#( nobody hates pete more than pete hates pete )

[seitmai]

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

Uff 😬

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

Damn

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

To know that you don't know a lot and will never know more is rough...

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

Sometimes being honest to oneself is not easy

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Hey, nobody slander thin crust there are far worse kind of pizza ☝🏻

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken. “…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown. “I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

God they are lowkey awkward together and neither of them just knows what to do with themselves 🥴

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

I feel like this maybe hurts Bradley more than her..

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

👀

Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese.

I mean it could be worse lol🤷🏻‍♀️

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

At that I would have laughed too 🤭

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That's really shitty, especially knowing Mav's reputation 🥴

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

At that they really share a bit of similar fate

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him. Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

Good thinking Bradley, nothing worse than an unwanted hug by a stranger 🫣

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

I'm sure he does 🤭

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.” Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

It seems his feeling run deep 😬

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?” Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that. “The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

This is rough... I get her questioning the process, it's not something that someone is usually confronted with..

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

🥺🥺🥺

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“ “Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.” You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is.

She has every right to be angry, upset and sad even if he really just ries to be nice, this is just not a good situation anyway and with the news of the investigation it just got SO MUCH worse🥴

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him. “You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

I like that he is thinking practical!

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse. He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. “You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

Just a night or two, sure 😏🤭

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: mitchell!reader, no physical descriptors other than the implication that Bradley is taller, no use of YN, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of you. This place is something that you had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not your home and it has never been, until now. Now, you’re stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, you had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. 

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself. 

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of your bags in one hand behind you today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind you, reminding you that you’re standing stationary and blocking his path. 

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

You shrug your duffel bag closer to your body and turn left. Bradley huffs under the weight of your luggage from behind you, watching you walk your cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of your single duffel bag, you turn slowly to face him and frown slightly. “My room.” 

You don’t remember Bradley. Not in your own memories, anyway. You know he was around, you’ve seen him in pictures but the image in your head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat. 

Even with all those differences, there’s a familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” You hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was yours. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was yours. It’s not like you kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that you would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between you. 

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on your face is killing him. 

The big room. The loft room upstairs. You’re pretty sure that you’ve never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?” 

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that you stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on your face, he hadn’t even considered leaving you here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for your sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone. 

“Okay,” You agree, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like yours. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. You call Maverick ‘Pete’ now. 

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of your bags and nodding for you to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself. 

Of course, as you walk silently across it, neither one of you would know that. Neither one of you was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind you, following you up. You stop at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind you.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around you with your bags in his hands and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at you. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, your shoes along the tan oak floors. Your fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now. 

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before. 

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding you of why exactly it is that you’re here.

Fire burns behind your eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets your bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling your eyes out, and you refuse to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again. That thick feeling sits in your throat like a stack of weights as you sit down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking your weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to you and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing you onto your feet again. 

Mobile once more, you turn slowly to take in your surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, you were prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing you want is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” You nod, setting into motion to help take the sheets off. You watch him instead of what you’re doing. 

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, you’ve not seen how he has been for the past few days. “I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to you with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of you until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows. 

There’s a moment of total stillness between the two of you. Your gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of you. Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of you.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

You watch his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. You wonder if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. You stand there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew your dad. Once. 

When it comes to wracking your brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, you can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside your shoddily installed car seat. 

Truthfully, your experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to you as any of the other guys in the stories you grew up hearing about. Your very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at you.

He can’t hide from you forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger. 

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of you. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. You’re barely unpacked. You set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever your space to claim.

You chew absentmindedly at the bite you had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above your heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why you aren’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for you. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here you are, calm as can be. 

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at you. Your hair is up now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs. You’re wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes you got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think you look that much like your old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when you offer him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

You stop chewing. That last bite sits in your mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. You stare across at him, awkwardly making yourself swallow down the last of your bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at your mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.” 

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” You pick up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell you not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches you, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.” You explain with a shrug.

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For you, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.” 

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into yours under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” You hum, pushing back in your chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that you wake up. He hears you coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s yours, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making you uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as you stroll into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at your eyes.

You’re wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt you had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if you’re wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making you lift your gaze from busily tapping at your phone. Your gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton. 

Blinking, you find his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. You lock your gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles. 

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” You head right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when you grab the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. You set the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching your face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” You skim your fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much you know about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for you to get yourself one.  “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.” 

“Did he like Mav much?” You ask, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make your coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. You swing it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if you’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across your mind — what’ll happen to this place when you leave it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into your tone as you curl your fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white. 

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on your face, stuck between whether you’re sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for you without thought. His palm claps against your shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on your shoulder, your eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what you’re searching for, or whether you find it. His fingers squeeze softly against your skin before the touch is gone all together.

You drink your coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in your silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — you don’t have a clue of what to expect. 

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces you not to wear the more formal dress you had thought you’d have to wear. You slip into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes your dusty old car look even worse. 

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, you watch him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; you silently appreciate that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when you cut sleep from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep you up. 

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with your car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night. 

“You ready?” His voice startles you from your daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” You’re stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before you’re taking your next breath, leaving him to catch up to you. 

His long strides have him at your side before long, reaching ahead of you to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters. 

This process has already been easier with him at your side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops you from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against yours.

He catches your forearm as you try to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm. 

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on your forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of your wrist as he nods his head towards you.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way you’ve stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards you, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who you must be. 

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from your forearm and his palm falls flat between your shoulder blades, giving you a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid her hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while you continue down the hall.

Bradley catches up to you as you rap your knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against your thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind you. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into yours and shakes your hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting your hand go, he then reaches to your right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps your back as he leans into the handshake.

You step away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?” You answer.

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to you than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

You sit in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can. 

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

You blink at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley. 

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Your brows knit together.

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

You shoot him a look. When it’s clear that you aren’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue. 

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects 

are delivered to you.”

You drag your teeth across your bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of your head.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns you. He’d heard that you had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead you about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for you. 

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing you across the parking lot, listening to you try to control your breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching you cautiously as you crowd yourself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

You sniff, turning your gaze towards the ground. The lump in your throat burns and bobs as you try to swallow it away. 

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. 

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

…

[ghostlyheart]

Happy Valentines Day!! 💝 I hope you spend the day being haunted by someone you love 👻 (or if you're like me, just eating a lot of heart-shaped candy)

Poll:

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.1

Cynthia and John are worse and crazier for admitting what they admitted in the bio. But Jane and Paul are not exempt.

Will forever love this pic of Paul and Julian. He does not look like the fun uncle. He looks tired and dependable. Just stepped out of the womb as a father, didn't he? The sperm that fertilized his egg probably passed some fatherly advice and hair tussles to the other sperm as it passed them. 

They should've bought the fucking island.

They never look more like a couple than when the women they're actually dating are right next to them. 

The India footage actually looks so beautiful. Obviously it's a beautiful place, but they all genuinely look so free and at peace there. It really could've been so good for them. Getting enlightened, getting soberish, growing closer as a band, taking a much-needed rest. It should've been good. 

The music choices in this documentary! The drastic shift from, “all you need is love” and “the dream I had was true” and “I don't need much to set me free.” to Paul leaving to “yes I'm lonely. Wanna die.” “I'm going insane.” “Look at me. Who am I supposed to be?” 8d8 psychic damage. And the thing is it's real. John really did flip a switch, just like that.

Smashing my head into a wall. It's the same as Yoko's quote about how ‘nobody hurt John more than Paul.’ Really Pete? Worse than after his mum died? Really Yoko? More than that drunk cop? Paul, what the fuck did you do to him in India, seriously, because at this point in the doc I can't accept the theory that it was just some lack of communication, I just can't. 

It's also telling to me that when John's losing it, everyone's solution is some time alone with Paul. Nobody panic. Paul can fix him. Little do they know Paul's the one that broke him. Or maybe they do know and that's only another reason they know Paul's the only man for the job?

Old-fashioned ad voice: You liked Protective Jesus Scandal Paul? You'll love Protective LSD Scandal John! Really. Before the question is even out, he's making fun of it. I think he cuts off the interviewer at least three times with jokes before he can get the sentence out, and by the time he is, Paul's giggling too hard to feel bad about his little PR fuck-up.

Then he lets Paul talk a bit before jumping back in, this time with his Hard Man suit on. It's just so good. A testament to their unconditional love, really. Because, clearly, Paul's just hurt John pretty bad. And yet, here John is. Using every trick he's got to defend his friend. 

But actually, though John is supposedly the one everyone's worried about, Paul's doing a pretty shit job of being the “stable” one. This entire press tour he's either fucking blazed and laughing at everything or disassociated and not contributing.

(((except during that political discussion – again! Paul secretly has actual thoughts on actual things?!)))

But for the most part, John's absolutely holding down the fort. I wonder if this is another case of everyone – all their friends and business associates, just like we as a fandom still do now – assuming John is the problem child, and Paul's the strong one, but actually they're both both. 

Back to the political interview. They're just so in sync. Finishing each other's sentences when you're talking about the weather or your shared work is one thing. Finishing each other's sentences on complex topics like why poor whites often vote bigots in or the cause of rampant misinformation is quite another. 

“Letting his dad cut his hair at sixteen, seventeen.” You all know that John hates Jim quote. 

John: so there's war, and vegetables. There's relativity and absolute.  Paul (absolutely smitten): that's great Johnny. Int: that's rather hard for people to interpret. John: well if they can't interpret it now, maybe they will later..... 1. John really was extremely intelligent. 2. That last statement sums up Beatles historiography.

Paul really just Won't be alone with John, will he? Well, two can play at that game, Paul, and John's going to win, let me tell you. 

But he's going to do one last panic grab for attention first.

I really do think if John had done something like that *before* Paul would've given him that attention. Told him he's being insane and taken him home to splash some cold water on him or something and then given him whatever softness Paul was capable of. But not anymore. 

I wonder if Paul could go back to 1966 if he just wouldn't have taken John to that Indica show where he met Yoko. If he would've just said “okay John, sure, let's just stay home and trip on the couch tonight.” I don't know.

Anyway, Yoko gets an A+ for persistence. Imagine being Paul, George, or Ringo, though, and John is suddenly madly in love with this woman whose been begging you all (and then him specifically) for a platform for over a year? It would be weird to say the least. 

John: don't you hate me? I'm crazy, you know. Paul: no I don't hate you. John: aren't you pissed at me now, Paul? Even a little bit? Paul: I'm very proud of you. It's the unstoppable force (“Don't ‘nore me, Mimi!”) vs the immovable object (“I learned to put a shell around me”.) Someone get them some professional help before they nuke the whole world. 

“There is, however, a desire to get power in order to use it for good.” One of those quotes that just really lets you see a person, you know? Benevolent dictator Paul. 

Yoko, why are you talking about how bad your boy doesn't want to fuck you right in front of all his closest friends and on record for posterity? If you have to be talking about your sex life, shouldn't you be lying about how insanely horny he is for you? Oh, right, she will think of that, just not yet. 

And then she waxes poetic about how turned on John is when he's working on music with Paul. Cool. Smart. Thanks for that, though, genuinely.

And Then (gosh, Yoko is such an asset to Beatles history when she's not actively spreading misinformation. Everyone give her a hand) she goes on about how Paul goes out of his way to make her feel respected and even valued. Compare that to John and Linda, anyone? And I want to be clear, I'm not saying this means John cares too much and Paul doesn't care at all, which might be the surface read. I just think John's reaction was to scream in everyone's face that he was in pain and Paul's was to insist ad nauseam that he was fine. You know?

[cottoncandybitchfuck]

Unsleeping City Quotes I Like

“Magic is Real and you get to see it. Isn’t that great?” -Misty Moore

“Sometimes you gotta do the nice thing, not the right thing” -Kingston Brown

“You know, just kind of when you’re already in a shame spiral and then people are good to you, it almost stings a little bit worse.” -Pete Conlan

“Things are not always what you want them to be, and they’re not always what you dream they are. Things are what they are.” -Jackson Wei 

“It does not diminish a soul to give worship or adoration”-Nod

“Being the founder is not the same as being a leader” -Nod

“You’re not done yet kid. Come on. We got work to do” -Kingston Brown

“You’d have to be a real asshole not to recognize when someone is trying to not be a piece of shit in general. And I don’t know that we’re good, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not good. And… I guess you’re worth helping.” -David Kugrich

“Because honestly if you don’t show up now, there might not be anyone to fuckin’ choose ever again. So then you’ll have had this little gift you could have given to someone, this little ‘choosing’ you could have done, and you will never do it to anyone. It’s like letting food go bad, I hate when people let food go bad.” -Sofia Lee

“The true spirit of this place is to meet dreams with concrete. To hustle in the muck and the grime, and to grind away to make something miraculous happen, and that the spirit of this place is that these people make it happen for themselves.”-Brennan Lee Mulligan about NYC

“There is nothing more in the spirit of this place than to rely on nobody but yourself to decide that you will be chosen.” -Brennan Lee Mulligan about Sofia Lee

“You want to be someone’s everything, and you’re everybody’s everything. Made it real hard to feel special.” -Liz Herrera 

“I can’t visit everybody. That’s also because not everybody is worth visiting.” -Kingston Brown

“Just because I have to be something for everybody doesn’t mean I can’t be something more for you.” -Kingston Brown

“If somebody would fuckin’ teach me how to do magic, I’d come help you whoop ass. I’m from the fuckin’ Bronx” -Liz Hererra

“I can’t have what you’re offering me, and that’s my fault. But American Dreams change.” -Kugrash

“My Love. For you are my love. My one true love. You don’t need to enter, for you’re already there. And you don’t need to be real because you already are real.” -Rowan Berry to the American Dream

“Dreams changing with the minds of their dreamers, is the most beautiful aspect of dreams. When you look to see the true form of this, what you see is that a dream this important and this large needs to be able to change. And its true form, is any and every form that people want from it. And if it is pushed back through the golden door, into the realm where it can have any form that people give to it, that is where it will have its true form. So the answer to your Nat 20 is that the only good form for a dream is formless.” -Brennan Lee Mulligan about the American Dream

“It is what it is”-Dale “And what it is, is anything”-Nod

“Greed is good, for rat motherfuckers like Robert Moses. But not in our town, not in our fucking city!” -Kugrash

“Pain is a part of healing. And the things we’ve lost should hurt. But it does not mean that we are defeated or they will hurt forever.” -Em from Bethesda Fountain

“These sacrifices are never made in vain. All these people, their lives are our lives, and ours are theirs. All intertwined together. I think that’s kinda beautiful.” -Em

“It’s not really what happens, but it’s your reaction to it and how you feel, that’s what you should pay attention to.” -Pete Conlan

[thewulf]

It Takes Time || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Request - Maybe where you're Iceman's daughter and assisting Maverick with teaching the daggers and everyone's respecting you. But due to everything in him telling him to not do it, Bradley Bradshaw falls for you and you resist him... Read Rest Here

A/N: 3 x 1 – the three times you and Bradley nearly cross the line and the one time you do. Changed up the request a bit, hopefully you don’t hate it. I love a good comfort, especially when its Bradley Bradshaw.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 4.5k +

One – The Meeting

“And your teachers for this mission, Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, and Captain Y/N “Sunny” Kazansky.” Cyclone introduced the two of you. Your father had called in a favor and got you stationed back at Top Gun out to help your fathers longtime friend out. Mav was like an uncle to you at this point. With your recent promotion to Captain, it was time to test the waters out as a more senior leader anyway.

You heard the murmurs. You were sure they were all curious as to who the two of you were. They all likely knew about Mav. You’d flown under the radar as much as possible. Your eyes darted around the room until they landed, and stayed, on the handsome looking brown curly haired pilot with doe eyes who was staring right at you. You subtly looked back at Maverick careful not to look back at the unashamed pilot. He, however, couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He’d heard about you. Just as ruthless as your father in the sky but as sweet as could be on the ground, hence your callsign Sunny. You’d all but managed to draw his attention away from Maverick, the man he swore he would hate for as long as he lived.

What Bradley wasn’t expecting was your sheer beauty as you stood next to Mav. You’d moved up through the Naval rankings quickly and everybody talked about that, but nobody had mentioned just how fucking pretty you were. Sure, he’d seen pictures, but you’d always been covered by a helmet or bandana. Now that you were standing him front of him he was at a loss from words. He had a hard time drawing his gaze away from you even as Mav called on him. He gulped knowing he was in grave trouble.

“Captain Kazansky, how’s your father doing?” The blonde pilot sitting towards the front asked before Maverick could get into the spiel he had planned. You cocked your eyes towards the pretty boy. Why was he asking? Did he know your fathers cancer was back and more bitter than ever? Or was the pilot simply just trying to make a name for himself? You knew who he was, but you didn’t know how he acted. That was the only problem with learning about a person through a sheet of paper.

“He’s wonderful. Thanks for asking Lieutenant.” You didn’t give him a smile nor a frown, emotionless. You studied him as he studied you. You saw Mav give you the side eye, a break in your voice indicating that was anything but the truth. Mav decided he wouldn’t push you right now, not when you looked like you were going to break down. Only he could know that though. He’s known you your entire life. He knew your tells. You’d never flown with the pilots in front of you. They were none the wiser to the giveaways. But Mav knew. Admiral Kazansky was not alright. Maybe, just maybe, that’s why he was here.

Mav cleared his throat letting the class know he meant business now. He started his speech with the overdramatic manual throwing. You told him he was being over the top. He clearly disagreed and went with you. He got the reaction from the class that he wanted with that stupid little Maverick smirk spread across his face. While you were watching Mav and thinking of the blonde boy and his angle Bradley had kept his eyes trained on you. He couldn’t get enough of you. Not even with Maverick standing right there next to you. He didn’t seem to matter.

When Mav dismissed the class you hung back waiting for the room to clear. You were doing the coaching and teaching from the ground today while Mav taught in the air. Not paying much attention as you put the chairs back in line you hadn’t noticed Bradley hanging back with you. He wasn’t selected in the first group to go flying so what’d he have to lose? He had time to change and get ready.

“You’re the admiral’s daughter?” He spoke breaking your concentration. He shied away seeing you jump out of your skin.

Spinning around on your heel, you weren’t aware you had an audience, “One of them, yes.” You nodded eyeing him over. Bradley Bradshaw. You knew everybody in the class already. You knew his dad flew with Maverick. You knew he and Mav were in rocky waters right now after Mav pulled his papers all those years ago. You knew so much about him, but he knew nothing of you. It almost felt like you were cheating a bit.

He gave you a curt nod, “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Your eyebrow raised at that one, studying him, he’d heard a lot about you huh? You could’ve said the same, for much different reasons. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to have a clue though.

He continued on seeing as your curiosity didn’t falter, “People talk. A lot. Especially about the admirals daughter who is actually good. Almost as infamous as Maverick.” His tone of voice changed to one of a bitter man once he referred to his long-lost father figure he’d grown to love throughout the years.

“I’m taking that as a compliment, Bradshaw.” You smiled taking a step towards the much taller man. His picture really didn’t do him justice. While the blonde pilot was pretty, Bradley was strikingly handsome. Exactly your type. You swore off pilots long ago though, you knew who they were through and through. You were one of them. You knew exactly how they thought. How the job came first, the job always came first.

Enjoying his surprised reaction, you simply waited for a reply. He seemed a little tongue tied as you eyed him. You didn’t notice his stuttering as you were taking him in, all of him.

He nodded his head rapidly once your eyes landed back on his, “You should Sunny.”

Two – The Time You Knew You Liked Him

“Whatcha reading there Sunshine?” Bradley’s voice made your eyes tear away from the page quickly. It was your usual lunchtime ritual. Get your stuff and head outside for an hour to eat and read. The only time you could get away from the chaos of the day.

Closing the book you handed it to him, “Pride and Prejudice?” He asked turning the worn-down book in his hand.

You hummed, “My favorite.”

He sat down next to you on the picnic bench you were sitting at, “Why’s that?” He asked genuinely. You were opening up to him and he’d take anything. He wanted to know anything and everything about you. The more he knew the deeper he fell. It was inevitable really.

You thought for a moment before answering, “Because love is messy, fucked up and not always up to just the one you love. It dives into so many different messed up scenarios and navigates through them flawlessly. Lizzie is just, she’s the perfect narrator for her own story.”

He looked awestruck at your answer. He knew you were smart, but you were eons ahead of him. No wonder you’d risen to Captain so quickly. It just made sense. You were truly the whole package. Smart, beautiful, funnier than he could’ve ever thought. He liked you a whole lot and he was on a mission to make you like him just the same.

“Have you read it before?” You asked all too curiously.

He shook his head looking at it, “No, mind if I borrow it after your done?” He didn’t miss a beat. If it was your favorite he was sure as hell going to go stop by the bookstore and pick up a copy on his way home. He’d read the whole damn thing tonight if it meant he’d see that smile tomorrow when he talked about it with you. He was smitten. And he was completely fine with it. You’d managed to do it without even trying too. He knew it was over for him.

Beaming up to him you simply nodded, “Take it. It’s yours to borrow. Treat her well though. I’ve had that copy since college.”

He held it down to his abdomen tightly, “Consider her protected, at all costs.”

You grinned playing along with him, “I expect nothing less B.”

“B?” He cocked his head towards you. He had to admit it sounded damn good rolling off your tongue.

“Yeah, for Bradley. Get it?” You smirked this time playing along with him.

He shook his head while pinching your hip. A small yelp and a shiver of goosebumps erupted from his touch. Damn. Your body was reacting to him now? It might have as well been over for you too.

“Yes Sunny. I get it.” He leaned over whispering in your ear, “And I love the way it sounds coming from you.”

“Fuck off Bradshaw.” You pushed him off biting your lip to stop the smile that was forming.

“Yes Captain.” He just knew how to get right on under your skin didn’t he?

“You’re so annoying.” You laughed loving the time you got to spend with him. He made it so damn easy.

You made it easy for him too, “You love it though.”

“Maybe, just maybe, I do.”

Three – The Moment You Fell In Love With Him

The Lieutenants had just finished up Mavericks bastardized game of football on the beach. You opted on watching from the sidelines, far too much testosterone on the beach for your liking. You couldn’t help but to have your eyes drawn to Bradley’s chiseled frame. God, he was fucking hot, and he knew it. The way he walked around all cocky had you feeling some type of way. Who would’ve thought you’d have a thing for a guy with a cute ass mustache anyway?

“You should really look at somebody else if you didn’t want to make it too obvious Y/N.” Penny smirked walking right on up to you.

A light blush was surely rising on your cheeks, “What are you talking about Penny?” Pursing your lips, you turned your eyes away from his perfectly sweaty body that was literally glistening in the setting sun. Fuck, you were toast.

Her smile was one of a woman who knew more than she was letting on, “Bradley Bradshaw is what I’m talking about Kazansky.” Her cool smirk let you know she knew exactly how you were feeling.

“Am I making it that obvious?” Knowing you weren’t going to be able to talk yourself out of this one you just leaned into it.

She shrugged, “You’ve been eyeing him like a candy bar for the last twenty or so minutes.”

“Can you blame me?” You bit your lip in sheer frustration. Why him? Why a pilot? Why did he have to hate Pete? Why’d it have to be so damn complicated.

A soft laugh came from your longtime family friend. Growing up in San Diego meant that you’d spent your fair share of time with Penny and Amelia. You’d babysat Amelia while you were in high school and she was just a baby.

“He’s not the one I’m looking at.” Wiggling her eyebrows she laughed once more seeing your disgusted face.

“Please don’t talk about Pete like that to me.” A fake gagging noise came from your mouth at the thought

Her laughter continued drawing the attention of Bradley. He grinned seeing you and Penny on the sidelines having your own type of fun. He’d tried relentlessly to get you to join the game, but you were adamant about sitting this one out. Getting trucked by a bunch of six-foot men just didn’t sound super ideal to you.

When you looked back over to him you caught his eyes on you. You flashed him a bright smile while giving him a nervous wave. You’d caught him but he wasn’t looking away, no. No, he was looking right into your damn soul with those eyes. Even from that distance away. You were thankful the sun was out, and you could just blame the blush on the sun.

When Mav blew the final whistle Penny said her goodbyes before finding her boyfriend. Shaking your head and turning away you weren’t expecting Bradley to be right behind you, but here he was. Certainly not shy.

“Bradley,” You laughed off your nerves, “You played well out there.”

He smirked loving the fact that you were watching him, “You think?” He was fishing and he knew it. He loved it when he could break you out of your tiny little shell. He knew he made you nervous, in a good way of course, and he had to figure out how to lean into it. Keep that feeling but calm those nerves just a bit.

Rolling your eyes you shoved his arm playfully, “Yes Bradley. You played great.”

“Thanks honey.” He winked knowing that’d surely throw you for a loop. When your eyebrows raised in sheer confusion he only smiled harder wanting so desperately to grab for a hand but there were far too many prying eyes for that.

“Honey?”

He nodded, “Would you prefer pretty? Darling?  My dove?” His smile only grew in size when he saw your scowl.

“Shut up Bradley.” You knew he was messing with you. He always did.

But something was different this time. His tone of voice? The way he looked at you when he spoke? “I’m not kidding Sunny. I won’t call you that if you don’t want me too though.” So Bradley, leaving the choice up to you. Always making sure you were

You spoke far too quickly in response, “I didn’t say that.” It was like word vomit coming out of your mouth.

It made Bradley far too happy, “Alright darling.” He leaned down closer to you making sure nobody was here, “If we were alone right now I’d ask to kiss you. But since we aren’t we’re just going to have to save that for later, yeah?” He was all too sure of himself now. Especially when he saw the way your mouth dropped a little and eyes shot right to him with nothing but lust in them. He’d done it. He’d won you over.

Before you could answer though a much different voice interrupted your conversation, “Hey mister.” A small hand pulled on Bradley’s much larger one. Both of you looked down at the much smaller child.

“Hey kid.” He smiled warmly to the young boy. So easily he shifted his focus away from the heated exchange and to the boy.

“Uhm, can you play with us?” Your heart about melted right then and there. The soft little doe eyes from the small boy got you. The kid motioned to the football in Bradley’s hand afraid he might say no.

You weren’t sure what he was about to say. You wouldn’t blame him if he found some excuse because he was tried, hungry and wanted to cuddle up on the couch with you. But that wasn’t him, no. That wasn’t Bradley at all.

“You betcha.” He smiled down to him, “Go long.” He waited for the kid to sprint off before throwing the ball down the beach towards him.

“Have fun.” You giggled to yourself seeing the happiness in Bradley’s eyes.

“You know it pretty. Wait up for me, yeah? I can drive you home. Go get yourself a beer. I’ll buy it for you.”

You nodded quickly at his suggestion, “You know where I’ll be Bradshaw.” You smiled waving him off as you walked towards The Hard Deck. Oh boy, Penny and Pete were about to have a field day with this one. You were a goner that was for sure. Turning around and watching him run around with a bunch of eight years old’s made your heart swell ten times. Goner for sure.

Four – The Morning Mav Knew There Was Something More

You weren’t really ready to come back. But you had to. Your bereavement time was up and you didn’t have any vacation to spare. Your father was gone, and you had to accept it. The world continued spinning and so did your life. It didn’t make it any easier though. You’d gotten to work and just sat in the room waiting for the class to trickle in. You were there hours early. Sleep was hard to come by these days for you. It’d only been two weeks since he passed. Two weeks on this earth without your dad. It felt far too fucking lonely without him here.

The mission was only a few days away now. You were back in time to see this through. You weren’t ready though. Not in the slightest. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there staring at the white board in front of you before hearing the door open and close.

Not turning towards the sound only looking forward you were surprised hearing Bradley’s voice, “There you are.” Your head snapped up seeing his exasperated gaze, “You weren’t answering your texts or calls. I got worried so I went over to your place. Didn’t see your car so I came here. Had me scared shitless Y/N.” He was frowning as he slipped into the chair next to you.

“I’m sorry Bradley.” You looked down and away from Bradley feeling all too uncomfortable with his upset gaze on you.

He shook his head afraid he upset you, “Are you alright?” He brushed his fingers under your chin turning your head towards him. His lips pursed when he saw the trail of tears falling down your face. Clearly, you weren’t alright.

Despite all that you still nodded your head, “I’m okay.”

His frown only made the tears continue to spill, “Honey.” And that was all it took for the waterworks to commence. Full on sobs racked throughout your body as you let yourself finally breakdown in his arms. He pulled you onto his lap, annoyed by the small seats. Cradling you close he just let you cry it out. He, of all people, knew exactly how this felt. How suddenly empty you felt. Even if you had all the time in the world to prepare. You’d never hear his voice again. See his face. He was all but memories now, fading at that.

Bradley watched the door making sure nobody saw you in such a fragile state. Not here. He cradled you in his arms while whispering sweet nothings in your ears trying to ground you back to the present. It was hard. Impossible. You’d only lost him two weeks ago and here you were, back to work. Bradley couldn’t imagine that.

“I’m so sorry.” You mumbled once the tears stopped flowing and you’d successfully soaked through his uniform. Not bearing to look at him you kept you head buried in his chest.

“There’s nothing to apologize for pretty.” He kept cradling you, so long as you wanted it. So long as you needed it. So long as you clung to him so desperately.

You took long deep breaths not in the mood to argue with him. Bradley just watched as you calmed yourself down. Clearly embarrassed by the outburst. He knew it was the first of many. You’d have good days, and you’d have days far worse than this. He knew. He was ready to be there for you.

As shitty as you were feeling the cute little terms of endearment he used to calm you down did make your heart sputter as your finally processed his words, “Thank you Bradley.” Mumbling into his chest you couldn’t bear to break the embrace he had you in. It felt too damn good with him holding you like you were the most precious treasure in the world.

His hand brushed down your hair and back in a steady rhythm, “Anytime. Any day. Any minute. Any second.” He leaned down giving your forehead a light kiss. The shiver that ripped down your body might have been a dead giveaway at how you felt when he did so. That’s as far as he’d go though. He couldn’t push you now. Not when you were grieving and broken. He knew he needed to step up and be your comfort now. Hold you when you needed. Let you cry it out even at the weirdest hours of the day. Grief was a bitch, and he had a front row ticket to it. His life seemed like nothing but grief. He knew how to handle it.

Bradley was so focused on you. And you were so focused on hiding from his gaze that neither hadn’t heard the door open and shut. Pete walked in silently, as he always did, not expecting to see the scene before him. Bradley gently rubbing your back as your body was curled into him. It didn’t surprise him per say. He’d noticed the two of you had gotten closer over the last few weeks. Pete paused thinking of what he should do. He could walk out but that risked somebody else catching the two of you. Relationships weren’t forbidden they were just… highly frowned upon. And Ice would be awfully mad at Mav if he let his daughter get in trouble for something so stupid. Especially when you clearly needed it. More now than ever.

Pete did all he could think to do, he coughed. He watched at you shot up from Bradley quickly backing away from him. Pete’s heart could’ve broken right then and there seeing your tear-stained cheeks and disheveled hair. You looked broken.

“I’m so sorry sir. I just…” You gulped rubbing the haziness out of your eyes. You didn’t have an excuse. Bradley was just looking at you with sorrow in his eyes. Pete looked at you with pity.

“Why don’t you take the day Captain?” Pete suggested instead of acknowledging your apology.

You shook you head, “I can’t, I don’t have the time.”

Pete walked over handing you your coat off the top of the desk it was resting on, “I’ll cover. Go. You too Lieutenant.” Pete looked at Bradley giving him a curt nod letting him know it was fine. Mav knew you needed Bradley.

He looked a little shocked but stood from his seat, “Mav, are you sure?”

He nodded, “Take care of her.” He nearly whispered as he walked away from the pair. He walked right on out of the room giving you the space you needed. You could’ve broken down right then and there again had Bradley not pulled you from your thoughts. You felt all the love from your pseudo uncle, so thankful he was in your life.

Bradley pulled you towards the door gently, “You wanna change or just go home?” Bradley asked softly careful not to startle you.

“Home.” You looked up to him afraid you’d run into Phoenix or Halo in the locker room. They’d never judge you. It was just easier to avoid it altogether though.

Giving your hand a squeeze, he smiled right at you, “Let’s go home then honey. We can watch some trashy reality television and order some disgustingly greasy food if you want.”

For the first time in a long time a small smile came to your face, “That sounds perfect B.” He smiled even brighter at that. He adored it when you’d used that nickname on him. If he were honest he’d fallen in love with everything about you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your personality above all else. You were truly like nobody he’d ever met before. He’d be damned to let that slip away from him, not without a fight.

“Follow me out. I’ll drive us home.” You nodded doing as he said. Keeping your face hidden until you got to his truck. The ride home was silent. Bradley talked occasionally breaking you from whatever fucked up thoughts were coursing through your even more messed up brain. It was driving you crazy how much of prisoner you felt your very own brain. You wanted to be happy, to smile but it just wasn’t coming. Not until you fully accepted his death. Your dad wasn’t coming home. Never again. That was a hard cross to bear.

You cuddled up to him on the couch once you got back to your place and the two of you changed. Bradley promised to stay for as long as you’d have him. Joke’s on him though, you’ll never kick him out.

“Can I ask you something?” You questioned him once the two of you had settled on Vanderpump Rules and some pizza. Your favorite comfort food.

“Anything.” Once again he brushed your hair with his hands knowing it calmed you instantly.

“How’d you do it? Losing your mom? Your dad?” You’d asked the question you’d been so afraid to ask before. But y

“Time.” He answered you truthfully, “It takes time.”

You sighed knowing that was likely the answer he was going to give you but not the one you’d wanted to hear, “I was afraid you’d say that.” Your voice wobbled, on the brink of another fresh set of tears.

Bradley pulled you closer, “But I’m here. I’ll be here through everything. The ups, the downs, the bumps. It all. You have me. You have your siblings, your mom. You have people here for you pretty.” He kissed your forehead once more.

You felt a few tears fall at that. Looking up to him you had to ask, “Why? Why are you being so kind to me?”

Shaking his head, he used the pads of his fingertips to wipe the fresh tears away, “I like you. A whole lot more than I really should.” He admitted, laying it all out there for you, “You’re Incredible Sunny. The most incredible woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I’m here for you. If you’ll have me.”

Ever the gentleman he was. Always leaving it up to you, “You like me?”

He laughed, throwing his head back in amusement, “I think I’ve been rather obvious Kazansky. But yes. I like you. A lot.” He didn’t want to throw the L word out just yet. That was far too soon. But he knew he loved you. He loved every single inch of you. He knew he’d love you for a long, long time to come to. He’d truly, never felt so sure

“Oh,” You grinned feeling the tears dry up, “Then please stay. Stay for a long time.”

He brushed the stray strands of hair out of your face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like you too. A lot.” Squeezing his hip with your hand you hid your face in his chest feeling all too exposed at that admission of your feelings. It never came easy.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Y/N Kazansky, you just made me the happiest guy in the world.”

“Yeah?” You peaked up at him with a grin on your face. Red face of exposure be damned.

“Oh yeah baby.” He cradled you close feeling every joyful emotion course through him. He got you. He fucking got you. He wasn’t going to let this one slip. No. It may take some time to figure it out but that’s what life was about. Time.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged @hardballoonlove

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[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Wizard

Words: 983

@wolfstarmicrofic

I wanted to write something with Professor McGonagall in after Dame Maggie Smith’s passing, so here it is.

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

“It doesn’t matter.” Remus’ face hadn’t brightened since he’d entered Professor McGonagall’s office to discuss his plans for the future. “Nobody will hire a werewolf.”

“You may be a werewolf, Mr Lupin. But you’re also a wizard. And a bloody good one at that.” He looked up at her, surprised by her language. “You have so much potential.”

“Do I? Really?” Remus was unconvinced. “And when I need at least two days off every month? Or when they learn what I am?”

“There will be something out there for you, I’m sure of it.” She frowned before pulling a tin from one of her drawers and opening it. “Biscuit, Lupin?”

He hesitated before taking one. “I just look at what Sirius, James and Lily are about to start and I wish I had the same opportunities.”

“I understand.” She smiled sadly at him, “Are you going home to Wales after you graduate?”

“Sirius has bought a bloody flat in London. He wants me to live there with him, but I don’t know.” Remus took a bite of the biscuit. It was sugary and spicy and melted in his mouth. “I know he means well, because he always does, I just feel like I’d be taking advantage of him.”

“If you had a full vault at Gringotts, and Sirius became unable to work due to… say, an accident at work, would you not want to help him as much as you possibly could?” She stared at him, watching as a few more pieces fell into place.

“Of course, I would. I’d do anything for him. He’d hate that, though.” Remus said.

“Just like you hate it. You’d still want to help him though.” It wasn’t a question, but Remus nodded. “You can’t hide in your childhood bedroom and never try, Remus.”

“I know.”

“If you could do anything, what would you want to do? Auror? Healer?”

“I’d actually like to teach, professor.” He said, smiling for the first time. “I love tutoring the younger students, and I think I’m pretty good at it.” His face fell again, “But again, what school will hire a teacher who needs time off every month and may attack the students?”

“In thirteen years, have you ever attacked anyone?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

“Other than myself? No.” He said.

“Then I don’t think that even need be a consideration. Have you spoken with Professor Dumbledore about this?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it, honestly.” He looked at his hands which were twisting in his lap. “Do you honestly think it’s possible?”

“Absolutely. Leave it with me.” Nobody believed him when he relayed this story back at the dorm, but he swore that she winked at him.

“Professor?”

“I’ll speak to Professor Dumbledore and see what can be done.” She nodded, “I wish you believed in yourself as much as Sirius believes in you.” Remus’ cheeks went scarlet. “He told me he wants to work in the Ministry. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to be specific.”

“But he has a place at the Auror academy.” Remus was baffled, “He got the letter weeks ago.”

"I suspected he hadn’t told you.” She sighed, “I think this is a conversation the two of you need to have.”

“Yes, I think you’re right.” He said. “Thank you, professor.”

“Remus, not only are you a talented wizard, but you are a good person. You deserve a good life, please never think that you don’t.” She paused, “I’ll be in touch once I’ve spoken to Professor Dumbledore.”

Remus got to his feet, “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Professor.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr Lupin.” She smiled as he left her office. Dumbledore was probably still in his office now, she’d make it if she was quick.

Remus rushed to the dormitory, hoping that James and Pete were otherwise occupied and was relieved to find Sirius there alone, lounging on Remus’ bed.

“Moons?” He said, lifting his head slightly. “How’d it go?”

“You turned down your academy spot?” Remus said from the doorway.

“Ah. She mentioned that, then?” Sirius sat up and crossed his legs, looking more than a little nervous. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?” Remus moved to sit facing him. “You were so excited. You and James—”

“James turned it down too,” Sirius said quietly.

“Were either of you planning on saying anything?” Remus sighed, “You didn’t tell me because you knew how I’ve been feeling about it all.”

“I hate that I have the privilege of turning down jobs that people dream of, and I’m able to just walk into something else. It’s not fair.” He rested his hand on the bed between them, and Remus linked their fingers. “The thing about being an auror is upholding the law. But a lot of the laws don’t make sense.”

“So… what are you going to do?”

“We’ve been offered internships. James is still in Magical Law Enforcement but wants to end up in the Wizengamot. Help make the laws better.” Remus smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’m going to work in the Being Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I want to make things better for you. Set up a Werewolf Support Centre, get this fancy wolfsbane stuff made available, there’s so much we can do!”

“You can’t just give up your dream of—”

“That isn’t my dream anymore,” Sirius said, shrugging slightly. “All I want is to make things better for you and honestly, anyone else who needs it. It’s not charity and it’s not pity—”

“It’s love,” Remus said.

Sirius met his gaze, “Of course, it’s love, Remus.”

Remus just stared at him. “I love you, too, you know?”

“I know.” Sirius smiled. “Can we talk about your meeting now we’ve discussed mine?”

“I think I’m going to be a professor.”

[bow-of-aros]

Day Fifteen: Are You Ticklish?

Summary: It's Ted's birthday and nobody seems to give a damn as per usual. All he wants is to go home and forget that today ever happened.

Seems like his friends have other plans.

-

Hey folks! This is my very self-indulgent birthday fic bc it's my birthday and I can do whatever the hell I want!! It's my longest fic this month and I'm very proud of it, so enjoy <33

Also, to the person that put in the request for this day, I hope that you in particular enjoy the most!

-

Ted had never had the best experience with birthdays.

Growing up, nobody had really bothered to give half of a shit about him, and it hasn’t exactly changed much since then. Sure, Pete would text him and try to rope him into doing something if he was home, and at one point, there had been Jenny, but that hadn’t exactly worked out.

So when Ted walks into work and is greeted with the usual half-hearted enthusiasm—which is definitely an upgrade from the outright disdain from before The Incident—Ted just sighs and accepts that it’s gonna be another shitty birthday.

The Incident. Nobody’s really quite sure what happened. In fact, they all tried to not think about it as much as physically possible.

Ted’s just grateful that they all seemed to form some sort of trauma bond. Everyone was a bit more tolerant of his antics, sometimes they even smiled at his jokes and references instead of just shaking their heads and ignoring him.

Paul will actually invite him to Beanie’s every once in a while and listen while Ted brags about his genius little brother with something that almost looks like fondness on his face.

Bill doesn’t go see musicals anymore, but he’ll ask Ted if he wants to watch a new movie that’s come out without looking like he’d rather do anything else.

Charlotte got a divorce from Sam and asked Ted to have some space while she sorted out her life and, for once in his life, he respected her wishes and kept his distance. She looked more relaxed around the office and Ted felt like he’d found a real friend in her, like he could just talk to her with only a slight fear of judgment.

And he definitely hadn't set his sights on a beige-wearing, musical-hating coworker of his.

Definitely.

But all of this didn’t mean that they actually liked him. Ted wasn’t stupid enough to think that just because some horrible, incredibly traumatizing thing happened to all of them that they would suddenly start actually enjoying the company of their disgusting sleazeball coworker.

But still, Ted would take what he could get, and he’d actually started looking forward to coming to work, even if he threw up a little in his mouth at the thought.

He couldn’t help but be disappointed when he didn’t even get so much as a ‘Happy birthday’ though. Like, sure, they weren’t exactly best buds, but the bar really isn’t set that high!

As the day goes on, Ted notices that his frien—coworkers are avoiding him more often than was usual. It was almost like they were slipping back into their pre-Incident dynamic. Conversations would stop the second he stepped in the room, attempts at jokes fell flat and were only met with a roll of the eyes, and Ted found himself falling back into his old role in response.

He curled in on himself more before trying to project the false bravado that had once felt like a second skin to him. His any attention is good attention mindset was back in full swing, praying that something he did would get anyone to just talk to him!

Thankfully, that only lasted for a little while before he realized that he didn’t want to be that Ted anymore, and wasn’t that a revelation to examine literally never.

By the end of the day, Ted was exhausted. Mr. Davidson had asked him to stay a few minutes late to help him with some last-minute filing, which could not have been that important but hey, he had nothing better to be doing.

He’d spent a solid few hours picking through his memory to try and figure out if he’d done anything extra repulsive within the past few days and came up empty-handed.

Paul had even gone home early, also known as not thirty minutes late, which he never did and Ted was worried enough—and desperate enough— that he’d sent a u gud? To which he’d received a perfectly punctuated Yeah. Thanks, Ted.

Was it sad that those three words had made him feel better than anything else that day? Definitely.

Was Ted going to take anything he could get? Abso-fucking-lutely.

As he pulled into his driveway, all he could think about was ordering some shitty takeout, drinking some shitty beer, and pretending that he didn’t exist until this shitty day was over. Hopefully, everything would go back to normal tomorrow, and Ted could just chalk today up to his birthday curse.

The key slipped into the door and it turned after the required two seconds of trying to jimmy it open.

As his hand fumbled for the light he called out, “Hey Pete! I’m home! Fair warning to finish anything up before I—OH HOLY FUCK!”

The light flipped on, revealing a very brightly decorated living room and Paul, Bill, and Charlotte gleefully yelling, “SURPRISE!”

Silence rang for a moment.

Two.

“Ted? Are you… Crying?”

At Charlotte’s question Ted whipped around and very unsubtly scrubbed at his eyes as he said, “No! It’s hay fever season! I just have, uh,” He sniffled, damn it, “I just have really bad allergies.”

He turned back just in time to catch an armful of knitted sweater and curly hair.

“I’m sorry!” She said, somehow managing to be the one holding him despite the fact that he had a foot on her at least, “I told them that a surprise party was a bad idea! But they were so set on it and I’m so bad at keeping secrets! And oh my God we were so mean to you today!”

Charlotte pulled away to look him in the eye, “Can you forgive us? Please?”

Honestly, Ted had forgiven them the second he learned that they all hadn’t gone back to not-so-secretly hating them.

And he’d never really been able to say no to Charlotte.

“Alright. I guess I can forgive you.”

She let out an ear-piercing shriek before throwing herself back at him and Ted found himself sinking into the affection.

A warm body encompassed him from behind as Bill joined the hug and, fuck, Ted couldn’t burst into tears again and ruin the image he’d been carefully cultivating for the past however many years.

“Yeah, man. We were kinda shitty today. Sure it was all to keep the party hidden but that’s not an excuse. Are you alright?”

They are not making this easy on him.

“Yeah!” Oh, that was way too high-pitched. Let’s try that one again.

“Yeah.” Much better, “I definitely wasn’t worried that I’d done something wrong and you guys all hated me again and I’d fucked up the only actual friendships I’ve had since I was a kid or anything.”

…Yikes. Great save, Spankoffski.

Ted felt an arm wind its way around his waist, giving him an awkward side hug and holy shit. Paul, Mr. If-you-come-within-two-feet-of-me-I-will-dissolve-out-of-pure-social-discomfort, was hugging Ted.

“Look, Ted,” said Paul in the voice of someone not well-versed in the art of reassurance which, hey, neither is Ted, “Sure, you used to be a disgusting sleazeball that we all tried to avoid.”

“But,” He raised his voice to be heard over Charlotte and Bill’s groaning, “You’ve changed. And we can see that you’ve put actual effort into changing. We honest to God like you Ted, you’re our friend! Hell, would we have done all this for you if you weren’t?”

Paul gestured at the room and Ted looked at the balloons scattered around, at the cake on the table and the three wrapped presents sitting on the couch.

Huh.

“No,” Ted said slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the concept, “You definitely wouldn’t.”

“Exactly! Now, why don’t you say we— What was that?”

The squeeze Paul had given to his side that Ted was sure was supposed to be reassuring had the unfortunate side effect of making Ted nearly jump out of his own damn skin. Of course, it was just his luck that the Spankoffski charm had come with a large dose of the Spankoffski super-fucking-ticklish.

“Nothing!”

He could feel Charlotte grinning against his chest as Bill tightened his hold, effectively eliminating all possible escape routes.

“That didn’t sound like nothing,” Charlotte said, mischief colouring her voice, “You should try that again, Paul! See if we can give Ted some good old-fashioned birthday cheer!”

At that, Ted actually started to put up a fight, if pretty half-assed.

“No! I’m already cheerful so that’s not necessARY— Pahahahaul nononono shihihihit!”

Laughter tumbled from his lips, echoed by the people surrounding him as he tried and failed to escape.

Paul’s voice rose above the noise in utter disbelief, “Are you telling me that you, the guy who can’t get enough of bugging everyone else, are ticklish?! We could have been using this against you for years!”

“No I’m nohohohot!”

Ted was going to go crazy. Paul’s hand had moved up to his ribs and was now prodding at the bones and wiggling between them, making Ted’s laughter pitch up into childlike giggles much to the delight of his tormentors.

“Are you suuurrrreee?” Charlotte asked, giving a quick scribble to his spine and laughing ecstatically at the snort that elicited.

“Yeah, Ted!” Bill chimed in, “You seem pretty ticklish to me! But, if you’re not, then you won’t mind if we stay here a little longer. It is your birthday, after all, gotta make sure that you feel loved and appreciated!”

Paul leaned in close enough that Ted was grateful that the red in his cheeks could be explained away as he said, “All you have to do to make this stop is just admit that you’re ticklish. Is that really so hard?”

He lightened his touch enough to let Ted catch his breath a bit and give him a chance to tap out if he wanted to.

But Ted Spankoffski is a man of honour and dignity and he WILL NOT GIVE IN!

“Go fuhuhuck yourself, Paul!”

Any fire in his words was snuffed out by the lingering giggles, but Paul still gasped, playfully affronted in a way that Ted’s never seen, but knows can’t be good.

“Well,” Paul says simply, “You asked for it.”

And Ted was thrown back into laughter as Paul’s hands dug back into his ribs, aided by the occasional pokes and scribbles from Bill and Charlotte who seemed mostly content to hold him in place and let Paul do all the work.

“PAUL!” Paul had vibrated his hand into the soft space just below Ted’s lowest ribs and, yeah, this is how he was going to die, “Paulpaulpaul plehehehease! I’ll sahahay it! I cahahahan’t!”

“You can’t say it?” Oh that little shit, “I’m sure I can help you out there.”

“No! I’m ticklish! I’m tihihihihicklish! Now please let me gohohohoho!”

With that proclamation of defeat, they all unwound themselves from around Ted, and he did his best to not miss the warm pressure as they guided him to his ratty old couch, unstable legs nearly giving out on him before he collapsed on the worn cushions.

As he sat there catching his breath while Paul settled down next to him and Bill and Charlotte started fiddling with the candles on his cake, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“How the fuck did you guys get into my apartment?”

They all laughed as Paul said, “Peter gave me his key. Told us to not fuck this up.” His voice slid into something a little more fond, “You’ve got a good kid on your hands, Ted.”

“Yeah,” Ted said, the grin on his face more than just the remnants of his ordeal, “I really do.”

Suddenly, Bill and Charlotte were bringing the cake towards him in all its fiery glory.

“Alright sleazeball, make a wish.”

Normally, Ted would hate being called that by someone other than himself, but Charlotte said it with such fondness that he really couldn’t bring himself to mind.

He thinks for a moment, then takes in a big breath and blows out all the candles in one fell swoop.

After the cheering died down, Bill asked, “What did you wish for?”

Ted just gave him his signature grin and said, “I can’t tell you, Billy. It wouldn’t come true!”

The rest of the day flew by, filled with laughter and games and only a few drinks. Looks like the birthday curse is broken, because this one had been pretty damn perfect.

I wish that all of my birthdays could be the same as this one, minus the first half, surrounded by my friends who just want to see me smile.

[kathrahender]

So- I had an idea for another Top Gun AU.

The actual fic is centered in Icemav but this is the background story, to understand better Icemav's relationship. This is the first part (1/2), if you want to read the second part (2/2), read the next post.

Imagine an AU where Duke "Ember" (? Mitchell and Konstantin "Frost" (? Kazansky were the original "Icemav" ship.

At first they hated/disliked each other and they almost couldn't stand being in the same room together. And then, the two of them had to go on a mission with other pilots. In that mission, Konstantin got hit by the enemy and Duke, despite his own hate for Konstantin, didn't want him to die, so he saved him. (Duke didn't want to accept it, but part of the hate he felt for Konstantin vanished when he saw how injured he was).

Duke didn't expect their relationship to change because of that, but Konstantin became more... soft with him after the mission, and his jokes, which were meant to hurt him, became more funny, as if Konstantin wanted him to laugh with him instead of making fun of him. Although that only happened when they were alone, just the two of them. When they were around the other pilots, Konstantin acted more respectful towards Duke, but he didn't act friendly.

Surprisingly, at some moment, they started feeling other things towards each other. Both of them wanted to be more than friends, but they only shared a kiss before knowing their relationship wouldn't work. Not in a world where people would see them as "freaks" or "mentally ill". They held back their feelings, even after Duke nearly died. Konstantin saved him, (in the mission where Duke was supposed to die) but holding him in his arms, in the hospital, while he was still injured, made him realize he couldn't lose Duke. He was important to him, and he couldn't bear him dying because of them being together.

Konstantin decided to let go of him and be just friends, but their relationship didn't end well. After the mission, the day Duke woke up (because he was in a comma for a few days), one of the superiors of Konstantin told him he knew about what was happening between Duke and him. He threatened Konstantin, saying he would tell everyone the truth about them if he didn't do what he said (the superior gave Konstantin an option and didn't tell the others superiors Duke and Konstantin were something inmediatly because he didn't want to lose one of his best pilots). Konstantin had to say Duke was a traitor who tried to run away from the battle before Konstantin decided to save his life, and then the two of them were safe (If nobody ever discovered the truth about Duke's "betrayal"). He did it, but his bond with Duke broke for his actions.

They went separate ways after that. Konstantin married a woman and had a son, Tom Kazansky, as well as Duke married another woman and had a son, Pete Mitchell. (This means Top Gun would take place a few years after 1986, not in 1986. It could take place in 1992, for example).

[sciderman]

Currently reading through the spiderpool blog and just finished the civil war era. That alternate timeline where Pete is an assassin, of course we know Ben is alive but what happens to that version Ben and May? I wonder if they know what he is doing and if they are still even apart of his life.

oh, anon. anon... it's a sad little tale,, it's a sad little story. i do imagine that this specific peter parker pursues his career of fame and fortune, and becomes vain and horrible. a real "talk to my agent!" kind of asshole.

and initially, he still cares for uncle ben and aunt may. they're the only two people in the world who loved him properly. but... but. fame goes to his head. the old cliché. he's making bank, and – there's less urgency for him to stay to support aunt may because uncle ben's still around, so, peter kind of goes his own way. very quickly he can afford his own apartment by doing tv deals and very quickly he's signed on for a movie deal. he is hot shit.

of course all of that fame and being so busy and being so secretive and spider-man's identity still being a secret to the public and to ben and may means that he ultimately grows distant from may and ben. he skips school to pursue fame, doesn't think he needs it. and i mean, the guy hates high school. it's a living hell for him. he's given an out - of course he'll take it. he doesn't graduate high school. doesn't get a college education. doesn't tell uncle ben and aunt may because obviously they wouldn't endorse him dropping out of school.

they wouldn't get it. they wouldn't understand. he becomes a mystery to them. they don't know where he goes, what's going on with him. he's barely home and then he, so very quietly, moves out with all the money he's made.

fame is fickle, though, and - spider-man doesn't capture peoples hearts for the long-term. spider-man doesn't inspire heroism in this world. he doesn't waste his effort on selfless deeds. he doesn't become a heroic figure. hence why wade doesn't join weapon x.

the spider-man of this turn of events doesn't amount to more than a quick cash-grab, and the people are over him so quickly. people who worked with him realise he's kind of a jerk, and isn't even pulling in money anymore. spider-man becomes a has-been before he even reaches his twenties.

so, this spider-man lives alone - can't face uncle ben and aunt may because he's quickly realising that yeah. he made the wrong choice. he dug his grave, and he has to lay in it. he's a drop-out, and he feels like peter parker is entirely worthless. he can barely look at himself in the mirror. at least as spider-man he has some power. some reputation. something. peter parker? peter parker disappeared off the face of the planet some years ago, and nobody knows who or where he is. peter parker is dead and neglected. there's no future for peter parker. so he builds a life with the skills that he has, as spider-man. he does what he's good at. becomes hired muscle. becomes hired muscle for anyone that can pay his rates. those are usually bad guys.

he falls deeper and deeper into that rabbit hole. and the further he falls, the harder it is for him to conceive he could ever come back to uncle ben and aunt may and have them welcome and accept him, with all the mistakes he's made.

unfortunately, in this particular timeline - as bex and i'd plotted it out for the alt!verse fic where wade winds up trapped with this sad, isolated peter parker - it still takes uncle ben dying to destroy peter's barricades and have him finally reach out to aunt may, in his way. first distantly offering her financial support before he, after months, eventually gains the courage to face her. and she can see the scars on his face.

i think it kind of universally takes uncle ben dying for peter to learn "great power great responsibility" - not as peter interprets or misinterprets it, but... the loss of uncle ben meaning peter recognising he has a responsibility to the people around him. he can't disappear from it. he can't isolate himself from it. when uncle ben passes, he finds out he has a responsibility to aunt may. that's kind of the whole thing, that's what great responsibility is. him filling uncle ben's shoes.

i think that's something i'm obsessed with - that peter knows that the loss of uncle ben means he needs to step up and fill ben's shoes, but he's still not entirely sure what it means. what he has to do to be able to fill that void that's left empty by ben's absence. what ben meant. what manhood means.

great responsibility is about manhood, and looking after the people you love. it's not - it's not about what you owe the world.

i think peter unfortunately has to learn that lesson the hard way, every time.

but, eventually, at some point, peter comes home.

[butch-reidentified]

What's living in Florida like as a lesbian? Most (liberal) people I talk to balk when I say I'm considering moving there because they all think it's populated exclusively by bigoted swamp creatures, but I don't want to listen to stereotapes from people who've never lived there. I know what the politics are like there, but what about day-to-day living/homophobia?

I tell people this CONSTANTLY but nobody seems to grasp it: while Florida has very red areas (every state does), especially rurally and in the panhandle (which shouldn't even be part of FL imho), all of the actual cities (like Tampa, St. Pete, Orlando, Miami, Fort Lauderdale) are very much blue and pretty fun to live in. they also all have LGBT+ (ofc the + is everywhere now) events and communities and parts of town etc. I love it here and have had practically zero issues being an extremely gnc lesbian here, except when I lived in Sarasota (red town with a lot of money - sucks ass) and got legally fired for being gay back in early 2020. that could've happened in a red town almost anywhere before it was illegal.

I've even had really fun, awesome experiences chatting (about what it's like to be a lesbian) with conservative white dudes in their gun store - more than once! actually if I'm being completely honest, I've had fewer sexist and homophobic experiences with conservative men in the past few years than with liberals. and yes, pretty much all the negative experiences with liberals were an obvious product of gender identity ideology. it's just so incredibly disappointing that I can reasonably expect a random conservative male I run into in the wild to be more normal about female homosexuality (including butchness!) than a liberal of either sex I run into in the wild. how the FUCK did that happen? I hate it here lmao

[raspberrysmoon]

ok so. nobody cares but I DO!!!! so here are some fun facts about my biggest npmd au i curse the day !! :] names are colored/altered for their corresponding lord. red is 'generally evil'

it got long so. facts under cut <3 spoilers are very minimal but go check out my series on ao3 !! 'i curse the day' !!!! olease im insane over them !!

psst @bellqmione i did it. for you :]

- pete hates his horns with a passion. steph thinks theyre kind of cute when he doesnt try to shave them off or rip them out. pete would rip them out if he was sure they didnt connect to his brain like some goat horns do

- similarly, grace adores her eyes/newfound sight 99% of the time. until The Horrors. she cant bring herself to go back to camp idonwannabang.. or look the jerries in the eye

- ted has full custody over pete and acts as a pseudo parent. hes a solid 15 years older, and generally acts like a teen boy with pete. silly goofy guy who has some issues hes not ready to face and a tendancy to drink !

- jenny... is there. somehow. she misses ted a lot and genuinely wants to come back to hatchetfield for him. she just... can't

- steph and nibbly have a weirdly tight knit relationship. treats her like a lapdog. think a maltese with dyed-pink fur and you have steph

- grace is blinkys coworker. she has half as many eyes as him. blinky has 999 eyes. grace has 499.5. one of her eyes is mostly blind, but not entirely. she doesnt know this number

- richie and ruth Are There. so is max. none of our three know this. webby knows. wiggly and pokey know. they're the only ones. not even they themselves know that theyre still there. they lie dormant for now

- hannah, daniel and sophia are attached at the hip. the only reason sophia hasnt shown up yet is because shes rich and homeschooled. they see eachother more than their families. sophia and daniel are hannahs only outlet for webby, now, and theyre both quite familiar with her

- daniel can hold his breath for 10 minutes on average. hannah is the only one who can time him. this can get complicated when holding your breath stops time

- webby is trying desperately to reach lex constantly. lex is doing her best to ignore her, but its getting harder. webby needs something from her.

- grace has watched richies funeral 376 times. she's counted. she can recite to you exactly what each person says and does

- paul is having some trouble with his hearing after richies death. he wasn't that close with his nephew, but the loss is still hitting him. he can only hope its shock. something tells him its not.

- emma is also having trouble with her hearing. she has not told paul, and she will not tell paul. she will not be losing her hearing like her sister. even if it doesnt feel like thats the cause of it, she won't.

- speaking of, i made jane hard of hearing. i dont know why exactly it fits her in my mind, but it does. her and her family are mostly fluent or entirely fluent in american sign language, as is emma. she wears hearing aids

- the three learn sign language. from who? stay tuned and put your guesses down below ‼️

- alice has had vision problems since she moved to clivesdale a few years back. her vision was always bad growing up, and now its... perfect. shes having trouble keeping up the lie to everyone.

- bill and alice really do love eachother i swear. but she doesnt like him much. theyre trying. deb is too. they really are.

- jenny doesn't like the color yellow. she never has. teddy used to. she's not sure if he still would. it makes her head hurt to look at.

- pete hates pants. pete only owns pants. his basketball shorts are actually a pair of stephs, that used to be maxs.

- max is scared of the dark. this was a closely held secret in life. steph finds herself turning a nightlight on for him without thinking about it.

- max didn't have a funeral. his body wasn't buried- instead kept as evidence then tossed out when nobody came to collect it. jason, kyle, stacy and brenda had a small service for him by the lake when they were told he'd been murdered. jason was the only non-cop to see maxs' body after he was dismembered and left at the waylon place

- grace spends more time at the waylon place than she does at home. she finds a strange comfort in it now that it's completely off the market.

- the many quick-succession deaths put the waylon place and its haunting back into the forefront of peoples minds. the town is collectively afraid of it again.

- max is scared of the dark. the black is a very dark place. richie and ruth have yet to encounter the problem of darkness. in fact, ruth has been having some trouble with seeing past the stagelights in front of her

- ruth and richie have their own personalized rooms. a stage/large theatre, and a cozy little room with a fridge and a large tv. max does not get as pleasant of an afterlife as this.

- jerry grew up vegan. he's not sure what his parents would say about his diet.

[evb0]

procrastinating so u guys get my hatchetverse hcs!!! (these are going to be a lot of shit i picked up from random posts that i dont remeber the ops of so sorry if u made one of these hcs and i dont credit you i love you sorry) ethan green

probably like 23? 25?

hes actually bi he told me himself

afab he/they boyflux sue me

lex is his first and only gf. he's probably had like one bf before but he loves lex sm more (simp) (malewife to her girlboss basically)

orphan sorry i dont make the rules

his dad left like immedately and his mom passed of old age when he was like 17 idk

hannah is basically his little sister. he'd die 4 her actually.

ted spankoffski

like late 20s early 30s at the most ithink

so painfully thirsty for anyone he has to be pan

amab he/him but doesnt really give a fuck

has never had a partner thats so sad. he makes up for this by constantly acting like everybody wants him. they dont. (exepct for me i love him)

doesnt really have a CRUSH on anyone speific but mark chastity is his fav to tease (sorry im a baby for holy bastard)

him and petes parents love them but theyre kinda like.. oblivious and absent. like theyre always on trips and leaving pete to live w ted

max jagerman

im not gonna list all of the teens' age theyre all 16-18

im assimilating with this one he/she pronouns amab

hes omni he told me himself pref 2 women

everybody wants him he only wants the nerd (hes just like me fr)

he isnt dead shut up shut up sHUT UP HES FINE OKAY

his dad is not good his mom died in childbirth

stephanie lauter

genderqueer. they/she/he in order of pref. also uses xe/xir idc sue me

pan thats cannon she told me xirself

does tiktok dances but really badly on purpose

the biggest simp on earth to her one guy and nobody ese

will fluster the living hell out of pete in public for fun

hates being the mayors daughter, feels alienated bcs of it

pete spankoffski

he/they afab i dont make the rules

bi if you argue youre homophobic (/J)

actually loves his big bro but acts like he doesnt bcsaude is ted hears him looking up ted he'll never hear the end of it

nickname seymour from ruth (bcause lsoh)

ex-brony

richie whateverhislastnameis

afab he/xe/nya/zap he would have so many cool neos. one of those people whos neo list is longer than the bill of rights

gay mlm yes

undertale enjoyer

nge enjoyer

discord mod in an anime server

owns several body pillows

xem and ruth have been friends since pre-k so they know eachother like the back of their hand

ruth whateverherlastnameis

afab she/they

omni large large large pref to girls. likes a few boys sorta

biggest theatre kid ever but sucks at acting and singing (the curse)

got ensemble ONCE and cried at the cast list

fav show is heathers

heather m kin i dont make the rules

grace chastity

afab she/her

bi

liked a girl once and cried for a week str8 abt going 2 hell

i dont have alot of hcs for her but i think she would like fire a large amount

not even arson wise but like

a firebug

tinky

i already made my hcs for all the LiBs' true forms so go find those if you want

all the libs dont give a fuc about pronouns call them whatever

i do he/him tho

tinky is really just a 13 yr old girl freaking out abt one specific guy (ted) and making fucked up fanfics with him (time bastard nmt)

the "youngest" of the siblings

boy jerry

i beleive that every character jon plays is related. boy jerry is pauls fucked up brother. which means hes also richies uncle

[i-sveikata]

I followed the spoilers from the last chapter here but I only be able to read the new chapter today - sorry author :(( - Why didn't anyone here talk about the last part of the chapter?? How must Pete be feeling knowing that his childhood home and everything in it probably no longer exists? and Vegas will feel guilty? and the people in the main house (porsche, tankhun, chan) did they agree to this? They couldn't have all gotten together and pretended they would do what Korn asked or he did everything without anyone knowing and sent the guards who he trusts and who he knew would do the job?? Sorry for the text and the many questions but I was curious about what will follow after the end of the last chapter...

No need to be sorry!! Read at your own pace that’s what it’s there for ☺️

Pete is feeling pretty shit about the whole thing (he even sneaks over to the house to see the extent of the damage himself) Vegas is still a bit loopy and not really processing emotions properly atm but yeah he hates being in this helpless kind of stage where he has no power and no money and no real way to protect Pete except with his own battered body.

Korn left them all out of it!! He’s already beginning to suspect that Pete has a lot of allies there (he totally underestimated how well liked and respected Pete is) so he literally had to choose men from his inner circle- excluding Chan because he’s finally realised that he and Pete have a mentor/ mentee relationship going on. So basically nobody else realises what he’s done yet but it’s actually a bit more than just him ordering the men to burn the house down. He ordered them to try and lure Pete out and didn’t tell them what he deems an appropriate method for that- it’s actually the bodyguards who panicked a bit getting caught by the neighbour and then started the fire to try and obscure the evidence of the attack out of self preservation. The fact that it actually does succeed in luring Pete out is a bonus!

But yeah tankhun, Porsche and Chan have no idea what’s happened. Chan knows the bodyguards left and are searching for Pete and Vegas but Pete’s already aware of that so it didn’t really need a warning. Basically a lot of things are slowly slipping out of mr korns control (proving he’s not equipped to be in this role for much longer) and this is going to be a poignant moment for someone else stepping up and fully deciding to take over the role

[jell0buss-37]

Why not? (Peter B. Parker x reader) pt. 2

God he is just so-

This is a slightly longer and better part! I hope you guys like this one, more fluff (platonic)

Warnings: None, slight angst if you squint

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You can't believe how stupid Peter is sometimes.

Well, not stupid, exactly. Just stubborn. Stubborn and stupid. Two good words to describe him, especially now. Maybe you're really just panicking though, right? These are perfectly normal responses to have when your friend has been missing for what, an entire week now?

Now, sure, the guy makes it a habit to seemingly disappear from time to time, but he NEVER went without at least telling you first. You can't help how worried you are right now for him. The only reason you were so worried was because the last time he'd just left and told nobody, he had spiraled into a deep depressive state. Having just been dumped after a 3 year relationship, MJ saying that they're just better as friends, it really got to him.

His heart crushed, his inflamed ego stomped out, and his pride broken. He was a glass man, who had been mishandled and shattered. It had taken so long to pick up those pieces, bit by bit placing them together again, back into the man you cared so deeply for.

He had vowed since to tell you whenever he decided to just vanish like that again, the pained and scared look in your eyes somehow hurting him more than MJ ever had.

You had become quick friends in the workplace, not quite crossing the threshold of a bond outside of work. That is, until one of the first of many fights that Peter had to put up with. It was a rainy night, and he had had enough of the nagging of Harry in his ear, telling him he needs to get his act together eventually for MJ, who was almost impossible to please. It seemed that Harry was always quick to defend her, no matter how miniscule the fights may have been. He shakes his head, walking with his hood up into the bodega on the corner.

He opens the door, finding a familiar face to be more comforting than he'd ever admit at the time, you. You stood there, browsing through the different candy selections, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose oversized t-shirt, a pair of converse on your feet. A complete contrast to your normal work attire, he almost wouldn't have recognized you if not for the familiar glint in your eyes, that seemed to brighten at the sight of him.

"Pete! Wow, how's it going? Odd seeing you out in the wild." You tease with a smile. He feels a sudden weight off of his shoulders, his previous mood somehow leaving him just from a smile. He chuckled, walking over. "Hey, and you have room to talk. I didn't think you knew what jeans were." He nods to your comfy appearance. He liked it better, you looked… at peace.

You roll your eyes a bit, going back to looking at the candy. "I just prefer to be taken seriously at work is all. Anyway, what are you up to?" You ask, picking up a box of (favorite candy), looking up at him. You raise an eyebrow when you notice his shoulders visibly slump a bit.

"Woah, what's up man? Shoot." A phrase you two used a lot at work whenever you're working on a story together, and one of you had an idea, one of you always said shoot. It was a good way of acknowledging and accepting each other and the help that you had to offer. He laughed at this, shaking his head. It seemed he wasn't in a good place to talk about it. So you decided to go to a different place instead then.

"Alright… well, I was about to go bowling, maybe get a drink and a bite to eat. And you know, I'd HATE to bowl alone…" you trail off, hoping he'd pick up what you're laying out before him. He did, thankfully. "You know, I once won a trophy for being a bowling state champion." He grins, hooding his eyes. "Really?" You smile. "Nah. But let's go help me practice anyway." He begins walking, holding the door open for you. You set down your candy, deciding against buying it, and roll your eyes at him again.

You had of course, tied at bowling, you not expecting him to actually be good. You still joke about going easy on him while you're both eating burgers at what appeared to be both of your guys' favorite burger places. Talking about anything and everything, more so now that you're outside of work. You'd been sitting patiently listening to him finally explain his whole situation with MJ and Harry.

"And she tells me that all I do is work, and I get too tired to even talk anymore. Well, you'd be tired too if you had to do the things I have to do all the time!" He grumbles, biting into his burger. You nod along, picking a fry from his plate, having finished yours already. "You're right-" "Thank you!!" He cuts you off, taking a sip of his root beer. "Let me finish, Goofy." You smirk, "You do work a lot, almost as much as me. Hell, who knows how late you have to stay out to get those exclusive interviews with Spiderman and whatnot." You speak while pulling a straw out of your milkshake, licking it off. An action Peter stares at blankly, but ignores once you keep talking. "But didn't you say that you used to be practically in love with her in high school? Hell, you're not even gonna be going to college anymore like you'd originally planned with her. You've been working quite a lot lately, true, but don't you think she's more worried?" You point a fry at him, popping it into your mouth.

He seems to think about for a second, pondering. "You have a point." He agrees, realizing what you're getting at. "I always do." You smile smugly, winking. He finishes his burger, and you guys pay for your food. The walk back feels nice, like you both had just gotten a good breakthrough on a story, almost. Except this seemed more personal, comfier. You joke back and forth, the topic of a certain hero coming up.

"You know, you should introduce me to Spiderman sometime. He's kinda cute." The words make him freeze for a moment, but you're still walking. He catches up quickly. "WOAH, what- huh, I, uh. Woah. You think?" He pesters, making you laugh, nodding. "Are you kidding? He's a HERO. Plus, reading the interviews with him is one of my favorite parts of my days. He seems like such a good character in general. Naturally, he's just my type. And those tights-" He chokes on his own spit, sputtering at your words. He suddenly felt very warm, flattered extremely.

You smile at him, laughing as he gathered his senses. "Oh really, huh? You like the costume? You don't think it's corny?" He questions, extremely interested in your response. "Corny? More like it makes me Horny, dear God that ass-" "AHAHAHA WOW OKAY!! MOVING ON." He is entirely red now, his heart thumping so loudly in his ears now. And all you do is laugh hysterically, enjoying this response.

"Awe, what's wrong? Don't like me talking about your best friend like that?" You tease, smiling at the redness of his ears. "N-no, I mean, uh-" he coughs, regaining his composure. "It's just th-that… He'd like to hear that, every now and then. I-I mean, I guess." He smiles, almost proudly. You smile with him. "Well good. Something tells me he needs to hear it. Welp, anywho-" you step onto a step leading up to an apartment building. "This is me. I had a good time to night, I really needed it. I'm sure you did too." You smile at him.

The statement makes him realize, yeah, he did need that. Before he knows it, he's engulfing you in a quick side hug, almost awkward, but still comforting. His body warping your own from his size, you never truly noticed until now how large he is in comparison to you. "Yeah… I did. Anyway, see ya tomorrow, Stink." He flashes a smile at you before walking away.

You watch him as he goes, feeling something tugging at your chest. You look away quickly, shaking it off.

You felt it a lot, you'd come to find. Any time you guys hung out, anytime there was another fight, and it of course grew the more you were with him. It was always a feeling you welcomed, rather than shied away from or shut out. Call it being oblivious, or call it being hopeful. You never really wanted to pinpoint it. The only time you'd felt yourself question it was about 3 weeks after their breakup about 2 years after that night. You had been checking up on him, and he was still sulking in bed. You were rubbing his back, telling jokes and trying to cheer him up, telling him about different things from work that you know would cheer him up, and something finally, finally, had chipped into that sad and pathetic look in his eyes, and he had finally smiled. Leaning his head on your shoulder, mumbling a thank you, constant apologies spilling from his lips. You had always shushed him when he got like this, but the weight of him on you, that warmth of his body, had caused something to flutter within your chest. It was then you started acknowledging, started allowing that feeling to take a hold of you. You didn't think it would consume you entirely, and you didn't really care then. All you cared about was that he had smiled

[27-royal-teas]

Analyzing the meaning of the song 27 when we line it up with what  we know about the 27 club

So, for context, nobody thought pete would really live past 27. the 27 club is a group of celebrities in the arts that died at age 27 (Amy Winehouse, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, etc), usually from their own self-imposed destruction. But fall out boy and their history is so inexplicably tied to this number that I absolutely had to write an essay about it. this song is a complete masterpiece in its own right and it's definitely up in my top three fob songs of all time

The song starts like this:

“if home is where the heart is then we’re all just fucked

i cant remember, i cant remember

And i want it so bad id shoot the sunshine into my veins

I cant remember the good old days”

The first line feels almost like begging. Hes wondering where he belongs, because he doesnt feel safe at home, and this song was during the time where the band was fighting a lot, and they were kind of his home as well. so if home is where the heart is and he doesnt feel safe at any of his homes, if he cant belong, then will he ever? Anywhere? A kerrang feature interviewing pete said that this song was him trying desperately to hold the band together, which is expressed with this first opening line (“if home is where the heart is then we’re all just fucked”). Clearly he is clinging on with a single thread, and this was shown when the band went on hiatus not long after.

‘And i want it so bad id shoot the sunshine into my veins’ obviously a drug reference, of being so desperate that youd do anything to get the good feeling back, and here it is linked to ‘i cant remember the good old days’ because it feels almost like a desperate kind of longing. this might relate to the line ‘you were the sunshine of my lifetime’ which repeats multiple times through fob’s eighth studio album, So Much (for) Stardust. In the context that this is referring to a person (anyone, but likely patrick; pete keeps his lyrics vague for a reason) it would be overexposing yourself to something that gives you temporary happiness but in the long run can kill you. hm just something to consider but i know they probably didnt plan that far ahead lyricwise lol

“And it’s kind of funny,

The way we’re wearing anchors on our shirts

When being anchored aboard just feels like a curse”

A lot of folie is actually linked to this sort of nautical theme (what a catch especially) and i think this references ‘they say the captain goes down with the ship’ because anchors are usually on nautical themed shirts or the shirts of sailors, but pete is saying he hates being tied down to the ‘ship’ which can be interpreted as the band maybe possibly. either way hes definitely pointing out the irony of wearing something that symbolizes stability when he is DEFINITELY not stable (who ever looked at pete wentz and thought ‘this man is stable’?) (i digress)

then comes the chorus. i love this chorus so fucking much it is interpretation goldddd

“My mind is a safe, and if i keep it then we all get rich

my body is an orphanage, we take everyone in

doing lines in dust and sweat

on last night’s stage 

just to feel like you” 

ok so obviously petes referring to his mind as the safe because hes the one who makes the lyrics and thus hes the one who earns the band the profit. Its a safe because he is inscrutable. It is also a safe because he only takes out what he wants, and only he has the key. ‘My body is an orphanage, we take everyone in’ COULD refer to how hes kind of promiscuous but more than that fall out boy was known for being the band that didnt really care who their fans were. They were marketed towards teenage girls and for that they were looked down upon. His body could be a metaphor for the band itself, and taking everyone in could mean that they accept the people that other bands dont typically want as fans. 

‘Doing lines in dust and sweat on last night’s stage just to feel like you” this is a reference to the 27 club, and refers to stars doing drugs to be able to function/feel normal and human again. Idk. i just really like this line its so great

“The m-m-milligrams in my head burning tobacco in the wind

Chasing the direction, chasing the direction you went”

Im going to break this verse in half specifically because patrick fucking does NOT ENUNCIATE and also its long (how many times did i think ‘and youre a bottled star’ was ‘and you’re a bathroom stall’ rip)

The milligrams and the tobacco are pretty self explanatory- more drugs. 27 club connections via the drugs. burning tobacco gives way to the vision of trying to cling on to a high with desperation, and he’s chasing it- chasing the direction it went. 

“youre a bottled star, the planets align, youre just like mars

You shine in the sky, you shine in the sky”

pete uses a TON of star and sky metaphors in his writings, this song included. A bottled star would mean a person who is repressing their talent. It could also mean a celebrity who is drowning their problems in liquor. Mars is the roman god of war and often a symbol of masculinity (although im not sure how relevent the second part is). It means raw, unbridled energy. here pete is saying (in his vague, vague writing voice ://) that when the person he is talking about drinks, they lose all control and are pretty much unstoppable. drawing this to the 27 club, a lot of the members died by alcohol or drug abuse, so it makes sense.

The use of star and sky metaphors throughout this song really bring it home- yes, the stars may be bright and pretty, they might shine and sparkle, but at the end of the day they will burn away and self combust. So we have to hold it together if we want to keep our own worlds in once piece. 

“Are all the good times getting gone

they come and go and go and and come and go, oh yeah

ive got a lot of friends who are stars but some are just black holes”

For this verse lets work our way backwards. more space and star metaphors. stars clearly refers to his friends in the industry, but black holes could mean they have an almost deafening energy, or are on their way to becoming a part of the 27 club itself. The good times coming and going represents the sort of panic thats felt in the entertainment industry as a whole; the competition against time itself, for fear that when youre old people wont want to know what you have to say. So often the people who act and sing are so unbearably young, and once they pass thirty two they arent marketable anymore. pete is putting to words the worry and the scramble to get things done- to make a name for yourself- before your time is up. And AGAIN relating to the number 27, its quickly approaching 30, so you better move fast if you want to become famous. 

The rest of the verses from here are just chorus repeats, so let’s talk about how tangled fall out boy is with the number twenty seven. other than the 27 club, what’s so important about it? It’s not a prime number. Theres really nothing out of the ordinary about it. 

Except, there is. 

Everyone celebrated when pete made it past his 27th birthday. In 2011, patrick wrote his Confessions of a Pariah blog post. He and joe were both 27 at the time, and i think that might have been a deciding factor in what inspired pete to reach out. He didn’t want his best friend to give into depression, much less when he was 27. 

The band got together again not long after that. the first track off Save Rock and Roll, My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark, dropped February 5th, 2013. The rest is pretty much history. 

I don’t know. All speculation. But the number 27 is definitely linked with fall out boy, although it’s not relevant right now, and i just think its so damn interesting

[14th-century-verona-queer]

Y’all are really sleeping on Fall Out Boy

I’ve been listening to the same songs.

The SAME.

SONGS.

For so many years. YEARS I TELL YOU!!

and I have NEVER gotten tired of a SINGLE song.

(The only album i wont listen to is MANIA just cause I didnt like the first song and knew I wouldn’t like the rest of the album based on that..you can hate me for that but its just my opinion ok?)

they hit so hard every, single, fucking, TIMEEE.

Ik that they’re a popular band but i dont think i know a SINGLE fall out boy fan besides myself and my sibling tbh and its sadd and honestly it shows

They may be famous but in my heart they deserve more love

LIKE WHERE ARE THE REST OF THE YOUNGBLOODS??

Forget Taylor Swift, let me hear Fall Out Boy (no hate to Swifites, y’all are allowed to love her this is not a jab)

Like Pete Wentz?? Is such??? A lyrical genius???

Listening to Golden has me on my fucking KNEES feeling like I am cleansed and purified and lit on fire from the inside out.

Like.

“AND I SAWWW GOD CRY IN THE REFLECTION OF MY ENEMIESSSSSS

AND ALL THE LOVERS WITH NO TIME FOR ME

AND ALL OF THE MOTHERS RAISE THEIR BABIES

TO STAY AWAY FROM ME”

DYING CRYING VOMITING MURDERING KICKING MY FEET SOBBING CLEANSED BAPTIZED

Or the entirety of the from under the cork tree album bro. THAT SHITS SO GOODDD

“The best part of believe is the lie, i hope you sing along and you steal a line, i need you to keep you like this in my mind.

SO GIVE INN OR JUST GIVE UUUUUUUUUUUUUP”

YOU CANNOT TELL ME.

THAT THAT DOESNT HIT SO FUCKING HARD.

And Patrick Stump is such a cutie patootie

And let’s not forget Joe or Andy!! My underrated Kings!! I wanna see more Joe and Andy love!!

They’ve been at this for like more than 20 years atp and i still hear almost nobody talking about them and literally they just release BANGER AFTER BANGER AFTER BANGER.

THE ENTIRETY OF THEIR PAX AM DAYS EP?? CHEFS KISS I WANNA HAVE THAT EP IN MY FUCKING VEINS YET I HEAR NOBODY TALKING ABOUT IT?? EVER??

Even their new album fucking SLAPS. I would kind of want them to return a bit to their old sound but i looove the orchestral shit they’ve got going on rn, and they actually get to write the stuff they wanna write

All the new songs from SM(F)SD SLAP AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. TAKE IT UP WITH MY LAWYERS. ITS A GREAT ALBUM.

(i was listening to Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year and Tiffany Blews while writing this)