#I HAD SUCH A. VISCERAL REACTION WATCHING THIS WHOLE MATCH

[likesummerrainn]

IMPACT Bound For Glory | 10.21.23

[whumpofalltime]

whump of all time

SEMIFINALS!

Find links and propaganda under the cut. Quarterfinalist and later match-ups are untagged, so your votes and reblogs matter!

Once Upon A Time:

(gifset 1, gifset 2)

"There's blood, wounds, captivity, bondage, a slow-dipping-mechanism, a big rescue, and excellent acting by Colin O'Donoghue - who delivers the tiniest whimper and the most delectable of trembles for our whump-loving eyes to devour!" ~ @killian-whump

"[...] Killian was BROKEN. Absolutely and heart-wrenchingly devastated. He was tortured within an inch of his life (… or death, I guess) and practically left to slowly drop into a pit of eternal despair.

Killian was not easy to break. He would get injured and get back up with a sneer and an "I'm alright love you should see the other guy".

But to reach that point? The point of telling Emma she should have kept herself safe instead of saving him from this torment, to hold on to her like she was his lifeline, to SMILE that small smile from the first bit of hope he'd gotten since he ended up there?

The relief upon watching this episode for the first time was visceral. For two episodes we knew Hook was being tortured, we saw him try and fail to limp to safety, we saw his resolve and defiance desperately hold on, we saw him accept his fate, we saw him preferring to be tortured further than hurt his friends… And then he got saved! And he had no witty comeback, no effort to hide his pain. He just fucking collapsed in the arms of his beloved, of his saviour, and held on for a moment to realize that it was real, she was there, he was finally safe.

Add to that some amazing, jaw-dropping, emotional acting by Colin O'Donoghue, how can you get any better than that?

Anyway vote for ouat. Because this whole torture mini arc existing is probably what caused a chain reaction of me understanding and accepting I love whump, so. I wouldn't be here torturing blorbos if it weren't for it 🤣" @piracytheorist

"god tier acting" ~ @caliburn-the-sword

The Young Blood Chronicles (Save Rock and Roll's music videos, Fall Out Boy):

(link)

"Everyone gets bloodied, bruised, beaten up, tortured, rescued, limbs are amputated - it's brutal. Alone Together is particularly strong."

sorry for being late, but you want YBC propaganda? then you're getting YBC propaganda. I know you're a FOB fan, but I will be writing this for the benefit of those who don't know what YBC is, for better propaganda purposes! and yeah this is gonna be LONG. sorry.

So! The Youngblood Chronicles (shortened to YBC) is a series of 11 music videos made by the band Fall Out Boy, for their album Save Rock And Roll (you know this album, it's the one with My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark on it). The whole thing is quite short, less than fifty minutes long (even shorter if you don't count the uncut version's credits!!), and every single music video has some element of whump in it. This propaganda is gonna break down each individual music vid, and at i'll also talk a little bit about the irl context the album was written in, and why even THAT can be a little bit whumpy if you're insane like me!

(note: i'm going in the original release order over the uncut order, hence why i'm starting with MSKWYDITD instead of The Phoenix)

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark: Arguably the least whump-y out of all of them, but man, seeing all of Fall Out Boy's discography and memorabilia be burnt while people are dancing around the destruction? Man, when you know the real life stuff (the reception the band had in 2009, leading to them to take a three year hiatus)... and at the end, you see four guys bound in the back of a van!! And that van is getting burnt!! Burn everything you love and burn the... ashes.

The Phoenix: NOW here's the first of MANY whump tastes you'll get. Patrick Stump, the singer/cutie of the band, gets kidnapped, tied to a chair, has his hand CHOPPED OFF and mailed to his bandmate/best friend Pete Wentz, then gets tied down and utterly tortured by women who are laughing at his misery the entire time, getting prodded and stabbed by tools for... well, you'll see. By the end of the video, Pete and the other two members of FOB (Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley) have been kidnapped by these mysterious women too, with Pete specifically getting kidnapped by the blonde woman he was in bed with when Patrick's hand got delivered to him. If you enjoy cute boys getting tied down, covered in blood, and writhing around like worms while getting tortured... well you'll enjoy all of YBC but specifically you'll enjoy this!! I did :D! The war is won, before it's begun, release the doves, surrender love...

Young Volcanoes: Good news, FOB has been reunited! Bad news, by the women who dismembered Patrick! And now all the band members are tied to chairs, hooked up to IVs full of god knows what types of drugs, and blindfolded (all except Patrick). They are then forced to drink, snort hard drugs, and are force fed Patrick's organs! Yep, all four of them are forced to eat their lead singer's guts, and are so fucking drugged up they don't even realize what's happening (and now you know what the women were doing to him in the last mv, and you even get a nice little shot of the hack job of stitching him back up)!! Patrick hallucinates everyone having fun, but of course, at the end, all of them are knocked out because of the drugs. Americana, exotica, do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby?

Alone Together: This is the song the OG propaganda mentioned, and for good reason. All four of them are shipped off into little personalized torture rooms, and, well, tortured! Pete is able to break out and even steals the hook from the girl who was torturing him, but little does he know that'll be his own undoing... also, in general, this song has some whumpy elements, specifically the line "my heart is like a stallion/they love it more when it's broke-in"... but notice how easy it is to hear "broke-in" as "broken"! At the end of the video, Pete is at least able to find Patrick (Joe and Andy have NOT been having a good time, either!! But sadly, they aren't found by Pete, but Pete DOES find Big Sean), and is even able to attach the hook to the stump (ha!) where his hand used to be. But something is clearly wrong with Patrick now. His eyes are yellow, and as the song ends, we hold on him, sneering and twitching. This is the road to ruin - and we're started at the end...

The Mighty Fall: First off if you say this is the worst song off of SRAR I will hunt you for sport. OKAY ANYWAYS, chronologically this comes after MSKWYDITD, and yeah, the four guys are the members of FOB. Pete is able to free himself with Patrick's new hook hand, and is able to get the other three out while Pete is hacking up a lung from the fire they just barely escaped. But they're not done getting their shit rocked yet. A gang of children show up (the leader being the kid Patrick waved at right before he was kidnapped back in the Phoenix MV), and proceed to separate them and beat the living shit out of them. The leader kid who's chasing Patrick plays something on a boombox... which triggers Patrick to go yellow-eyed again (from here on out i'll call it "going Youngblood" or "Youngblood self"). It was confirmed in the commentary track that ANY music would cause him to go Youngblood. And knowing Patrick IRL fucking loves to create/compose music... yeah! Take something he loves and turn it into something that drives him insane!! I'm normal!! And also the irl parallel you could draw to his solo career doing the same thing to him (on a less uh Dramatic level but you know)!!! Ouch!!!! Big Sean is able to save Patrick, but at the cost of his own life (and a killer rap verse... HELL YEAH I'M A DICK GIRL, ADDICTED TO YOU). Oh, how the mighty fall in love...

Just One Yesterday: The last vestiges of comfort you're gonna get for a WHILE. The four are separated, getting even more beaten up, Pete vomits up a snake, Andy gets his shit rocked by a homeless guy, Joe has to use white sheets as a makeshift tourniquet bc his leg got fucked up in The Mighty Fall MV, and Patrick is picked up by a kind stranger (hi Foxes! you have a very pretty voice! PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL!). And finally, finally we get a hope spot. Fall Out Boy is reunited (the part where Andy just grabs onto Patrick's arm, in disbelief they're both alive... augh!!! AUGH!!!!), and for a moment, it seems they've been delivered to a hospital... before Foxes' eyes go completely black, looking at Patrick... and turns on the radio. She's able to trigger the Youngblood. And now Patrick is gone. The other three scramble into the hospital, Patrick not far behind, determined to kill them to stop the noise in his head. If Heaven's grief brings Hell's reign, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday...

Where Did The Party Go: Patrick, now fully consumed by the Youngblood brainwashing, is now stalking his bandmates in a hospital. Patrick is seeing visions of the hospital as an abandoned party, Andy has to painfully disinfect the wounds he's gotten, Pete is able to call for the police, and Joe... oh, poor Joe. He barricades himself into a room, but not well enough. Patrick finds him, and kills him, slitting his throat with the hook hand, showing no remorse at all... until Andy and Pete find them. The Youngblood wears off, and Patrick looks to what he's done, and is horrified at what he's done to his friend. And, bad news for him, the police are here, ready to arrest the murderer. All Andy and Pete can do is watch as tears roll down Patrick's eyes. And for the extra IRL context, this was the first song written for the album that made Pete and Patrick realize they had to get FOB back together... so lets match that with a music video where the member who helped get the band together in the first place dies. By the hands of the kid he found. Let's fade away together, one dream at a time...

Death Valley: Joe gets... uh, a little comfort? I mean, he thinks he's getting sent to heaven but goes to hell, buuuuut I think doing drugs in rock and roll hell with Tommy Lee is actually a pretty sweet deal, better than the deal the other three got! Pete and Andy are being interrogated while Patrick is in a jail cell. We find out that the cult that kidnapped them, Silence the Noise, is lead by Pete's girlfriend from WAAAAY back in the Phoenix MV, Courtney Love. And at the end of the MV... Patrick is bailed out of jail by Silence the Noise. They have him again. And this time, they're not gonna let him walk out until he's fully under their control. 'Cause tonight it's just fire alarms and losing you...

Rat a Tat: Silence the Noise has Patrick, and they utterly brainwash him, A Clockwork Orange style, with electroshock stimulation to keep him from looking away or closing his eyes, until there is nothing left. Patrick Stump does not exist anymore. Only the Youngblood, pliant under the control of Silence the Noise, tasked to destroy what he once loved; music. Andy dies at the hands of the cult, and now Pete has to protect a briefcase, the thing that got them into this mess, and keep it away from Silence the Noise, all while his best friend hunts him down. Are you ready for another bad poem?

Miss Missing You: THE WHUMPIEST OF THE WHUMP. What if we were best friends but you've been driven insane and I know the only way to stop you is to kill you and it was my fault you got into this mess and I was the one who gave you the weapon that will be my own undoing. What if we both died at the same time. What if we died, both of us failing the mission we had before us. What if that was a reference to one of their first music videos. What if this song was originally written for Patrick's solo album but he realized it was more of a Fall Out Boy song so it was scrapped until now. What if there's a legit argument to be made that half the lyrics for this song was written by Patrick. What if we were both boys. Grips walls, yeha i'm normal. If you don't watch ANY other music vid, watch Miss Missing You. Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger. The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger.

Save Rock And Roll: And our final track gives us a final bit of comfort. Patrick is able to overcome the Youngblood, and gets into heaven, where all of FOB is finally, finally reunited. God (aka Elton John) gives them new instruments and brings them back to earth, so they can do what they love; play music together. Which just so happens to release people from the control of Silence the Noise! But, because we can't have nice things, a cult within Silence the Noise got a hold of the briefcase, and summoned a spirit that starts to kill everyone. FOB stands together, and blasts the evil spirit, the blood coming up to the gates of heaven and covering Elton John in it. And... that's how it ends. No true resolution. Just Elton John covered in blood, as the song fades out. Oh, no! Wherever I go, go! Trouble seems to follow! I only plugged in to save rock and roll!

UH. AGAIN I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LENGTH. but i really wanted to express just how much WHUMP they manage to fit into less than fifty minutes, all backed by an amazing album colored by the three years they were apart. colored by how they grew, colored by how bad the hiatus was for Patrick specifically, colored by how Confessions of a Pariah got Pete to reach out to help him, and this album came out of it, Fall Out Boy came back out of it, and now here we are, ten years later, with the title track being performed every night for their concert, with all the band singing the final lines together, and the line you are what you love, not who loves you hitting every single night.

SORRY. LISTEN TO FALL OUT BOY. thanks for letting me rant.

[popodoki]

*rings bell* Come get your Catwin NSFW besties x

CONTENT WARNING DIRECTLY UNDER READ MORE

Edwin wants, and is fucked by the hilt of a rapier in this.

Boy has a strength and danger kink, and the Cat King swinging a rapier around with ease is doing things to him, mostly to his dick lbr.

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The whole mess was an embarrassment, one that he had never intended to share with anyone, let alone the Cat King, his lover. There was nothing strange about a young man getting, well, excited during fencing matches, the heat of a brawl. It was a simple bodily reaction. Years spent in an all-boys school tempered much more of such kinds of shame than one might think. 

But Edwin knew better, now. Knew himself better, more specifically, though it was still far too startling to realize that all it took was the threat of violence, a proper show of strength, to leave him gasping with desire.  

He was working to control himself though, trying to at least delay his reaction to a reasonable time, not right in the middle of watching his lover take on imaginary opponents with real ease. Heart pounding, he watches that rapier flash and twirl in his lover’s firm grip, the raw power of the Cat King on display with every flex of those muscles. The glistening stretch of skin on display, toned arms, shoulders, abs. Edwin can’t imagine anyone could have resisted, could resist watching, not when it was Thomas. 

But not everyone would be hard as steel, just from watching. If Edwin had just stayed where he sat, if he hadn't drifted closer, book slipping from his hands in favour of a much more compelling sight, if he hadn’t been watching at just the right time to catch the Cat King pulling off a truly athletic spin, rapier swinging through the air in such a dramatic arc Edwin could almost viscerally imagine the scene, a terrific beast, slain by the brave strong knight. Hells. If Edwin’s hand hadn’t been down the front of his pants by the time Thomas finished his move, turning on his feet so deftly he ended in the perfect position to spot his little voyeur, they both might have been able to ignore the entire debacle. Edwin wouldn't have learned his lesson, but they wouldn't have needed to talk about his little... kink. 

Instead, Thomas now loomed over him, the tip of his rapier digging into Edwin's spread thighs as he babbled away all his deepest secret desires. 

"You really like this," Thomas drawls, dragging the tip of his silver rapier along the soft flesh of Edwin’s inner thigh. 

"Did you think I was lying? Just weaving a tale, to humiliate myself in-" Edwin cut off abruptly, as the sharp point dug in, threatening to break skin. 

"I only thought you were confused. Adrenaline can do many things to a man, not the least that." His lover looks pointedly at Edwin's cock, twitching red, hard enough that it was starting to weep lightly against his stomach. Edwin flushes, heat spreading under the skin of his cheeks, doesn't respond. There was nothing he could really say. 

"Is this what you want? Why you stay silent during practice sometimes..." He didn't finish the sentence, but Edwin knew what he was implying. His lover was always indulgent, and he could understand why Thomas might think Edwin was just looking to get a specific itch scratched. It was a kinder interpretation, than pure hedonism. 

"Not, not just this. Not just the rapier. You. You make me so reckless, I can't even stop to think- moving like you were born to dance, not just fight. I want the danger, but more than anything I want you. " 

"And my rapier." Edwin gasps as the blade rotated against his skin, twisting on its point. 

"The rapier is, um, nice, too. But you could be swinging about a dull kitchen knife, and I'd still..." Edwin gestured helplessly. Finding the words shouldn't be so difficult, but now that he had spilled the shameful part, the words just seemed to dry up in his throat. "It's never been the only thing I want. Danger is just a mindset. And not one I often indulge. Consciously, at least." He finished with a flush. He wouldn't pretend that certain memories weren't shaded a little differently, now that he understood himself better.  

But that had no bearing now. "If- if you want, we can forget all this. There's no need- If you wouldn't enjoy-" 

"No." 

"No?" 

Thomas drops the rapier into the grass, crouching down between Edwin's legs, warm, rough leather scraped hands coming down to press Edwin’s thighs down when they hitch, in response to his smirk. "No. Do you know how many times I've stroked myself, fed only by memories of your pleasure? Thinking of you, with your layers undone, your mouth hanging open, dripping with spit, as you gasped out your pleasure, at my hands, my actions?" 

"Yes, Edwin. Yes." Thomas nods at him, persuading, smooths both his hands down creamy thighs, over the faint red scratches left by the silver rapier. "I can't forget this, even if I wanted to, Ghostie. I know it now. Your desires, your wants." The way he whispers it, makes Edwin feel like a meal, one that Thomas had full intentions of devouring. He licks his lips, clenches his hands, nervously. Thomas looks over his body, assessing, calculating, and Edwin knows he’s not found wanting. 

A warm calloused hand travels down, down. Edwin groans along with the Cat King when a thumb probes behind his balls, presses a stripe down his taint and slips between his ass cheeks. "Edwin. You're already wet? Is this what you did, when I told you I was going outside, going to work out? Did you plan on losing control, filling yourself with your fingers, thinking of my stretches, thinking of fencing practice?" 

"N-no, I just thought, ah-" Edwin wiggles, "If I was... satisfied, I might be able to control myself." 

Thomas smirks so wide at that, it stretches his cheeks. "How wrong you were," he murmurs, pushing his thumb more firmly against Edwin's hole, sliding easily inside with the layer of slick, “to think mere fingers were going to satisfy you. To think that I, your lover, your king, would leave you unsatisfied.” If Edwin had known all it would take was a smidge of embarrassment, he might have revealed his little problem a lot sooner, as it is, his hands clutch and tear handfuls of grass, as his lover summons a little jar of lubricant in his one hand, and reaches for the rapier lying close with the other. Seeing the glinting hilt in his lover’s hand made it all much more real, intense in a way Edwin had never experienced before. His lover has barely touched him, already Edwin feels like he's wavering right on the edge. Unbidden, he lifts his legs, bends his knees and presses them close to his chest, the motion bringing his throbbing cock into slapping contact with his stomach, dribbling more precum with each little jerk as his breathing needlessly picks up. From between his trembling thighs, he watches as Thomas drizzles the lubricant over the rapier’s hilt, until it’s dripping, excess splashing onto the grass.  

Edwin nearly chokes on his groan, clenching down almost in anger at the intrusion of fingers instead of the hard unyielding pressure of the rapier. His lover tuts and coos at him in equal measure. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this properly, Ghostie. I’m not hurting you, I’m giving you everything you want, need, and more, okay?” Edwin grunts, bears down on the fingers as they move and spread him, slowly opening him just that bit further. His lover waits until his moans turn sharp, and Edwin near sobs in a mix of relief and anticipation when the Cat King’s fingers leave, and are replaced by steel. 

His teeth nearly draw blood, as Thomas presses relentlessly forward, just how he needs. The hilt so much, all at once, that for a moment all Edwin can feel is the harshness of the burn, his legs starting to tense, pull taut. But he knows he can take it, welcomes the hint of pain, as a promise for the pleasure to come. It stretches him like nothing else Edwin has taken before. Thomas handles the rapier just as well as he always does, angling it just right to push past any lingering resistance from Edwin's body, until the wide round length of steel was seated all the way inside him. 

"Good?" 

Edwin squeezes his legs tighter to his chest, clenching his fists in tandem to their trembles, knowing that if he relaxed for even an instant, he could hurt himself even on this side of the rapier. The thought just made his cock throb harder, tip smearing precum across his stomach, sending sparks through his veins. The danger of the weapon now splitting him, made the feeling hit twice as hard. 

"Edwin. Feeling good, doing okay?" 

"Good! I'm good, promise! More, please, I-" Edwin cuts off with a punched-out moan. At his begging, Thomas shoved the hilt the rest of the way inside, in one smooth motion. Edwin's back arches off the ground, his vision whiting out as he took it all. He nearly comes right there. It's so deep inside him, he swears he can taste steel in the back of his throat. 

His lover waits patiently for Edwin to relax again, watching intently, as the blade of the rapier jerks, moved by Edwin’s body clenching rhythmically around the hilt. If he could spare the focus through the onslaught of sensations, Edwin might even feel the cool steel of the guard nestled in between his cheeks, in contrast to the blazing hot handle now deep inside him, warm from Thomas's hand. He sucks in another deep breath, his knuckles almost white, where his grass-stained fingers dig into the dirt. 

By the time Edwin could feasibly speak again, if he tried, if he had anything else to offer aside from pleas, his lover’s already moving, sliding the hilt in and out of him, in powerful thrusts. The ridges of the handle drag against his rim, catching just enough to twinge. Edwin moans and whines, helpless to do anything else, as Thomas's sharp movements, the power in those toned muscles he so admired earlier, make him skid across the ground. 

Every time his lover adjusts his grip, slowing down for just a moment, checking, changing the angle just enough, he still manages to hit that perfect spot deep inside. Edwin sees stars, an entire universe dancing behind his eyelids, behind his closed eyes. At any moment, Thomas could miscalculate, fumble, his slick hands slipping on the handle, wrist cramping from the repetitive movement. Just an instant was all it would take, to injure Edwin, but his lover was perfect. Thomas gave him everything he needed. The threat, the weapon, and the inhuman strength and skill to pull it off. Such a strong, noble knight. A King. Fucking him with a rapier cause Edwin got hard at the sight of his abs. Edwin's laugh catches in his throat as Thomas rolls his wrist, the hilt dragging against his walls. Hells, he was going to combust before he came, from the intensity of it all. 

It's building, rapidly, below his stomach, his cock keeps twitching across his skin, smearing slick everywhere. Edwin reaches down, wipes his hand absently on his rumpled shirt, to try to grip his cock in a semi-clean palm. Thomas veritably hisses at him, slamming the hilt into him, hard enough to knock the breath out of his chest, making his point, without a single word. 

That display is all Edwin needs. He keens, his legs jerking in the air as he comes. The intensity makes his head spin, disorienting and euphoric at the same time, everything crashing down around him. His balls tighten, thick white spurts paint his stomach. Edwin's mouth hangs open, as he pants, his hair stuck to his forehead with the slick of his sweat. 

Vaguely, Edwin registers his lover carefully working the hilt free, amid the last weak clenches of his ass, as he recovers from his violent orgasm. Edwin moans softly, exhausted, as the wide hilt twinges one last time at his rim, sprawling out his legs and limbs as soon as it’s safe to do so. When he feels like he could actually sit up without getting dizzy, Edwin does so, reaches for his lover’s hips, eager to return the favour in whatever way he can. A slick palm catches his, preventing Edwin from touching the tantalizing stretch of bare skin that can still tempt an interested twitch from his soft cock. Edwin whines in the back of his throat. That can't be right. 

"But don't you want-" 

Thomas rolls his eyes, pointedly, the moment Edwin’s pleading eyes search and find his, not releasing Edwin’s hand. "For such a brilliant detective, you’re a bit of an idiot some times, Ghostie." he says, with a little reproachful growl. And a generous dusting of pink across his cheeks, Edwin can’t help but note, as his hand is tugged, pulled firmly to his lover’s crotch.  

Oh. 

Edwin looks up at Thomas, with wide eyes, registering a real red blush now across the Cat King’s face. Thomas had enjoyed himself. Immensely. The wet spot beneath his palm is unmistakable. Edwin himself hadn't come untouched since he was a teenager, more hormones than blood running through his veins. And now Edwin had- had provoked it, just by giving in to his own desires.  

"Well," he says, trying and failing not to let a grin break across his face. "Seems like this has made for some good memories, for the both of us." 

[aslongasimhereyoureinvincible]

haikyuu!! the dumpster battle ramblings

saw it earlier today and am going to see it again tomorow with a friend, am very Full Of Thoughts, if u dont wont spoilers for the movie well take this as your warning ig

okay first of all the sound direction, the sound direction was INSANELY good

this is absolutely a movie that needs to be experienced in cinema, the soundscape of tokyo gymnasium and the karasuno v nekoma match felt so vividly real it was like i was at an actual game

the soundtrack was great too, i mean it always is w/ hayashi yuuki

there were i think two tracks that used the leitmotif from 'above', good shit

the animation was also really great, overall it didnt look massively better than season 4 of the anime

which is fine, season 4 looked great imo (minus that outsourced episode)

but holy shit when the sakuga hit it hit HARD

tsukki and lev blocking, kageyama doing his thing, kenma and kuroo's quick, there were lots of really great sakuga moments

they also reused some shots from earlier on in the anime and idk maybe thats 'lazy' or whatever but i liked it, it was very nostalgic :')

they did re-animate and i think re-voice hinata and kenma's first meeting tho, framing it from kenma's POV, loved that

i think my favourite sakuga shot had to be hinata and kenma with the knives at each other's throats tho, that ate

not sure how i didnt know about this before hand but it made perfect sense to me when i saw studio trigger in the end credits, some of the sakuga, esp the blocking, had a bit of that trigger flair to it

so obviously they werent gonna fit in everything from the manga, and the movie definitely had kenma as its focus, but i think overall they did a decent job in picking and chosing what to cut

the one thing im annoyed about is the removal of old coach ukai and coach nekomata's backstory, i really i think it makes the handshake at the end of the game hit that much harder

other than that tho i dont think the movie suffered from not adapting everything in the manga, i mean obviously i wouldve LIKED it, but i dont think the movie NEEDED it to be a good movie

it very much felt like kenma was the main character of the movie, and the main focus, with kuroo and hinata as his deuteragonists

which i liked!!! i think framing the match from kenma's POV for the most part makes sense, and its fun to spend more time in outsider POVs of karasuno

rlly loved the adaptation of kuroo and kenma's childhood flashback, im pretty sure kaji yuuki voiced kid kenma too

watching their friendship grow and seeing them play togther now as high schoolers, AUGH RIGHT IN THE FEELS

theres also a montage of kid kuroo barging into kenma's room to demand they go play volleyball together that ends on kuroo doing so whilst kenma's changing/putting on trousers which was rlly funny and silly

the stuff with kuroo and tsukki was so good too

'thanks to everyone, occasionally it's fun', 'thank god i wasnt wrong', 'he's a man who walks ahead of me'

AUUUGHHHHHH IT WAS SO GOOD :')

the scene that completely stole my breath away though was kageyama setting the open toss to hinata

i know ive already lost my mind over the whole 'threat of trust' thing and truly, the inarizaki match goes insane with that concept i will always adore it

but holy shit that scene smacked me over the head, HARD, with the concept of 'setting as a love language'

i just... i literally dont even have words for it it was SO amazingly good, i legitimately teared up in the cinema

speaking of other great scenes;

'stay interesting, 'kay?'

OHHHHH GODDDDDDDDDD

they did it perfectly

the music and the soundscape completely cutting out, the background whiting out so its just kenma and the net, kaji yuuki's delivery of the line

it genuinely felt like something out of a horror movie, it was creepy, and unsettling, and PERFECT

also;

hinata's reaction after kenma collapses and says 'that was fun'

murase ayumu's delivery was so VISCERAL, dude got in that booth and CHEERED

you really felt hinata's sheer utter come through in that little scene, same with kuroo's incredulous laugh

the end of the match was slightly a mixed bag for me

on the good hand;

having done from kenma's first person POV was cool, i dont think haikyuu's ever really done that before, and it looked awesome

cutting back on the music and background soundscaping so we just focus on kenma's breathing and the sound of the ball/players jumping/shoes squeaking etc was a great way to really immerse the viewer in the scene, and put us inside kenma's head

on the bad hand;

it was anticlimatic, and i KNOW the whole point of the end of the match is that its anticlimatic,

but i had always imagined the scene with dramatic swelling music and the characters running frantically, only for it to all cut away when the ball slips and all you can hear is kenma's 'ah-' and there'd be a close-up of his facial expression

the stage play did a very similar thing and it worked EXTREMELY well imo

instead by doing it in the first person POV and already not having music it just,,, didnt feel quite as impactful as it shouldve imo??

like the match points for the seijoh, shiratorizawa, or inarizaki matches were done really dramatically

and i know the whole point is that the nekoma match is kinda an outlier in that it ends in that anticlimatic way with the ball slipping, and theres that big beat with hinata calling out 'nice serve' to tanaka before the realisation sets in that theyve won, but jusstttt

idk like it certainly wasnt BAD, i still DEEPLY DEEPLY enjoyed it, but just personally if i'd been the director i wouldve done it differently

also!! because it was from his first person POV we didnt get to see kenma's face on the 'idiot! the ball hasn't dropped yet!!!' line, which was pretty disapointing ngl i rlly love that scene how it is in the manga

ok enough complaining tho back to the infinite list of stuff i loved about the movie

the camera work! good god the camera work was so fucking cool

it really made the space of the gymnasium feel 3d and real, the way the camera would move over and through the net with the ball helped emphasise the physicality of the players and the court

i know jack shit about cinematography but yeah, after the sound design the camera work was prolly the best thing

the post credits scene was great!! daishou trying and failing to neg kuroo cracks me up every damn time

and the set up for the kamomedai match was so hype

speaking of; the very vague forshadowing for hinata's fever of him having flushed cheeks and not being all exhausted after the game like the others, auughhh my heartttt

if he isnt already, this movie will make kenma one of your top 5 haikyuu characters

seriously i love how they switched the perspective and framing so it was a bit more like kenma was the 'main character' of this match and hinata was the 'rival'

overall the movie was cool, creative, and a really clearly loving adaptation, im more than happy to be paying to see it again tmr lol

i'll probably have even more to say after seeing it a 2nd time so tune in for that ig

[rottenbrainstuff]

Haha ok I am convinced. It takes a LOT to motivate me to watch a new show, but I am so convinced by what I've seen of IWTV that I am going to give it a try tonight. I even have one single glass of red wine left for it!

The thing is: I am extremely ambivalent about this whole... what.. franchise? Series? Little coven of crying gay babies?

I was a big giant fan of the vampire chronicles in the 90s and 2000s. I really do legit love the characters that were created: I love their damage, I love how articulate Anne Rice was about describing their issues, how vampirism has fucked up each and every one of them. I loved how sensual the books were, the beautiful descriptions of everything. I found it so interesting how everything could be so sexy when it very specifically contained no sex. I loved her vampire lore, I loved her take on traditional vampires. I know sensual romantic vampires are a bit of an eye-roll these days but I feel like back in the 90s it actually was something a bit more fresh.

Interview especially had some really amazing ideas in it. I remember really loving that book.

Lestat was an interesting book but tbh she lost me a bit with some of the lore. It really put a lot of Interview into perspective though. (is Lestat's mom in this show??? She seems like a bad bitch I'd like to see pop in)

I read about half of Armand and oddly couldn't make myself finish it, or read any more of the chronicles. I actually don't even remember what happened in that book anymore.

(I had a copy of Queen of the Damned but I can’t remember if I read it or not. If I did, I don’t remember anything from the plot)

As much as I remember enjoying reading Interview, I found it increasingly hard to reconcile my enjoyment of the books with my knowledge of what a nasty person Anne Rice was, and the extremely shitty things she did in (or I guess TO) the fandom. As the books went on I found the writing style less interesting and more irritating and pretentious. I gave an attempt to start that witch coven series and was surprised by how I couldn't get into it. I tried reading her Sleeping Beauty series and got viscerally disgusted. (disgust aside, it was a shock how poorly written I thought it was) Again, her reactions to the fandom for that were bemusing as well. Her weird and personal obsession with her own characters is extremely reminiscent to me of Stephanie Meyer if she was goth instead of mormon, and it makes it difficult for me to take it all seriously sometimes.

So........ I'm in this position where I think I do genuinely like the characters and the ideas, but I intensely dislike Anne Rice and view her as generally overrated as an author, and that soured the whole series for me. But I've been seeing all these clips online and I dunno. I like what I see. It feels the characters I like were pulled out of her weird mean hands and dusted off. I like that absolutely no clips I've seen really match anything that I remember reading in the books. I like that it looks actually, unambiguously gay. I like that in almost every single clip I've seen, all the characters ever seem to be doing is screaming at each other for stupid shit. I like that it looks ridiculous and deranged. I dunno. I kinda have high hopes that with this show, I'll be able to learn how to like these characters again.

(I'm being smacked in the face btw with my age once again - so many of you mention that you never watched the old (not very good) Tom Cruise movie. If you were a teenager in the 90s I think it was impossible to have avoided it. Or is it just that my friend group was particularly strange?)

I'll pop my thoughts in here but I'll tag appropriately, so if you don't want that nonsense, you don't have to see it.

[radiowallet]

Eyes Open - Chapter 4

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: Amy and Marcus get some much needed advice. WC: 2K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, single parents, DID I MENTION THE YEARNING?

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

Part 3 >>> Part 5

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

----

“You almost kissed?”

“Yes.”

“Almost?”

Were it anyone else repeating the question to Amy so incessantly, she would have very quickly ended the conversation with a middle finger and a few choice words to match. Since Christine is her best friend, she gets handed a glass of wine instead.

“Yes, Chris,” she answers again, crossing the living room and sitting opposite her best friend, passing her one of the glasses she brought over from the kitchen. “Marcus and I almost…kissed.” 

She whispers the last word before glancing down the hallway where Harris and Millie are playing, as if they could hear the conversation over their raucous tea party or the raspy tones of Fleetwood Mac humming from her record player. Chris, for her part, does her best to look supportive, but the impact is lost with the way she tilts her head, one dark brow arching up into her hairline.

“I don’t get it though,” she settles back into the couch, pulling a well-loved throw pillow into her lap. “You go upstairs, stamp Baldwin’s papers, and then…?”

Amy gives a halfhearted shrug as she takes a sip of her wine, swallowing past the cheap white’s sting on her taste buds. “I watched the front door until he walked out.”

If she was honest, it had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. It was still burned into her memory, the way Marcus moved towards her, slow measured steps that brought them chest to chest, fingers reaching out and grasping sweetly. The whole of him, broad warmth and desperation, overwhelming her in the best way, leaning in just so and letting her have the room to take that final step. 

She can still smell his aftershave, sharp spice, and sweet citrus. Can still feel his breath, honey slow along the seam of her lips. There in the dark, dusty files and dirty lies scattered around their feet, Amy had been ready to take that next step. 

Until life, in all its ridiculous casualties, decided to intervene. 

Fucking life. 

“Smart, yes. I see. You like him. He likes you. So naturally, you watch him walk away.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” she argues back. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I…” Amy glances around helplessly before turning back to her friend. “How do I even know he likes me? I mean, he’s practically a celebrity. He could have anyone? Someone…I don’t know, a little younger, with less baggage?”

“Girl, say that one more time and I will smack you so hard you’ll forget every thought inside your head including your goddamn age.”

Amy knows she’s right. Hell, if the statement had come out of Christine’s mouth her reaction would have been twice as visceral. And in all honesty, Amy’s age didn’t bother her in the slightest. 38 years on this planet have gifted her with confidence, content in the path she carved out for herself, and for her daughter. But sometimes it was hard to ignore the deepest of insecurities, including the ones that were absolute rubbish.

“You have to say–” “I don’t have to say shit and you know it.”

Christine grabs her hand and squeezes hard, holding Amy’s attention just as tight. 

“You are a catch. A woman with a messy life, yes, but so what? It’s a good life and it seems like this man may see exactly that.”

Amy nods and frowns, refusing to succumb to tears over cheap wine and girl talk on a Wednesday night. She casts another glance down the hallway, the chatter of Harris and Millie drifting out of her daughter’s bedroom. The sound would have usually brought a smile to her face, but instead, she frowns, shifting further away from the pleasant feeling of Marcus’s breath mingled with her own until reality snaps back into place.  

“And what am I supposed to tell Harris?”

“Oh no. No, no. That excuse might have worked back when she was 2, but she’s old enough now to at least understand her mom can have a life outside of this apartment.”

Amy hums into her glass, searching for a retort to convince the other woman this was for the best, but she knows that’s too tall an order. Out of everyone in her life, Chris would know better than most. They had met years ago, their well-meaning mothers signing them both up for a single mother’s playgroup. After twenty minutes they locked eyes and nodded, before making a quick exit, landing back at Amy’s apartment where they split a box of wine while the girls babbled baby talk back and forth surrounded by Harris’s stuffed animals. 

She stands and moves towards the record player, flipping the vinyl over with practiced ease and resetting the needle. Christine doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Besides, isn’t Mr. Heroic man a single dad?”

“Missy is 16.”

“Oh, and did she come out of the womb that age? Because if she didn’t I’m pretty sure Marcus knows what it’s like to have a 7-year-old in the house.”

“You’ve made your point, Christine,” Amy concedes, moving back to the kitchen to top off her glass. 

“Good. Now,” she meets Amy where she stands in the kitchen stealing the bottle from her hands to refill her own glass. “What are you going to do about it?”

-----

“So you didn’t kiss her?”

“No.”

“You…?”

“Almost.” 

“You almost…?”

“Kissed. We almost kissed. Happy now?”

Miracle Guy rolls his head over to stare Marcus down, a short laugh snorted out between them. “Well, I would be ecstatic, except you didn’t close the deal.”

Marcus does his best to ignore the outdated statement from his friend, instead focusing on the empty building across the street. They’d been hiding out on an abandoned rooftop, the brisk night air whipping around them as they watched for any movement below. They had spent the better part of their night in silence, waiting for something - anything - to happen and after a few hours of stark silence, Miracle had broken, starting in on his favorite topic. It didn’t take long for Marcus to admit to the stolen moment in the filing room, followed, of course, by instant and painful regret.

Maybe if he changes the subject.

“Do you think we’re wrong about the pattern? Maybe they’re not coming tonight. Or they’re in a different part of the city?”

“Everything we mapped out from the case reports you stole–”

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“Fine. Borrowed. Procured. Acquired. Whatever way you spin it, there’s a distinct pattern. A new building, on a new block, on a new night. This is the only vacant building in the radius we mapped out, and they have yet to make a move on a Wednesday night. Now tell me again why you didn’t kiss her?”

Marcus listens patiently as Miracle Guy goes through each piece of information they honed in on over the past two days of research – case reports, suspicious activity, rumors, receipts, data scrubs – biting hard at the inside of his cheek when he inevitably ends right back where they started. 

“I told you, her boss interrupted us right before…” he lets his words drift off, remembering that moment in vivid detail. How beautiful Amy looked, the low light cresting elegant shadows across her features, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed, the tips of her fingers finding his own as they slowly moved closer and closer together. “Shit. I fucking hate her boss.”

“He does seem to have your number,” Miracle laughs, reaching for the bag of Cheetos sitting between them. “Think he’s sweet on her?”

“What? No, no…and even if he was, Amy doesn’t…” His words trail off one more time as paranoid panic settles deep in the pit of his stomach. Amy was confident and funny and beautiful. Any man would be an idiot not to notice, and Derek Baldwin may be many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. But if she had any interest in the other man, Marcus surely would have noticed. 

Right?

He had been so sure; her warm breath painting his lips, her voice desperate as she whispered his name, her heartbeat pulsing loud enough for him to hear it alongside his own. He hadn’t imagined any of it. So why was he suddenly so worried if she laughed at Baldwin’s jokes? If she squeezed his shoulder on bad days? If she knew how he took his coffee? How he ordered lunch? How he kissed? 

Marcus’s frown deepens and he presses up from the pavement, elbows digging into the gravel hard enough to bruise. He groans, arching his back into a stretch before falling back down to his stomach and helping himself to a handful of Cheetos. 

It isn’t lost on him how his body aches after just a few hours on the ground and he can’t help but wonder when these stakeouts became so hard. But the longer he lays here the more apparent it becomes — tight joints and a sore back, tired eyes and a strained neck — he’s old. 

“Horseshit,” Miracle Guy grumbles through a mouthful of chips, and in a fit of embarrassment, Marcus realizes he must have said that last part out loud. “You can’t be old because that would make me old.” 

“You do have to admit, these stakeouts were easier when we were in our twenties,” Marcus hums, readjusting his weight yet again, another failed attempt to ease the pain in his back. 

“Yeah, well, doesn’t mean I want to go back and be 21 again.” 

Marcus barks out an agreement, a snort of laughter following the confirmation. “Still, what if I’ve just got too much shit going on. I mean…I’ve got a teenage daughter.” 

“Doesn’t Amy have a kid?” 

“A daughter,” Marcus clarifies, smiling despite himself. “Her name is Harris.”  

“Well isn’t that something,” Miracle marvels, letting sarcasm drip down into each and every word. 

It’s annoying, despite his rather clunky way of going about it, how easily the blonde man is shooting down each and every one of Marcus’s concerns. He’s about to complain about just that when the sound of a truck catches his ear, and when he glances down to the alley below, he can see that their days of research paid off. 

“Do we move in?” 

Marcus doesn’t answer right away, instead watching quietly as three large men clamber out of the truck and move inside the building, the low mumble of their words lost beneath the puttering of the engine they left running. 

“Let’s just watch. Gather what intel we can.”

“And if it looks like we’re right?”

Again Marcus is quiet, knuckles dragging along the cold pavement, jaw ticking where he holds it too tight, eyes still trained on the truck below. Without a word, he pulls his cell from his back pocket and sends one, two texts back to back before finally giving his order. 

“If we’re right we call it in.”

------

Amy hears her phone ding from the bathroom, her toothbrush hanging from her mouth, a pore strip still stuck to her nose. She follows the sound down the hall to where it sits in the kitchen next to her and Christine’s dirty wine glasses. She figured the small mess along with the girls’ tea party/fashion show/Barbie battle melee could all wait until tomorrow to be tackled. The mess never bothers her, preferring the comfort of her home, clutter and all. 

She spits the mouthful of toothpaste in the kitchen sink while she blinks her phone awake, two messages from Marcus waiting for her. She holds her breath and counts backward from ten before letting all the air from her lungs free in one go. 

When she finally taps open the texts, equal parts confusion and affection swirl low in her belly. 

M: I was thinking about Monday.

M: Call me tomorrow?  

Barefoot in her kitchen with only the glow of the stove light keeping watch, toothpaste dripping down her chin, and hair piled into a messy bun, she taps out three letters and hits send, a secret smile turning up her cheeks.

A: Yes.

------

A/N: I can't begin to express my gratitude to everyone who has read, liked, commented, and reblogged this silly little story. It's been an absolute joy to play in this sandbox and I can't say thank you enough.

And to my ride or die -- thank you @jazzelsaur for reading every silly line about these two. ilu

[notroosterbradshaw]

Okay, gear up. I’ve got notes. Lots of them, many many of them.

You’d been gone for a while - or at least for the entire pregame coverage and first two quarters of the Alabama/Tennessee game that Bradley had been watching. He had timed his shower to fit in during halftime, not knowing exactly how long it took someone to get their hair blown out.

Sprung. Don’t lie, Bradley Bradshaw. We’re on to you.

I just want you to touch me didn’t seem like a valid enough excuse, but that’s all he wanted.

Use your words, big boy. It will always be appreciated. More after the jump because this is large.

And while it seemed like you hadn’t even realized it, it was very much apparent to Bradley that you had wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you so your heels were digging into his ass. His hands ultimately found their way back to your thighs - if pressed, he would say it was so you didn’t fall.

😮‍💨

“I have to tape my boobs…” You scrunched up your nose, clearly not looking forward to doing - well, whatever that meant. “You’re lucky Caroline talked me out of wearing Spanx…”

Oh this reality as a woman who used to dress up frequently. The shit you put your boobs through to look good in a dress that probably could have some supportive padding if you were really lucky. The games we play to keep up appearances. 

And only after being assured numerous times all week that people in the military did not make enough money to freely spend it on whatever exorbitant amount your dress cost, were you secure in the knowledge that no one, not even anyone in a Rent the Runway dress, would be wearing the same thing. It was a little snobby, but Bradley kinda liked that about you - fucking shoot him. 

Fancy things aren’t for everyone, but shit, I know this dress is a dream!

You bit your lip and then exaggerated a sigh. “Fine, I guess I’ll just talk about unethical labor practices in Qatar ahead of the World Cup or last week’s US airstrikes in Syria - Bradley!” you cut off with a giggle once he pinched your side. 

This is why I love her and how he loves her.

Admitting I had a visceral reaction when I read this and may have… thrust… myself.

“- Oh, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is such a wonderful boyfriend, he’s the most amazing pilot I’ve ever seen, the way he just thrusts that plane, all those evasive maneuvers -”

Kopinski was lucky Bradley liked him so much - no one else would’ve let the kid get away with that. “And isn’t your behavior verging on impertinent towards your superior officer - an award winning superior officer, mind you - by calling him old?”

I actually would love to see more of Bradley using his position of power. He still is who he is and I love that we don’t forget he isn’t just SA’s man. He’s not the arm candy, he is the reason for their evening and that’s a big damn deal.

As in Sarah Costigan Bradley’s ex-girlfriend Sarah Costigan. 

Drama. Fuck yes.

“I’d say you can call me Whiskey, but that’s only reserved for us pilots. You know, I always had a feeling Rooster wanted a civvy.” She winked, but the joke didn’t quite land. Though you maintained a neutral expression, both Bradley and Jake grimaced. “What do you do instead?”

Lol’d way too loud here.

“Nothing, nothing. I just didn’t realize there was that much of a gap between the two of you. Looks like you got your civvy and a spring chicken, Roo.”

End her, SA. 

“I agree,” Cyclone chimed in for the first time. “FIFA on the whole is inherently corrupt - it needs a complete overhaul. More’s the pity for me, I always look forward to the matches, but am feeling similarly this year.”… No one quite knew what to say next, but Admiral Simpson was saved by the delivery of the main course and everyone quickly dug in once the whole table had been served… “These short ribs are excellent,” Cyclone said after a lengthy pause, accompanied only by the band doing a fairly decent rendition of Beyond the Sea. Bradley stifled his snort with a bite of his short ribs - which were in fact excellent - and out of the corner of his eye saw you doing something similar. 

I AM HYPERVENTILATING! TKO Cyclone haha

That’s not to say that the two of you were into gratuitous PDA to begin with - he wasn’t about to finger fuck you at the table. You were a lady and Bradley wasn’t an animal. He was thirty-six, he could control himself. 

TEARS. Yes.

Dashing

iykyk. Honestly, the most underrated of all endearments. And Jordan, you know why I love this.

“- trying to be all innocent when you and I both know how fucking desperate you are for me to fuck you. Bet I could take you right now - right off the dance floor - and you’d squirt all over my cock. Because you’ve been wet all night, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

Here’s out man. Yes Lieutenant Commander. Whatever you say.

JFC Jordan, I just loved this. I mean, if course I knew I would, but this is just special, you know? The intricate, intimate thots and feelings Bradley keeps to himself because he's so incredibly besotted and each time he looks at SA, he's looking into the mirror and seeing his reflection of someone who loves him just as deeply x

and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay [part 2.2.1]

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw is getting honored with an award in front of all his colleagues. when he remembers the particulars behind the mission in question, he considers how lucky he is to have his best girl by his side, especially considering how she almost wasn't

OR you take on the pacific fleet’s awards gala

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 15.7k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, bradley has a little bit of a spiral...

[part 1], [part 1.5], [part 2.1], part [2.2.1], [part 2.2.2] and the official companion playlist

Thanks to an early check-in at the hotel, you and Bradley had gotten settled in your room around noon. This gave you just enough time to have lunch together and hang out at the beach for a couple hours before you and Natasha met up to get blow-outs. You and Bradley had spent the previous night apart, citing a nail appointment with Nat - amongst other things - that you had to attend to after work, so you were both excited for your little weekend getaway. Even if it was just a night away in Coronado.

Bradley had just gotten out of the shower when he heard the hotel room door close and a moment later saw you in the hallway. 

“Hey.” He glanced over at you and smiled. “Your hair looks nice.”

“Thanks.” You preened and leaned against the bathroom doorway. “Bubs, why are you just now getting out of the shower?”

You’d been gone for a while - or at least for the entire pregame coverage and first two quarters of the Alabama/Tennessee game that Bradley had been watching. He had timed his shower to fit in during halftime, not knowing exactly how long it took someone to get their hair blown out.

He cleared his throat. “I uhh - I took a really long shower?”

“You just got in didn’t you?”

“Yup.” You scrunched up your nose and shook your head. Bradley mimicked you and pulled you into the bathroom by the belt loops on your baggy jean shorts. “And you,” he gave you a quick peck on the lips, “look gorgeous.”

You ducked your head. “I don’t even have my dress on or makeup done yet…”

Bradley clicked his tongue. “The infamous dress…” 

All you’d offered to him in terms of a hint was that it would match his formal dress blues - which admittedly didn’t give him much to go off. 

He had seen your shoes, though - nude heels with a dainty little ankle strap that he knew he’d fumble with later. But now you looked so soft and sweet in your oversized oxford and frayed denim shorts. God, you were so pretty. Didn’t matter if you’d just woken up, had been working all day, or had just gotten your hair done - Bradley always thought you were gorgeous. 

Unable to keep his hands off you for a second longer, he pulled you into his arms, with your back to his front so that you were both facing the mirror. He put his chin on your shoulder and lightly swayed the two of you back and forth. 

“You smell pretty,” you whispered, but refused to meet his eyes in the mirror. 

“Pretty sure that’s my line, kid.” He pressed a couple featherlight kisses on your neck and you giggled. 

“That tickles!” He kept at it, eliciting more giggles from you, until you wiggled out of his grasp so you were facing each other again. Bradley settled his hands on your hips, while you cupped his cheek. “My scruffy boy.”

“Was just about to shave - do you wanna…” He jutted his chin towards the razor and shaving cream canister on the counter. 

You glanced back at them and cocked your head. “Wait, really? I don’t wanna mess it up or cut you - especially tonight…”

I just want you to touch me didn’t seem like a valid enough excuse, but that’s all he wanted. After everything the last week and a half, the two of you were still a little cautious around each other, so much so that it had left Bradley feeling a little needy - almost like he was always wanting you to touch him or needing the reassurance that everything was okay between the two of you. 

“I trust you,” he said, but the words came out heavier than he had anticipated. 

You tucked a strand of freshly blown out hair behind your ear. “Okay, yeah, sure. So, how exactly does this work?”

“First -” he took the shaving cream canister off the counter, “- squirt a little of this in your hand -”

“- I know how to use shaving cream,” you teased, “I mean do I go up or down? Should I be at a different angle? Stuff like that?”

“Stuff like that, huh?” You shoved his shoulder and he exaggerated a grunt. “Alright, Million Dollar Baby, you can sit on the counter, the light’s probably better, too.”

With Bradley’s help, you hiked yourself up onto the bathroom counter and he placed himself between your legs. Even through the plush, white towel he was wearing around his waist, he felt himself brush against your soft legs and couldn’t resist running his hands up them and your thighs for a moment. 

“You’re gonna make me mess up if you keep doing that…” He held his hands up in surrender. “Good boy. Alright, let’s see.”

You contorted your body to quickly wash your hands in the sink and then popped the cap off the shaving cream and squirted some into your hands. The shaving cream changed from gel to frothy white cream in an instant and you lathered it across Bradley’s cheeks and neck. 

“Is it cold on your face?” He hummed in the negative. “Is it bad that I’m nervous? It feels like that scene in the Parent Trap.”

Bradley chuckled. “You’re fine, start at the top and work your way down.”

The first time the blade made contact with his skin, your eyes widened and he had to hold back a chuckle, lest it mess you up. But eventually, you got into a good rhythm and looked absolutely adorable with your tongue poking out of your mouth in concentration. And while it seemed like you hadn’t even realized it, it was very much apparent to Bradley that you had wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you so your heels were digging into his ass. His hands ultimately found their way back to your thighs - if pressed, he would say it was so you didn’t fall.

By now, you had finished shaving the majority of his face, leaving just around his mustache and neck. It was relaxing, having someone else do something he typically considered a chore. Plus, having someone so pretty and soft and warm wrapped around his body while doing it? It felt like a reward. 

“If you keep looking at me like that I’m gonna mess up,” you said, not looking away from his neck. 

He smiled, causing you to stop. “But you’re so cute.”

You rolled your eyes, but were clearly fighting a smile. “You’re just saying that because I’m wielding all the power here…”

In response, you brought the razor closer to Bradley’s mustache than he was comfortable with. “Woah, woah, woah. Careful with the ‘stache, sweets.”

You made a face. “Sweets?”

“It slipped out, sorry.” The blade hovered over his mustache, getting closer and closer to the edge and Bradley didn’t like the look on your face. “Sweets is not happening again, scouts honor.” He held up three fingers for good measure.

“Good, but only because I need you looking your best for Nat’s Halloween party, Coach Lasso.”

Somehow, you had strong-armed Bradley into being Ted Lasso for the aforementioned Halloween party in two weeks. The two of you had been watching the show some weeks ago and you’d mentioned how handsome you thought Ted was - for the record Bradley never got handsome from you as a compliment, it was always pretty - and before Bradley knew it, he was mentioning how he had the same pair of Nike Air Pegasus as Ted and you were ordering him an AFC Richmond jumper and visor. 

He’d get you back next year - hopefully. 

“You like the mustache, don’t lie…” Bradley leaned back, looking at you with unbridled amusement.

“Hmmm. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it, old -”

“- Don’t say old man -”

“- man.”

Before he knew what he was doing, he placed a dollop of excess shaving cream on your nose. “None of that now.”

You giggled and wiped your nose and put the hand not holding the razor on your hip. “Still wielding all the power here, bubs. You gonna let me finish or not?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, shush.”

“Fine, fine. You can finish.” 

True to his word, Bradley let you finish shaving the rest of his neck and around his mustache. He tried not to be too self conscious as you shaved near the ever-so prominent scars on his neck and cheeks, but let out a sigh as you dragged your fingers across them tenderly once you finished.

“All set.” He smiled at you and gave you a quick kiss. You giggled. “God, you silly boy, you always make such a mess - here.” You started brushing the excess hair off the vanity and also wiped the remaining shaving cream off his face so he could put on his aftershave, himself. “You know, this won’t fly if we ever properly share a bathroom.”

He chuckled. He always liked your fussing. In fact, before Bradley had started seeing you, he had always thought he was impeccably neat. But you? Nah, you could lick whipped cream off your kitchen floor with how neat and clean you kept everything. 

“I’ve never lived with anyone else before - I mean, I had roommates in college and there were the guys on base I’ve lived with, but never with someone like that...”

You tucked your hair behind your ear. “Me neither.”

“I think I’d have to be really serious about them? Like I’d have to be ready to take that next step with them, you know?” 

He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. You hadn’t been seeing each other for too long, just six months. Your lease wasn’t even close to being up yet. But it was nice to talk about it - about a future for the two of you.

When you finally spoke again, your voice was shy. “Yeah, definitely the next step.” 

Take the next step with me, he wanted to say. But it was too early. Way too early. Maybe you guys could talk about it in a couple months? Once you got through the holidays and everything. You were already spending Thanksgiving together - a trip up to Berkeley to stay with your dad and stepmom and Bradley’s first time meeting them in person - but Christmas was still up in the air.

You cleared your throat. “Once you’re done here, I’ll start getting ready? Just have to do my makeup and put on my dress.”

Hoping to inject some levity into the situation, Bradley joked: “You know, you helped me with shaving, ‘least I could do is offer to help you with your makeup.”

You pretended to consider this. “Think I’ll have to pass on that one, but I’ll take it into consideration in the future.”

“Fine, fine,” he held his hands up in surrender, “but don’t say I didn’t offer.”

With one final kiss on the cheek, you let Bradley finish getting ready and eventually switched positions a few minutes later, leaving Bradley to change into his formal dress blues in the bedroom, while you took over the bathroom. 

Eventually, some twenty minutes later, Bradley knocked back the rest of his whiskey as he watched the College GameDay coverage. The clock on the bottom of the screen told him it was already six - you were going to be late. 

“Bradley?” your voice came out muffled from behind the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the TV in the living area, as he made his way towards the bathroom. He wanted to see the highlights from the UVA game earlier in the day, too. 

“Could you help me -” He slid open the pocket-door. “- with my - oh!”

You let out a gasp, making eye contact with him in the mirror. All you were wearing was a pair of heels and some white lace panties, which looked more like a scrap of fabric than anything practical. He swallowed thickly.

For a moment - a long moment - Bradley didn’t speak. He just stared at you, practically naked, your gorgeous breasts only covered by one of your arms, while your naked ass cheeks taunted him with a perfect little triangle of white lace peeking out from just below the curve of your back. 

“Good, I need you!” you said to his reflection in the mirror, “Can you tie this for me?” 

Tie what? You weren’t wearing anything but - oh god. Bradley nodded, knowing he looked way too eager, and took a step forward. Two thin white ribbons taunted him from where they were resting on your ass cheeks. 

You put your other hand on the counter and Bradley stood behind you. Were the ribbons the only thing keeping this up? He slid his finger under the one in his right hand, slowly making his way to the front of your body where a triangle of lace was covering you. Fuck. 

“Now where’s a good girl like you get something as naughty as these panties?” You wiggled your ass and he pulled tighter on the ribbons, forcing a gasp from your lips. “Careful, sweetheart.”

“It’s a present - for you, for your award.” You looked over your shoulder at him. “Can you tie it?”

He tsked. “I mean I can tie it, doesn’t mean I wa -”

“- I’m not going without underwear, Bradley.” He looked up in the mirror to see you glaring at him. At least, he thought you were glaring at him, the amused almost-smile on your face made it hard to tell. 

Ever the dutiful boyfriend, he started tying the ribbons together in a pretty little bow - bunny ears and all. “How’re you going to go to the bathroom with this on?” Bradley asked when he was done. 

You leaned back and brushed your ass against his groin. “You wanna know a secret?” He hummed in your ear. “I can tie it by myself, just wanted you to see what you’re coming back to tonight.”

Fucking brat. 

“All set.” He smacked your ass for good measure and you whined. “Atta girl.” He rubbed your now red cheeks, inching towards that pretty little bow. “God, you’re so soft.”

“Mmhmm, I got a wax yesterday…” You turned around and slid your hands up his lapels. Your breasts brushed against his chest as you straightened his bow tie. “But I kept your favorite part”

As tantalizing as that thought was, Bradley had to say: “You know I don’t care -”

“- how else am I going to feel that mustache rub against me as I ride your face?”

Fuck. He moaned your name. “I know you don’t mean the same mustache you literally just tried to shave off?”

You made a face. “That doesn’t sound like me -”

“- No, not you. Not my smart girl.”

Without another word, you wrapped your arms around Bradley’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was slow and soft and he couldn’t help but pull you closer. Mindful of not ruining the makeup you’d already put on, Bradley ran his hands up and down your sides. God you were so fucking soft and warm and pretty - so goddamn pretty. 

Eventually, you dragged his lip between your teeth as you pulled away. “Don’t want us to be late…”

Bradley exaggerated a sigh. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you don’t have any clothes on - don’t think they’ll let you in like that...” You giggled and kissed him again. “Alright, finish getting dressed and I’ll be waiting for you to make your grand entrance.”

“I have to tape my boobs…” You scrunched up your nose, clearly not looking forward to doing - well, whatever that meant. “You’re lucky Caroline talked me out of wearing Spanx…”

“That doesn’t sound particularly fun.”

You rummaged through your toiletry bag, eventually brandishing what looked like a mix between pre-wrap and an ace-bandage. “Oh, it’s not. Don’t worry, I won’t make you take the tape off later, now go! I have to finish changing.”

Bradley held his hands up in surrender and left the bathroom with a final parting kiss. 

-----------

You looked stunning. There was no other word for it - though Bradley had tried about nine other ones on the way over to the reception. Beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal, pretty, lovely, show-stopping, ravishing, exquisite, picturesque. 

Each made you more flustered the longer he continued. For someone so outwardly confident at times, you didn’t take genuine compliments very well. Sure, you loved to ham it up sometimes - for the bit, Bradley! - but more often than not, you tended to brush him off when he got too earnest. So, that night, Bradley made sure you knew how gorgeous you looked. 

You kept your hair simple - not fussing with it after your blow out - and did your makeup to your tastes. And then there was the dress. The dress that had taunted Bradley all week from its spot in your closet - the special black garment bag not even allowing him to catch a glimpse at the color or fabric until earlier that evening.  

It was white. Ivory silk crepe de chine if you wanted to be specific - which apparently you did. And as had clearly been your intent, the ivory looked perfect in contrast to his blue uniform. The two of you looked classic, polished, handsome. You looked like a pair. That even though there was nothing to overtly signify it, it was obvious that you two were together. 

Back in the room, you’d done a full spin for Bradley, showing off the back of your dress, which made him realize exactly why you had needed to tape your boobs - the dress was practically backless. The thin straps crossed just below your shoulder blades and the fabric started again at the small of your back - about where Bradley would place his hands later as you danced on the black and white checkered dance floor spread out in the middle of the lawn.

And only after being assured numerous times all week that people in the military did not make enough money to freely spend it on whatever exorbitant amount your dress cost, were you secure in the knowledge that no one, not even anyone in a Rent the Runway dress, would be wearing the same thing. It was a little snobby, but Bradley kinda liked that about you - fucking shoot him. 

Instead, this enabled you to focus that energy onto other things - namely, making sure you knew how to properly address every single person you came across and were well versed in nearly every major political, economic, and social event in the past four weeks. Bradley had even seen you reading Politico Playbook on your phone on the beach earlier. He almost wanted to tease you about preparing some flashcards, but knew that this was your way of coping and getting over your nerves. If only Bradley could find something similar to handle his. 

So, now, you were making your way from your room on the east side of the resort to the Windsor Lawn where the two of you would join 350 of Bradley’s colleagues and their dates for dinner, drinks, dancing, and awards. 

“- Wait.” Your words stopped him in his tracks. “Quick check.” Your hands slid up his lapels, needlessly smoothing them out. “You look so pretty, bubs.” He blushed. “What about me?” 

You tilted your chin up so Bradley could check if your makeup was properly blended and then smiled, allowing him to check your teeth for any lipstick stains.  

“Wouldn’t change a thing. God, you look so beautiful.” 

Bradley loved that he could still get you to shake your head in amusement or roll your eyes and duck your head whenever he called you beautiful. But it was true. Of course it was true. You were so beautiful.

After placing a quick kiss on the back of your hand, he took it in his own and you both started walking again. There were a couple other groups making their way to the lawn, but he didn’t recognize anyone yet. He took a deep breath. 

It was going to be fine. It was going to be fine. Fine - it would be fine. Despite the minor bumps in the road on the way to that evening celebrating his award, (okay, so he eventually got you to admit that he had made you cry in the shower so maybe not minor), it was going to be fine. 

No one would ask too many questions about the mission, no one needed to know Bradley still could feel the rope of the ejection handles not working and hear the undercurrent of panic in Mav’s voice when they ran out of flares. No one needed to know that the moment he stepped off the flight deck he ran to the bathroom dry heaving and throwing up until Mav practically carried him to medical. No one needed to - fuck. He had to shake this. 

Because he had you. And he had you to sit with him and hold his hand and call him Bradley and make sure he was okay. Because he was always okay with you. 

He was always okay when he was your Bradley. 

“Hey.” He pulled you to a standstill once again. “Thanks for coming with me, really. I know I didn’t exactly go about this the right way, but, seriously, thanks for giving me another chance. It really does mean a lot that you’re here and I can’t - I don’t want to imagine what I would do without you tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand. It was like you could tell with just one look what was going through his head. “Bradley, you don’t need to make anything up to me, this isn’t transactional. We just have to try and be more honest with each other about stuff like this - and, plus, I want to be here for you, bubs, alright? Whether you want to be the belle of the ball or sit in the corner, we’ll do whatever you want tonight, okay?”

“I know that,” he paused to kiss your cheek, “but you have to let yourself just enjoy tonight, too, alright? Because as much as I love hearing you talk about the DART spacecraft test earlier this week and student protests in Iran, you don’t have to worry about passing a test or saying the right thing. Just - just be you and everyone will love you as much as I do.”

You bit your lip and then exaggerated a sigh. “Fine, I guess I’ll just talk about unethical labor practices in Qatar ahead of the World Cup or last week’s US airstrikes in Syria - Bradley!” you cut off with a giggle once he pinched your side. 

This was one of the things he loved about you - that you could get him out of his head and that you brought this certain lightness to him. Because a minute ago he had been spiraling over last year’s mission and now it was on the tip of his tongue to remind you that that Syrian airstrike was an Air Force operation and that the Air Force was strictly persona non-grata that evening. Except your giggles were contagious and he was only cut off by someone clearing their throat.

Like you two had been caught necking in the hallway, you and Bradley sheepishly turned around to face Admiral Simpson and his wife, Emily.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw,” the older man offered.

“Admiral Simpson, sir.” Bradley nodded his head in greeting. “Emily - err, Mrs. Simpson, ma’am. You’re both looking lovely this evening.” He then turned towards you and introduced you to the Simpsons. 

You shook Cyclone’s hand and politely nodded towards his wife. “Nice to see you both. Hopefully, we’ll get to chat more inside?”

Emily nodded, clearly excited about the prospect of making a new friend. She was rather notorious on base for recruiting the other milspo’s to volunteer their time - and for the Porsche Cayenne she always double parked next to her husband’s F-150 in the parking lot when she came to visit. “I’ll come find you both later.”

“Looking forward to it.” And if Bradley hadn’t known you any better, he’d be convinced you actually were. 

With a clap on the back from Cyclone and a nod from Emily, the older couple continued on their way towards the lawn, leaving you both behind. 

“Two down, three hundred and forty-eight to go…” Bradley muttered.

You looped your arm through his and ambled down the path to the right. “Actually, three hundred and forty-six to go - remember, we don’t count.” Bradley exaggerated a groan and let you pull him along.

Though he had heard the chatter and dull thrum of Ain’t That a Kick in the Head the second you had stepped outside your room, turning that final corner Bradley was briefly taken aback by the general splendor and opulence of the event. 

Under a canopy of string lights, a black and white checkerboard dance floor sat in the middle of the lawn, surrounded by dozens of circular tables with gold chiavari chairs and draped in navy tablecloths. The flowers in the centerpieces - ranunculus - were easily recognizable thanks to his various trips to the florist over the last six months. And a litany of tuxedo clad waitstaff were bustling between the high top tables and bars on the edge of the event space, offering canapes, crudites, and other passed appetizers. 

And then there were the guests. Everyone from Ensigns to Admirals were decked out in their finest formal dress uniforms. Bradley didn’t have nearly as many medals or pins on his uniform as some of the upper brass, but he still managed to put on a good show. He was excited to see Mav later and tease him, knowing he hated dressing up for these things. Ironically enough, the large size of the crowd helped rather than hurt his nerves - it was easier to get lost in and was more intimate in a way. 

You made your way over to the check-in desk to find your seating assignment and just as Bradley had feared, he was at one of the head tables, thankfully along with Mav and Penny, but also with Jake - and whoever he had coerced into being his date - and the Simpsons. Bradley put his place card next to Cyclone’s, sticking you in between him and Maverick, who was next Penny. 

“Seat of honor, rocketman,” you teased. 

Bradley blushed, but tried to play it off. “That’s what I’ve been telling you, kid - I’m kind of a big deal.” You shot him a wink and put your tiny pearl beaded purse on the table, staking out your spot. 

Glancing around the room, Bradley could see a couple members of the squad some tables over. Bob and Halo were huddled together, laughing with Phoenix and your colleague that you’d set her up with, Rory. It didn’t look like Payback and his wife or Fanboy and his girlfriend had arrived yet, but Coyote and his girlfriend were messing around with the placecards. Bradley definitely wanted to introduce you to her - she was a private chef in LA and ran a wildly successful food Instagram account that you were obsessed with despite the fact that you weren’t the best cook. Yet, at least. 

A server came up to you both with some crab rangoons - a perennial favorite. Bradley eagerly grabbed two - he hadn’t eaten since the three steak asado tacos he had at the beach around noon - while you politely declined. 

“When’s dinner?” He held his hand over his mouth as he chewed. Damn that crab rangoon was good. He vaguely recalled that he had requested the slow braised short ribs for dinner, while you had gone with the pan roasted scottish salmon. It went without saying that he would be sneaking some of yours.

You glanced down at the menu card on the table. “Uhhh it says not till seven - awards are at eight and then dancing and dessert until ten-thirty. The hotel must have a quiet hour or something.”

Bradley nodded. “So, game plan?”

“Game plan.”

“We get drinks -”

“- We hang out with your friends -”

“- We mingle - 

“- Oh, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is such a wonderful boyfriend, he’s the most amazing pilot I’ve ever seen, the way he just thrusts that plane, all those evasive maneuvers -”

He chuckled. “- Okay, hotshot - we mingle, we come back for dinner -”

“- We charm the Simpsons -”

“- We charm the shit out of them -”

“- You get your award because Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is such a wonderful boyfriend, the most amazing pilot I’ve ever seen - oww, fucking weirdo.” You rubbed your arm where Bradley had shoved you. He hadn’t done it that hard - just enough to get a reaction out of you. “And when we dance.”

“And then we dance,” he concluded, trying to be serious, but that failed when you held your palm up for a high-five. The resulting slap garnered the attention of a couple people around you, including a Top Gun lieutenant Bradley frequently saw around base.

Granted, Bradley liked Hawkeye and genuinely enjoyed talking to him on base. He was definitely the best WSO in his class and a great guy in general, but he was ruining the game plan you both had literally just concocted by coming over - and Bradley hadn’t even had a drink yet. 

“Lieutenant Commander,” Hawkeye said with a cheesy grin, which turned into a slap on the back from Bradley. He introduced you to Hawkeye - with his real name, of course - and the three of you started chatting. 

“Now how the hell did you swing an invite to this thing?”

Hawkeye puffed his chest out. “I’ll have you know, I happen to be a very important person’s plus one.”

“Oh, do tell,” you egged him on, even leaning in closer to get the scoop. 

Admittedly, at this point, Bradley was also curious. Both of your favorite kinds of gossip was that which was important to some people, but meant absolutely nothing to others. Case in point, Lieutenant Kopinski’s date. 

“Well, technically,” he started, glancing around the room, “she asked me a bit last minute and since her original date bailed…”

“Oh, Hawkeye…” Bradley chuckled and you swatted his stomach. 

“But I’m optimistic, you know? She’s always nice to me whenever I stop by and sometimes we get coffee between my classes -”

“- The girl, lieutenant, who’s the girl?” you interrupted, practically giddy. It lit your whole face up and made Bradley smile. 

Hawkeye’s cheeks were flushed and he glanced around one final time before saying: “Kennedy Ayers.”

To you, this meant absolutely nothing. But to Bradley? 

“You came with Admiral Simpson’s EA?” Hawkeye nodded once. “Does he know?” He shook his head. “You know he’s at our table?”

Hawkeye was right - Kennedy Ayers was very important. She had been Cyclone’s EA since just before Bradley had come back to North Island last fall and she quite literally made Top Gun the well oiled machine that it was. And Cyclone was very fond of her. Or at least as fond of anyone as Cyclone could be. 

You spoke up. “So, you came as friends?” He nodded. “Do you want to be more than friends?” Again, he nodded. “Well, I can’t really do anything on Kennedy’s end, but Bradley and I could put in a good word for you with Admiral Simpson at dinner? I mean, if Bradley thinks you’re good people then that’s good enough for me.”

“Well,” Hawkeye looked between you and Bradley, “I don’t know if Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw would go as far to say good people -”

“- I wouldn’t - owww.” Bradley let go of your hip and rubbed his stomach with his now free hand. “Fine. Hawkeye, we can mention something to Cyclone at dinner,” he grumbled.

Hawkeye expressed his thanks and continued fawning over you as the three of you chatted for a couple more minutes, getting into how Bradley knew the younger pilot and how much longer he was in the area. After a while, you glanced over your shoulder towards the south end of the lawn.

“Hey, bubs? I think I’m gonna head over to the bar, it looks like there’s a pretty big line forming and I want us to get drinks before dinner?”

Bradley tried not to look too disappointed that you would be leaving him - for however brief the time - but realized it gave you both the perfect excuse to continue on with your game plan. “Okay, I’ll meet up with you in a few.” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned towards the bar, but then doubled back. 

“Can you hold my phone for me?” Bradley held his hand out and you placed your phone in it with much aplomb. “Thank you - and again, nice to meet you, Lieutenant - good luck with Kennedy!”

With a smile and wave of your hand, you were gone and Bradley was stuck with Hawkeye, who was staring after you in bewildered awe. 

“She’s lovely.” Bradley rolled his eyes. Yeah, he knew you were fucking lovely, but he didn’t need every LTJG thinking that. “How’d you guys meet?”

“Hinge.” It was always a bit of a shit answer, but it was the truth. 

“Hmmmm.” He shoved a crab rangoon into his mouth, no doubt trying to hide the shit eating grin on his face. “Aren’t you a little too old for dating apps, Lieutenant Commander?”

Kopinski was lucky Bradley liked him so much - no one else would’ve let the kid get away with that. “And isn’t your behavior verging on impertinent towards your superior officer - an award winning superior officer, mind you - by calling him old?”

“Pfft, I would never.” The grin on his face didn’t go away. Bradley rolled his eyes.

“Kopinski, I can have that my girl ruin any chance you have with Kennedy in a couple words, don’t fucking try me.” Hawkeye held his hands up in surrender. “You gonna chirp at me anymore or can I finally get a drink?”

Hawkeye waved a hand towards the bar. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your evening Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.”

With a chuckle, Bradley gave him a handshake and the two men said goodbye. As Bradley started walking towards the bar, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and checked the notification, quickly realizing it was actually your phone and the text was from a group chat with your dad and Mary. 

Have fun tonight sweetie! Send us pictures of you and Bradley 💕

He shuffled off to the side and smiled down at the screen. Even though he hadn’t met her in person, Bradley really liked Mary. You had said numerous times how you didn’t feel like Mary was your stepmom - she felt like your actual mom. The mom who had raised you. The one who had brought you to tennis matches and field hockey games, held you as you cried after your accident junior year, took you prom dress shopping, helped you unpack your dorm, and drove down with you to San Diego when you first moved all those years ago. 

She was your mom. And Bradley was so excited to meet her. And because of that, he knew he could get away with what he was about to do.

thanks! we’ll send pictures later

bradley looks sooo handsome in his uniform

A moment later your phone buzzed with a message from your dad:

He made you type that, didn’t he?

no comment 

As Bradley continued making his way over towards you at the bar, so was another aviator getting honored that evening - Hangman. 

It didn’t look like you saw him approach, you were chatting with the bartender and Bradley saw you hold up two fingers for both your drinks. He tried to get over to you faster, except a rear admiral stepped in front of him and tried to strike up a conversation. And while it may not have been particularly polite, Bradley brushed him off with a quick talk to you later in his haste to get over to you.

He didn’t want you to have to face Hangman alone. 

Because you didn’t forget things easily. And you’d told Bradley that all those months ago on your first date when you’d overheard Jake making fun of you, all you’d wanted to do was run back to the bathroom and cry. Because you hadn’t originally heard Bradley’s comments coming to your defense and telling Hangman to fuck off. 

All you’d heard was she could be kinda hot, if she cut out that whole type a, stick up her ass shit. It was similar to something the last guy you’d been with had said about you - too uptight, too focused on work, too prissy - too much - and you’d panicked.

Bradley didn’t think you were too much. 

His uptight, focused on work, prissy girlfriend was just right for him. And he made sure to tell you in a thousand different ways ever since. Because you deserved to be told how much you meant to him and how much he loved you. And in turn, you did the same for him.

And one way for him to show his love and support for you when you were already doing so much for him that evening was to not have to deal with Jake fucking Seresin any more than you needed to that evening. It was bad enough you already had to sit at the same table as him and whomever he had coerced into being his date.

By now, you’d gotten two glasses of champagne from the bartender and Bradley was just a couple long strides away, but Jake had beat him to you.

“Well, now who do you belong to, darlin’?” Even above the tin of chatter and the murmur of the band, Bradley could hear Hangman lay on the southern charm.

You turned to face him and the smile on your face from chatting with the bartender temporarily slipped as you took in the blond in front of you. Bradley closed the remaining distance to the bar, but you stopped him in his tracks with a look. He’d let you run with this - for now, at least.

“We’ve actually met before…” You leaned against the bar and cocked your hip out slightly. 

He clicked his tongue and Bradley would’ve killed to see the expression on Hangman’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, darlin’-”

“- Actually, you told my boyfriend to ditch me on our first date.” 

“Your boyfr - what? I don’t -” 

You smiled prettily and peered over Hangman’s shoulder, looking straight at Bradley. He closed the final gap between you and slapped Jake on the back in greeting before lightly pushing him out of the way to press a kiss to the side of your head.

“Hey, kid,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist and then grabbing the glass of champagne you’d gotten him with his other hand. The look on Jake’s face was priceless. It normally took a lot to rattle Hangman and Bradley was rarely the one to do it. 

“Bagman.” He nodded towards him. “Heard the rumor you’re finally stateside again, I’m sure Coyote’s been keeping you up on things around -” 

“- Wait, this is your girl?” Recognition finally seemed to dawn on Jake and he gestured between the two of you. “You’re with - you guys are still together?” 

“Who do you think everyone’s been talking about for the last six months? She’s got a name, too.”

You held out your hand and offered your name. “I know you didn’t exactly catch it the first time we met.”

Jake cleared his throat. “Well, nice to officially meet you then.”

“You too,” you conceded, “and congratulations on your award.”

“Thanks, uhhh - so, you guys have been together for six months? That’s pretty…serious?”

Bradley frowned. Though the question had been oddly worded, to say the least, he didn’t think there was anything necessarily malicious about it? Hangman just seemed slightly uncomfortable with the idea of it. 

“I’d say so,” Bradley answered for you both, “you bring anyone to round out our table this evening? Pick anybody up in Misawa?” 

If at all possible, Jake looked even more uncomfortable than he did a moment ago. Briefly, Bradley thought he had embarrassed him since he didn’t have a date, but he had seen the extra place card at the table. 

Hangman cleared his throat. “Err kind of? She should be around here somewhere - uhhh Whiskey, I mean Sarah, went to put her purse down at the table.”

Whiskey. Sarah. Sarah Costigan.

As in Sarah Costigan Bradley’s ex-girlfriend Sarah Costigan. 

Shit. 

You knew plenty about Bradley’s ex’s. Or at least the big ones. The ones that he thought he had been in love with before he had met you and finally realized what it meant to be in love with someone. 

First there had been Elodie - a brief relationship when Bradley was in Pensacola for flight school. The two had hit it off after she spilt a drink on him while she was working at his favorite bar. They had broken up when he had been assigned to Norfolk, but she had been nice and kind when Bradley had gotten too far into his own head. 

Next came Sarah - Bradley’s girlfriend during and right after his first time at Top Gun. Whiskey was loud and brash and everything Bradley had wanted in a girlfriend at twenty-seven. They had been together for eight months - of which they had spent three in the same place - and Bradley’s orders back to Virginia had been the perfect excuse for things to end. 

And then there had been Ezra - Bradley’s first, real boyfriend beyond ‘drunkenly’ hooking up with one of his Sigma Chi brothers at UVA or some random guy at a bar. With Ezra it was different. They had met when Bradley had been volunteering at some off-base event for Habitat for Humanity and immediately clicked. Ezra and Bradley had been together for a little over a year and had been thinking of moving in together until Ezra recanted and said he didn’t actually want to have a family. And that was all it took for Bradley to realize that was really all he wanted.

So, at thirty-two years old, Bradley realized that his one true purpose, beyond being a pilot, was to be a dad and to be around for his kids in the way that his own father wasn’t. 

And so, Bradley and Ezra broke up and Bradley went on just about any overseas deployment he could possibly sign up for. It helped for a little while. Made him forget about his broken heart and realize what he really wanted. This was only further solidified when he came back to the States and reconnected with Maverick years later. 

And then Bradley had met you and - explosive first date and all - he knew you were it for him. He didn’t want anybody else. 

“Here she is,” Jake said and Sarah suddenly appeared beside him. 

Seemingly taking no notice of anyone else in their little quartet, Sarah wrapped her arms around Bradley’s neck and pulled him in for a hug - a long hug. The medals on her sash uncomfortably dug into his stomach. And sure, Bradley could admit that she looked good - he couldn’t deny that Sarah was and had always been attractive - but her red dress stood out terribly in a sea of muted whites, navys, blacks, and ivorys. 

“Hey, Roo!” She eventually let go of him.

“Oh - hey, Sarah.” Bradley then introduced the two of you and you smiled and held out your hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.”

“I’d say you can call me Whiskey, but that’s only reserved for us pilots. You know, I always had a feeling Rooster wanted a civvy.” She winked, but the joke didn’t quite land. Though you maintained a neutral expression, both Bradley and Jake grimaced. “What do you do instead?”

“Oh, I work in consulting.”

“Consulting? Like - shit, what’s it called? Deloitte? Or what’s the other one?”

This time you couldn’t school your expression and made a face. Bradley realized it was tantamount to how he reacted whenever someone wrongly assumed he was in the Air Force. At least Sarah hadn’t said KPMG. 

“No, PwC. I’m a strategy and consumer markets consultant -” you still managed to respond cordially. 

“- Soon to be manager,” Bradley couldn’t help but brag. Though you ducked your head, he could tell it pleased you. 

Sarah huffed out a laugh. “Sorry, what does that mean exactly? Like I tell people I’m a naval aviator and that’s pretty self explanatory, but…”

“Oh! Right, well we help clients optimize and automate their supply chains and improve deal and product innovation, as well as their general program revenue management? So, uhh lots of watching the markets, looking at other companies, following trends - stuff like that.”

There was a brief lull once you finished your explanation and Bradley could feel the doubt creeping up on you. He squeezed your hip and cleared his throat. 

“Trust me, I listen in on her calls sometimes and we definitely have the easier job.” You and Jake laughed politely. “Well, uhh - we can all catch up during dinner, but this one and I have to make the rounds.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, yeah. No big, we’ve got a couple people to chat with, too. Promised I’d introduce Whiskey to Rear Admiral Cain, she’s a big fan.”

Fucking ass kisser. Bradley knew the people the two of you were going to chat with were actually his friends - not Captains and Admirals to pander to all evening. 

“It was nice meeting you, Sarah,” you nodded towards the other girl, who smiled, and then you turned towards Jake, “and always nice talking with you.”

With a final wave and promise to chat later, the terrible twosome made their way towards the bandstand where the upper brass were all hanging out. You relaxed your shoulders and looked up at Bradley. 

“Now why do I remember him being taller?” 

He just laughed and the two of you headed over to chat with Nat and the rest of the gang to take some pictures together and have some fun before dinner.  

-----------

“I’m impressed, no quips on how much all this is costing the government?”

You squeezed Bradley’s arm a little harder as you two made your way back to your table. The five minute warning for dinner had just been given and meandering from the squad’s table back to your own was taking some work to get through the crush. 

“Hey, I would rather my tax dollars be spent on a party than a bombing campaign in Yemen - shit, sorry.” For good measure, you both glanced around you to see if anyone had overheard. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to keep the commentary to a minimum. I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

Bradley stopped you just shy of your table. “Hey, no, you’re fine, kid - perfect actually. And you haven’t even had to break out your talking points yet…” You chuckled. 

“Hard part hasn’t happened yet…” Oh in more ways than one.

“It’ll be fine, promise.” He didn’t know if he was reassuring you or himself. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and the two of you continued on your way towards your table. 

You were the last couple seated and Bradley was pleased to note that no one had moved your place cards. You gave Maverick and Penny hearty hugs, being sure to tell them both how nice they looked. (If you looked a little flustered under Mav’s gaze, Bradley was willing to forget it. For now, at least.) 

Everyone greeted each other cordially again and the table fell into perfunctory chit chat while waiting for the salad course to be delivered. Thankfully, Mav - though it was probably actually Penny - had the foresight to order the two of you dinner cocktails, which came soon after your salads. Once everyone got their barings, the chatter picked up again.

“So,” Emily started, looking between you and Bradley, “what’s been your longest deployment so far? Beau and I once lasted seven months - the poor kids were insufferable, I was a mess.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow, uhh seven months? I think the longest we’ve had was ten days?” You looked to Bradley to confirm, but he shook his head. 

“Pretty sure it was fifteen…” You cocked your head, while Bradley turned to Emily, “this one here was off in Europe on a work trip a couple weeks back - where’d they send you again? England, Ireland, Germany?”

“Oh - yeah. I didn’t even think about that one.” You looked touched that he had brought it up and equated it to a deployment. 

It happened around four months into your relationship, actually right before Bradley had been sent off to Taiwan for the Speaker’s visit. The fifteen days had been agony. Bradley had walked around his house listlessly after work, so used to having you over at his place to make dinner or watch TV together that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself - didn’t know how he had done this before you. 

So, it was during those fifteen days that Bradley had realized he was in love with you. He had almost blurted it out after the two of you had finished your second go round at phone sex. Admittedly, the first time had not been successful after you had kept telling him that his dirty talk wasn’t quite dirty enough - I need a story, Bradley! But he hadn’t wanted to scare you off. 

It was too soon, just about four months. Could you really fall in love in four months?

Well, yes, you could. And yes, you had felt the same way, too. 

“…Our global headquarters is in London, but they also sent me to Dublin, Munich, and Berlin. I’m on this new account at work, hoping to get this -”

Emily practically groaned. “- Oh, I don’t know how girls your age do it nowadays! I can barely find time to do all my errands everyday before Beau comes home -” at this Admiral Simpson grunted in acknowledgment “- and don’t even get me started on if the kids are back from college!”

You both smiled politely and then Emily spoke again. “But you know, a little work trip’s not quite a deployment now, is it?”

A little work trip. 

“It sure felt like it to me,” Bradley said seriously, daring Emily fucking Simpson to say something else about his girl. You squeezed his hand under the table.

“Of course, of course - oh, wait!” Emily stretched her hand across the table, somehow reaching across Cyclone to do so. “I’ll have to set something up with you, get you involved on the base more. We do a lot of give back opportunities - me and all the other girls, you see - especially around the holidays for the community. Sherri Callaghan and I are taking up the charge this year!”

You set your salad fork down. “Oh? Uhh - when do you normally meet?”

He couldn’t tell if you were just being polite. Your company was really big on giving back - you’d mentioned their donation match program every time you donated to Emily’s List or Feeding America - but Emily Simpson wasn’t someone Bradley could envision you spending prolonged periods of time with - at least if you wanted to keep your sanity intact. 

Emily smiled, seeming to think she’d gotten her claws into you. “We meet every other Thursday at the Coronado Golf Course, right near the base. We have a set room and everything in the clubhouse - twelve-thirty sharp!”

“I’m sorry, Emily.” You actually sounded apologetic. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away from the office at that time, but definitely keep me in the loop with the emails and whatnot? I can give you my card later? I think I have some in my purse.” 

You didn’t. Bradley knew you had your license, Amex, room key, a tube of lipgloss, and a condom in there. 

Emily looked slightly put out for a moment, before pasting a smile on her face again. “Of course, I forget not everyone is as privileged in that regard! You working girls!” 

She sounded slightly patronizing, but neither you nor Bradley called her out on it. At least not directly.

“What can I say, they barely let us up for air,” you joked. 

And with that, the conversation moved on to include the other parties at the table. Whiskey, Cyclone, and Hangman were talking about Misawa, while Mav and Penny politely asked questions when appropriate, giving the two of you a slight reprieve to finish your salad and bread. Bradley took two rolls and packets of butter out of the basket and wordlessly handed you a roll, a packet of butter following a moment later once he had sufficiently warmed it up in his hands. You gave him a quick smile and he responded with a wink - just a little moment between the two of you.

The food was pretty good so far, but Bradley had also been starving. While chatting with the rest of the squad, he had had three more crab rangoons, which had been washed down with two rounds of tequila shots for the entire team. It would have been fun to sit with all of them, probably would’ve put your mind at ease, too, but you both understood that since Bradley was getting honored with an award, it made sense to sit with his fellow award winners and the commanding officer on the mission. 

He just wished Whiskey hadn’t been there. It was awkward and had definitely been a subtle dig at Bradley from Jake. At least you had known about Sarah in the most basic sense - Bradley had definitely won that breakup - but it was always awkward seeing your partner’s ex. He didn’t know how he’d react to seeing Jack in person. Apparently, Jack hadn’t been the best boyfriend, but he hadn’t been the worst either. 

“So,” Jake said your name, “you got family around here?” 

You tilted your head back and forth, trying to finish chewing faster, before you answered. “My mo - my step-mom and dad are up in Berkeley. We moved down there from Santa Rosa when I was little.”

“NorCal gal...”

Sarah exaggerated a shudder and stabbed at her salad. “God, I could never live above SLO, it’s frigid - and I don’t just mean the weather.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bradley noticed your champagne glass briefly still before it got to your mouth. He cleared his throat. “I’m looking forward to heading up there, actually. Haven’t been upstate in ages. We’re going for Thanksgiving.”

It wasn’t a lie. He was looking forward to spending time with your family. Was he also nervous as hell to meet your dad and Mary? Without question. But he was looking forward to getting to know them and seeing where you had grown up. 

“Well, how long have you lived here?” Sarah asked.

“Since I graduated - I got a job at my firm right after college.” 

“And that’s how many…”

“Oh - uhh let’s see, six years ago - what?” you asked at the mischievous smile on Whiskey’s face. 

“Nothing, nothing. I just didn’t realize there was that much of a gap between the two of you. Looks like you got your civvy and a spring chicken, Roo.”

Though you didn’t outwardly show it - or at least not in a way Sarah and Jake would notice - the comment had bothered you. Eight years was not a huge gap in a relationship - at least not twenty-right to thirty-six. Sure, you made the occasional comment about Bradley’s creaky joints or bad back, but the two of you never really brought it up. 

It just wasn’t a big thing for either of you. Sure, sometimes Bradley thought about how old he’d be when you had kids - not that he thought about it a lot or anything - but it never really gave him pause or brought about any malicious comments like what Sarah was implying.

“I don’t think I’d put it like that -”

And then because she clearly didn’t understand that she’d said something wrong, Sarah kept talking. “How’d you two meet then?”

“We met on Hinge,” you said. That normally elicited two reactions from people: lighthearted jealousy that things actually worked out between you two on a dating app or not-so-passive judgment.

“Oh,” she hummed, “I’ve never really had to use one of those before. You always hear such horror stories…”

Bradley threw his arm over the back of your chair, pulling you even closer to him. “I’m convinced we would’ve met anyway.” He only had eyes for you as he said it.

A couple seats down, Mav and Penny looked a little skeptical. “Oh, really? Then how come we haven’t heard about this before?” Penny teased.

You chuckled and looked to Bradley to continue. “Alright, alright,” he started, “we have this friend, Max - great guy, really - that we both knew separately. But he’s convinced that he was going to set the two of us up anyway.”

You nodded. “We didn’t find out that I was the girl he was trying to set Bradley up with until a couple months ago, actually. But it’s kinda crazy to think about. Things just happen for a reason, I guess.”

“And this way I got to meet you earlier and find out how amazing you are on my own.” 

Penny cooed, knowing it would embarrass him, while Mav reached over the back of your chair to ruffle Bradley’s hair. 

It went without saying, though it really should be something he actually said more often, but for the last year or so Mav and Penny had been Bradley’s biggest supporters - with everything. 

From when he had asked them to look at houses with him and eventually buying one, to going over their house for the holidays, having them over for dinner, playing golf and going sailing together as a family with Amelia, to finally meeting you: they were there for Bradley. And loathe as he may have been to admit it a year ago, getting Mav’s approval of the girl he was dating meant a lot.��

A lot. 

It was almost like if his mom and dad - no, it was like if his mom and dad had approved of you. Because that was who Mav was to Bradley. And this past year had just confirmed that to him. Bradley had gone back for Maverick - had saved his life - at a time when he didn’t even like him. 

But he still loved him. He was his family and he loved him. Always had.

He wondered how Maverick would get along with your dad and Mary? They were of a similar generation, that had to count for something? He could totally see them hanging out and laughing together at the holidays, mainly Mary and Mav teasing your dad. (On the other hand, Bradley had a feeling Maverick and your mother wouldn’t get along terribly well, but he didn’t necessarily see that being a character flaw on Mav’s part.)

Like parents, they gave him advice and made sure he knew he was always welcome at their house and that they loved him. And it was so nice because it was something Bradley had been missing for so long. Missing having someone older, someone who loved him, looking out for him.

And sure, he had friends and colleagues that looked out for him, but they didn’t really know him. They didn’t really know Bradley. And he really liked just being Bradley sometimes. It was like that with you, too. And he had told you so last week, but he realized he needed to tell you that more often. 

Sometimes he felt spoiled. Like the other shoe was going to drop - and he’d lose you or get into another disagreement with Mav and he’d be all alone again. And Bradley had gotten used to not being alone anymore.

He felt himself getting flustered, unsettled. Like his bow tie was too tight. Like the medals and ribbons on his chest were too heavy. He heard your soft laugh and then his name echo through his ears. 

Slowly, he fell back into himself, realizing that he was very much not alone at the moment. That he was seated about a table with three of the people that meant the most to him in the entire world and that he was getting honored for saving one of them. That your hand was on his knee under the table grounding him to you. That you loved him. That you were there with him - for him. 

You squeezed his knee and he snapped his eyes up from his old fashioned, humming his acknowledgment. “Yeah?”

“Jake asked if we’re going to Natasha’s Halloween party?”

“Yeah, looking forward to it.” He left it at that, still a little shaken, but almost back to his normal self. 

Luckily, you chimed in with some additional details. “He’s going as Ted Lasso - blame the mustache,” you joked, getting chuckles from around the table - except from Admiral Simpson, who just grunted. 

Emily’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we love Ted Lasso! Such a cute little show! Do you have the Nikes and the sweater?”

You chuckled. “Yea, we even got him a visor.”

“Awww, that’ll be perfect - oh! And who are you going to be, one of the players?”

There was a pause before you replied. “Uhh, no. Either Rebecca or Sassy, I’m still undecided. Neither are too much of a stretch costume-wise, but it’ll be fun!”

“Fun for you…” Bradley grumbled, but without malice, trying to lighten the mood. You nudged his shoulder. 

“Oh, come on. You can pick next time, promise.” 

After another sip of your champagne, you turned back to Emily to continue the conversation, but Whiskey interrupted you. “So, Ted Lasso, are you big football fans then?”

Bradley looked at you and you both shrugged. “I’ll watch a Premier League match if I’m bored on a Saturday and we went to a San Diego Wave game when they played the Thorns, but not really?”

“Well,” Sarah preened, “I’m a huge Arsenal and Juventus fan. I was just gutted when Italy didn’t qualify.” Sure she was. “I’m rooting for Portugal in the World Cup.”

Conversation soon shifted onto next month’s event, with Jake supporting Argentina and Mav saying he had money on England going to the semis, then the question was turned on you. 

“Oh, I typically root for England, too, but I don’t know, I feel a bit conflicted about it this time around - not that I didn’t last time in Russia, but -” 

“- What?” Sarah interrupted, “you don’t like that it’s in Qatar?” She said it wrong. 

You nodded. “Actually, yeah. I think FIFA knows it can only get away with hosting the tournament in countries that can meet their outrageous expectations of stadiums and hotels and athletes villages if they award it to countries who give little thought as to how the job actually gets done? Lack of oversight on building practices, labor laws, and government corruption may be unethical, but they can get you a marquee sporting event like a World Cup or Olympic bid.

“And the country becomes so dependent on preparing for the event and ‘employing’ the laborers and ‘providing’ all these jobs that they don’t take into consideration what happens when the cranes come down and the tourists leave? Don’t even get me started on the fact that the matches have to be played at night and in the late fall since it’s so hot -”

“- Then where should they have these marquee sporting events, oh-wise-one?” Jake quipped. 

You shrugged. “I don’t know, someone paid more than me can figure it out, but until then,” you toasted your champagne flute, “I’m entitled to my opinion.”

“Well said,” Mav chimed in and toasted his glass to you. 

“I agree,” Cyclone chimed in for the first time. “FIFA on the whole is inherently corrupt - it needs a complete overhaul. More’s the pity for me, I always look forward to the matches, but am feeling similarly this year.”

No one quite knew what to say next, but Admiral Simpson was saved by the delivery of the main course and everyone quickly dug in once the whole table had been served. 

“These short ribs are excellent,” Cyclone said after a lengthy pause, accompanied only by the band doing a fairly decent rendition of Beyond the Sea. Bradley stifled his snort with a bite of his short ribs - which were in fact excellent - and out of the corner of his eye saw you doing something similar. 

Of all the people to try and keep the conversation going at the table, Bradley hadn’t thought it would be Cyclone. 

Ultimately, it was Penny who truly saved the day by asking how the Simpsons kids were doing at college. Her and Amelia were planning a couple visits in the spring and she wanted to know if Emily had any tips. Mary had already promised Amelia, Penny, and Maverick a behind the scenes tour of Berkeley over winter break, but one of the Simpsons went to USC, which Amelia was also interested in touring.

The six of you talked about college and upcoming holiday plans and whatnot for the remainder of the entree portion of the evening, while Jake and Sarah mainly chatted amongst themselves. You even remembered to bring up meeting a wonderful lieutenant who’s actually part of your Top Gun class, Admiral Simpson. Oh, Bradley what was his name again? Lieutenant Kopinski, right?

It was really nice, the ease with which the six of you chatted - well, maybe the five of you since Cyclone didn’t say much - but Bradley felt like you both really belonged. Like you had both passed some sort of test. He was proud of you, obviously, but he was also proud of himself. And he didn’t let himself be proud of himself very often.

Just then, the emcee for the evening came up to the microphone, saying the awards presentation would begin in five minutes. Bradley felt his stomach sink. Of all things he had to think about leading up to that evening, he’d given little thought to the actual awards presentation itself until earlier that evening. 

Would he have to stand up there in front of everyone? It was a small consideration that he knew Maverick didn’t like stuff like this either and he seemed relaxed? Or maybe he was just good at hiding it. It would be fine, it would be fine - you grabbed his hand underneath the table and gave it a little squeeze.

“It’ll be fine, I’m proud of you, bubs. No matter what,” you said for his ears only. 

Bradley squeezed your hand back, ready to say something further, except he was interrupted by Admiral Simpson calling for the table’s attention.

“Now, before I go up there and give the official, fully sanctioned version of this speech, I just want to say that I know some time has passed and some of you have gone onto different detachments and have different commanding officers, but I want you all to know that despite some aspects of the mission not going exactly to plan, I am very proud of the three of you. The success of that mission was one of the highlights of my career thanks in large part to your heroics that day and I am eternally grateful that you’re all sitting in front of me with your partners and colleagues cheering you on - that is all.”

“Well said, sir.” You nodded towards the admiral before smiling at Bradley. It made him feel about ten feet tall.

Everyone raised their glasses. “Cheers” echoed throughout the table and everyone took a hearty sip of their drink, Bradley’s a little more hearty than the others.

He discreetly reached behind your chair and poked Maverick’s shoulders. Mav gave Bradley a probing look and he flushed, embarrassed. “Do you think we uhh - we have to go up there? For the presentation and everything?”

A look of understanding crossed the older man’s face. “Hope we don’t, but if we do, you can stand behind me.”

“I don’t think that’ll help…” you quipped from between them and they both chuckled, tuning back into the others’ conversation. 

“- Meanwhile, Rooster was concussed out of his mind, pretty sure the NFL is using him as a CTE case study,” Hangman quipped.

At your shocked expression, Bradley tried to backpedal. It was stuff like this that reminded him why he wanted to keep his Navy life separate. You were really touchy about head injuries after your accident in high school. 

“That’s just a working theory, my test results were inconclusive -”

Jake cut him off. “ - Mav, back me up here.” 

Everyone turned towards the older pilot, who clearly hated being put on the spot. He tried to hide behind his drink, but eventually muttered out: “No comment.”

You leaned in to whisper in Bradley’s ear. “I’ve got a couple questions for you later, rocketman…” He knew that was coming. 

The band brought Fly Me to the Moon to a close before the final chorus as the emcee, Commander Davis, got back on stage to start the awards presentation. Luckily, you two were on the correct side of the table and didn’t have to turn around to face the stage like Hangman, Whiskey, and Emily did.

“Evening everyone! And what a lovely evening it is out here in Coronado. I’m sorry to drag you away from your delicious desserts and conversations, but it is time for us to celebrate the men and women we are honoring tonight throughout the Pacific Fleet.” There was polite applause. “Tonight’s award winners are being honored for their heroic efforts both in and out of the line of duty and will first be introduced by their commanding officer and then presented with their medal of distinction.” 

Well that cleared up the question of whether Bradley had to go on stage or not. Shit.

Commander Davis waited until the applause died down again. “Now, please let me call Captain Alexandra Caldwell to the stage to introduce our first award winner for this evening, Lieutenant Emma Vance!”

Both Lieutenant Vance and Captain Caldwell received a standing ovation as they took their place on the stage, with Lieutenant Vance standing just off to the side as her commanding officer took the mic. Once everyone settled down, Captain Caldwell started her speech. 

“Thank you, everyone, for such a warm welcome. I am thrilled to be here tonight to honor the kind, thoughtful, caring, and damn hard worker Lieutenant Emma Vance for her efforts in spearheading our local Covenant House chapter and sleepout…”

You leaned over to whisper in his ear. “My office works with them, too. I had no idea you guys had something on base with them.” 

Bradley shrugged. He hadn’t either. Seeming to understand you weren’t going to get a response out of him, you just squeezed his hand. 

He knew you could tell he was nervous and he appreciated your efforts to put him at ease. Throughout the rest of the speech, you kept glancing over at him and smiling softly, holding his hand and rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. 

It felt nice. It grounded him. Distracted him. And right now, he needed to distract himself. Focus on something else. Something like you. 

Admittedly, Bradley had been pretty proud of himself for having relatively chaste thoughts about you all evening - less carnal, more prideful. You had handled everything with such aplomb and grace, even the totally unexpected addition of Sarah to your table, and had made a surprising ally in Cyclone. But as Captain Caldwell droned on and on about Lieutenant Vance’s philanthropic efforts in the community, Bradley knew he was fighting a losing battle. (That wasn’t exactly fair to Lieutenant Vance, who Bradley was sure did an amazing job organizing the Pacific Fleet’s largest ever sleepout to raise money for homeless youth in San Diego. He was just stressed.)

It was that damn slit. And the fact that he knew what he would find if it inched up just a hair higher. If he could just brush his hand against your thigh…

Because dammit he wanted your attention. Luckily, the slit was on the leg next to Bradley - not Maverick, which if there ever was a buzzkill to exist, it was Bradley’s pseudo-father figure. 

That’s not to say that the two of you were into gratuitous PDA to begin with - he wasn’t about to finger fuck you at the table. You were a lady and Bradley wasn’t an animal. He was thirty-six, he could control himself. 

Instead, it was typically a kiss on the cheek or the forehead, an arm around each other’s shoulders or waist. It took a lot for both of you to really go at it in public. And Bradley wasn’t exactly going to start at an event with all his colleagues and superior officers. 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it or say anything to you. Kinda made it a little more fun that way anyway. It drew out the anticipation. 

And Bradley really wanted to draw out the anticipation that night. 

How would he start? You had been adamant that he was not going to have to take off your boob tape, which he couldn’t say he was really broken up over, but that probably meant he wouldn’t be the one to take your dress off. No, he’d wait for you to freshen up, get comfortable, get situated, see if that underwear was a matching set you were going to break out later. 

Maybe you would have a drink together on the patio in your room, snuggle up against each, debrief the evening, or even fawn a bit over Bradley in his uniform (he was only human, alright)? Eventually, you would crawl onto his lap, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him close. He would become acquainted with whichever frothy piece of negligee was covering your breasts, all while you sighed and sighed, saying: 

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. Please, please, please. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He wondered how many he could get out of you? How many times could he make you cum? Until you were a whiny, desperate, cock dumb mess, squirming underneath him? He felt his pants tightening at the thought. He wanted to be in charge tonight - he needed to be in charge tonight, especially since it was the one thing about that evening that he could actually control. He would still give you a choice - or at least the allusion of one - though. It gave him an idea.

“Hey,” Bradley whispered in your ear. You hummed, but didn’t look away from the stage. “Pick a number, one to five?”

At this, you did turn your head to look at him. “What? What does -” 

“- One to five…”

You looked like you were doing some sort of mental math in your head. “Five?”

Fuck him - five. He was going to have to accept this award with one hell of a semi if he didn’t calm himself down. Because he could do five. He got at least two or three out of you normally - five shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. He could do it - you on the other hand…

Bradley just smirked. “Five it is then.”

“Okay…” you muttered and went back to paying attention. But before he knew it, he found his mind drifting again - and this time the results weren’t as pleasant and were definitely a mood killer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Cyclone get up from his spot and sneak off to the side of the stage. Shit, it was coming. Bradley could see the row of three medals, made even more bright and shiny and special, reflecting off the string lights overhead. He was going to have to wear that all night. He was going to have to wear that on his uniform forever. He was going to have to wear that and be reminded of the time he almost died - of the time Maverick almost died - forever. It would always be on his dress uniform, glaring up at him. Faker, faker, faker, fak -

You squeezed his hand, angling his body towards yours. 

“It’ll be over before you know it and then you can come back and dance with me, step on my toes all night if you need to, bubs.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The words had barely left your lips when Bradley heard the call for him, Maverick, and Hangman to get onstage. 

He didn’t remember any of it. 

Someone, he assumed Cyclone, put the medal on his uniform. There were probably some words of congratulations or encouragement. Maybe even some clapping.

He didn’t remember any of it. 

Except…

When he walked back to his seat, the only person he could focus on was you and your smile that was just for him. That was just for Bradley. Because to you, he was just Bradley. Your Bradley. 

He walked a little faster to get back to his seat, blindly nodding to all his well wishers amidst the applause, but all he wanted to do was be in your arms, give you a hug, spin you around, and have you five ways till Sunday. 

Once he bridged the final gap between you, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a fierce hug. He squeezed you just as tightly in return, even picking you up off your feet a bit, and the two of you just stood there for a moment. Bradley didn’t care if anyone was staring - let ‘em. Let them see how much he was loved and how much he loved you in return.

“You did it, bubs,” you whispered in his ear as he finally set you down. The pride and joy and love in your face set all his nerves to rest.

He chuckled dryly and glanced around as the crowd settled back into their seats, keen for the rest of the evening’s festivities to start. All the tension in his shoulders was gone, he felt ten pounds lighter. 

“Hope you took some pictures because I don’t remember any of that.” 

“You looked very…dashing,” you eventually decided upon. 

He scoffed. “Dashing?”

“Hey, you’re the one ready to whip out the thesaurus at any given opportunity, not me.” Bradley exaggerated an eye-roll, acting very much like a six year old than a thirty-six year old. “Fine, let’s go with debonair - no? Dapper? Sharp? Handsome? Suave? No, no - I got one.” 

He gave you a probing look and you cupped his cheek before replying. “Beautiful. You looked beautiful, Bradley.”

He broke eye contact, so taken aback and flustered by the sincerity in your words. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. God, he loved you so much. 

So, he said it.

“I love you, too, bubs.” You kissed him on the lips this time. It didn’t last for too long, but it was just what he had needed.

Through the fog of Bradley’s brain, the opening guitar riff from My Girl seemed louder than any of the songs playing earlier in the evening as the first droves of couples made their way onto the dance floor. 

Not one to let a perfect opportunity pass by, let alone one that would keep you in his arms, Bradley held his hand out to you, palm side up, wordlessly asking you to dance. There was just the slightest hesitation on your part, barely a moment for you to teasingly bite your lip in thought, before you clasped his hand with your own. 

And then you were off. 

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

Later that evening, on his way back from having a celebratory cigar with Maverick, Fanboy, and Bob, Bradley easily spotted you on the dancefloor with Phoenix, Rory, and Halo, dancing to Wouldn’t It Be Nice. You looked so happy and carefree dancing with the three of them. Normally, Bradley wouldn’t have deserted you, but Phoenix and Halo promised to take care of you and it gave you and Rory a chance to catch up. 

After dinner, the two of you had danced for the better part of an hour, your dance moves getting sillier and sillier the more champagne you both had. It was fun, dancing to a live band under the cloudless October sky and knowing the hard part of the evening was over. You had originally worried that you would get chilly in your dress later in the evening, but you had to beg Bradley to take a breather after he broke out into an impassioned and impromptu dance routine to Rich Girl. Hopefully, there would be some slower music as the night wore on and you two could just sway back and forth -

“Rooster!” He heard Hangman calling his name. “Bradshaw?”

The blond finally caught up to him. “What’s up?”

If Bradley didn’t know any better, he would say Hangman looked contrite. “Listen, I wanted to say something earlier, but we were always around other people, so I just - I didn’t know you’d be here with your girl - I mean, I didn’t know that your date would be her. Shit, that didn’t come out right.” Jake took a deep breath. “I didn’t know the girl you were bringing tonight was your long term girlfriend and I sure as hell didn’t know it was the same one from that night before Japan.”

“Okay?”

“I mainly brought Whiskey to fuck with you - not your girl. So, if that made things awkward between you guys or anything then I’m sorry. You guys seem good together.”

It might’ve been the champagne, the general atmosphere, or the fact that while accepting their award Bradley was brutally reminded of the fact that Jake saved both his and Maverick’s lives, but Bradley believed him. He believed that Jake hadn’t been that casually cruel. 

Granted, he was still Hangman and wanted to fuck with him. But he hadn’t done it as a slight to you. He hadn’t purposely tried to make you feel less than. 

“And Whiskey and I have been seeing each other for the past couple weeks, but I probably wouldn’t have actually brought her with me tonight were it not for the fact that it would needle you, but yeah - that’s just shitty? So, we square?”

Bradley held his hand out. “Yeah, we’re good, Hangman.” He looked so relieved that Bradley felt compelled to keep the conversation going as long as Whiskey didn’t pop up anytime soon. “So, uhh you guys staying over?”

“Yeah,” Jake paused to take a sip of his drink, “we got one of those cabanas rooms, think Maverick did, too.”

Interesting. He was going to file away that piece of information for later. “You guys check in late or…” 

Jake nodded. “Yeah, Whiskey - Sarah had a thing this morning -”

A blurred figure in ivory cut Jake off as you practically ran into Bradley, looking a little giddy. “It’s your song, Bradley!” 

Sure enough, the starting notes to You Make Me Feel So Young echoed across the dance floor and he bit back a smile. “Then I guess we gotta dance, kid.” 

“Sorry,” you explained to Jake, “I gotta steal him away.”

Jake took it all in stride. “You kids have your fun, I think I’m gonna head out soon anyway. Still on Japan time. Goodnight.”

You and Bradley returned the sentiments and made your way back onto the dancefloor, passing by Penny and Maverick, who shot him a wink. “What was that about?”

“I’ll tell you later.” You raised an eyebrow in question, but took his proffered hand and got into a hold. “I promise, I just want to dance and talk to you - how was hanging out with the squad?”

“It was nice, I haven’t talked to Rory in a couple weeks - ever since I introduced them and Nat - so it was good to catch up. And then Callie walked me through her shoe debacle and - I guess it’s just been nice finally putting faces to all the names I’ve heard over the past couple months.” Bradley hummed. “Admiral Simpson, Mr. Coleman -”

“- Oh, Hondo is going to get a kick out that - Mr. Coleman -”

You ignore him. “- Mickey’s girlfriend Cielo, Commander Davis, Sarah…”

Instinctively, Bradley pulled you closer towards him. “Lots of interesting characters around these parts.”

“She’s pretty…” You didn’t need to clarify who you were talking about - as much as Bradley thought Cielo was pretty, he knew you meant Sarah.

“She’s also annoying - you really didn’t know what she looked like?”

“I’ve never looked up any of your exes,” you admitted, “Didn’t want to compare myself or anything. Plus, I’d probably cyberbully the fuck out of Ezra, piece of shit…”

Bradley felt his cheeks warm up at your protectiveness and pulled back to look you in the eye. “You wanna know a secret? I looked up yours.”

“What? Really?” 

“Mmhhmm.” He brought you back into the proper hold, except this time he laid his hand a little lower on your back. “And as much as it pains me to say this, kid, Jack has a receding hairline and is selling condos up in Torrey Pines.”

You let out something between a chuckle and a gasp. “You’re kidding?” Bradley shook his head, knowing he looked entirely too pleased about this. “He’s only - what, thirty? And he already has a receding hairline?”

“I can show you the picture when we get back to the table if you really want?” You giggled and it lit up your whole face. Bradley didn’t think he’d ever been more in love with you. 

He’d do anything to see you keep smiling like that, anything to let you know how thankful he was for all you’d done that night: for forgiving him for being an ass and not initially inviting you, for letting everyone else fall in love with how capable, smart, witty, and beautiful you were, for offering Bradley a reassuring word or squeeze of his hand when he got too inside his head, and for dancing with him when his colleagues became too much.

Plus, the five orgasms he was going to try and pull out of you later would also put a smile on your face - hopefully a dumb one. Should he tell you now and let the anticipation build? Or wait until later when you were back in the room and he could go into explicit detail of how he would drag each one out of you?

He smiled, feeling just a little cocky. Was it too early to leave? Drag you back to the room, fuck you out, order room service, and watch the end of Saturday Night Live? Couldn’t hurt to ask -

“Have you -”

“Do you think we could - sorry, you go first,” he said. 

You leaned back a little bit in your hold to look him in the eye. “You ever give any thought to what rank you want to retire at?” So much for his plan. Bradley furrowed his brow. “You retire as one more than what you are, right?”

“Yeah…I guess I haven’t thought about it too much? I don’t really know what I’d do instead? I mean, the Navy’s all I’ve ever really known?” You considered this. “But - I don’t know - I’m not really sure I could see myself as - did you know with Mav’s rank he’s technically the commanding officer of an aircraft carrier?”

Your jaw dropped, just a little. “No way? Is that something you’d want to do?”

“Maybe? I don’t know? I can be a Commander in about two years - if all goes well. And then I’d officially have my own squadron.” 

“Might be nice to be a Captain like Mav?” It would be cool to be a Captain. Growing up, all Bradley had wanted to be was like Maverick - everyone always got it twisted thinking he wanted to be like his dad, but his dad had been an RIO, not a pilot - it just made sense that he would want to follow in his footsteps now, too. “Everyone could call you Captain? Like Captain Von Trapp in the Sound of Music?”

He laughed. “We gonna have seven kids, too?”

“Hmmm good point, maybe six then?” 

“Funny.” 

The gave him a long look, like you were trying to figure something. "Who are you tonight, the Numbers King? First all that pick a number stuff and now we're the Von Trapps with our seven kids?"

Bradley smirked. Fuck he couldn't wait for you to find out. "Wouldn't you like to know...."

“I’ll figure it out.”

You both danced in silence for the final part of the song, until it transitioned out into something slower and more sultry. The amount of couples on the dance floor had thinned slightly, with some of the older crowd heading home or to their hotel rooms. 

“Hey, bubs?” Bradley hummed. “I know that having all of this come up again is resurfacing a lot of mixed feelings for you tonight, but I just want you to know that I’m proud of you every night and I love you every night. Not just when everyone else sees how amazing you are.”

He knew he was blushing like crazy. From the tips of his ears down to his neck, he was pink. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever bestowed that amount of love and kindness towards Bradley since before his mom had passed away. God, he loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you. His beautiful, kind, and clever girl. With eyes just for you.

“Thank you for making the night easier for me. I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Just having you by my side helped more than you’ll probably ever know.”

You dunked your head and tried to hide how flustered he had made you by glancing around the dance floor, watching all the couples around you with mixed interest. This, of course, meant your attention was not on Bradley and that would just not do. But the soft smile on your face quickly fell and you tensed. 

He followed your gaze and found it on Rear Admiral Porter, the asshole from after the Speaker’s visit. That one’s got quite a mouth on her. You retreated into yourself a little and Bradley had half a mind to go over and demand an apology, but he knew you would loathe making a scene. Plus, Porter probably didn’t even remember the incident even though you and Bradley did. 

“Hey, none of that.” He slipped his right hand lower on your bare back and pulled you even closer. You gasped at the sudden movement - and probably at the fact that Bradley’s hand was cupping the top of your ass in a way that was verging on indecent. “Weren't you just saying how proud of me you are? Eyes on me, kid” he teased.

Your eyes met and you seemed to center yourself. A teasing smile crept across your face. “Why? Do you only have eyes for me?” you asked, referencing the song playing. 

In response, he pulled you closer and you dug your fingers into his shoulder. “‘S my gala, want you lookin’ at me…”

“Aww, bubs,” you giggled. “Sorry, it’s just fun watching everyone - well, almost everyone. Maybe I’ll even let Pete take me for a spin again…”

Bradley huffed out a laugh and spun you out and back into him. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“Oh come on,” you whispered, “you don’t need to pull out all the stops tonight. You already saw your present for later…”

The piano melody from I Only Have Eyes for You faded out and transitioned into It’s Not for Me to Say. You both swayed in time. 

“True - hey, you know,” he said lightly, “I’ve behaved all night - barely touched you in a way that wasn’t befitting my station, but that hasn't stopped my thoughts from being decidedly less chaste…”

“Oh? What do you mean, Lieutenant Commander?”

It was almost too easy. For someone so clever, you always somehow managed to fall right into his trap. Or maybe Bradley had fallen right into yours? You had never called him that before. Lieutenant Commander. He didn’t think it would have as much of an effect on him as it did. You both continued dancing, not missing a step or bringing your voices above a whisper. 

“Wanted to slip my hand up the slit of that dress at dinner, skirt the edge of those panties I saw earlier. Can’t wait to unwrap my present.” He could feel you suck in a breath. “Fuck, I still can’t believe you wore a white dress -”

“- It’s ivory -” you corrected needlessly, but Bradley ignored you. 

“- trying to be all innocent when you and I both know how fucking desperate you are for me to fuck you. Bet I could take you right now - right off the dance floor - and you’d squirt all over my cock. Because you’ve been wet all night, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

You let out a pathetic whimper and rested your head against Bradley’s chest, skirting around all the ribbons and medals. To the outside observer, it would have just looked like you were tired or had gotten caught up in the music. But Bradley knew better. 

“I asked you a question, kid,” he whispered in your ear, “you’ve been wet all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes - I’m sorry, Bradley. I couldn’t help myself.”

He clicked his tongue. God, you were fucking putty in his hands. He loved whenever you got like this. It didn’t happen often, but he knew you liked it as much as he did. How fucking needy and desperate and submissive he could get you with some words - and on a dance floor surrounded by his colleagues, too. You would both be the epitome of grace and class out on the dancefloor, but after the band wrapped up and the bar gave its last call?

Fuck. 

He was going to have so much fun with you back in the room. 

Five times. Five times. Five times. 

And you had no idea. 

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[next part]

a/n: thanks to everyone for sticking with me and being so supportive while i wrote and revised and wrote and revised - again. i'm definitely my own biggest critic, so special thanks to tiernan, kylie, cass, loren, and alexa for talking me off the ledge a couple times - hope you all enjoyed this part and look forward to the next 😉 (five times!!!)

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze part.4 — Spencer Reid

Icon by @obiwansjedi

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3

Sumarry: After the breakup, Spencer and the Reader follow different paths and lives. But, after 8 years, Gideon's death brings an avalanche of emotions, putting the two face to face again in a reencounter that could break their hearts again — season 10 —

Couple: Spencer Reid /Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: mention of death, mention of violence, death of the father, depressive thoughts, murder, crying, swearing, a lot of anguish, mention of love, fluff (but it has a very fluff too, I'm not a monster)

Word count: 5k.

A/N: This is the most sad chapter that has, I promise that the next will be very cute.💖

I saw Gideon's death episode again to make it as faithful as possible for you guys. I used the original Criminal Minds chronology too, being 8 years from Gideon's last appearance until his death.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Let me know if you want to be added for a taglist for a specific fandom (Criminal Minds, The Umbrella Academy, Riverdale, Roman Godfrey, or all)

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

Hunting bandits. Save people. Improve the world a little bit every day. Those were the three things Spencer believed it was worth to be at BAU. It was worth fighting for, holding on, staying sleepless for days, being haunted by murderers by day and nightmares at night. For what it was worth looking at the abyss, even when it looks to you

Reid could deal with human perversion, with the thousand and one ways to practice heinous crimes, the sowing of evil and cruelty. He could cope with constantly being inside insane minds, learning his whys and mechanisms. He could take it. He put up with it day after day, case after case. He endured being tortured, stay being held at gunpoint, having a piece of his essence plucked with red-hot iron month after month. Spencer knew he could handle it.

But he couldn't handle death. Goodbye. It shattered his soul far more than difficult cases, pushed his own sanity to the limit. Perhaps burying his feelings as deeply as possible was just a method of delaying the wave that would drown him at one time or another. Inevitably.

Each farewell took a piece of Reid away. His father, his mother, Ellie, you, Gideon, JJ, were just a few of the people who left, living their lives elsewhere. But what about those who died? The victims, the children, Hayley, Maeve, Emily (even if only for a short time) and so many others. These took much more than a piece of him. Maybe costu his whole soul.

Spencer felt himself harden over the years, the cases, loss after loss, day after loss. He felt the purity of his own heart slip through his fingers like sand, the faith in humanity to be put to the test. Sometimes even faith in himself.

Was that the price to pay for that job? Being constantly vulnerable? See his life and the lives of the people his loved most at gunpoint?

It was worth?

Maeve's death shook him more than any other, sucking all the pink glow from his world, leaving him with only the cold feeling of hopelessness. A very deep void. It took a long time for memories of she not to hurt like red-hot iron, for his breathing not to be heavy. It took a long time to be happy again.

And when Spencer felt healed from the deepest wounds, the most visceral pains, he was hit again. Deeply. If Maeve's death was a wave that brought him down, Gideon's death was the tsunami that destroyed him.

“It's Gideon.” Hotch's voice confirmed the fear of everyone in that cottage.

Then Spencer felt shattered. Torn apart. Torn like a rag doll and placed on the fire. He wanted to scream, to scream so loudly that he would never regain his voice. He wanted to break something, destroy some, run away.

But run away from whom? From what? That pain or himself? If Spencer had been able to tear off his own skin at that time and be someone else, he would not have hesitated. Not having dropped to his knees in that cottage was a miracle, because Spencer no longer knew what was holding him upright.

Jason Gideon, in many ways, was all that Spencer had. He knew that they took different paths and traveled different roads, living different lives, but he believed that they always end up on the same, even one they was old. Spencer was sure that if he was dying on his knees, Gideon would be to rescue him. For all those 8 years, it was extremely comforting to think that Gideon was out there, living life, finding the hope he had in college, finding the brilliance the world had.

And Reid knew that Jason had you. And you had Gideon. That was the most soothing and comforting thought. No matter what, he knew that you would take care of Jason, just like he would take care of you. But now... now Spencer's world had dissolved in the air. Like a sandcastle knocked over by the wind.

And the pain was surreal.

When he realized, he had left the room, close to the... body. If he could, Spencer would have moved away from himself. How would he take it? One more death, another psychopath. How many other people he love will are died at the hands of the work he did every day?

The answer to all of these questions was frightening, and Spencer wasn't sure if wanted them.

The trip to the coroner was the worst Reid had ever done, talking about the body was the worst conversation he had ever had. And when Morgan put his hand on his shoulder and said that he couldn't close himself now, that they were going to get that son of a bitch, all Spencer wanted to say was that he couldn't take it anymore. That he couldn't breathe. The emptiness was too oppressive. So much visceral pain.

But that was not what Spencer said. He just clung to the only lifeguard in the middle of the rough and deserted sea: justice. Gideon deserve it.

Reid doesn't know how he managed to get back to the Gideon’s house, how he managed to hear Hotch and Rossi talking about what could have happened. But he was there, standing, by some miracle.

“Do you know who might want to have done this?” Hotch asked Stephen, who had arrived, his eyes red from the crying he struggled to hold.

“No. I know he had a list of things he wanted to do before he died... That's how we came back to speak, one of the things was to get back in touch.” His voice was so reminiscent of Gideon's that it was stabbed in the heart of Reid.

“Didn't he talk about being chased? Feeling anything strange?” Rossi commented.

Reid watched Stephen's expressions carefully, first because he reminded Gideon a lot, and second because he looked for any clues in his reactions.

Stephen took a second to think before saying: “No, but we both don't keep in touch daily, you know?” He swallowed a sob, probably with regret, but then his eyes lit up with some information: “'But Y/n surely know, they both spoke to each other every day, if my father was thinking differently, surely she know.”

The mention of your name hit Reid with a very different wave. Bringing a very different feeling than it should. At that moment, he felt himself holding the air.

For a second, a lapse of consciousness, Spencer had not connected any of this with your physical presence. The notion that you were Gideon's daughter was obvious but, for some reason, Spencer didn't think about the fact that you were going to be there. That you would share the same air with him again, the same place...

“We will have to call her, bring her here to see if something has been left, or taken. If there is anything important on the scene.” It was Hotch.

“I called her as soon as you guys called me.” Stephen said “She arrived from California the day before yesterday, my father and she were going to travel.” He tried to swallow the crying, his eyes trembling.

"And you weren't going?" Rossi added.

“I have a son and a wife.” He gave a smile broken by the sadness of the mourning “They would stop by before I go… Y/n was going to tell me the news, since our schedules hardly match much, she works as an astronomer in…”

“Caltech.” Spencer completed, without even realizing it, like a thought out loud.

“Yea.” Stephen agreed.

Spencer felt a chill go from head to toe, and another ton of feelings were thrown at his back. The reality that he was going to see you again hit him hard. Like an arrow. Suddenly, Reid wanted to get out of there. Run as far as possible.

He couldn't see you. He had no ability to deal with those feelings now. Not now, when his life was so overwhelmed with emotions for Gideon’s death that he still hadn't dealt Not when you aroused the feeling of... hope. Spencer can’t could hope, of any kind. Not for them to be taken from him with visceral force. Reid was already hurt enough for handling another fall.

“... But I don't think it's a good idea for my sister to be here, anyway.” Stephen continued to speak.

Rossi and Hotch frowned: “Why?”

“They were very connected. Seeing this scene is not going to do her any good...” he sobs this time “Y/n is not like me… she is sentimental, emotional. ”

“As long as you're trying to stay calm, she'll be the opposite.” Hotch completed.

“I just don't want my sister to suffer anymore and...”

But it was too late for Stephen to complete. It was too much for Spencer to escape. It was too late to be born again, in a different life.

A gray car moved forward on the stone road, at too high a speed not to have washed several road fines. That was so much typical of you who hurt Spencer's heart pieces more than he thought possible. More than he thought he could feel at the time. You were always so wild at the wheel. But Reid didn't have time to finish a thought, not even Rossi, Hotch, Morgan who was with them or even Stephen. Because car brutally stopped it, the door opened and…

And it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds after years. As if summer had finally come after decades of overwhelming winter. In a burst, everything you've ever represented for Spencer has come back for him once again. And he felt the same thing that he felt when he first saw you, 8 years ago. And he was catatonic.

You got out of the car in a very hurried and desperate way. And as much as there were tears in your eyes and redness in cheeks, Spencer has never seen anyone so beautiful. Your hair was longer, in a brighter shade, maybe you had dyed it. Your features were more lyrical and beautiful, and Reid thought that the passage of time had no effect on you. While he considered himself just less clumsy over the years, you proved to be blooming like Romania's most superb rose.

“DAD!” But that was when your desperate voice brought Reid's consciousness back to earth.

You weren't calling your brother, you weren't asking why, you weren't in mourning. You were in denial. Disbelieving. You called out to your father, with the certainty that he would show up. And the despair in your eyes hurt Reid more than being shot.

But before the agents could do anything, you were running towards the house and Stephen ran towards you, taking you in his arms, trying to keep you from getting inside.

“LET ME GO, STEPHEN!” You struggled, trying to get rid of your brother's arms, your hair messing with the wind, tears streaming down your eyes. “They are wrong! It's not our father! Let me fucking go! DAD!”

“Y/n” Stephen had a broken heart in his eyes, some tears streaming down his eyes “You need to calm down before you get in there !”

“LET ME GO!” Yours sobs broke the hearts of the four agents over there “DAD!” You was cryng out, almost like a prayer, in a desperate call.

"He's gone, Y/n.” Your brother kept his arms stronger in you, trying to contain you while you struggle in trying to break free and go inside the house, under the illusion that you would find your father there.

“NO!” Now your crying was continuous “I spoke to him yesterday! It's not him, Stephen!” Then your brother turned you to him, holding you tight, and you melted into a visseral pain “It can't be him!”

“I know...” he sobbed, looking at you with the same shared pain “I know...”

So you gave yourself up to a painful, loud and desperate crying, the kind that won't let you breathe. And, unlike Reid, you fallen down. Your knees found the stone and grass floor, your hands clasped on Stephen's shirt, who knelt on the floor with you, delivered the pain you both shared.

You knew what your father's risks were in working in such a dangerous profession. Expose yourself to constant and frightening danger. You always knew about the risks, you just tried to ignore them all your life, sinking your fears about your father not coming home at night. Then, when he let the BAU, that fear dissipated. You felt a colossal weight being lifted off your shoulders, like tons of lead, and you let go of a fear so great that you didn't even know you had it.

For 8 years you thought that the chances of him not coming home were over, that the chances of seeing him the next day had increased dramatically. For 8 years you two traveled together, stopping at every type of diner for milkshake, chocolate ice cream and mint - his favorites - For 8 years you had your best friend, the only thing you knew you had in the world. You always knew that if you were drowning in the ocean, it would be your father who would give his lungs for you to breathe.

You didn't see a life without Gideon.

For you, you were crying for hours in what one day was your father's backyard, totally devastated, but for the rest of the world it was a matter of minutes.

Your sobs were so loud and real that Hotch and Rossi caught themselves with watery eyes, perfectly understanding the pain you were going through, the devastation. The two had lost many people, many of them being essential pieces to be able to continue breathing. Many of them felt wounds that would never heal.

But it was Rossi who approached you, the pain at the top of his throat, his mind wandering the day Gideon said he was going to have a little girl. Unlike Stephen, Rossi never saw you in person, but the sparkle in Jason's eyes whenever he talked about you, or with you on the phone, was enough to know that you were one of the essential pieces to keep breathing.

“Hi, my name is Rossi.” He knelt in front of you and your face went towards him, your cheeks and nose as red as your eyes.

“M-my dad talked about you."” You were still sobbing, slowly letting go of Stephen's shirt.

"Good things, I hope.” The two of you laughed like a sigh, and soon the pain returned to your eyes in a visseral way. “I know this is not fair, and I know it is asking too much, but I need you to go inside and try to find something out of place. Something that whoever did this to your father may have taken or left. ”

You closed your eyes in pain, tears streaming as you sobbed. Your hands, trembling and cold, went to your face, perhaps trying to hide from reality, perhaps wiping away tears. Maybe both. When you looked back at Rossi again, you saw the pain in his eyes too.

"I don't know if I can do it.” You admitted, your voice shaking.

"I know.” Rossi took his hand to yours, squeezing comfortingly “But only you can help us now, help other daughters not lose their father to the same killer. Being inside in the house can bring information that is in your subconscious. I promise you will make it, we will all be here with you.”

His handshake got stronger, and it reminded you of your father. That should have been the same way he comforted the victims' relatives, the way he was supposed to act with people.

'Everyone is somebody's son.' That's what Gideon said. It hit you like an atomic bomb. And, for a moment, you thought it was possible to die of sadness.

You squeezed Rossi's hand tightly, as if you were looking for courage. When you opened eyes again, you gave a weak nod. Carefully, as if any sudden movement is capable of causing you more pain, you stood up, your legs wobbly, your heart bleeding, sadness clouding your vision. Rossi put his hand behind your back, in a way to make sure him were there, as an anchorage in reality that would not let you get lost in the valley of sadness and pain.

As you walked up to the house, you didn't see the other agents, you didn't see the trees, the cars. At that time, you didn't even know what color the sky was anymore. It was like a suspended moment, when the world is in slow motion, the hemisphere is terrified. The sadness was palpable in the breeze, in the way that the rays of the sun did not reach the ground. The whole land looked like mourning.

As soon as you stepped inside the house, the smell of home and Gideon hit your nose, and you felt your face tighten in an expression of pure pain. You didn't notice the agents coming in behind you, you didn't notice Penelope and JJ. You just saw the furniture, the decor, his stuff. As if Gideon had just left for the market and was going to come back.

Everything was in was there. Minus the most important thing: him.

You did not notice when Rossi left you, you did not notice who approached. Everything was in a haze of pain.

But that's when you saw the strong blood marks on the floor, stuck to the wood with possession. A cold shiver as sighed from death ricocheted through your entire body, bristling all over your skin. In a burst, like the bursting of a violin string, the mist dissipated, the state of tupor burst, and reality hit you with overwhelming force.

And then the plug fell.

Jason Gideon had died.

You fell again, barely noticing the sobs and loud crying starting to come out again, the most desperate and painful in you life. But this time the arms that took you were different, bringing with you sensations that you haven't felt in a long time. That a long time ago you forgot that you could feel.

They were long, thin, and contained a vigor hidden beneath the thin facade. The smell of his presence was… heaven. That feeling was your anchorage on the high seas, in the valley of despair, and you clung to him for fear of drowning, of not finding your way back home.

You didn't have to see it to know who it was.

You turned to the arms that took you, now Spencer kneels with you on the floor, and you cried in a way that you never cried before, with a visseral pain. Your hands went to the brown cardigan he wore, closing there as if the fabric was your only chance for salvation.

So you looked at the immensity of the his brown irises.

"He was the only thing I had, Spen.” You sobbed loudly with the crying, gently swaying his coat, your voice utterly torn.

Spencer felt his eyes sting, his throat lock and the remains of what was his heart ache in a hideous way.

“I know.” He felt a tear run down his left cheek, his hands on your arms.

At this time, the two of you supported each other. Gideon meant a lot to you two. An irreplaceable role in yours life. And Spencer knew that was what you were talking about when you said:

"He was the only thing we both had.” You closed your eyes, your hands still firmly on his coat, your heart pounding.

But this time Spencer's voice was just as broken when he said: “I know.”

Then he hugged you.He hugged you for everything. He hugged you because it was a pain that only you two could understand. He hugged you because you needed it, and because he needed too.

Jason Gideon had a special connection with you two, a connection that only the two of you had ever experienced. Each relationship with Gideon was different, special in different ways, but only the two of you had him as a protector, mentor, a much more paternal and confidant figure. He was the kind of person you could leave your life in his hands, the kind who would teach you the secret of the worlds, show you what goodness was and at the same time strength. And you two had that.

You stained Reid's coat with tears, and Reid stained you with the strong smell he had. He stepped far enough away to be able to see your face perfectly, at a considerable distance, and, against everything he had ever done before with anyone, he took your face in his hands, his eyes fixed on your in pain shared.

“We will catch how did it.” Reid assured you, as if he had tattooed this words on your skin. You closed your eyes in pain, but he brought you back “Hey, keep looking at me."

So you did it. Because you would always follow Spencer. To hell if he asked.

"Don't take your eyes off mine, okay?” His voice was so sweet, so gentle, and you couldn't have done anything but agree. “When was the last time you spoke to Gideon?”

“Yesterday.” You replied “We were going to travel to the beach today, I took a vacation from work.”

“Was he at home when you two talked?”

The team looked at each other, with several questions in those look.

You denied it, the hiccup now because of the shortness of breath you had because of the crying.

“He stopped at Roanoke for...” and that's when you seemed to remember something.

Your eyes widened softly, your lips trembled, and you let out a stammering sigh as you try to remember something very important.

“What do you remember?” Spencer stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, trying to calm the beating of your heart that went back to being frantic and making you focus on the question, not the sea of ​​emotions you felt.

“He…” was when your eyes fluttered before meeting Reid's again. “He said he saw a woman on the news who was found dead. And ... and that he had to make sure of one thing ”

Rossi looked at Hotch, who gave an attentive and objective expression.

“Did he tell you why?” His eyes closed again and you sobbed. Reid moved closer, bringing your face back in his direction again “Look at me, Y/n.”

As soon as you did, he gave you a gentle smile, but contained all the pain in the world. He understood what you were felling.

“Why was he interested in the case?” He changed the question.

“I-it was something about...” you searched in your mind “Girl named Tara. I don’t know. He mentioned about a blue butterfly tattoo on her ankle as well, and that it was something to do with a… a case or something.”

“1978” Rossi interrupted and everyone looked at him “Gideon and I worked on a case in 1978, the suspect was never caught and Tara was a teenager who we thought had been kidnapped by him. The killer left dead birds in the hands of the victims ”

“But he didn't mention birds and...” That's when your eyes, fluttering, darted around the room and you stopped abruptly.

Spencer turned his attention to you again, seeing that you were staring somewhere. His hands slowly left your face and he asked:

“What?”

“The board.” You pointed to your father's board, which had a beautiful brown bird.

“Does say anything to you?” Rossi turned his attention to you.

You shook your head, your body too exhausted to go to the painting and examine it.

“He shot the board.” You looked at the agents “My father loved that painting, he never would have done that. Even though my father is stunned, he has the best aim I have ever seen.”

“The devil is in the details." Rossi went to the pinting and, after two seconds, turned to the team and said “I already know who did this.”

You let out a gigantic sigh of relief as the agents split up to continue the case, speaking so fast that you couldn't keep up.

“I helped?” You looked at Spencer, tears still shining in your eyes.

He smiled and nodded “Very.”

But when he got up, you took his hand, making Reid turn his attention back to you again, a questioning look on his face.

“You're going to get it, aren't you?” The sob invaded your voice "Promise me that you will catch him, Spen."

Reid took his hand in your, giving you a strong, comforting squeeze before saying:

"I will. I promise.”

And then he left, along with the other agents.

- - -

You thought you knew what pain was, the loss, the tightness in the heart. You thought that your many relationship breakdowns showed you what it was like to suffer. But you have never been so wrong. None of that compared to how you were now, to what you felt.

You would trade that feeling for anything in the world.

This was terrible. A cold, coercive, brutal and cruel feeling. As if you were at the bottom of a black ocean, unable to breathe, falling deeper and deeper, consumed by the overwhelming cold of the water.

It was impossible to say in words how you felt. But if it were you had to define it in one word you would say: pain. A pain that bends you, a pain that makes you want to scream, that pierces your lungs so that it is not possible to breathe, but that even so, you fight for air.

It was pain at its rawest, most brutal, sharp and atrocious like a dagger blade. You would go through Dante's hells for eternity instead of living one day with that pain.

Since Spencer and the agents went after the person in charge, you have sat on the steps of the front door, watching the nature, the shaking of the trees, but your attention was so far, far away. Perhaps unattainable.

Gideon always loved watching the seasons go by, and in that moment, you wondered if looking at the same thing he looked at every day would make you feel close to him. Feel with him. It had only been three days since you last saw him, when he picked you up at the airport, but you felt like you were past three lives. How would you go without it? How were you able to think of living without it?

You pulled your knees up against your chest, hugging your legs, the metallic, atrocious and icy taste of devastation stuck to yours in your mouth. The trees shook hard, forcing the birds to fly away, but you didn't feel cold. You were not feeling the cold breeze hit your body, nor were your muscles contracting in exhaustion from the hard wood of the steps you were sitting on.

The hunger, the cold, the heat or the craving could not reach you, as if the pain had paralyzed all your system. Probably your soul.

You didn't see when Stephen put father's blanket over your shoulders, nor did you hear his sobs for seeing you so devastated. But you smelled Gideon, and the warmth of the blanket was like having his arms around you again. Then the rest of the water in your body found its way to your eyes and crying was as automatic as breathing.

You were clinging to Spencer taking the son of a bitch who did it, trying to chase away any other thoughts that weren't about that. You didn't want to think about what would happen after he was caught. Which meant his capture for you. It would bring justice to Gideon, honoring his name, his life, but it wouldn't bring him back. What was taken from you would not be repaired, regardless of the end of that damned man.

When he was caught, you would have nothing else to focus on instead.

You don't know how long you stayed there. Hours? Days? The those peach and gold tones in the sky is from dusk or the dawn of a new day?

You had lost track of time, as if your watch had stopped since the time Gideon died.

The sound of cars on the road was the only thing that pulled you out of your fucking valley, and as soon as the black SUVs stopped, you stood up as if you had been waiting your whole life for that moment. The blanket fell from your shoulders, heart accelerated at an alarming rate, and for a second, everything was gone from your mind.

Rossi was the first to get out of the car, but yours eyes darted to Reid. You wanted to run, ask what had happened, listen to the answers. But you were paralyzed in place. Afraid of the truth, of reality.

What would become of you after that news?

Spencer came towards you without hesitation, and you couldn't take your eyes off him for a second. He didn't say anything, nor did he explain anything. It was not needed. The way he reached out his hand and placed your father's rings in your palm were enough answers.

Your whole body shook and you looked at Reid with more emotions than askers.

"He is dead." He told you, and it made you fall down again.

But this time you fell into his hugging, clinging to him in despair. There were many meanings in that embrace: gratitude, relief, fear, pain and grief. And Spencer hugged you back in the same way.

You two stayed that way for a while, even when the agents went to talk to Stephen, even when Garcia and JJ left the house, even when the cold wind hit you both.

“Thanks." You heard yourself say it, and Spencer shook his head, signaling that it wasn't necessary, and the two of you moved away.

So you went to Rossi, and hugged him too. In that second, Rossi could feel Gideon in that hug, and it took a second to not cry.

“Your father was a great man." He told you when the two of you walked away, and you agreed on a sad smile.

"He was." You looked down at the rings in your hand, staying a second there before turning to the agents and saying: “You guys are going to the funeral, aren't you? I ... my dad would like it w-very much.”

"Of course." Rossi guaranteed it.

As they walked away and went back to the car, heading for their own houses, your eyes met Spencer's and he whispered in the air to you:

“I will see you at the funeral."

You nodded, giving you a sad, grateful smile. And while everyone was leaving and you were looking at the rings in your hand again, you had a feeling that your story with Spencer had just started over.

A/n: I also lost a very important person to death, and for everyone who went through it too, I mean that no one is alone! My message box is open if you need anything! Love you❤️

Tagged @gublersuvula

@peculiarinsomniac

@measure-in-pain

@nobutalsoyes

🍒 @misshale21

[honourablejester]

Shadow & Bone Reaction

Okay, so I watched Shadow & Bone last night. Stayed up until 5am to manage it, so this is going to be muddled, but howandever. Spoilery and involved first impressions from someone who has not read the books below:

Right, so the Ketterdam crew are my favourites. Obviously. This was guaranteed

All three of them, I cannot decide between them

Jesper is a gambling addict which does grind my miserly gears a bit, but he’s also lovely and adorable and quite possibly the most badass person on the show, which is an achievement, and his interactions with Inej are beyond adorable, so I love him with all my heart

That thing Inej said to Alina? Whenever you need it, my hand is yours? That is me for Inej. More on this later

Kaz is a vicious little gremlin of a man with a badly hidden streak of loyalty, and he’s exactly my stripe of guile antihero, so of course I adore him madly

The absolute chaos of them just … accidentally poking their oars into the entire rest of the plot is beautiful beyond belief. They’re just there and mucking things up for everybody like someone threw a bag of spanners into an engine, and it’s beautiful

I was surprisingly really on board for Mal and Alina. Particularly them as kids, this pair of tiny scrappers against the world

I also loved the whole First Army part at the beginning. Like, Mal’s pair of friends, Mikael and Dubrov, they’re adorable (and I fucking screamed later, with the machine gun, you bet), him and Alina in the camp, his friends teasing him about her, him stealing Grisha grapes for her. The show got right in on the friendship and the love there, and honestly I was there for it

The Darkling, on the other hand …

Right. So. I expected him to maybe be … more subtle than he was? I mean, I think everyone’s expecting him to go villain here, so it probably wasn’t supposed to be that subtle, but …

That moment where Alina decides to kiss him. After being separated from Mal, with no communication with her old life, and with Kirigan being all sad and incredibly intense at her at random moments. Like. Long, long before we get to his whole forcibly altering her body to control her moment, I was looking at her kissing this dude and going ‘Oookay, okay lady, that’s, that’s not a good plan. I get that it’s Ben Barnes, do not blame you there, but that’s so not a good plan’

He just kept coming on so fucking strong, you know? The whole intense ‘I’ve been waiting for you my whole life’. He was bleeding desperation and control from the get go. And like, lots of people have those in this show, but where someone like Kaz or Inej feel like ‘I will stab you in the face right fucking now to get out of this alive’, Kirigan is very much, yes, ‘I will swallow your entire city in darkness and give a nice little speech about it to captive dignitaries who I’ll then murder because they shouldn’t have opened their mouths’

There’s more power there than the others, I think, so it feels less like ‘I’ll do what I have to do’ and more ‘I’ll do what I want’

Which his backstory was an interesting show on, yes, how he started out just as desperate as any of them, and then vengeance and black magic ate him. As it does. But still. He comes on too strong

(And the collar. The collar. Not even the massacre later matched that one for me, though Genya’s casual mention of him ‘gifting’ her at 11 came close. But it didn’t match the collar for visceral no. He mutilated Alina to implant a control device within her body. He can die in a ditch with his head covered in pitch and set on fire now. I can’t with him. No)

So, yes. Excellent villain, definitely, I just expected him to maybe take a bit longer to show it?

His minions are adorable, though. The two married heartrenders, Genya and the Durast she has the biggest danged crush on (gotta say, when Kirigan said he needed him for later, I was honestly expecting him to kill him for something, to hurt Genya, did not expect David to be in on the whole mutilating control collar thing)

The show did a lot of work humanising the various factions, so when you get moments like Jesper vs Ivan, round 1, you don’t want either of them to lose, because Ivan has a husband to go back to, and Jesper is Jesper. And then Jesper can’t shoot a pretty man in the face, and we’re golden

(Sidenote one: that scene was badass, holy shit, Jesper was playing with him, it was incredible)

(Sidenote two: Jesper vs Ivan, round 2? Less sympathetic on Ivan’s part)

(Sidenote three: the Ketterdam three vs Kirigan’s everybody was just, god I love them, we’re going to be straight badass all down the line, can you beat a centuries-old shadow sorcerer with a flashbang? An inferni with a knife? A heartrender with a gun while playing with him the entire time? Come to Ketterdam and find out! I love them)

Now. Now. The main thing for me. Inej. Inej and Alina and Kaz

The scene in the Little Palace where Alina shows her power. Ignoring everything that promptly went tits up for everybody. The look on Inej’s face. The look on her face. Hope and faith. From Inej, who’s been so hurt and desperate so far. Oh, that killed me. So much. I was there like, Alina, Alina, it’s not your fault, but you better be worth it, I know you don’t need the pressure but if you have to let anyone down, let it not be Inej. Not her. And Kaz Brekker, you sociopathic mushroom, do not fuck this up for her. Okay? Not this

And then he doesn’t. He doesn’t. He gives up a million kruge and potentially everything he has so he doesn’t have to break Inej’s faith. I loved him there. Right there

And like, he was trying to weasel something out of it. He was still trying to bully Alina all the way to the end, even after she saved his life, because he didn’t want to lose everything, he wanted to have some way to be able to bring Jesper and Inej back with him, because otherwise he was walking back to a city that hated him with literally nothing, since he’d mortgaged the Crow Club on Inej’s debt, and she’d walked out on him anyway, and he’d let her. So he tried to bully Alina, tried to force some way to let Inej come back, without actually forcing Inej. Just, you know, the saint she loved instead, and a woman who’d also just lost everything, and maybe could have used those jewels to stay ahead of pursuit for a while, but that’s not his problem. That’s not his problem

Kaz Brekker is a vicious horrible gremlin of a man, but not to his own, mostly, as much as he can avoid it, and like … did they know in advance what I like? Because that was it

(Him entering the fight on the skiff solely to save the other two, everyone else can die, but he’s going to dive Jesper clear of the Cut and hammer a volcra’s head in to save an unarmed Inej, that was beautiful. Even if I was a tiny bit annoyed at Inej for panicking and throwing her weapons away while outnumbered by flying things. No. Keep them close to stab anything that comes near you, honey, don’t throw them into the darkness. But Kaz saving his Crows was beautiful)

Also, to go back to Inej and Alina, just a little. How much do I love that Inej’s knife saved them all? Inej kissed her knife and planted in the Darkling’s chest, and it did fuck all to him, but then it’s the knife Alina used to take her freedom back and save them all

Inej’s knife freed Alina. Gave a slave her freedom back. Gave her saint her power. Not by killing, but as a tool to break a chain. I can’t. I really, really can’t. Whoever wrote that episode, thank you a lot

You may have guessed, I have feelings about Inej, and Alina, and Kaz, and freedom, and faith, faith in another power and faith in yourself and those you trust, and it’s all tied up in a knife and a debt, and people offering freedom to each other against their own best interests, and I really can’t with them. I can’t. I’m inarticulate over here

Like, this beautiful man did this hideous thing, made this horrible vicious collar, and then all these scared, battered little outcasts and ex-slaves and current slaves gave each other tiny moment after tiny moment after tiny moment that allowed them all to free each other

I can’t

And then Alina gave Inej her knife. The little letter opener that she’d robbed from the Little Palace. The little symbol of two tiny orphans having each other’s backs against the world. Alina gave that back to Inej

Inej’s knives are a whole thing. Kaz gave Inej a job, a way out of slavery, and it’s both joy and horror to her, freedom and damnation, she doesn’t want to kill people but that’s what knives are for, and it’s a freedom she sometimes forces herself to surrender out of trust in Kaz, and then she does kill people, but it’s to save those she cares for, to save Kaz, and then her knife saves them all as a key, not a murder weapon, and Alina, for whom knives are also a symbol of protection, for herself and those she loves, and now freedom as well, gives Inej hers as this tiny gesture that means so much …

And earlier, Kaz stopping her from killing the Conductor, and it was for his own reasons, it was because he needed the man for a job, but the fact that he did that meant that Inej’s first kill wasn’t a murder, an assassination to save herself, but a clean kill in defense of someone else. A kill she could explain to her saints. Especially the one that showed up, because Alina knows all about that

(And when her knives run out, when she’s lost them all on the skiff and is facing death, it’s Kaz who saves her, who pays his debt and preserves her freedom, because he can be trusted with them, with the knives and all they mean …)

And the two things Alina gives them. The knife for Inej, and the jewels for Kaz. A gift for the woman who saved her, and a bribe for the man who threatened her. And it’s exactly what they need. Both of them. It’s freedom and forgiveness and hope for them both. And she had no idea, she just gave what she had at the time. A saint by pure accident, like she’s been all along, but it meant the world. Sometimes all a person needs is one thing. A knife, a chance. A hope

Whoever was writing the thing with the knives, and the saints, and faith in yourself and those around you, you are a genius and I love you

And, like, I should move on. There were other things in the show. Nina and Matthias, I’ve pretty much not mentioned them at all (they are adorable, even as they’re basically Stockholming each other, and then the last episode hit, and everything was good, more or less, for everyone else, so that last fucking punch was a lot, thank you so much), I just …

Knives and faith. Inej, Alina and Kaz. I love everybody, but that was so much the thing that caught me here. That’s what I’m mostly getting out of this show right now

[jamespotterthefirst]

Five Birthdays (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.4K Warning: Implied adult situations  Premise: Ethan’s birthdays with her in the next five years. 

Author’s Note: A birthday fic that I wrote a while ago and wanted to post on my birthday. Dedicated to @perriewinklenerdie , @scorpiochick8 , and all the beautiful Scorpios out there. November babies, this is for you too! Thank you @aestheticartsx​ for reading through this mess! Hope you like it. 

Year One 

A soft knock pulled Ethan away from his latest patient chart. Interruptions were always a source of irritation but tonight he almost welcomed it. His body ached with exhaustion and his eyelids were heavy after the sixteen hour day. 

The door opened to reveal Dr. Allende, looking uncharacteristically bashful as she entered, hands behind her back. 

“What can I do for you?” he asked, his attention falling quickly to the chart. This he only did as an excuse to glance away because she was biting her bottom lip the way she did when nervous. It was a quirk that always drove him to distraction. 

She said nothing as she approached, and Ethan could see in his peripheral that she did so cautiously. After a small pause, she set a tall to-go cup of coffee on the desk in front of him, successfully getting his attention. 

“I brought you coffee,” she said by way of explanation. She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it immediately, looking uncharacteristically flustered and even a little anxious. She tried again, “The Vienna. From the coffee house you took me to a few weeks ago.”

Ethan removed his spectacles, staring at the cup. “I can see that. Though I commend you on the choice, I am still uncertain why you went through the trouble.”

The pretty intern flushed, looking prettier still, much to Ethan's frustration. 

“I didn't know what else you liked. And I wanted to get you something.” 

Ethan's confusion lasted only a second before realization sunk in. His stomach dropped and he all but groaned. For some reason, this seemed to ease some of her tension. She even looked a tad bit amused. 

“Who told you?” 

“Dr. Banerji,” she responded, not surprising Ethan in the least. “He let it slip while I was drawing blood for that full work up you ordered.”

Ethan huffed, sincerely doubting the old man had let the detail slip accidentally. 

“Happy birthday,” she added and this time, the amusement was undeniable in her voice. 

“You can't tell anyone,” he implored, feeling his face grow hotter by the second. He shuddered to think of the fuss people in the hospital would make if they knew, particularly the nursing staff. “I've worked too hard these past years to keep that a secret. Trust me, it's not an easy feat when Marlene is in charge of the birthday board.”

Lilac laughed, the sound so pleasant he almost forgot to be mortified. “Imagine the parties they'd throw in your honor, Dr. Ramsey. I don't think I can rob everyone of such a good time.” 

“Lilac.”

More laughter. “I won't tell a soul,” she said solemnly. Ethan was still unconvinced and she rolled her eyes. “Just drink your coffee, Ron Swanson.”

___________________________________

Year Two 

Lilac glanced around with interest, pressing her clipboard tightly against her chest. Ethan almost snorted at her feigned attempt to seem invested. There was nothing particularly interesting about the supply closet they both occupied. 

“Interesting choice, Doctor,” she commented anyway, sounding thoroughly amused. 

“I didn't think you'd mind meeting here,” he returned, feeling emboldened enough to flirt with the pretty young resident before him. He had already pulled her into a supply closet with the enthusiasm of an intern. Ethan might as well enjoy the full thrill of breaking the rules. “If you have moral qualms, however, just say the word and we can both go back to work.”

Lilac proved she had no complaints by closing the already small space between them and kissing him fully. The clipboard clattered to the floor as her hands slid up his shoulders and clung around his neck. Ethan responded in kind, his hands settling on the dip of her waist, his lips eagerly moving against hers. 

She hissed a little as their kiss went from passionate to desperate, hands, lips, and teeth tugging at one another. These days, it only took a matter of seconds to reach that level, both growing needier by the day.

“I didn't take you for the type to make out in a supply closet,” she said breathlessly when they finally pulled apart. 

“Honestly? The idea seemed juvenile until I started making out with you.” He gave her a half smile that made her eyes linger on his lips. “I've been thinking of nothing else ever since we broke into Mass Kenmore.”

Ever since that event, he'd had several detailed fantasies that included Lilac in a supply closet with him, but he decided not to disclose them as the majority were irrefutably not safe for work. Then again, the way she pressed her body flush against his, her rosy lips trailing kisses along his jaw, was anything but appropriate for the workplace. 

“Whatever the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.” 

Ethan involuntarily shuddered at the word birthday, which in turn made her pull away in laughter. 

“No one is going to hear us here. You picked the supply closet in a construction zone that no one is allowed to be in.”

She was taunting him but Ethan didn't mind. If anything, he concluded that two could play at the game. With a devilish, lopsided smile that caught her attention again he said in a dangerous, low whisper, “I just thought you'd want to scream my name without the whole hospital hearing you.”

The surprised look that turned lustful in seconds sent a thrill of satisfaction through Ethan. He claimed her lips again without restraint, successfully opening the buttons of her blouse before him. There was no time to admire the black lace that left little to the imagination, when his pager demanded his attention. 

He groaned but fixed his clothes and hair at once. When he was presentable once again, Ethan paused to give her one last, longing look. A familiar, mournful feeling settled in his stomach as another clandestine encounter came to an end. 

Her responding smile was understanding, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. At this point, he was certain that she did. 

“Happy birthday,” she murmured, lifting herself to press a sweet, tender kiss to his cheek. 

Not for the first time, he wished for nothing more than to be able to kiss her whenever, however he wanted, no matter who saw. 

___________________________________

Year Three

Ethan pressed her against the wall, escalating their usual goodbye kiss after a long day at the hospital. Though a little surprised at first, Lilac quickly recovered and kissed him back just as eagerly. When they broke the kiss for breath, she raised an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

Ethan shrugged, the pad of his thumb trailing the faint freckles on her cheeks. The truth was now that he could finally kiss her without needing a reason to and without caring who was around, he couldn't seem to stop. 

In this particular instance, it was Naveen who entered the office, clearing his throat meaningfully. They didn't spring apart from one another as they used to, pretending (rather poorly) that they were only colleagues. Instead, they remained in each other's arms as they looked at the Chief. The older man did not seem to mind one bit for he watched them with a warm, proud smile. 

“Ready for our meeting with the Board, Ethan?” 

“No.” 

Naveen chuckled good-naturedly. “It'll be a short one. I'll make sure of it lest Dr. Allende hates me for making her finance work late on his birthday.”

It did not go unnoticed by everyone that Ethan didn't exactly have a visceral reaction to the word, unlike the past years. Naveen shot him a fatherly smile and Lilac pressed a loving, chaste kiss on his cheek. 

“I'll wait for you at home.” She waited until the Chief was out of the room to whisper in Ethan's ear, “I have a surprise for you.”

The heady promise stole his attention for the rest of the evening, which was a good thing because the meeting was as useless as he had expected. An hour and a half later, he discovered he was right in rushing home to Lilac. 

She was waiting for him in the living, perched on the backrest of the love seat and clad in the shortest silk robe he had ever seen. Her shapely legs were exposed for his viewing pleasure, save for the sheer, black stockings ending with lace at her thighs. The echo of her previous promise adorned everything from her coy smile to the scandalous patch of lace peeking from the neckline of her robe. 

“Took you long enough,” she teased in a breathy sort of voice that had an instant effect on him. 

She hopped off the sofa, walking toward the dining room, hips swaying with each step. On any regular day, the sight would have been enough inspiration to tease her until she begged him to take her on any given surface of their apartment. In her current attire, he wished to pin her against the wall with primal urgency in ten seconds or less. 

“I ordered us food from—” 

 In one quick stride, he spun her around, his mouth devouring hers in a scorching kiss. Lilac matched his passion, her silk-clad body melting deliciously against his, her arms locking around his neck. 

“Happy birthday,” she moaned as he ran his tongue down her neck and into the exposed valley of her breasts. 

Ethan had never been happier. 

Not only because he was currently peeling the flimsy robe off with his teeth, revealing a lacy black number underneath, but also because of the three words that left her lips, as natural and wondrous as the beautiful sunset through the window.

“I love you.”

He could never tire of hearing them. 

___________________________________

Year Four

Ethan awoke to soft, lazy kisses and a curtain of dark hair enveloping them both. When she straightened with a tired smile, he missed the floral scent of her shampoo at once. He groaned in protest and pulled her body against his for another quick kiss, cutting the small shriek of surprise short. 

“Good morning,” he greeted between slow, delicious sips of her mouth. 

“Good morning indeed,” she sighed in return. At last, when they fully pulled apart, she picked up a tray from the nightstand and set it on his lap. “Happy birthday! I made you pancakes. ” 

He took in the pretty array before him, complete with coffee and a small vase of red carnations. Ethan flashed her a grateful grin, not missing the dark circles under her eyes or the exhausted sigh that escaped her as her head sank into the pillows. 

“Is that what was burning earlier?” 

Lilac laughed dryly, eyes shut. “Laugh all you want, Ramsey, but at least I can actually make them.” 

“Touché.”

He savored her offerings in silence, admiring how her cooking had improved dramatically in her years with him. Lilac continued to rest against the pillows, looking so blissful, he couldn't help but smile. Within minutes, her muscles relaxed and her breathing became more even as she drifted into sleep. 

The crackle of the speaker on their bedside startled her awake. If that hadn't done it, then the wailing that soon followed would have done it. “He's awake,” she mumbled, already moving to sit up. 

Ethan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, easing her back into the pillows. “I'll go.”

His son's crying subsided as soon as Ethan scooped him up and swayed him gently. He grinned down at his three-month-old, unable to contain the warm pride expanding in his chest.

“Good morning. You're up early after keeping us up for most of the night,” he murmured, kissing his tiny forehead. Ethan would give up all his hours of sleep if it meant holding his perfect son in his arms. 

By the time they returned to the bedroom, Lilac was sound asleep, face buried unceremoniously  in the pillows. Ethan smiled fondly at his wife, making a mental note to lovingly tease her about the snoring later. Quietly, he settled in bed next to her, carefully setting Jonah facedown on his chest. 

Lilac mumbled something incomprehensible, sleepily burrowing into his arm. Jonah, meanwhile, drifted off into an easy sleep against his father's chest. Ethan smiled broadly, the gesture coming much more naturally than in past years, as he enjoyed a quiet morning with his perfect little family. 

___________________________________

Year Five

“Happy birthday!” his wife exclaimed. Ethan wasn't sure what his toddler son had shrieked out. All he knew was that he matched his mother's enthusiasm as they presented the small, thickly frosted cake on the counter. 

Ethan raised his brows at the creation before him. “You two made this just for me?”

Lilac beamed. “Yep, just Jonah and I.”

The slight pitch in her voice made Ethan chuckle. “I find that hard to believe. One of you barely has the fine motor skills needed to operate in a kitchen.”

“Cachen!” Jonah exclaimed, claiming his father's attention. Ethan bent down and kissed the top of his head. 

“And the other is a one year old toddler,” Ethan finished, earning him an adorable glare from his wife. 

“You think you're so funny, Ramsey.”

“I know I am, Allende.”

“That’s Allende-Ramsey to you.” Without warning, she scooped up a dollop of frosting and smeared it on Ethan's mouth. 

Unfazed, Ethan licked off the excess before pulling her into a kiss. Lilac laughed against his sugar coated lips while Jonah shrieked with happiness, forcing them to pull apart. 

“Either way, thank you for making this for me,” he said, gesturing toward the now marred cake. 

“Antsina!” 

Ethan glanced at his son curiously. “What is he saying?”

Lilac, meanwhile, shook her head comically at their son. 

“Ant sina!” the baby repeated, his short arms outstretched towards the cake. 

“Aunt Sienna?” Ethan guessed with a small laugh, looking at his wife. “Sienna helped you with this, didn’t she?” 

Lilac seemed abashed, looking as though she had half a mind to deny it. Her shoulders dropped in defeat, however, and with a small laugh she said, “I didn’t think my baby would give me away, but yes.” At her husband’s smug smile, she added, “But Jonah and I helped! Jonah tasted the frosting and I helped with the batter.”

Her smile turned sheepish as she thought of something and added, “Actually, your daughter may have helped with that too. This makes for the perfect bowl stand.” Her hands lovingly caressed her very pregnant belly. 

Ethan leaned in to kiss it and Jonah, always mimicking his father, leaned in to do the same. Both parents laughed, kissing their son in turn. 

“Make a wish,” Lilac instructed as she lit the candles. 

A knot formed in his throat as Ethan considered there was no need for that. In the past five years, he had been fortunate enough to find everything he could ever want.

___________________________________

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! I love you all <3

Also, I have hit a major writer’s block when concerning Part 2 of the Miami chapter in the Picta series. Slowly but surely, I am getting there. Thank you for being so patient! 

Finally, if you asked me to add you to the tag list and I haven’t, please message me. I am so disorganized and forgetful. I’m so sorry!

___________________________________

tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo​ , @trappedinfanfiction​, @aestheticartsx​, @aworldoffandoms​, @paulfwesley​, @myusualnerdyself​,  @rookie-ramsey​, @ohchoices​, @colossalpainintheass​, @enmchoices​, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​, @choicesfanaf​, @openheartthot​, @octobereighth​, @nazarihoe​, @utterlyinevitable​, @kites-in-our-skies​, @maurine07​, @schnitzelbutterfingers​, @doilooklikeiknow​, @snesdudes​, @kingliam2019​, @perriewinklenerdie​, @cinnamonspongecake​, @choicesstan1​, @queencarb​, @ethxnrxmsey​, @missmiimiie​, @jens-diamondchoices​, @adamsdumortain​, @apphia12​, @kalogh​, @lucy-268​, @binny1985​, @queenbirbs​, @honeyandsunfl0wers​, @newcolonies​, @lilyvalentine​, @rigatonireid​, @interobanginyourmom​, @parkerattano​, @custaroonie​, @nikki-2406​, @lilypills​, @chasingrobbie​, @nooruleman​,  @lonely-mxxnlight​, @ruinedbypixels​, @shadynaturehilariouscookie​, @tsrookie​, @mvalentine​, @professorkingslay​, @drakewalkerfantasy​, @casey-v​, @helloblueeyedcat​, @mysticaurathings​, @blossomanarchy​, @thegreentwin​, @togetherwearerapture​, @rookieoh​, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie​, @natashajaniphil​, @mysticalgalaxysstuff​, @hatescapsicum​, @choices-lurker​, @kiara-36​, @junehiratas​, @danijimenezv​, @macy-ray85​, @adrex04​, @canigetanawwjunk​, @sanchita012​, @overwhelminglyaquarius​ , @scorpiochick8​, @skylarklyon​, @starrystarrytrouble​, @mercury84choices​, @drariellevalentine​, @ethanrcmsey​, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost​, @kaavyaethanramsey​ , @udishaman​, @a-crepusculo​, @quacksonlover​,

[momenacesage]

your love has bloomed the garden in my mind

today i offer you this drabble, tomorrow,, who knows!

When Sol opens her eyes, she finds herself placated by the intense stare of the other that she held nestled in the rapture of her arms. Awaking in the darkness, the slow trickle of street lamps and drunken fellows stumbling to make their way home caresses the slightly open window frame. The side effects of a bustling night life are going generally unnoticed by the frozen girl. She feels like she’s stuck in quick sand - slowly being dragged down as she falls deeper and deeper into her best friends eyes. She let out a slow breath, trying to remind herself that this was still possible, she was still alive. Even as the girl beside her chose to tear out the breath from her lungs with metaphorical teeth. Looking up to her, half drunk still. It was the only reason that Sol could give to justify Jiwan’s flushed cheeks. Maybe she was drunk too. Finger weaving out of the press that had formed through their bodies. Choosing to settle into the warmth; pressing across the lines of the others face. They’d remain in silence. Simply drinking in the actions, the comfortable movements that settle matches into the pit of her stomach. Threatening to explode with the click of a finger - or if Jiwan would choose to look at her that way again. She’d promised herself that she would stop playing into this game. The feeling would initially bowl her over her own feet. Feeling like she was thrown upwards, tossed to fall on her head - out of control of the situation. Theres a very special smile that her best friend throws out when she’s absolutely ecstatic about something. These days, it seems like Sol is the only one who finds themselves on the receiving end of those looks. It first happened when they both gained entrance to their current school. Jiwan would take her hand, ready to dance, do something, scream at the top of her lungs with excitement. Instead, it would slowly crawl across her face as if she know exactly what she was doing. Seo Jiwan was an enchantress. It was confirmed. She’d flee from her friend, ready to phone her parents to share the happy news. But Sol would be stuck, frozen in the same position to when she first saw that smile. She’d been ran ragged; ready to admit that she’d experienced a heart attack, why was her heart feeling like that. Her heart was ready to jump out of her chest and run straight after the young woman. For a second or two, as she lay beside the one person who often took centre stage in her best dreams - Sol would forget why she chose to force those feelings into the dark. She’d let herself fall a few feet deeper into eternity. Sol had been good, she’d been great in fact. Maybe she was allowed to make a mistake or two, maybe that look in Jiwan’s eyes was familiar for a reason, maybe she was feeling something that Sol had gained plenty of experience in. “Why didn’t you let me kiss you?” The words spring a visceral reaction and Sol has to force herself to stop from allowing her eyes to widen further. She was surprised, shocked, even though this had been the only thought that had played on her mind throughout the whole night. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured, they were all watching.” Sol feels the pressure of her smaller arms wrap around her shoulders, curving her spine up from the bed so that Jiwan could awkwardly tuck her head against her own. It felt secretive, as if these coming words were only for them. Sending internal middle fingers to whoever may be listening in on their late night discussion. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.” She’ll sag, like the woman had unconsciously built up tension through what felt like a century of pining. Of looking but not touching, that wasn’t allowed. Instead, she’d find herself sitting complacent - monotonous as she tries to build up a mask of happiness as Jiwan left to meet man after man. That evil, little inner voice whispering coyly into her ear, reminding her that she would never have that. So instead, this would have to be enough. “I still want to kiss you.” She’s taken charge, manipulating Sol’s body like a doll who enjoys

playtime. She’s loose, malleable to whatever Jiwan wants of her. She silently waits, still unsure if this was real or some cruel game that her brain was playing on her. Seo Jiwan looks determined. And in a sense, this puts Sol’s mind at ease. Her tongue darting out to press more moisture onto her lips after they suddenly dried. Seemingly, she was not the only person who had come across this specific scenario before. Sol would force herself away from the questions that turned into darts when attempting to penetrate her brain. Sharp and painful in their nature as they niggle at the calmness of the situation. She was allowed to be in the moment for once. She didn’t have to constantly overthink everything. The woman wasnt forced to make a decision after all. The multitudes of spider webs permeating Sol’s brain would scatter into nothingness with the touch of Jiwan’s hand on her cheek. Her eyes quickly redirecting to hers as Jiwan chuckles to herself, slowly dragging their lips together like she was trying to approach a deer in headlights. It just fits. The only phrase that floats into existence through the blank slate that had been created. Jiwan’s hands become needier, cradling her jaw like it was some precious new discovery that could crack with the slightest accidental movement. Before this point, Sol felt like if she touched her best friend - the woman would shrivel into dust. Just another fragment of her imagination; but this was different. Sol will wrestle her hands up to the backs of the. Others shoulders clenching fingers into the fabric of her shirt as she falls deeper still. Unbashfully, she’ll groan into the other young woman’s mouth. Greedy as her sensations light up like a sparkler in the dark - unconsciously noting down the way that Jiwan’s leg tangles against her own. Staying connected in this way even when they break away, and the woman tucks away a fly away hair behind Sol’s ear. This time, she’ll join in. Her grin feels like its trying to split open the sides of her head. Opening it wide so that a tiny Seo Jiwan clone can climb inside. It’s as if Seo Jiwan hasn’t already been the only thing she thinks about. When she tucks her best friend back into the crook of her arm, Jiwan will whisper, her words falling like petals against her ear lobe. “Will you let me kiss you again?” “Definitely.” In the morning, Sol will be subjected to weekly critiques. Their professor surveying the work, placing a finger against pursed lips to fully understand the majesty of the wide painting. It was a different medium to the one that the young woman usually favoured. Justifying the sudden shift as an initial visualisation - she was planning. A sculpture would come along soon. “It’s spray of colours are full of passion. The large strokes remind me of love,” she’d turn, “am I correct? Were you thinking about someone that you love when painting, Sol?” Sol would allow her eyes to trail away; Jiwan encompassing the corner of her vision. “Yes. Something like that.”

[whumpofalltime]

WHUMP OF ALL TIME: Quarterfinals are here!

Find links and propaganda under the cut. Quarterfinalist match-ups are untagged, so your votes and reblogs matter!

Once Upon A Time:

(gifset 1, gifset 2)

"There's blood, wounds, captivity, bondage, a slow-dipping-mechanism, a big rescue, and excellent acting by Colin O'Donoghue - who delivers the tiniest whimper and the most delectable of trembles for our whump-loving eyes to devour!" ~ @killian-whump

"

All the respect to the Hawaii 5 0 one scene because I haven't watched it and can't judge it, but. Killian was BROKEN. Absolutely and heart-wrenchingly devastated. He was tortured within an inch of his life (… or death, I guess) and practically left to slowly drop into a pit of eternal despair.

Killian was not easy to break. He would get injured and get back up with a sneer and an "I'm alright love you should see the other guy".

But to reach that point? The point of telling Emma she should have kept herself safe instead of saving him from this torment, to hold on to her like she was his lifeline, to SMILE that small smile from the first bit of hope he'd gotten since he ended up there?

The relief upon watching this episode for the first time was visceral. For two episodes we knew Hook was being tortured, we saw him try and fail to limp to safety, we saw his resolve and defiance desperately hold on, we saw him accept his fate, we saw him preferring to be tortured further than hurt his friends… And then he got saved! And he had no witty comeback, no effort to hide his pain. He just fucking collapsed in the arms of his beloved, of his saviour, and held on for a moment to realize that it was real, she was there, he was finally safe.

Add to that some amazing, jaw-dropping, emotional acting by Colin O'Donoghue, how can you get any better than that?

Anyway vote for ouat. Because this whole torture mini arc existing is probably what caused a chain reaction of me understanding and accepting I love whump, so. I wouldn't be here torturing blorbos if it weren't for it 🤣" @piracytheorist

Buffy:

(gifset 1, gifset 2, YT clip, YT clip #2, YT clip #3) thanks to @iamthegodofhalefire for the links!

"It was my first whump and it’s never been beaten! He’s kidnapped, tied up, mandhandled, gagged, thrown on the floor, slapped, tied up differently, tortured with holy water, then is exhausted and woozy from it all - then gets tied up somewhere else and stabbed through the hand to drain his energy. Then collapses at the end! It’s SO good!"

"Angel is kidnapped to give his blood to Drusilla in a ritual to make her better - she’s sick and was turned into a vampire by Angelus (Angel’s evil alter ego) many years ago. He killed her family as part of turning her and she went insane because of it. As Angel is a vampire too, holy water burns him, so she tortured him by pouring this over his skin even 😬 he’s then stabbed through the hand in the ritual and is rescued and collapses to the floor. Amongst other things!"

~ @Iamthegodofhalefire

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 reactions; *nobby nobbs voice* ‘s all gone a bit percychological, sir

 - so from both chapter 6 and now this: rick famuyiwa is incredible at portraying prolonged discomfort and tension (and also at getting din’s endless love for that baby across through the stress of being separated from him. this is the very first episode with no baby in it at all, isn’t it? wow that’s a heartbreaking milestone to reach im crying)

I liked this episode SO MUCH but I had to pause it pretty often and take a breather because it all made me so viscerally uncomfortable on din’s behalf -- not just the armour and having to take the helmet off and be seen for the (almost, ilu IG-11) first time in decades, people keep touching him in this episode when he clearly doesn’t want them to but can’t stop it and it makes me want to claw my own skin off in sympathy, it’s so awful. that’s really neat film making to manage to keep that tension steady almost all the way through!!! 

honestly this episode felt a little bit like psychological horror, with the cheering storm troopers and din in the wrong armour and clearly not digging it and there’s the palpable absence of baby and that ever present dread of being Perceived when you’re not ready for it; everything’s turned upside down from how it should be. and it’s playing with that discomfort both in the main character and in us, the audience, in having the familiar be made unfamiliar and also introducing these questions that shake up everything (that feeling you get of ‘but... if it’s not the helmet, and not the armour, but there’s his face, but we’ve only seen that face once before so it’s still basically new to us, is this... is this still him. is this still Dad’ (oooh I wonder if we’re... sort of getting some of the ??? the baby would be feeling about it too?) we’ve all imprinted on that t-shaped visor like little baby birds, and this was a very clever episode to break us out of that and start to really get used to the thought of him having several faces that are real simultaneously, in a way, and not just a voice. it’s all very smart and interesting and I’m sure I’ll have a lot of incoherent thoughts about this in the weeks to come lol)    

- the actual reason din can’t take off the helmet is that if people were able to see his wide confused puppy eyes they would no longer find it in themselves to send him on long arduous side missions and would help him immediately just so he’d feel better, and that would rob us of like 80% of the content for this show 

mayfeld in this episode: clearly a casualty of this. he literally sees one glimpse of the vulnerability there and then within five seconds goes on to materialize a few redeeming character traits after being a complete jackass for an episode and a half. (I mean. he was 100% still an imperial so I’m a bit ‘hm.’ about how easily especially cara let him off the hook, but with the way it was set up I guess it would have been quite shitty of them to just throw him back in prison so I mean I GUESS. I would be endlessly grateful someone got my awkward bff out of there alive and well too I suppose)

- I actually think din’s sense/integrity of self has gotten so much stronger and more resilient (though probably still quite fragile pls handle with care precious cargo within); if this had happened in the first season I think it might honestly just have killed him (and if it weren’t for IG-11 it probably would have lol)

- can you beLIEVE din is so bad at lying that they literally should plan for contingencies over it fjkasdlhfskajdhfsdj     

- very grateful for the scene with the spear throw that’s basically there to reassure us ‘uh-huh, he absolutely knows how to use it, don’t worry about that part at least’

I want to make a whole post about that fight scene, though, it’s just so GOOD! there’s so much storytelling and characterization in it! even out of the armour din has some real hand to hand MOVES!! he clearly came out of that aching all over, he can barely get back in his seat!!!

- so what I’m mainly taking away from this is that din absolutely cuts his own hair and you know what? he does a good job considering the conditions he has to work under, I love him  

I still find it so goddamn darling that he meticulously maintains that little mustache/stubble combo under there even when there’s every reason to believe no one will ever see it 

I suppose we can also gather that he did not ask cobb about whatever insane feat of magic he’s come up with to avoid helmet hair, but I don’t care looking a bit frazzled and tousled is exactly right for him (he’s so put together when he’s in the armour and a MESS when he’s out of it and I  l o v e  it) 

- boba fett is honestly so fucking hot in this I don’t know what to do with myself haha. he’s so CALM and CALCULATED and COLLECTED in his newly painted armour and he’s GOT THIS and he made that ‘I’ve got one of those faces. one of jango’s many, many, many faces’ joke and he’s so thicc now, he looks like he could easily lift me over his head with one hand and he’s just quietly steady and undramatically supportive and sdalfhsdjhfsa 

- ...din does know who the clone troopers were, right. I mean of course he does. he has to. but does he though. I’m sure he does and just wasn’t thinking. 

- no matter how stressful it was I’m still really grateful that in the end taking the helmet off was something din got to do himself -- it’s under some duress, but it’s still his choice and for the sake of the baby, and almost in two more manageable steps between putting on the storm trooper gear for a different helmet before taking it off altogether. it’s not something done to him by gideon, for example, that would be. so much yuckier and worse. he still has that control and agency intact, even if it’s been tested really hard, and now gideon doing that doesn’t hold the exact same nightmarish power anymore because there’s already a little space opened in din’s mind for different things it can mean, if you see what I mean. I’m not sure I see what I mean actually I just have a lot of feelings haha. so I guess thank you mayfeld for being decent about it and helping him towards that realization that he can still be himself outside these really really inflexible structures he’s set up around himself for like. stability and keeping himself upright for a really long time, and that even someone halfway decent won’t disrespect the boundaries he still has about it at any given moment. man there’s a lot in this episode isn’t there

- the sigh din gave when he saw even more pirates coming and knew he had to get back up... never has a single moment in cinema better captured how I feel about being alive. most relatable man in the world din djarin

- it was really cruel of them to make me listen to din’s dead bleak voice say ‘the child is gone’ again, it wrecks my heart every goddamn time 

- again... I wish carano wasn’t Like That in real life because the cara & fennec scenes should have been everything I could ever dream. ah well fennec was still wonderful and if I just allow myself to think in-universe for a few seconds it was really touching that din would entrust cara with his entire armour, that’s some prime BrOTP energy right there

I love that we got two female characters who were just allies and working together, no competition or nothin’. listen the bar is low but it’s nice to see something actually leap gracefully over it as well lol

- this was one of those with some pretty big open plot holes (why, exactly, would a scan of a completely unknown face be helpful to get into this classified system lol), but a) I don’t care, the emotional storyline was so sound it doesn’t really matter and b) eh handwave handwave let’s say mayfeld programmed that little stick with the good shit and overrode the code saying there needed to be an identity match within the system, it’s all fine 

- I know I joke a lot about this but din really is one of the most relatable characters I’ve ever had. just watching him struggle with eye contact and going pretty much nonverbal under enough stress is like. wow a bit close to home there could we, perhaps, nOT?? (honestly though these are trauma/anxiety things I really don’t see portrayed a lot, especially in protagonists, it’s so odd but healing to see it in a character I love and who’s EXTREMELY competent in many other settings)

- din repeating gideon’s speech back to him word for word (except for the crucial detail that he calls grogu ‘him’ instead of ‘it’ 😭😭😭) and saying nothing else is truly Everything. I’ve said some stuff about din’s deliberate and thoughtful relationship to language in the past and this is such an amazing example of it; he’s remembered that pitch perfect all this time, he’s kept it around in his head and mulled it over and then redeployed it to change the meaning of it completely from dehumanization to love. can you. can you even imagine. and it’s yet another example of his hilarious wonderful petty streak and I can never get enough of it fasjhdfkjalhs    

- din always noticing the children first and foremost Y_______Y (the kids running by is the only thing you see him sort of acknowledge when he’s walking into the covert in season 1 too)  

- please... please I just need him to be able to hold that baby against his chest all safe and sound and okay again I can’t it’s........ hh

NO SEASON END CLIFF HANGER ON THIS I AM  B E G G I N G  YOU 

- I would be having some thoughts about how much space there actually is on slave 1 and what that might mean (do not kill boba again please don’t kill him again), but honestly there’s only ‘GET BABY’ hours in here now, I can’t speculate about anything

[thepeachgreentea]

this got Real Long Real Quick...

I wanna know more about Luka's soul song gift - like how much do emotions or personality play into it? ((I’m going with a lot)) Does it only work in person?? Or can he get like snippets from videos or vibes from pictures? Like it would make sense if it was only in person...... But where's the fun I'm that? Realistically it wouldn't be as strong as in person but I could see him getting some stuff. Pictures it probably wouldn't be a lot, or even much of anything, unless the soul song really didn't match the picture...

Which means Luka is one of the first people to realize something is Up with Adrien (and the Agrestes in general)

The ads around the city never felt right, never matched up with the snippets/vibes he was able to get - unless Adrien was supposed to be sad or melancholy. Which is... yikes...

Then the Adrien The Fragrance commercial happens. And that's an additional big Fucking Yikes

Like I can only imagine that Adrien isn't particularly big on modelling in general from what we've seen (with the Marinette-exception) so the filming of that could have only been Worse than normal. How many times did it take to get the emotions at the ‘right’ level? How long did it take to get the angles and all the action done?

Anyway: after the first time Luka literally cannot stomach watching it or even listening to it because it is so Wrong. The soul song snippets from the video are longer and more intense and it is just so discordant that Luka can't deal

Adrien is most certainly NOT feeling carefree. Or radiant. Or remotely dreamy. He's goddamn exhausted, frustrated, resigned, depressed, sweaty, anxious, awkward, stressed. It is a whole stew of (teen) angst offset with that upbeat music and the bright blue sky & all that w h i t e and the jumping for joy

It is such a strong dichotomy Luka has a visceral reaction every time and has to either leave the room or mute it and look away,

All of that means that after he meets Adrien in person, and gets to hear his soul song in a couple different situations and can see his emotions matching internally and externally he basically tells him they will always have space for him on the Liberty. (Also the first time he saw the LB + CN movie and heard Adrien's voice acting he only picked up some nerves - easily attributed to a new situation rather than a secret identity - but he was clearly enjoying himself even if it was a terrible script)

Therefore, Luka doesn't have particularly good feelings towards Gabriel, even before seeing any videos of him.

Style Queen was a Time. He was happy for Adrien but the bits he was getting from Gabriel were so rigid and tight... And rather selfish to boot. Which was weird given the situation

He has to try very very hard to not sneer or snarl at the tablet he first "meets" him on - probably at a Kitty Section practice or concert or at some class + family event.

I can also v easily picture him meeting him in person and being super uncomfortable at the sheer amount of manipulation and self-aggrandizing, selfishness, etc that rolls off of Gabriel, basically choking out his soul song. Either Lula barely refrains from punching Gabriel and manages to shake his hand but then desperately needs to clean his hands. Orrrr he does punch him and then basically coats his hands in sanitizer (either way he is Nino’s absolute favorite person for this alone)

Also, this would not be the first time Luka has figured out an abusive situation. It has happened with both his own and Juleka's friends & classmates. He is v much a protective older brother at heart

And because I damn well can have some Lila salt, some of which has been touched on before, unlike with Gabriel:

He had heard about her from Juleka and Kitty Section and was a bit confused about it but it wasn't until Rose was over and the girls were telling him about some of Lila's stories that he saw a picture of her.

And that was The Strongest he had ever reacted to a picture before: instant chills up his spine and an actual hiss escaped him

All 3 of them are shocked. Luka then has to explain that reaction as best as he can. Which is hard when you aren't great at words and while the soul song fragments are rather clear he would never make his guitar suffer trying to recreate them.

He manages tho and Julerose are at least wary of her afterwards. They start observing her more and a lot of her behavior and the way she talks can be very off-putting. They start noticing some of the digs that she makes at others, that she contradicts herself 5 different ways, and how she is constantly bringing the attention back to herself.

During all this they start noticing how both Marinette and Adrien react to her and it is Not Good. Mari gets defensive and will often try to bring up those contradictions that they started noticing. But jealousy is only a minor factor, at most. In certain situations it is possible that it could be involved... except those only happen when Adrien is looking very uncomfortable and Marinette notices or they make eye contact and then Marinette creates an opportunity for him to escape

Which is something that no one else is noticing which is really terrible and unhealthy...

Around this time is when Ivan has started to figure out something is up. and then he definitely knows when Julerose show Luka a video at a private band practice.

Because video and in person interactions make the BadBadBAD feelings worse and Ivan, while he often struggles with understanding & expressing emotions, has definitely noticed Lila - even though she is not actually there - causes a lot of stress and anxiety to Luka and he has gotten really good at methods of lessening those.

So, Luka sees the video with/of Lila and has an even stronger reaction than the picture before. His eyes get huge, and his face pales (gets slightly sickly?), and he hisses even stronger than the first time

He refuses to try to play her soul song because something like that is nearly impossible to recreate but also doesn’t need to be put out into the world but does his best to try and describe it

Possible: her soul song feels like it is drowning in toxic sludge - there is just so much negativeness that it is barely intelligible. It is being smothered by self-satisfaction and importance, narcissism, aggressive manipulation, pettiness, vile maliciousness, etc

In person interactions are awful. Luka avoids physical interaction as much as possible. Even more than he would with Gabriel, and he wants as little to do with that man as possible, ideally none. But Lila is worse...

There have been multiple times that he has had to step out/away to be able to get some fresh air and breathe again. At least once where he has been or almost has been sick - usually following a hug that he did not consent to or something similar

Ivan is definitely in the fold now, and Julerose share what they have noticed from taking their step back. He realizes he has noticed a lot of those same things but he wasn’t analyzing them and didn’t have the same context for them at the time that Luka, Juleka, and Rose did. But afterwards he picks up on them more clearly, and some other things they hadn’t - benefits of being one of the quiet kids (and a lesser target of Lila’s focus). He is part of the driving force in bringing Marinette and Adrien in first before going to others.

Marinette breaks down because more people believe her?? and support her and Adrien? it is a huge relief of tension. And she didn’t even have to convince them herself!! what a concept... but it is definitely a safe space for her and she can share her own experiences and that certainly is nice

they had all suspected Something was Up but weren’t expecting that so there are lots of hugs and tears and support and mutters of payback 

Adrien eventually cries because Kitty Section + Marinette give him a TedTalk about consent and personal autonomy. And now he has so many people (!!!) telling him he can say no and make his own choices, mistakes, and decisions. (Marinette’s part is largely “I told you so / do you believe us now?” because the Dupain-Chengs have probably already given this same talk as a family but that is just A family’s opinion, others probably think differently) And this is the first time he really truly believes it and... oooof there are a lot of emotions and interactions to unpack and reconsider

but now he knows he really needs to and that he can and should which is new, but so is having an actual support system...

Thus, Luka is ready to fight a bitch the first time he sees Lila and Adrien interacting. There is so much clinging and touching, and Adrien is panicking and no one is doing anything or is being waved off. And (unfortunately) this is one of the things that causes some people to start questioning things about Lila. Because most of them know of Luka as a really chill, laid-back guy who is open and accepting of people. and besides he has no reason to be jealous (((👀👀👀👀 too much to think about and unpack t h e r e))) so why would he be upset about Lila leaning on Adrien and holding his arm??

So, the questioning of Lila and what she says spreads out from Kitty Section and Adrinette to the rest of the class. They take a different approach. They slowly, carefully approach their classmates and take them aside when possible to talk about the situation

This allows them to be able to get their undivided attention and lay out what they have found out in a logical and cohesive manner, rather than attempting something rash or in the heat of the moment. Marinette grumbled about this method initially but when there were actual results and the burden was shared it was a huge relief for her.

In fact, others start coming to them about Lila.

because of the work of Kitty Section and Adrinette Lila’s audience has been steadily decreasing and it is getting easier to notice things. With a smaller audience the focus doesn’t get split as much and there are less questions for her to build off of or go on tangents from and the contradictions start standing out more, or she’s making more to try and keep them around her by holding their interest with different details

Plus, the comments about those outside Her Circle are getting meaner and more frequent. Usually they are still sneaky or underhanded but nowhere near as subtle as they were originally (were they ever, really?) and it is raising suspicions and hackles.

Eventually, Lila is left without an audience because the class has all been brought out of the cloud of manipulation and are working on trust and listening to each other more/better. and on how to not disregard other’s feelings (which is esp important with the high butterfly population in Paris, but is a v good life lesson in general). they are young and will make mistakes and will have to learn from them. but trials, growth, and change are all part of life so it is good for them.

But it essentially all stems from Luka and his ability to hear soul songs and reacting to those songs, or the lack thereof when they are being choked by evil intentions/emotions/actions/what have you

[teeyoomi]

Want (Miya Atsumu x Reader)

Atsumu tongue nation HOW ARE WE DOING.

We have been FED I TELL YOU.

tags: Miya Atsumu

Character is AGED UP. 

Warnings: NSFW (18+)!; face-sitting, face-riding, cunnilingus

Fic inspired by this pic that is also my PFP 😌

You’d been staring at the picture on Instagram for a good 20 minutes already. You’d got the notification as soon as Atsumu posted the image and you were not prepared for what you were about to see by clicking on the notification.

The team had just won a match against the Adlers and in the press conference, the whole team had taken a picture doing the Jackal claws and roar.

You weren’t prepared for Atsumu to look so... hot. Clearly, he’s gorgeous, and you’ve been dating him for years now, but the picture elicited a visceral reaction from you and you needed him NOW.

The problem was, he wouldn’t be home for at least another 30 minutes. You felt feral as you paced around the house, tidying up the already spotless home so you wouldn’t pull your hair out in frustration.

When you finally FINALLY heard the lock click open, you stalked over to the door just as Atsumu stepped inside.

He was on the phone with someone but as soon as he saw the heat and look in your eyes, he gulped audibly. “I have to go. Now.” He told the person on the other line, not even waiting for a response as he hung up, dropping his belongings in the doorway.

Your face is already flushed as you pounce on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He catches you easily, both hands grabbing a handful of your ass.

You meet him in a heated kiss that he returns tenfold, pulling your lip between his teeth and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

He fumbles his way to the bedroom, distracted by the way you’re sucking his tongue into your mouth. It makes his knees weak.

He falls onto the bed with you, gasping as you quickly flip him over and take control. You slide your fingers under his shirt, raking your nails across his abs before grasping the hem of his shirt and yanking it up and off of him, tossing it across the room.

He’s staring at you wide-eyed, impressed and aroused at how desperate you are. His cock strains painfully against his zipper, his pupils blown black watching as you stand and pull your pants and underwear off in one swoop, swiftly removing your shirt too.

His hands are greedy as you crawl back over him, palming at every inch of skin, unsure which area he wants to focus on first.

“I want to sit on your face,” you pant against his mouth.

“Fuck yes, darlin’, c’mere.” He helps you shift so your knees straddle his head, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to meet his waiting mouth.

You both groan at the sensation of his tongue meeting your wet core. As worked up as you were, you’re thankful that Atsumu loves eating pussy. It’s a spiritual experience every time his tongue slides along your cunt, dipping in to fuck your hole and swirling around your clit.

He indulged in your essence, greedily lapping it up and sucking your clit into his mouth. The lewd sounds from his mouth causing more slick to seep out as you ground against the broad expanse of his tongue.

“I fucking love your mouth, ‘Tsumu,” you gasped. His answering moan vibrated against your clit, your hips stuttering in response.

“Gonna cum, fuck yes-“ you announce and Atsumu doubles his efforts, spreading your thighs further and lapping at you wildly, his head shaking aggressively. Your hips grind against him, your clit bumping his nose as he sinks his tongue into your sopping cunt.

Atsumu delivers a harsh slap to your ass that has you tumbling over the edge into the orgasm you’ve been craving. Your thighs clench together, pinning his head between them, and fisting your fingers in his hair to ride out the wave.

Atsumu caresses you through it, slowing his tongue to gently flick your oversensitive clit and flattening it out to lap up your release.

When you’ve calmed, he pries your thighs apart and flips you over, pinning you to the bed. He meets you for a deep kiss, his tongue gliding against yours. You can taste yourself, but you can taste him too as you suck on his tongue.

He breaks the kiss to smirk down at your fucked our expression. “Not that I’m complainin’, sweetheart, but what’s go into ya today?”

Thankfully, your face is already flushed so he doesn’t notice the embarrassment of a blush. You mumble an incoherent answer, trying to avoid the question and pull him back in to kiss you again.

“Ah, ah, darlin’, answer me,” he chides smugly.

You huff. “That picture you posted earlier. It was hot and it made me crave your tongue,” you admit.

Atsumu laughs heartily. “My sweet girl likes my tongue huh? Maybe I should keep using it on you until you’ve had your fill then,” he replies, giving you a heated look and a wink before his head is nestled between your thighs once more.

WHEW. ONE MIYA ATSUMU PLZZZZ I BEG. 

[marnie1964]

Karate Kid/Cobra Kai survey

i'm gonna consider myself tagged

It’s the year 2021 and you’re obsessed with The Karate Kid. How are you feeling?: an unexpected turn of events but it's passing the quarantine, i guess!

Did you grow up with TKK or are you new to the series?:  to be completely honest, i don't really like the movies? i didn't vibe with them as a kid and when i went back and tried to watch them this year i couldn't make it all the way through.* i think they're well crafted movies, but i've never liked relatable young boy wish fulfillment (i couldn't even get thru harry potter as a kid), and i think the first one is guilty of burying the lede twice over with regards to mr. miyagi and later the relationship between kreese and johnny. and lucky me--these are exactly the areas that cobra kai delivers on.

*except for the third one, which imo is a camp masterpiece and also genuinely heartbreaking. it's the only one that allows daniel to be an genuine pain in the ass. i think i've finally figured out what the target audience for cobra kai is: people who's favorite karate kid movie was tkk3 (me).

We gotta do the basics. Favorite character: johnny! what is a man but a miserable pile of bruce springsteen lyrics? or aimee mann lyrics? or mountain goats lyrics? or otis redding lyrics? or--fuck, have americans ever written songs about anyone else? i have an unreal amount of good will towards this man and his late-life struggle for recuperation. he's the heart of the show both in terms of his relationships with other characters and in terms of zabka's chemistry with the other actors.

my deep dark double secret fave is kreese. he makes me feel real anger in a way that's usually reserved for characters in vince gilligan shows. i'm a bit obsessed with him and his preoccupation with johnny and later johnny's teenaged son (I Have Thoughts). the show does a great job of making what he did to johnny--and all the years and years and years of fallout from that--feel really real, which makes him one of the most viscerally despicable villains i've ever come across . it's unironically among the best portrayals of domestic abuse i've seen, may god have mercy on our souls. the decision to pop out from behind a fucking cardboard cutout of himself to scare daniel in tkk3 was also a hilarious galaxy brain move. aspirational stuff.

also--shout out to daniel-san. the writers really had to work their asses off to make him into a character that appeals to me, and i think they did a great job of it. he's a cringey tool who's capable of displaying a surprising amount of integrity under the right circumstances! he's tom wambsgans! he's pete campbell! he's wonderful i love him!

Favorite ship:  johnny & daniel (what if mysterious skin was a sports comedy??)

Underrated character: the True and Correct answer to this question can only be aisha, although i don't think she was actually underrated by anyone besides the writers. chozen is also lowkey my favorite katate child because c'mon, he had everything (spear fights! ziplines! teen death matches! formfitting disco-era polyester button down shirts worn with gold chains!)

Underrated ship (don’t say therapy, lol):  uhhhh... the only teen couple that could have been interesting is tory/aisha. they were cute together and their friendship rang true to me. it's that thing where you're the new girl and you're conventionally attractive, but on the inside you know you're a freak so you immediately gravitate towards the most obvious female outsider. i lived it, bay-bey!

i also think there are interesting things to explore with carmen and johnny's relationship. i don't know if the writers are even aware of it (i lean towards no b/c men amirite) but the entire premise of carmen's character is that she chose to live in poverty to protect herself and her son from a bad man with power. she's thereby the exact opposite of johnny's mother, who (at least by his understanding) married hollywood film producer shmarvey shmeinstein to provide her son with a better life. so, there's a lot to unpack in his attraction to her. also they're super hot hur hur i like sexy nurse thing hur hur.

Wax On, Wax Off or Sweep the Leg?: i can't look directly at it, but sweep the leg. zabka what the fuck man.

Which of Daniel’s dumb little outfits is your favorite?:  i don't think i've seen anyone mention this one yet, but the football jersey with the sweatpants. it makes him look so small and huggable, i wanna pick him up and set him on my shelf or something.

Character from the films you most want to return, who’s not Terry Silver: bring back ali's lesbian girl gang!!! or else--dutch. he was funny and iconic, i loved his exaggerated offended reaction to everything daniel said or did in tkk. also, i'm tacky so i'm a sucker for aggressively bleach blonde hair. the SCANDALIZED wasp couple standing behind ali and johnny in the spaghetti scene will also do. or terry's secretary (an mvp--i believe the original actress has passed away so in my heart of hearts she's portrayed by j. smith-cameron).

Scene that lives in your head rent-free: the whole character development speed run that johnny does from sweep the leg to crying while handing daniel the trophy to getting strangled in the parking lot by his beloved teacher. i'm especially transfixed by that last bit--what's the thought process of a man who decides to publicly execute his teenage student via strangulation? why did none of the many bystanders call the police? johnny is the real kitty genovese, prison for everyone.

from the cobra kai series proper: daniel's decision to greet johnny with a big hug after not seeing him for 35 years and never actually being friends with him (I Have Thoughts), the heinously creepy scene where johnny is repeating the cobra kai mantra for miguel and his entire disposition completely changes (demonic possession shit), and johnny's tiny go-ahead-and-kill-my-abuser nod (his face is so stoney after being so animated at dinner) coupled with daniel's shaky little sign of relief (macchio is really the cutest when he looks scared).

it goes without saying that every johnny & miguel scene lives rent free in my HEART.

Will Anthony LaRusso ever be relevant?: anthony becomes relevant for one (1) episode next season when amanda and daniel finally get around to putting him up for adoption.

You live in The Valley and are forced into the karate gang war.  Which dojo do you join?:  i enter the cobra kai dojo decked out in all of my snake-themed clothing and jewelry (it's a lot). i approach kreese and explain to him that the open mouth of a snake, viewed head-on, is a yonic symbol. i am permanently banned from the cobra kai dojo.

(seriously though, assuming i'm a teen in this scenario i think i would have vibed with tory/miguel/aisha. dimitri and sam would have driven high school me up the fucking wall though. the cobra kai style looks like more fun/better exercise. do i also genuinely believe most young girls could actually benefit from someone yelling no mercy down their neck? maybe so 💖)

What’s your training montage song?:  50ft queenie - pj harvey (it takes place in the alison bechdel feminist karate dojo ofc)

It’s the crossover event of the century! Which TV show are you combining with Cobra Kai for an hour-long Saturday night special?: it's a full episode flashback to the time johnny got arrested in albuquerque, new mexico. johnny's court-appointed attorney is a weirdly hot babe who seems like a super straight laced killjoy at first, but soon reveals herself to be an unhinged woman. one thing leads to another, and johnny winds up in bed with her and her loser husband. there are lots of great themes about punitive justice, people's ability to change for the better (and worse), and what makes someone "good" or "bad" to begin with, but mostly it's just really hot sex. the husband tries to sell johnny a prepaid cellphone and johnny tell's him that cellphones are never gonna catch on, cause who want's to be bothered by people all the time like that?

better call saul. it's a better call saul crossover ep.

(fwiw think that greg 'hbo succession' hirsch should also be terry's cousin greg on the non-roy side. think about it--the roys are small people, but cousin greg is really tall?? and who else is really tall, and a blue eyed brunette to boot? terry silver. it all adds up! this never becomes relevant to the plot, in any case, i'm just considering it canon until the writers come to my house and explicitly tell me i'm wrong.)

Tagging: anyone who's interested 😘