from a place of comfort to a bath of cold ice-water.

I can remember too.

Maybe it was only 3 years ago, maybe it was up to 7. It's foggy, like the image of a relative you only see once every few years, unable to make out anything but the length of their hair and the perfume they always wore.

It was cold, and it was dark. Have you ever felt that? It was most likely December. I had school that day, Primary School. It was early in the morning, sometimes that happens. You wake up, dreading the school day and realise you're not supposed to wake up for another 4 hours. Its dark outside, and you begin to wonder who else is awake at this time. Serial killers, murderers? The author of your favourite FNAF Comic Dub? An online figure that you happened to admire?

Like a good little girl that I was, I still changed into my uniform. It felt baggy and uncomfortable and not at all who I was, but there was no other choice. I stubbled over into the kitchen, rubbing my tired eyes. Those few nights, I couldn't sleep. I'd spend hours and hours looking into the dark and dreary night, wondering about things I shouldn't be as a young child. But also regular kid things too.

Nobody was in the small living room. Not even my older sister, whose faint cries of stress I can always somewhat recall. I turned on the light. The central heating was on, but there was still a faint chill of cold from the outside world.

I stood and kicked around, thinking. I had watched a creepydrawsta the night before, and I was trying to memorise all that had happened in it, the strokes the artist made while painting the story they were reading with their gentle, enigmatic voice. Maisie Went Missing Last Year, I think it was called. I tried to remember the names of all of my favourite Creepypasta characters, but there was always one whose name and backstory I seemed to slightly misremember.

I logged onto the family computer, an old dingy thing that took 2 and a half minutes to fully turn on. Although my parents were entering their late 40s, the computer still seemed eons more senile and ancient.

I opened it, the yell it eminated when it turned on frightened me a little, but I maintained a straight face. I always did anyways, facial expressions never did come easy to me.

I typed in 'YOUTUBE' in all caps, as for some reason I had forgotten to turn it off. I was the only one in my family that actually used Youtube, so all of the recommended videos were tailored to me.

I was a vocaloid fan as well. Something caught my eye. A song, 'Psychotic Love Song'. The thumbnail was of a girl with long flowing silver hair with red eyes and little bits of blood covering her. Typical Yandere, she looked like an Utauloid as well.

The song was an Utauloid cover of a song I had vaguely heard once before, in a top 10 Yandere songs or something like that.

I enjoyed it, and found the robotic feminine voice singing it to be pleasing.

I checked the comments.

'I'm cosplaying as Hatsune Miku for nightmare night. Hope I don't find any Tei cosplayers around O.o'. I didn't understand the context, nor who 'Tei' was and why they would want to harm Miku cosplayers.

I checked the day it was sent. 8 years ago. The person had a Twilight Sparkle Profile Picture, a staple of early 2010s internet. Halloween of maybe 2011, maybe 2010. Maybe even 2009. This person, whoever they were, sent this comment not knowing that a lonely child would be seeing it a little over 8 years later. That person must have grown up, gotten a job, graduated school. Yet their plans from Halloween from when they must have been a teenager are still here, on an old utauloid cover nobody had commented on in 5 years.

It was still dark and chilly, but I didn't really care. I was enthralled at how that night may have gone for them. Did they have fun? Was it the worst night of their life? Was it just another Halloween? I wanted to know. I wanted to know what it was like, being them. They could be filthy rich, in jail, homeless, or just living an ordinary life by the time I read that comment.

I wanted to reply, asking how Halloween of 2009-2010-2011 went for them. Who they were, how old they were, what their name was, where they lived, what they were doing now, how they were coping with things. They may have even been long dead, but I wouldn't have any way of knowing. That's what intrigued me.

How one tiny footnote of a person's life can make you so curious, make you want to dive down their personal rabbit hole.

I watched another Youtube video once the song was over, a FNAF Comic dub. Then another, an edgy tribute Creepypasta to Jeff the Killer. Another, an old japanese meme from Nico Nico Douga, more vocaloid songs, cringe mmd dramas, anime clips, a few animation memes. Nobody was awake. I didn't care where I was, or that I still was a lonely child with no friends at all, who lived in a dysfunctional house.

Those 3 or 4 hours, I believe I was at peace for the first time in a very long while.

Of course, I still had to go to school, which always sucked, but what could I have done? I remembered what I had seen that day, what I had watched, and for a few seconds, I was at peace.

Life was worth a small something, a secret a little girl would keep in a cheap jewellery box.

Distant.

Cold.

Yet comforting.

Do you remember?

#writing #rant post #nostalgia #weirdcore #liminalcore #liminal space #old fandom #childhood #mental illness #suicide #short story #concept #concept writing #truestory #reminiscing #tags #i hate tags #sukone tei #utauloid #vocaloid #littlelady #2010s nostalgia #memories #personal rant #rant

[susustudio]

Bella Ash

By: Edina Lau

Isabella “Bella” Fong is a second year student at the University of Auckland studying a Bachelor of Music majoring in Music Studies as well as a Bachelor of Arts majoring in Criminology. The 19 year old singer-songwriter is releasing her very first album in July 2022. It will include her two hit singles Lonely Hearts Club and Fancy Car along with four other songs. Get ready to stream her album on Spotify! 

Describe your true self.  Gosh, wow that’s tough. I definitely feel like I thrive by myself, which can sound lonely but it really isn’t. I feel like I am a mostly well rested person, even though I tend to stay up very late. Honestly, I get most of my amazing ideas deep into the night. My life revolves around music whether it is singing, listening, or making music. Without it, I wouldn’t know who I’d be. 

What is one important life lesson you have learned?  I guess you could say a life lesson that I have learned is “that you have to believe to achieve”. I had to believe in myself and my own music in order to release it to the world. By doing all the creating, promoting etc on my own, you really have to have a huge amount of confidence in it. 

When did you realise you loved music/singing?  I have always loved music and singing from a young age, but I think my passion really grew when I was in intermediate. At this time I was discovering more about music and also learning different instruments. 

 Who inspires/motivates you?  The person who has majorly inspired me throughout my musical journey is Taylor Swift - her musicianship, determination and songwriting. The way she writes is unlike any other person and I truly aspire to be like her one day. Olivia Rodrigo, Maisie Peters, and Lizzy Mcalpine also inspire me and definitely influence some of my lyrics. 

What are you most proud of?  I would probably say it was when my music video for my first single, Lonely Hearts Club, was released to the world. I am proud that I actually did it and have started to establish myself as an artist. 

What is your dream goal?  I would really like my music to gain recognition all over the world and to reach places you would have never thought of. As well as that, growing a fan base would be cool and I guess eventually play live whether it is a big or small venue, a festival or even my own gig. I think I would bawl my eyes out if I heard an audience sing back my own lyrics but I would love to experience that! 

Have you had any doubts about pursing music? Absolutely! I was so afraid of what other people would think and how people would react to my songwriting or me producing everything on my own because there is nowhere to hide behind it. Or would people think “she’s a wannabe artist”, “oh she thinks she can get famous” and all those things. However, I have always loved music and singing and I want to be able to share it with the world. Having the amazing friends and family around me has helped me and given me so much more confidence and reassurance which has just been amazing!

Are you scared about releasing music to the public? Of course! Once you put it out there it’s pretty much free for anybody to judge or criticise. Also, most of my music is either personal to me or personal in some sort of way and I would definitely feel, I guess, slightly attacked or hurt if it my music got harsh feedback from others.

What made you release music on Spotify? Their platform is so accessible and popular that I thought discovery would be great on Spotify. I am able to go through a distribution company instead of a record label, plan when I want to release and say who wrote the song. Spotify is also an international platform which means anybody can use it and come across my music. Plus, I use Spotify at least daily and it is super easy to navigate.

What is something you want to improve on? Something I need to improve on is probably not being so critical of myself and not doubting myself. I find that if I’m unsure about something I will go around and ask so many people but I already know what I want the answer to be (so I guess trying to seek validation for my own answer?). When it comes to music and creating not everything has to be 100000% perfect and the slightest imperfection can turn out to be something critical. It’s definitely something that I am working on but like people say “you are your toughest critic”.

Do you have any regrets in life? I guess yes. I would say a regret of mine is not participating in as many things in high school. Or not going for as many things as I should have and I guess it really all came down to confidence. I don’t think you could call this a regret but not getting my license sooner but I’m working on it.

What location would you consider ‘home’? I would say the location of my home. Even though this is the second house I’ve lived in I’ve lived what I would call my “milestones” in this house. For example, starting and finishing high school, and now going to university. If we are talking specific places then 100% my room! I could honestly just live in my room. It’s super cozy but is also sectioned so I have a working space and a place to create music and then a place to relax, it’s really the one-stop shop for me.

What is an object that is special to you? Sounds funny, but I think it’s my Rode microphone. It was my first big purchase and was something I had been wanting to get for ages in order to upgrade my music producing quality and ability. I was very fortunate to receive a scholarship for high school, so I used some of that money to pay for the microphone. It’s special because I have so many memories attached to it - I recorded my first single on it, I’ve written many songs using it and so on. 

[eddiemoonson]

“You look like you’re seeing a ghost.” “How can I be sure that I’m not?” Canon Compliant Modern!AU: After disappearing off the face of Earth for years to embark in a life of adventures, Arya shows up one day in Storm’s End, unannounced. Gendry, her rejection still fresh in his memory and the pain of it ever present in his heart, is less enthusiastic about her presence than she expected. She knows she broke his heart, she regretted it everyday she spent away from him. But she’s back now and determined to make him trust and love her again.

#arya x gendry #gendrya #axgedit #gendryaedit #arya stark #gendry waters #a little bit of angst #i'm all for the warm and fuzzy feelings but let's face it #she has to work for it now #modern!au #this is an actual line from joe's deep state #so i had to find a video of maisie to make something with it #it was too good and fit too well for me to let it go to waste #mine: gif

[idanit]

possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit 

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K  I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well. 

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time. 

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K  No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian. 

#good omens #good omens fic rec #fanfiction #fic rec #idanit reads #i also have a multifannish F/F rec list in the works #all my bookmarks are private but i feel the need to share the love

[an0nymousghost]

simblr asks v2

here are my answers! find the questions here.

i wrote soo much ahaha. like however much you think i wrote, i wrote more than that. imo everything i write is gold though

1. are you going to buy the new pack (cottage living) when it comes out? no, it looks really nice but i legit never ever buy packs at launch, especially cause this one is a expansion and it will probably go on sale at some point

2. do you p*rate your dlc or buy it legitimately? buy it legitimately 👌

3. what’s your favorite world? brindleton bay, it gives like seaside cottage vibes. willow creek is good but it’s boring. 

4. if you use a queue, how many posts per day do you set it as? 3 or 4. i used to do like 12 lmaoo what even was wrong with me

5. do you watch sims on youtube? yes, i watch mainly malixa, oshinsims, and msgryphi

6. what are your thoughts on the most recent pack? (dream home decorator) those sectional couches look good! but honestly im kinda annoyed because now it’s even harder to have all the items filled in when i place lots from the gallery. like i’m just saying like a lot of builds will use that pack probably and if i don’t get it then i can’t really use builds/save files 

7. how many packs/kits do you own? lemme count

expansion: all - 10/10 game: 5/10 stuff: 9/18 kits: none xo

24/38 - 63%

8. what’s your origin id? is it the same as your url? 🤗 it’s in my title, it’s celeschul. it doesn’t look that nice in my title but i use celeschul in my package files and i’m guessing people search things like, “celeschul penny hair” or something like that in order to find my cc- so i keep it in there so the search results are easier. i do want to change it though..

but no it’s also not the same! well i mean it’s the username i use for cc. my origin id used to be an0nymousghost but i changed it. i wonder if anyone’s taken that one?

9. is your simblr your sideblog or main blog? main blog ✌️ my old blog @stardze​ is a main blog as well.

my old old simblr was a sideblog but it had like 1 follower and it literally a bot so i don’t think that counts. i have a multifandom sideblog though 

10. do you have a cc finds blog? i wish. i was thinking bout it earlier and that would be sooo neat but sometimes i download stuff that doesn’t have a tumblr post attached to it, and also it’s stressful to keep up with so nah

11. are you wcif friendly? yes sir. in fact i bring the trouble of wcifs onto myself but doing them even when nobody asked.

12. what’s your favorite sized household to play with? (ex. 1 sim, 4 sims) gonna have to think on this one, honestly 1 sim is really fun and stuff goes by so fast. doing stuff with astrid when she was on her own, it was much more efficient. 

for families, i haven’t done that in a while actually. 5, 2 parents and 3 kids is cute tho. why did i write this this is honestly such a hard question

13. if you have c&d, do you play with pets? i feel like i haven’t played with cats and dogs in forever. honestly i just have no paitence. noelle fae was supposed to get a cat (there’s a food bowl + cat bed in her house) but when summer vacation started, the amount of time i spent playing ts4 decreased a lot. (this doesn’t really make sense, i have a lot more time. honestly it just has to do with my recent obsession with a certain anime/manga and some other personal thing)

i did random nightmares in may though and i had pets frequently. g5 didn’t because sofia scarlett lived in an apartment, but g2/3/4 had cici, and g1 had all the cats. but that was back in march so it’s been a while.

14. what lifespan do you use? i really want to do aging off but then i feel like it drags on. but aging legit stresses me out, sometimes i just want to sit down and do some cas stuff but i only have 2 hours in real time and there’s like 4 days left till one of my sims’ birthdays. 

15. if you own a lot of packs, how many of them have you actually played through? just so everyone is aware this question was made for me

i feel like eps require a specific save made for testing them out, but the only save i’ve ever made for an ep is noelle fae’s get famous save. 

that is literally a lie - i made a save for island living with one of my 100bc kids, maisie acapella. i did actually post it on tumblr BUT then i deleted all the posts BUT i reblogged them on my alt account BUT i privated my alt account so i honestly forgot about it

i have never played through discover university or watched anyone do it on youtube, i’ve read gerbits’ story about it so i think i’m pretty qualified. i’ve always wanted to do one with periwinkle acapella but i never got around to it

another ep i know nothing about is get to work

i tried doing a eco life playthrough but i hadn’t watched any videos and i was like..what is going on. so i quit lolx d ;;;;; i mentioned it but the whimsy stories legacy was the first time i had played with the eco lifestyle features so technically i think i know what im doing

i got outdoor retreat literally on monday of this week so i haven’t played through it yet. 

jungle adventure i still don’t know what’s going on. i remember last year before i bought the pack i was brainstorming, and wanted to do a ja playthrough with luna and cedar, who are a couple who i did a random legacy with and it was all queued to post when i deleted everything (if you’re wondering why, it’s because my queue was literally 200+ posts). except this time i didn’t save them to my sideblog so i lost them. 

i still havent had a restaurant in dine out 

also never did the vet thing from cats and dogs

i have no idea what that rock climbing thing is from snowy escape but i did most of the other stuff because rn g5

city living i did through psc stage 5 and also it was the first pack i bought anyways

the rest of them are either stuff packs or i ended up playing them through casual gameplay (seasons, parenthood)

16. what do you do as you play sims? (ex. listen to music) i listen to music most of the time, or listen to commentary youtube videos because i am an alpha chad. i also used to talk with my friends on voice call but i don’t do that anymore 🥲

17. which sims challenges have you tried? random legacy, whimsy stories, perfect sim challenge, 100 baby, legacy (just the plain get-to-10-gens one), random nightmares, berry zodiac, astrology legacy, apocalypse

i feel like im forgetting some.. honestly most of the stuff i did before simblr was either 100 baby (i love that challenge) or random saves that lasted for 2 seconds. 

18. do you like the new(ish) hair swatches? nah. 

i do appreciate that most cc hairs have a true (ish) black, thank god! and the fact that the hair update is what inspired me to update and fix a bunch of hairs with different issues is pretty nice. but will i use them? no. 

plus it takes up like 5 gb? depending on how many packs you have.

19. post the latest screenshot you took 📸

i live in cas

20. what is the cc/ingame hair that looks the most like your own? i think that dream home decorator side part hair looks a lot like my hair. honestly i havent see much like my hair but that one is kinda-? close

21. who is your favorite sim of yours and what is their story? noelle and alari fae i think! 

link to post

noelle is blonde and has blue-grey eyes. she wears purple contacts pretty often though (because she wants to 😌)

alari has light brown hair that is kinda curly, and she’s got pretty vibrant blue eyes. 

they’re sisters, alari is 3 years older than noelle. noelle was 19 and alari was 22 when they got spotted

they worked as models when they were young adults. their jobs involved dyeing their hair blue/pink, and they would model like clothes and stuff. anyways, they were pretty successful. like not ultra famous but they had enough money to not work for the rest of their lives. 

their modeling group was made of 4 girls, the others were named paisley autumn and they were green and red, respectively. some things are: 

paisley and alari started dating during this 

autumn was a single mother to a little girl named destiny

noelle dated many people during this but never ended up finding the one <3

when their contract ended after like 6 years, paisley and alari went to go live together and noelle decided to get into acting. so thats when get famous playthrough started!

there’s more but basically they’re like oc’s with sims on the side. xoxo

22. if you use cc, are there any cc creators that you have like ALL of their items? this is such a good question! i hoard hair very heavily (my folder is 11gb) i so i have like 97% from most of the popular hair creators. 

i think i had legitimately EVERYTHING from simstrouble though, i went through multiple times to check and i also have all of her retired stuff. 

i have everything from ridgeport i think-? because of the fact that she uploaded all her stuff in one big zip. 

i think that’s it.. for a long time i also had everything by clumsyalienn, but then i ended up deleting it and only keeping my faves. 

and looking at my collection, maybe ah00b? i might be missing a couple but i at least have like 99%.

23. what’s one pack you think is underrated? dine out, it’s laggy af yes but it’s such a nice thing for my sims to do. 

24. what are your favorite sims stories/legacies? melons by gerbits always and forever

this question was inspired by this ask anyways so 

25. if you could change one small thing about ts4, what would it be? most of my suggestions are pretty complex but literally just - when you add tray files, they appear at the top. my life would be so much easier

this took me literal hours to answer

#replies #replying to MYSELF

[doctorthasmin]

“I’ll buy the chips don’t worry.” Ryan chuckles as they wander up the cobbled street, the Doctor playing hop scotch with herself testing the true limits to her balance.

“No no no, a deal is a deal is a deal. I’ll find a way, I’m very resourceful you know.” The Doctor reassures, bumping into him as she loses her balance. The street seems to fill up with night time revellers of all ages, the bass of music coming out of various clubs and bars. She sees Ryan clock a few lads his age, nodding their way.

“Sure you don’t fancy another drink? I promise I won’t embarrass you in front of your friends.” The Doctor promises, her face a little dewy from the ginger beer and vigorous sporting exercise she’s had tonight. Ryan frowns at her, stopping her stride to face her.

“Hey wait, why would you think I’d be embarrassed to be with you in front of my friends?” Ryan asks sincerely, catching as the Doctor swallows and looks away.

“You’re all very kind but I know I’m a bit, you know, eccentric or weird, I say stuff that’s not right for your time or make references that are too old.” The Doctor mumbles, staring down at her trainers before looking up plastering a big grin on her face. But Ryan’s face is a picture of sadness which stumps her.

“Doctor, I’ve had a lot of ‘friends’ in my short life but none of them have actually spent time to listen and encourage me with the stuff that I find hard. So you’re a bit out of time, who cares, you’re the best thing that’s happened to all of us, not just Yaz, even if she makes you all gooey eyed.” Ryan jokes, rubbing her shoulder as she leans into his side for a rare hug.

“Thanks Ryan, needed to hear that.” The Doctor mumbles into his shirt, before dramatically sniffing the air.

“Don’t even be telling me I smell, that’s why you wear lynx on a night out.” Ryan starts before the Doctor grabs his hand and pulls him forward with all her strength.

“I smell really good chips Ryan, and a fridge leaking coolant.” The Doctor yells as they skip and slide their way down the street across the main road to a chip van, bedazzled in fairy lights.

“Oo that’s pretty, Yaz wants lights like that in the bedroom you know.” The Doctor starts as they approach the chip van, the Doctor sniffing around like a bloodhound in an airport.

“So what’s the plan Doctor?” Ryan whispers out the side of his mouth as the man in the chip van rams his hand against the side of his warm fridge.

“Oh right yeah, charm, here take my sonic and follow my lead.” The Doctor murmurs handing him the sonic discreetly.

“What will it be kids?” The man asks leaning over his counter to see Ryan and the Doctor grinning away.

“Oh well it all looks amazing! My friend here is a mechanic, he says these are the best chips in Sheffield.” The Doctor starts seeing the man’s eyes widen at the ‘mechanic’ part.

“Well it’s tough competition round here even on a nighttime. I’m afraid my drinks aren’t cold, damn refrigerator keeps breaking on me.” The man complains, waiting a moment as the Doctor turns to Ryan widening her eyes obviously.

“Oh I’m sure Ryan could help out, this is his bread and butter you know, we could do a trade, two portions of chips for a fixed fridge eh?” The Doctor barters smiling at the man before he chuckles nodding opening the door to the van from the inside.

“In you come son, any help would be appreciated.” The man says as the Doctor flicks the sonic to the right setting before hastily handing it back to Ryan as he climbs in.

“No worries mate, the cooling systems on these old fridges are temperamental you know. Salt and vinegar on mine please.” Ryan says shoving his arm to the back of the fridge to use the sonic, he can hear it whirring away the orange glow of the crystal spinning inside the screwdriver.

“What about you darlin?” The man asks shovelling hot chips into a styrofoam container.

“Plenty salt and vinegar too please.” The Doctor shines smiling at the man as the fridge light suddenly comes back on and the electric whir of the fridge returns.

“Oh that’s brilliant thanks son!” The man cheers as Ryan excuses himself to climb out of the van. The Doctor is holding his portion of chips out for him as he hands her back the sonic.

“No worries mate, thanks for the chips.” Ryan thanks through a mouthful of crispy thick chips. They walk away with a wave finding a park bench to look on at the Tardis a few hundred metres away.

“These are lush.” The Doctor groans through another bite, making Ryan burst out laughing.

“Everything tastes better after a few pints. Have you had fun?” Ryan asks stabbing some more chips with his wooden two pronged fork.

The Doctor turns to look at him grinning and nods. “Of course, we can do stuff like this more often you know, if you wanted too.” The Doctor offers, leaving a chip on the arm rest of the bench for a particularly insistent pigeon.

“Sure, next time let’s do a bro night in the 50th century or something.” Ryan suggests watching as the Doctor grins back nodding.

“You know who we should invite, Jack, he’ll know the best spots for the 50th century, though I don’t think he’d come unless Graham came too.” The Doctor chuckles winking as Ryan laughs agreeing.

“So video games then?” The Doctor asks as they bin their chip containers, making their way back to the Tardis.

“For me yeah, I think I’ve hogged you long enough, go have a cuddle with Yaz.” Ryan teases making silly kissing faces much to the Doctor’s embarrassment as she blushes, opening the Tardis door quietly as they sneak in.

“Fair do’s, thanks for tonight Ryan.” The Doctor whispers, pinching his cheek slightly before moving towards their living quarters.

Yaz is awake, lying cosy in amongst many blankets as the Doctor tip toes in. She’s put the fairy lights up all around the bedroom giving off a soft yellow glow, the familiar scent of her Shea butter and vanilla moisturiser clings to the air.

“You look lovely.” The Doctor whispers dopily coming to kneel by the bed, kissing the top of Yaz’s hand.

“You look drunk, and happy.” Yaz whispers back pulling her closer onto the bed with her arm. She snuggles into the Doctor’s side, her gangly arms wrapped tightly around Yaz.

“I’m merry, we had a nice time, Maisie got your note by the way.” The Doctor mumbles back sleepily, before she feels Yaz’s finger poke her chest.

“Who’s Maisie?” Yaz asks confused, the Doctor’s eyes wide and orb like staring back at her in admiration or as Ryan liked to call them ‘the Doctor’s gooey eyes’.

“The girl who wanted to buy me a drink, I gave her your note. How did you know that was going to happen by the way?” The Doctor asks closing her eyes once more to rest her face in Yaz’s hair.

Yaz chuckles, sliding her free hand through the Doctor’s short hair, scratching her scalp, receiving a humming purr from the Doctor.

“Educated guess, you’re more adorable than you realise.” Yaz whispers as she hears the gentle snores of sleep start to rumble from the Doctors slight frame. At utter peace in this room of warmth and love.

This is the final part to this story hope you guys liked it!

#doctor who #thirteenth doctor #ryan sinclair #yasmin khan #thasmin #doctorthasmin stories

[jawllines]

WEREWOLF BLURB PLEASE!!!! ☺️✌🏼

:D YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

i. 

Y/N’s flustered. 

She hadn’t started the day out flustered – she had actually started it rather composed. After coming back from a small trip home, she had been more than ecstatic to see Harry, Niall, and the rest of the pack. To reorient herself with Maisie at the bakery and reunited Grandpa with the pups in their playroom (who, from several videos sent by Harry, were missing Gramps terribly and were rolling around in his bed and whining every time Harry brought it into them). To climb into Harry’s too large bed and only use a quarter of it because they’re snuggled so tightly together they account for merely one body. 

Being away from Harry for the first time since they’d bonded felt more or less like she was leaving a limb behind and promising to come back. Which was to be expected, or at least that is what Harry told her. They were bonded, linked in spirit, through the rush of blood through their veins. It was nowhere near in the theatrical high schooler way of panic when a couple spends the weekend without seeing one another – it was a legitimate concern amongst their kind when a mating pair had to separate large distances. 

The yearning was like an ache that consumed them both all over, like icy needles of want that pricked them. Sure, they could call, but it had almost made it worse – she could see his face and hear his voice but she couldn’t reach out and fiddle with the hair at his nape, and he couldn’t worm his arm around her waist and draw her nearer to him in the middle of the night when he heard her shiver. Y/N couldn’t hide her face into the base of his throat and let her eyes flutter shut when they were cuddled on her couch, Grandpa warming their feet. Harry couldn’t hold her hand as they walked along the stream on the grounds, with the crystalline water that glittered in the beams of sunlight, and she couldn’t feel his laugh rumble through his chest when she says something that makes him pull her close and chuckle. 

In more direct terms, it fucking sucked. 

And maybe Y/N had forgotten how flirty guys and girls could be, but she was almost a hundred percent positive that she had never been the usual target of people’s conquering affections. If anything, she used to feel as if she practically repelled it, especially at home where she spent most nights alone and having her “dates” to dances be her friends. It was just something she was used to…the majority of the people she went to school with knew her from when she was deep in an attempt of a goth phase that never really stuck and saw her cry over Polar Express about thirty times, so she wouldn’t much want to fraternize with high school her either.

Yet, when she returns, it feels like the eyes on her are endless. Not in a confidence-boosting way at all – it was a way that made her skin crawl, the way it appeared like they were drinking her in, their eyes rolling up and down her body. When she and her old high school buddies went to a club one night, there had been a group of people and 6 out of the 8 found an excuse to hug her at some point. Some of them she could hear breathe in deep and at first, she had attributed it to everyone really liking her perfume, but when the next question that followed was, “Do you have a boyfriend?” She began to become a bit suspicious. 

She brought up to Niall – asked him if it were possible that there be other werewolves, who instead of staying sacred grounds, galavant through clubs and go around sniffing people. After a lengthy lecture about how she should have let him come with her like he asked, he kindly let her know that all packs were different, and while his and Harry’s had a pretty hefty mistrust for humans that were not her other packs may not care. May roam about and fuck around till their heart’s content, some even change people for fun. He told her that most likely, the people spotting her extra attention that they otherwise wouldn’t give is because she’s coated not only in the scent of a wolf but the potent scent of an alpha. One so strong and inviting that they can’t not find their way to her, caught off guard by the human body carrying it along like she’d spritzed it over her pulse points and walked out of the house. 

So they were intrigued beyond belief, wanting to sniff and to understand, hoping to question her but she was always creeped out enough that she slipped away before they had the chance. She forgets how intimate the wolf community is, surpassing human limits of personal space the nth degree, especially when she hasn’t been around them for a second. At first, where there had been snide glances and uncomfortable shifts in her presence, she is now greeted with arms encompassing her tightly, deep breathing and warm laughter as they share stories with her. They enjoy how she squeaks when they squeeze too tightly and even more so how Harry grins, watching them. 

“You are family,” he once told her, “They love you as I love you – though I do love you most.” 

And she was okay with that – with them – but strangers who like hugging tightly, whom she first mistakes for people her friends are introducing her to (or re-introducing her to), who just go in for a whiff? It’s unsettling, and she was far more cautious in the rest of the time she spent away. Along with far more yearning from the wolves she had become used to, this switch up left her rattled. 

So it’s safe to say, save for missing her friends and family back home, she was excited to go back. Ecstatic, even, and Harry was absolutely buzzing as well. 

“I will be there for you at the station!” He had exclaimed to her when she explained she was now boarding the train, “With a big ol’ sign, and flowers, like in them movies you showed me.” 

Low and behold, as promised, when she finally made it out of the terminal and into the main area of the station, Harry was with Niall, both holding up a large sign that had that read WE MISSED YOU  and the messy painted prints of the pups that had tracked all over the white paper. A bouquet of flowers the size of her head, ones freshly plucked from Miss. Tealy’s garden on the grounds (she let Y/N eat some of the berries she’d been growing once, and when Y/N had told her they were the best she’d ever tasted, Miss. Tealy frequently began requesting her if she and Harry weren’t caught up with something else), and a box of her favorite cookies from the bakery that she knew Maisie sent in her place (she was leaving for a week-trip to Germany that day, so she had to be at the airport). 

It was hard not to let her eyes well up, almost tripping over herself as she rushes over to them, walking briskly she had taken on the persona of someone in New York who has no time to get to the places they need to go. Her arms found Harry’s neck in seconds and he squeezed her so tightly that it was just about bone-crushing – if she hadn’t known any better, she would think that this was his intention. 

Even if it were though, she couldn’t say that she minded it. Being in his arms again felt drinking a cold glass of water at noon, on a sweltering summer day. She was overcome with such immense love that it felt like it might burst from her orifices, ooze from her until she’s melted into a puddle on the train station floor. The only reason she pulls back is to smother his face in kisses, from his forehead to his chin, his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, his mouth. And he giggled, trying to kiss her back but he barely could do to the onslaught of her own peckish kisses. 

“I missed you too,” she murmurs, nestling her nose in the bed of his throat and breathing in deep, though as she relaxes when Harry does the same he tenses up. Rigid as a board, and it’s so akin to how he was when they had met the very first time she recognizes it instantly. 

In her attempt to drawback and question him, his grip around her tightens, and she feels a low rumble of a growl threatening his chest, “You do not smell of me,” he notes – not in accusation, but annoyance is clearly laced through his words as he holds onto her tighter, “Niall told me of the people troubling you with unwanted attention but I had not known they were so close. You reek of them.” 

Her face drops into a pout, wiggling out of his arms with her brows furrowed, “You know the last thing you want to hear from your boyfriend after being away for two weeks is that you reek,” she chides him, turning to grab her suitcase, but she notices then that Niall had already grabbed the handle, “I showered about ten dozen times, so I don’t know why I still smell like them. I’m sorry.” 

His features soften at her words, head shaking urgently, “Do not apologize,” he tells her seriously, “It is to no fault of your own – you do not…reek in that sense of the word. I smell the others more than I can smell myself on you, so I must re-scent you.” He reaches out for her again, taking her by the wrist and pulling her back towards him, to which she goes easily, allowing him to burrow his face in her hair and wrap his arms around her in a much less organ popping way, “Which is not a problem by me.” 

Before Y/N can question what “re-scenting” actually indicates, Niall clears his throat dramatically, and Y/N and Harry both turn to face him, “Listen, I know the lot of you are lovebirds and s’precious, but I have not gotten a single ounce of attention for the five minutes you’ve been here, and I would just like to remind everyone I’m the reason you two met in the first place.” 

Snorting, Y/N rolls her eyes and slips from Harry in favor of giving Niall a hug, “Hi Ni, you know I missed you too.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he wraps the hand not occupied with the sign around her shoulders, giving her a firm squeeze, “Missed you too. Missed your cookies and Grandpa most though.”

Grandpa, who was now being retrieved from his carrier by Harry (who did not believe that any animal should be kept in a crate, and only allowed it when Y/N explained that he had to be), was wiggling happily in his arms and licking and slurping at his face. From a jealous puppy to werewolf correspondence, to being the only two beings in a room who understand each other wholeheartedly, was a wholesome development on their part. Harry adored Grandpa (if not for being bonded to him, Y/N would have assumed he missed him far more than he missed her), and when the security guard walks up to him to let him know that animals are not allowed outside of their carrier  in the station if they are not a service animal – she could see the flicker in Harry’s eyes that he was not going to allow it. 

“He will stay out of his crate,” he said sternly.

“Sir –” 

“Would you like to be put in a crate?” His voice is deepens, a dull growl that makes Niall stiffen and her heart race; it’s the voice of an alpha that encourages Niall to stand up taller, Y/N’s veins sizzle and her abdomen twinkles and warms, and the security guard shrinks away, “He is living and breathing, has his shots, and in no way violent. He will not be put in a crate.” 

The security guard nods, “Very well, Sir.” 

The power he emanates and oozes is maddening, radiating throughout the entire station, from wall to wall, and it is so all-encompassing that Y/N feels swallowed whole by it. In the absolute best way possible. Over the phone and on the screen, she forgets, because he doesn’t use that voice with her but when he is around his pack, or if she’s ever gotten him in public and something is occurring that is not up to part with his standards, he uses it. She hates the way it makes her insides twist and thighs squeeze together; the response is instinctive and apart from her – she’s usually got such a handle on her arousal, but when it comes to Harry and when it comes to that voice, she doesn’t have a handle on anything. 

Harry turns to them, a goofy smile painting his lips as Grandpa pants happily beside his face, a complete contrast to the man that had just been standing there before, “There is a great feast, awaiting you, my Love, we must go at once.” 

                                                       .                           .                           .

It was a second homecoming in the span of two weeks when she steps onto the grounds and inside of the now-familiar foyer. Werewolves, she finds, do not take well when their assumed human leave for any amount of time and come back smelling of others. So she was passed around like dinner plate as they all welcomed her with hugs, Grandpa following suit, sniffing and licking all of them, and in their own way, they were all scenting them both. At least taking the edge off of the other wolves, is what Niall said, when he embraces her one last time as to not look like he didn’t care that she apparently “reeked”. 

Dinner was set up already and her assigned spot besides Harry had already been set with food – all of which her favorite that she had tried since she’d been here. From vegetable shepherd’s pie with duchess potatoes to marmalade sponge pudding, about three separate slices of chocolate pie coated in rainbow sprinkles. The scent of the dining hall, in general, made her mouth water, and as Harry holds her chair out for her (as he always does), she tells him as such and he reaches out, stroking at her face tenderly. 

“The chefs have done their best work for you, I’ve made sure of it.” 

They eat till their stuffed full; Y/N feels as though her stomach had expanded three sizes and one more bite might make her pop. She tells them stories of her hometown, what she did in her absence, and how every single one of her friends just about gushed at the fact that she was with Harry. “They talked you up so much, I was almost jealous,” she told him as she cut into her slice of pie with the side of her fork, “Got irritated when they would be saying, ‘Oh he’s so hot’ or ‘God, look at the mouth on him!’ ‘cos like, no shit I know that – and they weren’t even bringing up how absolutely sweet you were. Didn’t want them objectifying you, s’why you didn’t video chat with any of ‘em.” 

Harry had made a point to keep their fingers interlocked the rest of their time at dinner, squeezing every so often, and she revels in how much she loves the feel of his hands on her skin. It almost feels urgent that she gets him to his bedroom then, and from the way they lock eyes towards the end of dinner when they’ve come around to collect the plates, she knows Harry is aware. More than aware, actually, of how she’s feeling, because not only has his body grown to match it, but he can smell it. He once told her, that the smell of her arousal commands his attention almost as instantly as her heart starts to pump a little faster, the blood rushing to her groin. 

(He told her this, because she had been trying to hide how needy she was for him when he was particularly busy. Though as they sat quietly in his office, him bent over papers and Y/N silently reading, he had slammed his palm against the desk in a clap that echoed through the room, dragging her attention to him, “How am I meant to focus, when you smell so enticing? Why have you not asked me to tend to you?”) 

However, both of them were filled to the brim with food and feeling sluggish and slow, and so sleepy. Y/N couldn’t fathom doing any vigorous activity other than trying to find a suitable snuggling position in bed, and when she tells Harry as much he looks grateful. Though, just as soon as Y/N lies beside him after switching into her pajamas (made of the finest threads of silk, from Harry as a gift for Christmas, despite him feeling it was a baseless holiday and he feels he should be able to gift her things because he wants to and not out of obligation for the season), he drags her to him so closely that barely a slip of paper could fit in between. He dips his nose into her neck and rubs the tip against the skin of her throat, his arm encircling her waist so that she could barely even wiggle. 

Soon, where his nose was, his lips meet in a soft press against her throat. She thinks at first he’s just being sweet – he liked neck kisses – but then he captures the skin, sucking it between his lips and pinching at it with his teeth. A gasp slides from her throat, her eyes opening up wider as she’s hit with a short gust of liveliness from where she had been slowing down for bed. The hand of his arm tucked around her, is tucked between her and that mattress as if to hold her even closer, as he works the skin over, only parting to lick the broad of his tongue around the tender skin. 

When she cranes her neck to look at him, he pushes their mouths together with little warning or thought, a smear of lips that makes her body tingle. He slides his tongue in between her lips and curls it around her own, no hesitation, no playful flirtiness to it like he sometimes did, but full, needy strokes like this was all he had been thinking about. All that he could think about. 

The hand that had been at her side, slides up to her cheek and cradles her face, aiding her in turning so that he could more adequately invade her mouth. He shifts so that he is halfway on top of her, his thighs astride her own, his cock throbbing to life in the small, tight pair of boxers he wore. They were the ones he chose when he couldn’t be arsed to go fetch his laundry. He’d long since outgrown them, but Y/N is often grateful that he kept them around, given they left very little to the imagination and the cotton – while worn – was soft (which, in filthier connotations, was very nice to grind against). 

“Need you to smell like me,” he parts from her mouth but doesn’t stray far, speaking the words against her tongue as she flickers it against his plushy, swollen bottom lip, “Inside and out.” 

______________________________________________________________________

Harry has always been an impassioned and fervent lover. 

Ever since the first time, when she’d been thrown into a false heat, he was diligent and dominant, made her thighs quake, kissed her breathless, held her close, rocked into her hard, and made her melt in the best way possible. He was enthusiastic and always came in what felt like waves, filling her so full that she leaked of him. Sex with Harry had always felt like such a transcending experience, she came out feeling enlivened and refreshed – exhausted as all get out but like she could conquer the world if she really wanted to. 

And right then was no different. 

He slides his tongue against her in these slow, stroking movements, his hand cradling her jaw in his palm so gently. Harry had wiggled over so that the heavy, heated bulge that sat heavy between his thighs was hovering just over where she coveted for him. Their noses were pressed together, where his other hand is at her hip – the fabric of her shirt had skated up her side, so his fingers dug into the bare skin. It felt like touching white-hot fire against her, her hips rolling upward idly, and just barely grazing against him. 

Harry’s so hard, she knows that he must be aching for it, and when he tucks his covered cock to the crotch of her panties, he rolls his hips in these deep, digging motions. Her veins fizzle and spark, her own fingers finding themselves burrowed in his curls, bucking back up against him with her toes curling. A wet, throaty gasp pops from her throat against his mouth as she curls her legs around his hips to keep him close, as he undulated his hips against her. 

It’s so good and hot and sweaty; she’s full, sleepy, her eyes heavy but she feels so nice. She’s being satiated in every way she could think possible, as the fabric of her panties grew damper with each roll. He parts from her only to breathe but they’re so wrapped up in one another they’re just sucking in each other’s air. It’s humid, her skin beginning to perspire, and Harry was always so warm in general that it contributed to the growing heat, especially the one that pulsates throughout her entire being. 

“Sweet little thing,” he murmurs, his lips stroking against her own with each word he spoke, and she pushes forward to capture them for a second but he parts, “I can smell how wet you are. Can practically taste it,” he pauses the ministration of his hips and laughs when she whines, their noses pushing together for a moment as he draws backward, “You want me to taste you?” 

She nodded quickly and Harry hums, slipping down to her chest, displacing the soft material of the pajama top she wore and sliding her breast in the divet of his thumb and forefinger. He takes her nipple into his mouth, pursing his lips and suckling, and her back arches some to press closer to him. It felt so good. So incredibly, horribly good, and he was nowhere precise or meticulous; it was truly feral, wet and sloppy. When he switches, he drags the fabric further, only this time he tears the fabric down the middle and Y/N gasps loudly but he couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he drags her other nipple into his mouth and wettens it with his tongue, sucking and nipping at the bud as it pebbled beneath his attention. 

Icy hot tendrils of arousal spike down her abdomen; she feels herself pulsate, feeling herself drip into her panties. His movements downward are brisk, but harsh suckled bites at the tender skin of her belly, his fingers digging into her panties and ripping them at the elastic. It snaps back against her, a sting that strips up to her hip bone but she has no time to mourn the black cotton because Harry’s burying his face into her cunt like he was starved. His tongue slips between her licks, deep grinds of the wet muscle from her hole to the swollen bud. 

She’s throbbing, all the blood rushing to her clit as Harry demonstrates his desire wholeheartedly. Slurping and lapping, moving is head side to side and moaning; it’s so wet, like he’s drooling over her, sloppy and messy, these groans that rattle through her body and vibrate her bones. One hand slaps down beside her side, fingers dug into the sheets beside her, and the other tangling up in his hair, which was now even more unruly than when she had left. His eyes had long since fluttered shut like he was soaking in and enjoying every moment of tasting her. He always licked into her like it was his first and final time – like he had to commit it to memory in every way he could.

“Harry,” she moans breathlessly, and Harry hums against her as his response – her whole body quivers, “Fuck, you feel so – you feel so good.” 

He hums again, removing his hand from where he was pressing on her thigh to keep her spread out for him, and her parts for just a moment so he can place two fingers at her entrance. Her mouth drops open soundlessly but her breath gets caught in her throat, as he sinks them in slow, looking down at it with a small smile before his eyes glitter up to hers, “You haven’t touched yourself since we were together last, hmm?” 

Her cheeks warm at his inference, nodding her head – it was true; no matter how hard done by she felt, there was no use in her own hands anymore. When she tried, she was just left with an unyielding want for him, a distinct tugging at her chest that beckoned for his fingers, his cock, his tongue. To have his nose smushed up against her mound as he slurped and sucked and licked her dry. Harry had completely ruined her for anything bringing her an orgasm that wasn’t him.

And the bastard knew it! He knew it so well, from that stupidly cocky and beautiful smile that tilts at his lips, “You’re going to cum already.” He remarks thoughtfully, sighing, “So sensitive today, Pet.” 

“Stop teasing me,” she whined, shuffling down, letting her hips thrust forward against his hand. He’s got two fingers inside of her, stroking against the soft, spongy bump that makes her thighs squeeze and tremble, her walls rhythmically throb around him as his palms pressed close to her clit, “How m’I supposed to hold off when you’re doing all that?” 

Tutting his tongue lowers his palm and lets his other hand slide into his ministrations, using the pad of  his thumb to gently guide her clit in smooth, round little circles that make the muscles in her abdomen visibly tense, “I’m not teasing.” He tells her, eyes trained on the wet little gash between her legs, “If I were teasing then I would just –” he slides his hands from her, leaving her empty, and cold, pushing his fingers into his mouth. 

“No!” She gasps, wriggling to try and get closer to his fingers and his mouth again, “No, no, don’t –” 

“Look how needy you are,” he hums, framing her pussy with his hands, his thumbs holding her open as her hole clenches and squeezes, “Begging me to claim you – make you smell like me all over.” He murmurs, leaning down and letting the very tip of his tongue dip inside of her, groaning against her, and sinking in further. She thinks if it were up to him, he would lick her completely dry. 

Harry giggles against her as he swirls his tongue in a circle, before peeling back again, only this time he scales up her body, pushes a kiss to her mouth so she can taste herself on his tongue as he draws his boxers down. His cock slaps up against his abdomen soundly, stiff as a rock, with the aching, purpled head leaking precum in a rivulet down the side. The tip was shiny and her mouth waters instantaneously like she’s one of Pavlov’s dogs stuck in a Cathedral. 

She would beckon that he let himself into her mouth, maybe rock his hips into with his hands cradling her jaw like she’d asked him to before, but he’s got a way about him when he isn’t in the mood for a blowie. The way his eyes are blown, his movements are gentle, yet quick, and the urgency in which he lines himself up with her are a few telltale signs, to say the least. He circles the head around her soaked lips, his pillowy mouth dropping open just a little, his brows furrowing in pleasure as he revels in the feeling. 

He sinks into her slowly, groaning out loud that he muffled by latching his teeth around the juncture of her neck and shoulder (his favorite spot). Y/N struggles to keep from pushing him deeper, but she refrains from it, letting him ease in how he likes. Harry wants to feel every ridge, every curve, every wall; like he’s memorizing how she feels inside. She wonders if he closes his eyes, he can feel her – she can feel him when she focuses on it enough. Can feel the wide head stroking against her insides, nudging and bumping into all the spots that make her toes curl.

The first rock of his hips is just a small roll, where his hips are still tucked against her thighs, and it shifts her body upward against the sheets. This is when Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closely (“Are you trying to keep me in, Baby? Don’t have to worry about me pulling out – might just have to walk around with you snug on my cock.” He had once said, and she almost hates how much she would love it), her arms around his neck, so that their fronts are mashed together. Another pretty noise leaves his lips, this time as he unbeds his teeth from her skin, moving so that he was slipping their mouths together again. He slips his tongue between her lips, drinking in the heady moan that leaves him when he starts up a steady pace. 

They’re so close that she can feel the muscles in his stomach tense and relax, moving beneath the skin as the filthy sounds of him fucking into her begin to feel the room. The thwack their bodies colliding that reverberates in her ear like a beat, his fingertips dug deep in her thigh while his other hand kept him held up as he pressed it against the headboard, working with the balance he’s deviating onto his knees. 

Y/N would ride him if she could but she knew well enough that he needed this and she needed this. Needed the raw, primal energy of him fucking into deep, hard, alternating between slow and quick – it made the both of them feel better. She had missed him so desperately, to feel this close after being so far apart was like stumbling upon a hot spring in Antarctica. Their souls have tied and knotted, their hearts beating as one, her eyes water from the undulating pleasure of being loved and getting brought to a mind-shattering orgasm after weeks of nothing. 

She reburies her hand in his hair, tangling her fingers up in the strands and she clenches around him when he lets out a low growl as she tugs, “Make you smell like me, Puppy,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to her, “Bloody fucking bastards had their hands all over you – don’t they know you’re mine?” He cradles her face, running a thumb over her cheek and Y/N peers up into his soft, green irises with a blurry gaze. Harry doesn’t worry when she cries during sex – mostly because he can feel deep within his being when she’s actually upset, but partly because he just knows…he knows she gets so overwhelmed by the sensations of everything, she can’t help but tear up. “Don’t they know I’m your Alpha?” 

“They know,” she feels the first telltale sign of her orgasm bristling at the edges, “You feel so good – you smell so good, they know, they know and if they don’t I’ll tell them myself. Show them all my bite marks.” 

Harry groans, nodding and leaning forward to smear his mouth over hers, reaching down to her clit and rubbing tight little circles into it. Y/N’s thighs squeeze around him tightly, her orgasm ripples through her in hot waves of static, that sizzles through her body in electric waves. She moans against his mouth and he swallows the sound down, his own orgasm striking him, his knot slipping inside of her. He’s cumming in hot spurts that coat her walls, filling her up and despite his locking with her some still manage to slip out (she can feel it). Harry cumming in her is one of her favorite feelings, as he throbs and pulses, his hips twitch and buck, his grip on her – wherever it may be – tightens up and holds her close. He empties everything he’s got until she feels full and she revels in it. 

As they both come down, Harry’s eyes flutter open with a dreamy smile that he gives her, and her heart leaps against her ribcage, “I missed you.” He tells her for at least the twentieth time that night, “With my whole being.” 

She returns his smile, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I missed you more.” 

His brows tilted, “There is no possible way,” he repositions them so that she was lying on her side and he was spooning her from behind, his arms wrapped back around her, one palm warm palm on her stomach. He dips his face into her throat, breathing in deep, and a low rumbled purr begins to rattle through him. To know that he’s comfortable soothes her even more than she had been, as her eyes began to flutter. The exhaustion that they had felt prior catches back up with them, she can tell as they melt into each other. 

“Come with me next time,” she tells him, “Come meet my family.” 

He pauses, raising his head and him shifting makes Y/N crane her neck to peek at him, “You want me to? Even though I am – I am –” 

“Perfect?” Y/N finishes for him, not allowing him to get insecure about his nature, “Yes, I want you to, even though you’ll definitely show me up.” 

And Harry breaks into a cheek splitting grin, moving forward to kiss her again, his hold on her even tighter than before.

#bLURB #OR #BLURBS #Anonymous #harry smut

[honeyctzen]

scarred leash (prologue) - m.l

IMPORTANT: This is the prologue for my newest fanfiction and is an introductory to the main character and the themes of this story. It involves sex, bdsm, self harm and themes relating to that matter. It will also not just be sex, but have an actual story and characters falling in love. If any of this is not for you, my other works are much lighter and less “plotty”. I really hope this excites you for the rest of the story, I am very much proud of it. Thank you! - Maisie ♡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I was sixteen when I chose to leave home without even whispering a word to anyone. Sixteen when I decided I had to go out alone into the world, to make my own way with the little experience I had gathered so far. It took a long time to map out my plan, endless days that turned into sleepless nights. I spent most of my last teenage years memorising a singular night, a night that would lead me into the next stage of my life.

My dusty countryside town was a few hours from the monumental London. I thought about the city all hours of the day, the faraway land that was London. The idea of even stepping foot in it was weird and foreign and still, it was the only place I ever wanted to go. I’d lived in one place for my entire life and rarely ever left the town, in fact I’d only left it a few times. All because of hospital trips. The idea of living away from that place was terrifying and yet, completely exhilarating. Given that back then, I’d been pretty naive to how the world works as I’d never been told of it. I wanted a nice house, nice job, maybe I would meet a nice person and we would have a nice relationship. I had come to learn as my research into London and life in general continued that it wouldn’t be that simple. Everything was complicated. If you wanted a place to live, there was several thousand procedures you had to endure. If you wanted a job, you had to have a thousand different qualifications. I thought after realising all this that my hopes of leaving were over, that was when I had begun thoroughly planning.

Through school and college I was able to obtain the qualifications I needed to move away and work in business. I knew I would have to work for a few years before I gained any sort of fulfilling job, but I had endured years of education, I understood patience. Through research I had found a small flat that I would be able to pay for with money I’d saved over the years and earnings from a job I would later procure. Life would still be difficult, I knew this. I was a young, inexperienced girl moving out to a tumultuous city, it would be dangerous. Though I had concluded long ago that dying in this new fantastical place was far better than peddling on back home, where I would die unknown, just another body in the wet dirt underneath the town church.

I knew by leaving that I was inflicting an unimaginable amount of pain upon my mother, who was as neurotic as she was suffocating. Though I understood she didn’t mean to be, I couldn’t bring myself to feel sympathy for her. My father ran, as did my older brother, leaving me and my ailing grandmother the only people she had left. I wasn’t old enough to understand why my father had just abandoned us but once I grew enough to comprehend love, pain, divorce, I got it. This town was the entire world for my mother but as I got older, she realised it wouldn’t be for me. Instead it would be a restraint.

The first time I recall my mother knowing I would be difficult is when I was eleven. I developed much quicker than most children my own age, breasts already sprouting on my chest, hair spreading over my body. There was a huge wave of name calling, little jabs at my appearance, and while I tried to ignore it, eventually it burrowed beneath my skin. That was the same year I cut myself for the first time. My fingers coiled around a pair of scissors, pressing the metal over the flesh of my arm until a litter of red scratches appeared over the pale skin. Back then, it was just a punishment, a way of controlling myself from completely losing my mind. I stopped it for a while. In natures due course, the other girls grew into their bodies and I was planted back into an unremarkable place among my peers. There was no bullying and so, I forgot about cutting myself for a couple years.

While I had physically matured much quicker than others my age, mentally, it seemed I had been halted somewhere. There appeared no reason for it but the things that my schoolmates were interested in disgusted me. When a friend first showed me porn, I remember feeling vomit rise up in my throat. A woman, bundled up with rope, a muscled, balding man arched over her. The blood curling shrieks that filled the room felt torturous. I couldn’t understand how people liked this, how they liked it enough to pleasure themselves to it. I suppose that was when my fascination with sex begun. Initially, it was hatred, a complete abhorrence for the thing, a vexation that appeared randomly and intensely. If a classmate would mention it, or describe any sort of sexual act, I felt ill. My stomach twisting uncomfortably as the boys all called out derogatory names for the women they had seen in the films and then once again, I grew to hate my body.

I was fifteen the next time I cut myself. It was much more deliberate, much more intense. I had swapped out the dull scissors, for a pocket knife a friend had gifted me. It was able to bury itself much deeper than before and immediately, with the first slice, a tsunami of relief rolled over me. Though, it was a different kind of relief than it had been those years before. I found myself thinking back to the woman I had seen in the porn, the intricate ropes that clasped themselves over her limbs, the pained screams that passed her lips. The man leaning over her figure, how his fingers gripped the flesh of her waist, how he bevelled his teeth down onto her neck until it bled. I found myself recalling each detail of the images I had seen so long ago, and I found myself cutting down into the flesh as the memories scurried across my brain.

I felt guilty afterward, an awful guilt that followed me around for weeks. But then, a boy would mention shapes they had seen in porn and suddenly, I would feel the urge to damage myself again. It spiralled quickly. So quickly that I, myself, was shocked. Instead of recalling images I had seen, I created my own imaginations. Blurred, colourless visions of violence, and sex dulling into one, all as I pulled a knife against my own skin. It continued for months, months of fantasies and cutting and by the time my sixteenth birthday hurdled toward me, I had a plethora of thick scars covering my arms and legs. Though that didn’t faze me when finally, three years after all my friends, my mother bought me a cell phone.  

She would scour over the phone from time to time, checking my messages, calls, emails, and all other forms of communication. Yet, of all the applications on the phone, my mother was the most ignorant to the internet. She didn’t understand the concept of it, let alone know it was built into the mobile and so, I was able to roam free for the first time. And I roamed. My inexperience meant I didn’t know what sites to go to, nor did I know which keywords to search. The titles of the videos that came up almost seemed to be in a foreign language but after a couple of trips to the websites, I gathered the premise of each category. After locking myself in the bathroom, I would go to the sites and type in words such as bondage, submissive, sadism, pain and the things I liked would appear. Though I now understood how people looked at porn, I still didn’t understand why they touched themselves to it. Merely pushing a blade into my leg as I watched seemed to be enough. I wasn’t sure if it was sexual for me, or if it was a punishment thing as it had been when I was younger.

My understanding of my own sexuality went little further than this and my adventures on the websites dwindled until they stopped. It had grown to stop making me feel any better, and so I began inflicting more serious physical harm upon myself. The hospital visits followed soon after, as did my mother’s rantings about how unhealthy that stuff all was for me. For once, she paid attention to me. It almost felt nice, deserved. But I couldn’t hold it for long, as quite abruptly, my grandmothers health began to decline. She died a while after growing sick, and the absence of her in the house made my mother somehow more insufferable. And though we lived in the same house, it was almost as if we were separated by an unseen barrier.

I didn’t completely mind, it gave me enough solitude to go about my planning. Endless research into where I could live in London, what jobs I could obtain with the qualifications I would acquire after leaving sixth form. It took a while to find what would suit me right but after I finally latched onto it, my future suddenly felt full, meaningful almost. I now had something to look forward to, something to work toward. So, I studied harder, concentrated on the daydreams of my new life away from the idle cottage town. My grandmother had left some money to both me and my mother, more to me. I insisted I was able to tend to my own finances and after long bouts of pleading, my mother agreed. I had money, two months left at sixth form and then I could leave.

Time blurs together, memories jumbling, I can barely remember the last few months back home. But what I do recall vividly, is the night I left. I had booked train tickets the week prior and planned to stay in a hotel while I found somewhere to live. I needed to be close to the central city, I knew that much, though, not much else. I’d found a job interview for admin staff at a stockbroking company. My business a level came in handy, and my odd passion for calculations and numbers did too. If I could just get this job, if I could get that flat, I could make it.

I chose to leave during the night, climbing from my bedroom window, scuttling across the streets like a fragile hedgehog. I’d never even snuck from my house once before and the first time I was, I was doing so knowing that I would never come back. With every step I took I thought I would be caught and hauled back home by my hair. Each step further from the slanted bungalow made my heart beat a little faster until, gradually my pulse slowed, and the gentle pitter of my feet grew to calm myself. Though I didn’t feel completely secure until I passed the welcome sign to the town. But once I did, I felt a weight pulled from my stomach. A sudden notion that I had done it, I had gotten away like my father and brother did years ago, like my grandmother had in death. I was now free to do everything I had lost the chance to do through my mother’s coddling. I could drink, do drugs, have sex with an endless stream of people, work. I found myself grinning as I wandered further from town, the dishevelled map directing me toward the train station. The smile pulling at my lips until I worried they would rip. And it only widened when I spotted the station, when I saw my train, when I boarded, when the train began to drift from the docile place I had called home.

I knew that now, I was reborn, I was my own person. It had taken three years to map everything, to prepare myself for life away from the secure blanket I had been smothered with all my life. But now, it had all come to fruit. I dreamt of London on the train, my head pressed against the window, my scarred legs trembling with the thought of all the things that I could do. My chest thick, and heavy with excitement.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

London was everything I had imagined and so much more. It was larger than anything I had ever seen back home, with each building bigger than the next and thousands of vehicles filling the roads. As the train eventually rolled into the city, my eyes clasped over each detail that began to emerge. The differences of the people that wandered the streets, the warmth in the chatter that clambered through the train windows. Everything was so different, so good. I found myself smiling away as I watched from my place in the tube container, my toothy grin shining back at me in the reflection. I was finally there, finally apart of everything I had read about.

Walking the streets was even better, even more real. My feet paced the same tempo as everyone else, my body dipping between the mounds of crowd as I ambled through the roads, glancing down at the map I had printed back in my murky home. The directions were confusing, each street twisting awkwardly to the next and what should have been a five-minute walk turned into two hours of working out where I was. Though eventually, after consulting several locals, I found my way to the flat I had seen in the ad weeks ago. It was in what my mother would have called a ‘ghetto area’ but it was still much larger and greater than the street I had lived on all my life. It looked a normal house though split into three different flats, with a garden leading up to the two doors and ivy climbing up the sides of the home. I’d felt nervous to knock, I wasn’t particularly sure why. Perhaps because the person to answer could have been my future roommate but now, thinking back, I shouldn’t have been.

The person that had answered was taller than me, her gangling arms hanging low, one raised to her mouth as she nursed a cigarette. She was beautiful in an odd way, striking, her nose large and hooked, hair shorted and burnt from styling. She smiled widely when she spotted my obviously anxious face, her voice pouring out in its deepness.

‘The tenant?’ She mumbled through puffs of the intensely clouded cigarette.

‘Um, yeah.’

‘Cool, cool, yeah, sorry, come in.’ Her accent was prominent, thick and harsh but calming all at once. I smiled as I stepped into the flat, the stairs immediate at the entry. I stood beside my single suitcase, my backpack still on my shoulders, her gaze dancing across them before she turned away. She climbed them ahead of me, her feet clattering against the wooden steps and I trailed behind, eyes clinging to each detail of the walls. I wanted to take in as much as I possibly could, I wanted this to be my home, my sanctuary.

Once we stood in the depth of the flat, the girl began to speak again, pulling the cigarette from her mouth for a moment. Throwing her body onto the dusty sofa and awaiting me to sit beside her. I allowed the bag to drop to the floor, my feet pushing it further from me. My lanky limbs folded in on themselves as I perched on the seat, features impossibly too bright for the dullness of the flat.

‘You’re eighteen?’

‘Nineteen.’ I corrected abruptly.

‘Okay, you just have to be eighteen to rent, but that’s fine then,’ she said, inhaling from the stick before releasing the dense cloud into the room, ‘so, um, this is it.’

‘Um, what’s your name?’ I ask quietly.

‘Oh, shit, sorry, I’m Rose, and you?’

‘Ellie.’ I mumbled.

‘Are you the owner?’

She snickered, ‘Uh, no, my uncle is so I get a discount, barely, but, it helps. Um, he doesn’t really care who moves in but I, I do, I live here, so.’

‘Yeah,’

‘You’re not from here?’ She asked, finally pushing the cigarette into the ash tray that sat near her. The smell still strong but dissipating enough for me to open my mouth to speak.

‘No, I um, actually moved here today.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah, um, so, I’m new to this.’

‘Where you from?’

‘A little town just outside Sheffield, I, um, hated it, figured it was time to get away.’ I explained as briefly as I could, my fingers instinctively pulling on my sleeves whilst I spoke of home.

‘For a bit or are you staying here long term?’ She questioned, eyes flitting once more over the lack of things I had brought with me. It hadn’t been that I had forgot much, I hadn’t owned many things back home, not things that warranted bringing anyway.

‘Long term.’ I answered immediately.

‘And you’re gonna work here?’

‘Hopefully,’ I chuckled, ‘I have a job interview tomorrow, so, I um, I’d find work anyway, so I could pay, but,’

‘Cool, so, you want to move in then?’ She proposed, her voice soft, speaking the question as though it held no merit. My stomach churned, lips parting in another goofy smile, head nodding vigorously.

#nct fanfiction #mark lee #nct smut #nct imagine #mark lee smut #mark lee imagine #mark lee fanfiction #nct dream #nct u #wayv #nct #honeyctzn #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fanfiction #lee taeyong #johhny seo #jung jaehyun #kim jungwoo #kim doyoung #moon taeil #lee haechan #nakamoto yuta

[6rookie-writer0110]

Chuck Norris invited the Roman numerals

Maisie Williams x Male Reader

Request- Can you make a fic about the male reader and maisie Williams they've dated since reader had an appearance on got and now they are filming a horror movie together with the reader being the antagonist of the film who's a yandere in love with maisie character and them talking about each other during interviews and saying how fun it was to mess around and scare their friends on set and R always interrupt her interviews and posting photos of them together on set

You first appeared on the show Game of Thrones season 5. You started to get along with the cast and most of your scenes are with Maisie. You and Maisie spent more time together offset. You two would flirt with each other all the time and send flirty texts to each other. You and Maisie made it official when starting to work on season 7 on the show.

The show has been over for a year now, you wanted to take a break. Before the break, you did appear on other shows as a guest star. Her family loves you and she is happy with you.

You are officially not living in California no more. You just got off the airplane when Maisie sees you, she runs to you. She jumped on you and hugged you tight. You or Maisie can't stop smiling and she kissed you. You put her down and kissed her. You temporarily moved to England to spend more time with Maisie.

”So glad you are here,” Maisie said.

”Me too. Just glad to be off the plane and I barely slept and I'm starving” You said.

Once on the car, Maisie drove to a drive-thru and ordered the food. While driving you start to eat fast

”Slow down, Y/N if you choke I won't make it to the hospital in time,” Maisie said.

”I couldn't wait,” You said.

Once at home, you just lie on the bed. Now you feel much better and Maisie lies on top of you. You hold her and you don't want to move.

”So happy we will live together,” You said.

”I think we should get a dog or two,” Maisie said.

”I think we should do it. We have the space to have pets” You said.

”Can’t wait” Maisie smiled.

----

You like living in England with Maisie. Now that you two have time off from work, you and Maisie sleep in and do whatever. Now you and Maisie have three dogs a Dalmatian, Toy Poodle, and brown Labrador Retriever.

You and Maisie took the dogs to the dog park and took pictures of them. Everyone on Instagram loves the pictures. You always spoil them and always buying them toys.

”What do you think about the script?” Maisie asked.

” It's really good and I never did a role like that before,” You said.

”I think we should do it. He has made some really good movies” Maisie said.

You kissed her cheek.

”I do like his movies. I think we will do great and I always wanted to do a horror film” You said.

”We should call our managers,” Maisie said.

Later, Maisie takes you out for dinner. You and Maisie do take pictures together. Then you and Maisie hold hands and walk around the city. Then she took you to a pub and you started to play darts with her.

You and Maisie are at home and she is wearing your shirt to bed. But she wants to cuddle and you get comfortable in bed. She starts to snuggle on you and you start to play with her hair.

✫ ✬ ✯ ✫

You and Maisie got excited to meet horror film director John Carpenter. You asked for a picture with him and he said yes. You and Maisie start to work on the movie, between sets sometimes you would like to scare Maisie. But she does get her revenge and she has scared you before and caught it on video.

You and Maisie do get along with the cast, sometimes you and Maisie go out to dinner or bars with them. You post pictures with them on your Instagram. Your co-star are Jordan Peele and Eiza González, you and Maisie have fun with them.

Today you and Maisie have to do interviews and talk about the movie.

”Tell me, Y/N and Maisie what it was like working on a thriller/horror film?” Mario Lopez asked.

”Its something different for both of us. Y/N plays a character and he is madly in love with my character, but he takes his love to the next level which is very unhealthy in every way. But my character doesn't notice it at first and that's all I’m saying” Maisie said.

”Y/N did you had fun scaring your friends?” Mario Lopez asked.

You have a huge smile. Last week you posted a video on Instagram scaring Maisie and Eiza.

”There were moments we had to shoot dark scenes. So... To lighten up the mood, I start to scare everyone on the set and it's soo much fun. Oh my God, you want to see the pictures?!?!” You excitedly said.

”Yeah, sure,” Mario Lopez said.

”I can't believe you still have it,” Maisie said and she isn't happy about it.

You showed him the video where you scared, Maisie and Eiza in the make-up trailer. You were hiding once they sat down then you jumped out and scared them. You and Mario are laughing and Maisie punched your arm.

”Wow, Y/N I can't believe you did that” Mario laughed.

You hug Maisie and kissed her cheek.

”Babe, don't be mad,” You said and you have your arms around her.

”Maisie, you should forgive him,” Mario Lopez said and you start to pout.

”I will make it up to you, I promise,” You said.

”You better,” Maisie said.

You high five Mario.

”Is Y/N always like this?” Mario Lopez asked her.

She nods.

”He always does something stupid and he ends up getting hurt,” Maisie said.

”She likes her boyfriend to be stupid" You said.

”I'm dating you" Maisie said.

”Exactly," You said.

-------

You and Maisie are still doing interviews for the movie, on the Jimmy Kimmel show.

”Babe, you look beautiful,” You said.

You and Maisie are backstage and you can't stop looking at her.

”You are very handsome,” Maisie said.

You blushed and she gave you a peck on the lips.

During the interview, Jimmy showed a picture that Maisie posted on her Instagram.

The photo was taken when you and Maisie were on set. It’s Maisie having a scared look and you hugging her from behind a scary smile with a caption saying

I may be a psychopath but I'm your’s whether you like it or not.

”Y/N that is a very creepy picture” Jimmy laughed.

”I was still in character,” You said.

”While shooting the movie, he did a great job making everyone feel uncomfortable for the movie. But he is still my crazy boyfriend” Maisie said.

You smiled and you are holding her hand.

”I won't let her go,” You said.

”You guys are so cute together. I can't wait to see this movie” Jimmy said.

✫ ✬ ✯ ✫

Maisie is at home with the dogs and she is waiting for you to come home. You and Maisie moved out of the condo and moved into a house. You come home with a box with holes on it, you can't stop smiling.

”Y/N, why are you holding a box?” Maisie asked.

”If I tell you, promise you won't get mad,” You said.

”Oh, I'm scared now,” Maisie said.

”Don’t be scared. This will make you smile” You said.

You bend down to open the box and a baby tiger comes out.

”Y/N!” Maisie yelled.

”Don’t worry, I didn't steal it from the zoo. I didn't have the manpower to do it, the meaning is no fun to do it alone. Can we keep it please” You said.

The baby tiger tries to roar.

”How did you even get it!?” Maisie said.

”I legally adopted the baby tiger. Look how cute it is” You said.

You pick up the baby tiger and you want Maisie to pet it.

”Y/N, I can't believe you. I can't say no to that face. What do baby tigers even eat” Maisie said.

”I don't know but let's find out on Google,” You said.

You and Maisie play with the baby tiger and take pictures. Later, checked on Google of what do baby tigers eat.

#Maisie Williams imagine #Maisie Williams x reader #Maisie Williams x male reader #Maisie Williams

[sailorzakuro]

STRICTLY LAUNCH 2020 PARTY POST

Idk I’m excited lol this probably won’t be very well thought out cos I am tired I am on a sugar crash I had 2 giant sugary chocolate chip cookies and quite a bit of alcohol so like sorry for the informality but did you ever expect that from my Strictly posts now these are a mess letting anyone new know 😁👍.

Caroline Quentin and Johannes Radebe - Okay she seems kind of short to be paired with a tall fellow but YOU SHOULD KNOW I LOVE JOHANNES and I have a soft spot for Caroline even though I never liked Men Behaving Badly I have to stan comedy actresses 😂. SO YEAH THIS IS A GOOD ONE 😂.

Clara Amfo and Aljaz Skorjanec - Again, another short woman tall bloke pairing (that’s how it looks anyway) but they seem to get along well so... good for them? 😂. Idk I was too excited for Bill Bailey and the hot boxer to pay attention to some of these 😂. Again, if you are new to these, I am VERY biased 😂. These are so bad lmao.

Ranvir Singh and Giovanni Pernice - Heights match lol but again I don’t think I was paying much attention at this point but in all honesty I don’t think any pairing are bad so 😂. (LOL EDIT I just saw their video again and wow she is actually a lot shorter than him rip).

HRVY (come on mate) and Janette Manrara - This one low key was not expecting but it makes sense, she’s short, he’s 12, perfect match 😂.

Jason Bell and Luba Mushtuk - Okay again I have fuck all to say about the pairing so I’ll just say that I knew it was Luba from the second they showed a preview of her on that football pitch like I never knew Luba was so easily identifiable 😂. Also the way his American accent says “Tottenham Hotspur” sounds so much cooler than when we say it 😂.

Jamie Laing and Karen Hauer - OKAY THIS WAS THE MOST SURPRISING WTF I think we were all absolutely expecting him to be with Oti again but nope he’s got the woman who taught CHRIS FUCKING RAMSEY THE LEGEND how to dance so he has a bright future 😂. Even though he was first paired with the winner ANYWAY I love that from the back they look like the same person 😂.

Nicola Adams OBE (yes I’m keeping that in her name) and Katya Jones - Another plot twist of the night, I was still secretly praying it would be Oti, someone convinced me it would be Janette, the nation thought it would be Karen (KAREN thought it would be Karen), then they give us Katya 😂. IS IT BECAUSE THERE’S NO CHANCE OF HER HAVING A DRUNKEN AFFAIR WITH THIS PARTNER??? Cos honestly that’s a good idea 😂. But HI I HAVE THE FATTEST CRUSH ON NICOLA THIS IS GONNA SLAY ME ESP WITH KATYA’S CHOREO I THINK I’M GOING TO DIE HELP.

Jacqui Smith and Anton du Beke - And the most obvious pairing of the night goes to 😂. With Anton’s partners for the most part it’s “who’s the oldest or has the least societal approved body type” so yeah everyone saw this coming rip Anton’s chances it’ll be another few years before he gets another decent crack 😂.

Maisie Smith and Gorka Marquez - GORKA’S BAAAAACK and he got paired with a wotsit rip okay ngl this is probably my least favourite pairing (not cos of Gorka I stan a king) cos like this woman already knows how to dance she won the Children In Need one last year WHY IS SHE HERE 😂. She’s very excited and I’m happy for her but how excited can you be for something you’ve already done you know 😂. Also SHE IS YOUNGER THAN ME SHE IS MONTHS YOUNGER THAN ME AND SHE IS DANCING WITH A 30 YEAR OLD yeah I don’t like this 😂.

JJ Chalmers and Amy Dowden - Not much to say here rip but they don’t look bad at all 😂.

Bill Bailey and Oti Mabuse - BILL BAILEEEEEEEEY joint favourite omg my favourite pro with one of the greatest comedians of all time HOW CAN I NOT STAN 😂. I do find it ironic though that last year Oti was originally paired with Jamie and Karen got the comedian, and this year Karen’s been paired with Jamie and Oti got the comedian 😂. BUT I STAN you should also know that my favourites are USUALLY the comedians I’m a comedian what can I say (and I can say that with more credit now cos I’m like actually actively trying to get into stand up pandemic set me RIGHT back but just before it all kicked off I was getting help from a comedian at the place I volunteer and he actually read my stuff and ACTUALLY thought I was funny so...).

Max George and Dianne Buswell - I feel like it’s gonna be a trend where Dianne gets good partners that go out really early... NOT THAT I THINK MAX WILL BE A REPEAT OF DEV like maybe that was a mistake on BBC voting idk but even if he’s really good I’d be concerned for Max’s safety cos with the momentum Dianne has for going out with Joe it could hit back again... all I’m saying.

Anyway that’s it! Overall decent pairings, some surprising, some obvious 😂. But I’m looking forward to this series!! Week 1 is NEXT WEEK so not as long to anticipate it 😂.

#strictly come dancing #strictly come dancing 2020 #yes i watch strictly

[maximumsnow]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: A Hat in Time (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: The Conductor (A Hat in Time), The Conductor's Grandchildren, Hat Kid (A Hat In Time) Additional Tags: The grandchildren have names because I could not find a way around it that would be believable, Don't think too hard on them, This was mostly canon compliant until I decided to be self indulgent at the end whoops, Parental Conductor, THIS IS VERY MUCH A FIC I HAD WANTED TO READ BUT HAD TO WRITE Summary: Of all the things that could have happened on the cruise, The Conductor definitely hadn't bet on the ship sinking. He has to find his grandchildren before the worst can happen.

Aka, It kills me that you find The Conductor in an empty playroom in Rock the Boat. There's no way he could have known the babies were safe while he was stuck there, and if he even remotely cared about them, I wouldn't imagine him taking it well.

-

The Conductor hadn’t even spent a full day on the ship, and when he was back on dry land, he was going to file a complaint. He’d been searching for a bathroom for the better part of an hour, and he was extremely lucky he literally stumbled upon a seal who knew where it was.

Said seal was trying to clean a giant mess in front of the only door to said bathroom.

“WHY IS THERE ONLY ONE BATHROOM ON THIS PECKING SHIP?!” He was practically jumping with anger as he yelled. The pleasant buzz from the alcohol had long since worn off, and his irritation about the situation was only building to a proper explosion.

“I’m vewy sowwy, but we’we wowking on it.” The seal seemed appropriately apologetic, but was otherwise unfazed by Conductor’s loud anger.

The moon penguin in front of him snapped literally and figuratively, "Stop bothering them! I can't hold on for much longer, and if you-"

He checked out of the tirade the penguin clearly needed to direct at someone. Even though the penguins had a strong loyalty to that peck neck Grooves, he really didn't have the energy to fight them with the same fervor. They weren't the one constantly driving him up the wall, and he had other things to focus on.

Such as getting through that door.

Somewhere between getting called "a has-been director" and "the worst thing to happen to bird cinema since The Birds," the Conductor realized that the seal had made absolutely no progress on cleaning the mess. Every spill that was sopped up with the mop was replaced by a new glass falling out of the cart.

It was like watching the new tech owl trying to wrangle the lights.

Making an executive decision, he decided he would take matters into his own hands and jumped ahead of the still ranting penguin. He heard them squawk indignantly, but he was already bolting towards the wall by the blocked off door.

He used his momentum to climb up the wall and hopped onto the walkway that apparently served as a roof for the bathroom. The seal had ignored him as they continued their neverending task, but the moon penguin’s dropped jaw was hilarious. Apparently they forgot that he still did his own stunts.

Cackling, he turned away and dropped down the other side. There was a tool cabinet flush against the wall, and at the top, he saw what he was hoping for. The opening didn’t even have a vent cover, which made things even easier. Clambering up the drawers as if they were stairs, he was FINALLY inside.

Along with another seal with a dining cart.

He had more urgent matters to take care of though, so he brushed away the question of, “How the peck?!” For later.

He had to pass by the seal again as he washed his hands, so he asked, “Ah, need some help?”

“No thank woo. My fweind will let me out once they’we done.”

He still had a drink with his name on it and, and was not about wast time arguing. “If ye insist,” he casually said before jumping for the vent opening and climbing out. Once he was on the tool cabinet again, he paused as he tried to figure out the quickest way to the bar.

This ship was convoluted, not like his train, which was mostly a straight line. Sure it would get tweaked for certain movies, but for a train to actually go, you couldn’t deviate from the norm. But this thing didn’t have stairs where they should, and in order to get anywhere, he had had to jump and climb.

That was not an easy task while toting around five rowdy little ones.

He hopped onto the balcony so he could get a better look at where the next jump was when the entire ship violently tipped to the side. The Conductor gripped the railing to keep him self grounded, but he nearly lost his grip when the ship tipped the other way.

“WHAT THE PECK IS GOING ON?!” He screeched at a seal that flew by. Whatever was said was lost in the ruckus of the ship tipping once again, and he caught them with one hand as they were flung back in his direction.

One of the bulky Mafia humans on a balcony across from him yelled, “Driver must have lost mind!”

“Captain was on bweak!” The seal helpfully added.

They were jerked as the ship swerved, causing him to scream,“THEN WHAT PECK NECK IS STEERING?” If he wasn’t clinging for dear life, he would be stamping his feet.

Any further conversation was cut short by a loud metallic screech as the ship jerked to a dead stop before tilting. With the side that the Conductor was on sinking straight into the water.

The seal started to squirm before insisting, “Let go, mister! I can swim!”

Given that he couldn’t hold onto the struggling seal with only one hand, he had to take their word for it. The water was already close enough that the fall wouldn’t even faze them, and he needed to get out quickly.

Once the seal was in the water, a few others were already pulling up a lifeboat to their area, and they directed all the passengers towards it. If it wasn’t for the owl and penguin clearly calling the shots from the boat, he would have wondered where the sudden competency came from.

Shifting his grip, he pulled himself upwards so that he was balanced on the railing. At first he was going to make a jump for the lifeboat, before something icy gripped his heart. “OI, PECK NECK!” he yelled towards the boat. He didn’t care which one answered, “Have ye been to the children’s playroom!?”

“No, sir! we’re trying to get everyone close to the water first,” The owl responded. That was all he needed to know, and he jumped for the still intact bounce pad. “S-sir!” He could hear the owl call for him as he used the spring to trampoline upwards, but he had other priorities.

The little ones were in danger, and he couldn’t wait for someone else to find them.

His jump carried him almost half-way up the side of the ship, but there wasn’t an easy place for him to land. Expletives left his beak as he realized this fact, and his claws screeched against the metal as he slipped back down the side. The fall was halted when he managed to grab onto a window ledge and pull himself up.

All he could think was to jump to the next balcony he could see and keep going up. Even as the ship leaned further over, he fought gravity itself to reach the next hand hold.

He couldn’t let them die. He promised his daughter he would take care of the children on this trip, and that they would all have a good time. She wasn’t supposed to worry about them drowning while they were with him. He couldn’t let her down. He couldn’t let them down.

Even if it meant he died trying to save them.

With the speed that had carried him through the opening of Train Rush, he managed to climb nine-tenths of the way up when he saw a problem. There was a patch of pure white and then glass before the railing at the top of the ship.

Nothing to hold onto.

And the water was only climbing higher.

His best bet was to jump and pray that he could reach the railing. With no time to lose, he took his only available option.

Which thankfully worked out; he was able to grip the railing that kept people from falling off the top of the ship and pull himself over. Just in time for several pool toys and floats to slide down and bounce into him.

If he popped one or two out of frustration when trying to get them out of the way, no one needed to know.

With everything turning on its side and sliding, the path to the playroom was perilous. He could even see the icy pool water spilling out and flooding the lower level of the deck. From his position, he could see that the remaining vacationers were scrambling to the exit on the opposite end from his destination.

None of them were carrying little balls of yellow feathers.

All the pool chairs on the upper level where he was were heaping together into a miserable pile. At least one tipped over the edge once it hit the glass. But, it meant there was a mostly clear path to the dome that he knew covered the playroom, and he took off running.

Until the angle became too much for him to keep his feet on the walkway.

His chin hit the boards before gravity rolled him back towards the railing he just left.

He couldn’t fail. Not now. Not when he was so pecking close.

Pulling out a knife, he jammed it into the wood to stop his descent. The pain in his shoulder told him he would feel that in the morning, but he would worry about that when the little ones weren’t in danger.

He tugged the knife a few times to ensure it was well and truly wedged in before pulling himself up and grabbing the edge of the deck. The angle of the ship now meant that once he was over the edge, he could stand on it, and once there, he prepared himself for a dive towards the still open door to the playroom.

The landing was a bit rough, but he was finally in there.

And it was empty.

Unable to believe what he was seeing, he called out, “Ainsley? Maisie? Innes? Rory? Alister? Yer grandpa’s here!” As each name came out, his voice became more desperate and pleading, and it nearly cracked by the last word.

All he heard was silence other than the sound of water leaking in.

Speaking of which, he could feel the chill of the arctic ocean through his shoes, and he clambered onto the desk before the water could soak more of his clothing. Still frantically looking, he noticed that the circular playpen, while still attached to the floor, was tilted so that the opening was hanging over the water that had already accumulated.

His heart stopped.

The little ones couldn’t swim.

He jumped into the water in a panicked frenzy. With frantic movements, he swept his arms around as he searched. His arm bumped into something, and without hesitation, he grabbed it and swam up. Once he surfaced, he got a better look. A part of him was afraid of the answer, but he needed to know.

It was a dinky toy.

“RAAAAUGH.” Screaming in frustration, he threw the toy against a wall, uncaring of where it landed. Which, after bouncing a few times, it slid right back into the rapidly swelling pool. “WHERE ARE MY PECKING GRANDCHILDREN?!”

Any further screaming was halted as he felt the cold bite of the water finally getting through his desperate and angry haze.

He already knew that he couldn’t handle arctic water well after the incident in the pool.

They have no chance of surviving that.

The thought weighed him down even more than his currently wet clothes. Climbing out of the water was difficult thanks to his shaking limbs, and he wasn’t sure if that was thanks to the physical or emotional numbness.

With the ship almost completely on its side, he couldn’t see a way out, so he pulled himself into the concave curve of the glass-like dome that was once the ceiling of this room.

And waited.

He wasn’t sure for what. Even if he was found, would he be able to live knowing that he had failed his precious grandchildren? He shouldn’t have left them to drink for hours. He hadn’t even explored the boat for other activities he couldn’t do with them around. He had just wasted his time in one spot on alcohol and not spending the last few hours of their lives with them.

He was an awful grandfather. An awful father. Maybe his other daughter was right. Maybe he was just a selfish bastard who never cared for his family.

Thoughts continued to spiral as he stood up, and he couldn’t help but contemplate the water before him.

Until a loud splash brought him to the present, and jerked his attention back to the very crooked entrance.

It was the hatted lassie.

She was jumping across the platforms with the skill and speed he expected from her, but he couldn’t figure out what she was doing here. She should have been on one of the life boats! He was about to say as much when she got to him, but she picked him up without any preamble.

He couldn’t help but squawk at the sudden action, and he gave a half-hearted reminder about his feathers that she clearly wasn’t paying attention to.

Unwilling to potentially drag her down with him by struggling, he kept quiet as he let her carry him out of the playroom and to the last life boat. He couldn’t help but shiver as his damp clothing was exposed to the wind, but the minor tremors did not deter the lass.

When they made it to the boat, there was a fair amount of rescues there, including two Express Owls. Who looked overjoyed when he saw them.

“Conductor, your grandkids have been looking for you! We went ahead and sent the other boats on-”

“Don’t wait up for me pup. Get in a boat and scram. This is my dang ship, and I’ll go down with it,” the Captain’s voice echoed over the water.

The immense relief at finding out the little ones were safe was then shattered when the lass started running back to the boat. Likely to rescue the stubborn captain.

“Wait, lass, where yer going? You wanna save HIM?” He shouted at the fleeing child. The Captain was a Walrus for Peck’s sake! He could hold his breath long enough to swim away if he wanted to! And if he didn’t want to… well, the lass shouldn’t be risking her life!

“I’m not gonna hang around a sinking ship! If you don’t make it back quick, we’ll leave without yer!” Some part of him had hoped that would scare her back, but she was already climbing into the top of the ship and had clearly ignored him.

“She saved some of your kids, you know?” The moon penguin whispered to the frustrated owl. “I don’t think she has it in her to leave anyone behind.”

While he knew that was true, it didn’t ease his agitation. The ship was already halfway sunk; they didn’t have much time before they would be endangered too. They couldn’t wait forever.

The boat couldn’t stay so close to the ship and had to move, but between the seals moving some capsized life boats around and some of them staying back to guide, there was a clear path from the ship to their boat. He could only hope she saw it.

Waiting was agony, and there wasn’t much room to pace. “Where’s the lass? The ship is sinking, we gotta get out of here.” After about a minute, he yelled again, “Get over here, lassie, We’re leaving NOW!” It was only thanks to his light weight that he was able to jump up and down to express his impatience.

The Express Owl that had the misfortune of being right next to him rubbed his head to clear the ringing from his ears.

After a minute, the lass hopped down from an icy ledge while carrying the Captain. The sight made the Conductor do a double take. Sure he knew that she was light on her feet and good at jumping, but that didn’t necessarily translate to carrying someone ten times your weight. He hadn’t thought much on her carrying himself since he wasn’t much taller than her and significantly lighter, but this was strange.

The relief returned, however, and overpowered the confusion. She was a strange one, yes, but she was consistently strange.

And safe now.

Everyone gave their thanks to the lass as the boat caught up with the others, and the Conductor threw in his own deeply felt appreciation. “Aye, thank you lass. The little ones haven’t learned to swim yet!”

Speaking of.

He could hear the excited peeps from his grandchildren when they saw him. Alister was waving his rubber knife around with excited glee, and it was only thanks to a strangely alert seal that kept him from jumping out of the boat and towards his grandpa. Of course the Conductor couldn’t help but wave and make a silly face at him.

When he could tear his attention away from the little ones, he noticed something… familiar glowing in the middle of the boat with his grandchildren. A glowing hourglass.

Oh PECK.

He heard the Captain say something about the shiny thing on the glacier, and while that caught his attention, he was a lot more worried about something so dangerous in the middle of his grandchildren.

Before he could make his own path, the lass must have come to the same realization and booked it over to claim the Time Piece to send back to her ship and away from clumsy and curious hands.

The time piece itself vanished in an instant, but the lass remained this time. She sunk onto the bench, and he could tell even from this distance that she looked exhausted.

He decided to hop over now that the lass had claimed her prize, and the little ones immediately started to climb all over him. Unfazed, he picked them all up for the best group hug he could deliver. Maisie was initially reluctant to let go, clutching him as tightly as her beak held her pacifier, so he cradled the little one in one arm as he placed the others down.

With the little ones assured of his presence, he joined the lass on the bench. Innes crawled up to sit on his lap still clutching their sunhat, and the others all hovered around him before settling near his feet and leaning against his legs.

He wasn’t sure why the lass hadn’t left yet; generally, once she had her Time Piece, she would leave as soon as possible. He opened his beak to ask the question, but as he turned, he noticed that she was hunched over and trembling.

Thinking about how they were in the arctic and how she had just been hopping and running around in the water, it concerned him. Quietly, he asked, “Are ye cold, lass? Need anything to warm ye up?”

What he hadn’t expected was the lass to turn her face up to him and for her to be crying. “I’m sorry!” she sobbed before burying her face into her hands.

At first, he was confused. “Why are ye apologizing? It’s not like this-”

Before he could complete that sentence, she wailed, “Yes, it is! I saw that Time Piece and. And.” She couldn’t keep talking before another sob broke out. Whatever she had been about to say was lost, and she instead said, “Almost hurt everyone...”

The puzzle put itself together. The Time Piece. She wrecked the ship and endangered all of their lives for one of those hourglasses? A part of him really wanted to be angry. It was a very loud and vocal part of himself.

But the other part saw a clearly guilt-wracked child, and his parental nature told the angry part to peck off.

He shifted the little one in his arm to the other side before reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. “Ye didn’t mean it to turn out like this,” he stated when she looked up at him in surprise. “Everyone was talking about how the ship couldnae sink, and well. How were ye supposed to know?”

She clearly didn’t accept that. “It doesn’t matter… I still-”

“Beatin’ yerself up over it isn’t gonna help, trust me on that one, lass. We all make mistakes. Some of them terrible. But everyone got off that death trap, thanks to you.”

The lass glanced around at the few lifeboats that were around them. “There’s no way that’s it!”

“Lass, ye saw the way to get on before the boat left the dock. It thinned out most of the crowd since they couldnae get on board. Everyone who got that far had to fly or jump.”

After a moment, the lass leaned into his touch until she let him give a one sided hug. The shaking had lessened by then, he noted.

They stayed in that position for a while, and now that he was still, the dampness in his clothes was making itself known again. The lass noticed and asked, “Why are you so cold?”

“I uh, might have taken a dip earlier. While trying to find the little ones.”

The somber look returned to her face, and he kicked himself at his callous reminder of what they had just gone through. The moment was interrupted by a seal with a penguin perched on top approaching their boat, and the penguin asked, “We got some blankets stored in our boat, need any?”

“YES!” The lass shouted. “He’s like a birdcicle at this point!”

That got a loud laugh from the Conductor. “Ye need one too, lass!”

After they got blankets brought over, the Conductor got the little ones wrapped up in their own so that they would nap for a while. Their rescue boat was still a distance away, and he didn’t want them to get into any trouble before then. He noticed that Ainsley’s white hat was damp somehow, so he plucked it off. She chirped in protest but calmed down when he let her hold onto it like a toy.

With his limbs free, he cocooned in his blanket and watched the lass follow suit with hers. Eventually, she ended up leaning against him again, and he finally said, “Ye could just go back to yer ship, right? It’ll be safer for ye.”

“Not fair to you guys...” She mumbled.

It really didn’t sit right with him that she insisted on suffering along with them, but arguing wasn’t going to change her mind. “… How about ye head back once the rescue boat gets here? We’ll be safe by then.”

The lass mulled it over before finally agreeing. “Sure. That’ll be… fine.” A yawn interrupted the reply, and she jerked away.

“Ye can sleep, there’s not much to do other than wait.”

She must have been tired enough to not argue, because she simply leaned back against him, and her breathing slowed after a few minutes.

With all his charges accounted for and resting, the Conductor smiled in relief. He was tired, for sure, but he would deal with that later.

“Rest well, lass.”

#A hat in time #My writing #The Conductor #The Conductor's Grandchildren #Hat Kid #Other characters are loosely referenced #But not much

[hillaryschu]

WIP - modern AU

This is an excerpt from a modern AU I’ve been playing with that kind of incorporates/plays off of the song “Oceans” by Seafret (which—I literally had no idea until now—features Maisie Williams in the video).

In it, Brienne is in love with Jaime but thinks it’s a foregone conclusion that he’s not interested and never would be. Jaime, on the other hand, kind of knows there’s something there (on both sides) and is just slow-playing it. Waiting for her to catch up to his feelings. You know, the yoozh.

Anyway, this might get altered a bunch before it’s finally usable (I’m so far from this fic going anywhere right now).

They are in the car on the way back from Tyrion’s wedding. Brienne was driving and seemed distressed (because Oceans was playing and it was making her emo) so Jaime made her pull over the car.  

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“What is going on?” he presses softly.

“I…uh, well…I’ve been thinking and maybe we should spend less time together...” she practically whispers—struggling to get the words out.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I just think we need to meet some new people.”

“New people? What new people? I don’t want new people.”

“Jaime…” She says it imploringly—begging him not to make this any harder than it already is. “Look…I want a family someday. I want to find someone who will love me and want to be with me. I’m not going to meet anyone with things the way they are now.”

“Meet someone? A man? Some other man?” he exhales sharply. “Okay, I just…I thought...” Jaime kind of stutters out the words, confusion clouding his face.

“Hyle asked me out for drinks last week.”

“Hunt?! When did that asshole come back? What is happening right now?!” Jaime seems completely bewildered—like he’s watching a movie and the plot just took a sharp turn.

“I told him ’no,’ Jaime, but I don’t know…I’m reconsidering...”

“You can’t be serious, Brie.”

This is all so frustrating. How can she make him understand that she can’t build a life for herself—not the kind she wants—when she’s hung-up on him? How can she say it without actually admitting her true feelings? Without flat-out screaming “I’m in love with you, you idiot!”

“I -“ her voice cracks a little. “I know you don’t understand, Jaime. You see me through a best friend lens…but we all aren’t golden and beautiful and charming and clever. If I’m going to find someone who wants to spend their life with me…I’m probably going to have to make some compromises. Hyle’s got a good job, and he’s…kind of smart? Look—I don’t know! Obviously I can’t go out with Hyle, Jaime, but if I want to meet someone, I’m going to have to put myself out there and let go of some fantasies that I’ve held onto for awhile.”

Jaime’s looking at her through narrowed eyes, seeming to scrutinize what’s she’s said—trying to process it. “So what am I supposed to do while you’re busy putting yourself out there?” “Don’t you want to meet someone? You could have any woman you want.”

“Really? Any woman?”

“Yes, and some day you’ll meet a beautiful, sophisticated, and perfect woman and you’ll just…” Brienne can see it so clearly. “...you’ll match. It’ll make sense. People will see you and think ‘what a gorgeous couple.’” 

“Is that what this is? We’re talking about what we look like?”

“What? I’m talking about the future, Jaime.” Why is he being so obtuse?

“Sure. But I thought it was you and me. You and me against the world. Dynamic duo.”

“Jaime, I can’t just be your sidekick.”

“Is that what you think this is? Buddies? We’re ‘friends?’” He says it with such distaste that Brienne becomes even more confused.

“Aren’t we?” ------------------------------------------------------ [header graphic by @scoundrels-in-love​]

#jaime x brienne #braime #fanfic #wip wednesday