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#but otherwise? while it's still not clear? at this point: nope

starjaeyun · 1 month

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gatekeeper — tsukishima kei !

— tsukishima assures that he is not embarrassed of dating you, you think otherwise

warning/s : fem! reader, misunderstanding 😁 & a small fight at the beginning, profane language, tinsy bit of angst, fluff & crack from the second half ‘til it ends

note : had this little idea while writing a kageyama drabble so they might be quite similar

“just give up already”

y/n’s tip-toeing came to a stop. seriously? this was the 4th time this week! with an annoyed groan, she turns around, fists clenched, brows furrowed, and it looks as though a tick mark was formed on her forehead. behind her stood her oh so loving boyfriend, tsukishima kei, who somehow always catches her trying to sneak in the volleyball gym.

“oh c’mon kei! why won’t you let me watch your practice?!” tsukishima sighed, “we’ve talked about this” he grumbled, why does she have to be so stubborn?

“don’t talk like those romanticized, toxic boyfriends on wattpad!” y/n hits his arm, which barely does any damage to him, “and don’t act like them as well!”

tsukishima raises a hand to fix his glasses, “are you saying i’m toxic?”

“i never said that! i just said don’t talk and act like—”

“so you’re implying it?”

“well, you’re going to be if you carry on with that bullshit!” tsukishima grows silent and stares at y/n, who had seemed to be reaching the highest point of her annoyed meter, which would then slowly escalate into anger.

after a few seconds of silence, he spoke, “take these, don’t wait for me and go home. cool your head” in each of his hands were his hoodie and an umbrella, which he brought with him on the way to the gym incase it might rain before they’re able to go back to the locker rooms. with y/n giving no sign of taking it, he placed it on her foot and carried on walking past her.

“i don’t understand you” tsukishima comes to a halt, looking back almost immediately upon noticing y/n’s change of tone. crap, was i too harsh?

“why are you acting like that if you’re embarrassed of me?” he couldn’t tell whether she’s sad or angry.

“acting? acting like what? and what do you mean embarrassed?!” his tone immediately gave away his nervousness.

“in school or when you’re with someone else, you avoid and act like you don’t know me but when we’re alone, suddenly you’re taking care of me! make it clear whether you love me or not to save both our time because i am not about to start losing myself for a boy who can’t love me the way i deserve!” it’s clear that she wanted to say more so tsukishima stayed silent. “if you’re going to love me, at least be honest with me! am i embarrassing or not?!”

“of course not!”

“then why?!” it was a miracle that y/n was not crying nor shouting at the moment.

tsukishima fully turns his body this time, “what’s embarrassing is my explanation…” and the mood suddenly lightens.

“TSUKISHIMA, YOU BASTARD!” tanaka and nishinoya’s yelling made tsukishima sigh.

“you call me selfish but keep shimizu-senpai’s sister all to yourself” kageyama grumbles

tsukishima stands still. hands clasped together behind his back and head bowed down. he looks like a child getting a scolding, or how the the freak duo looks whenever daichi catches their slip ups.

nishinoya and tanaka kneels in front of the first year. head bowed down as if they were praising him, and that they are.

“on this day, we honor you. congratulations on getting a shimizu!” they say in unison.

“you’re overreacting” tsukishima simply says.

“nope, i, too, would congratulate you tsukki. no offense, but you’re not exactly the ideal boyfriend” yamaguchi says with a finger under his chin.

“mhm! so you better treat her right tsukishima! she’s like our little sister” sugawara’s smile does not look comforting at all.

“call me if you need help in buying gifts!” daichi volunteers happily.

“and me if you need advice!” asahi adds.

“why are you guys taking my job?” shimizu comments while giggling. “but, i do think that tsukishima is just right for my little sister” she turns to look at her sister who was now playing around with kageyama and hinata, “she’s as chaotic as those two, he’ll be able to handle her. so i trust that i won’t have to worry much?”

“of course” tsukishima didn’t seem like himself at the moment. his eyes seemed to have soften at the sight of his girlfriend. he smiled, though not too obvious.

“why are you smiling like a male lead in a drama?” tanaka teased. and though tsukishima hates expressing his emotions to his teammates, he certainly loves poking their annoyance scale, “because this is what it’s like to love and be loved”

“Why are you making it seem like kiyoko does not love me back! she does love me! right? right?” tanaka gave kiyoko hopeful eyes and received no response aside from her turning around.

“I’m not talking about platonic love”

“WHY YOU—“

“KEI!” apparently, while he successfully annoyed the second year, his girlfriend heard what he said and would definitely never let it go.

“when have you been so sweet?! love and be loved? seriously?!” she bounced up and down, hands on tsukishima’s shoulder for support.

“she’s no different from the freak duo, i’m afraid” sugawara comments and laughs along with the third years.

“but am i really that beautiful that you had to gatekeep me from your entire team?” she laughed, still bouncing, and tsukishima only stood there with his smile never seeming to fade.

“if that were me i’d be receiving his train of insults by now” hinata says, joining the rest of the team as they watched how tsukishima seemed to be a lot softer around y/n.

“you’re such a gatekeeper kei!” she teased, this time, she stopped bouncing and have started poking her boyfriend’s sides.

“that he is! how dare he gatekeep kiyoko-san’s sister?!” tanaka kneeled back down on one knee with a hand on his chest.

nishinoya followed suit, “and what’s annoying is that she reciprocated his love!”

635 notes · View notes

say-al0e · 10 months

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Home Run

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw has been your friend for years, a constant in an ever-evolving life. You’ve always harbored a small crush on him. All it takes is one night to change everything. | Ft. “Are we on a date right now?” requested by @xlostinobsessionsx and “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view,” “You’re getting shy on me now? Really?,” and “Kiss me. Like you mean it.” requested by Anon.

Warnings: Baseball, mentions of anxiety, mentions of deployment, mention of parent death (Goose is mentioned but it’s blink and you miss it), mentions of family issues. I think that’s it but let me know if you see anything else!

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!Reader (call sign Angel)

Word Count: 9k (......sorry)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

“What are you doing Saturday?”

Bradley Bradshaw sank into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs opposite your desk, coffee in either hand as he spared you an expectant glance. Though he shouldn’t have looked so comfortable, at home amongst the stark white of the medical office, he’d become a near permanent fixture since returning to Top Gun.

Years had passed, several of which with only sporadic contact shared, but Bradley had barreled back into your life as if it had only been a matter of days. With the aviators he wore so often hooked into the collar of his undershirt and cheeks tinted pink from the California sun, you could almost believe it - convince yourself that you were the same twenty-somethings you’d once been - as you lifted your eyes to meet his.

“Good morning, Bradley. I’m doing fine, how are you? Gee, the weather sure is nice, though I heard it might rain,” you drawled, tone decidedly unimpressed as you glanced away from your chart to fix him with the blandest look you could muster. The lack of greeting was something he found himself guilty of often - it was nothing for him to drop into a conversation without preamble, leaving you scrambling to catch up - and you had a habit of calling him on it. However, when you were met with little more than raised brows, you allowed yourself a quiet laugh. “Manners, Bradshaw. What, were you raised in a barn?”

“I was raised in Virginia,” he reminded you, shrugging as he did so. “And spent four years in a fraternity. So, do with that what you will.” It took a great deal of effort to conceal your laughter, despite your amusement being his ultimate goal, as he swallowed his own with a sip of coffee. “Anyway,” he redirected, look pointed, “Saturday. Plans?”

With a sigh, you exchanged the pen in your hand for the coffee he slid across the desk - only slightly awed he still remembered your order - and provided Bradley with your full attention. It was clear he was a man on a mission, unbothered by the limited time to waste until training, and wouldn’t leave until he had an answer. So, you settled into your chair.

“Nope. I’m free.” It was clear that he had something in mind, an adventure of some sort he deemed you worthy of joining, but weeks had passed since you last spent quality time together. It wasn’t uncommon but you wanted to tease him, make him spell it out, so you hummed thoughtfully. “Nat’s sister is in town, Bob’s back home on leave, Mickey’s binging Star Trek in chronological order - which I’ve already done -, and Jake’s, well, Jake. So, I figured I’d just go to the beach or something. Why?”

Bradley frowned, an unexpected twinge of something akin to hurt clouding his otherwise bright eyes, as he lifted his own coffee. “I’m not on that list,” he pointed out, brows furrowing as he fixed you with a look you’d been on the receiving end of far too many times. “Why?”

The reaction was a little more serious than you were expecting and it was your turn to frown. One glance at Bradley told you that his inquiry, while uttered as teasingly as he could muster so early in the morning, was genuine. A brief flash of hurt crossed his face, darkened his eyes for a split second, before he hid his frown behind a sip of coffee.

A small pang of guilt needled at your skin. Though you’d meant it to be teasing, a joke, you never thought Bradley would take it as anything else.

“I just figured you’d be with Mav again,” you explained, only a little guilty. It was accompanied by an uncertain shrug as you stirred your coffee, though you knew Bradley could tell how bad you felt. “You’ve been with him the last few weekends and I didn’t want to interrupt the bonding.” When Bradley made a face, brows furrowing as he attempted to recount exactly how much time he’d been spending with Maverick - and when you last spent time together - you laughed quietly. “I think it’s nice, Roo,” you insisted, shooting him what you hoped to be a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you’re getting along. And now that we’re stationed together again, we can hang out whenever. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s very thoughtful and I appreciate it,” he declared, slipping his foot under the gap in your desk to nudge yours, “but call me out when I get distant. You’re important to me.”

Though your entire body grew warm at the weight of his declaration - the sincerity with which he spoke, the earnest look in his eyes, the soft gravel of his voice - you swallowed the butterflies threatening to escape and shook your head.

Bradley Bradshaw was one of your closest friends and had been a part of your life for much of your adulthood. You’d seen him at his best - and at his worst - and knew what it meant to love him. He had a tendency to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake, unintentionally as he’d always been charismatic yet emotionally unavailable, and you’d spent the last ten years determined not to be one.

Instead of allowing yourself to dwell on the feelings you’d realized last time you were stationed together, the feelings you’d spent years questioning and rationalizing and compartmentalizing; instead of allowing yourself to dwell on the warmth, then the chill of realization that he couldn’t mean that in the way you so desperately hoped, you shook your head.

“There’s a difference between being distant and making up for lost time, Roo.”

Bradley waved a hand, dismissing the idea even as his gaze dropped to the cup in his hands for a moment. “Anyway,” he redirected, lifting his gaze once more after a moment of silence. “There’s this new place downtown. It’s a bar but it’s got an arcade, go-karts, mini-golf; all kinds of shit.” He paused, for dramatic effect, you were sure - he’d been spending too much time with Fanboy, you decided, though you managed to keep from rolling your eyes. “There’s also a batting cage.”

The foundation of your friendship with Bradley was built on a handful of shared interests and experiences. You’d both had difficult upbringings, marred by tragedy, and both went to a traditional university rather than the Naval Academy. And, in the pursuit of your degrees, both spent years as student athletes. So, if the grin threatening to lift the corners of his mouth was anything to go by, Bradley knew he had you with the mention of the batting cage.

“Yeah, I heard about it. Fritz took his girlfriend there last weekend. She said it was nice.” Even before her confirmation, you’d seen it online and placed it on a list of ‘to-visit’ spots. There was no question that Bradley would be the perfect companion to enjoy all the bar had to offer but you continued to play coy. “Apparently, they’re working with that brewery, that one with the nice taproom we went to a few months ago.”

For a brief moment, silence settled over the corner of the medical office you called yours. Bradley waited, just until you returned your gaze to his, before raising a brow at you. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?” His amusement was obvious, laughter badly hidden behind his coffee cup as he awaited your confirmation, but he wasted no time giving in to you. “Do you want to go with me, check it out?”

“It’s only fair, since you’ve been avoiding me.” The unamused look Bradley shot you nearly made you break, laughter bubbling in your through - regardless of the pang of guilt you felt earlier, you knew he wouldn’t take offense - but you bit your tongue and nodded. “Yeah, alright. S’long as you don’t pout when I embarrass you at the batting cage.”

A scoff left his lips as he stood from his seat, mission accomplished and ready to finally begin his day. “We were both pitchers, Angel,” he reminded you, rolling his eyes as he gathered his coffee and waited for you to do the same. “Neither of us can bat for shit.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, Bradshaw.” You followed his lead, gathering the items necessary for you to begin your rounds, as you offered him a saccharine smile. “I was a cleanup hitter.”

The word ‘bullshit,’ disguised with a purposefully awful cough escaped Bradley’s lips. When you rolled your eyes, amused at his disbelief, he laughed. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. I swear I’ve told you this before, but look up my stats, frat boy,” you implored him, not bothering to hide your laughter as you rounded the desk and headed for the door with him close behind. “You were day drinking and I was in a batting cage. We were not the same.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken by the sounds of the medical staff beginning their morning shift, as you ambled down the hall with Bradley close by. Finally, after a beat, he hummed thoughtfully.

“Guess we’ll see on Saturday, then.” He brushed past you to hold the door, body close enough for the scent of his cologne to overpower the antiseptic and cloud your thoughts, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat as he glanced down at you. Still, you swallowed the butterflies beginning to swarm in your stomach as he proposed, “Fewest hits buys dinner?”

“I’m an expensive date, Bradshaw.” The taunt was nowhere near as strong as you intended, nowhere near as sharp, but if Bradley noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply shrugged as you both paused just shy of the exit.

“So am I, Angel.”

Then, for just a moment, Bradley studied you. Those warm brown eyes raked over your skin, rapidly heating from the weight of his attention, as that amused grin never faltered. His eyes, however, softened considerably as you blinked at him. There seemed to be something on the tip of his tongue, some witty quip that would make you laugh, but before he could speak, the door opened and a handful of nurses streamed into the hallway.

The group, who you knew well and worked with daily, all bid you both a good morning - though you could see from their not-so-discreet stares that you’d be answering questions about your relationship, or lack thereof, with Bradley later on - and the moment was broken.

Bradley spared a glance at his watch, seemed to realize the time, and reached for the door. “I’ll see you Saturday.” And with that, he stepped outside, off in the direction of the hangar, leaving you to shake your head.

Spending time with Bradley was something you’d always adored, regardless of what it meant and where you ended up - whether it was at the Hard Deck, surrounded by the group of pilots you’d been accepted into without question, or out on the beach, alone as you watched the waves roll in. Though you had a tendency to tease, to give him a hard time, you were glad to accept any invitation to make up for lost time.

And while plans made at the beginning of the week always seemed so far away, especially plans made with Bradley, Saturday seemed to roll around far quicker than you expected.

Between new students - some losing the battle against the California sun, others losing the battle against a bottle of tequila - and yearly appointments all seeming to fall within the same few day span, you barely had time to breathe, let alone think about your weekend plans. Bradley was also kept busy, pulled in one direction or another as he prepared for yet another special mission, and your paths only crossed briefly throughout the week.

Though communication was limited - only a handful of words shared in passing, along with a text or two to confirm plans hadn’t changed - Bradley still arrived at your place at six on the dot.

Bradley made it halfway up the sidewalk, ready to knock at your door and greet you with a grin - some witty quip on his lips about how nice you cleanup - before you stepped out onto the small stoop with a bright grin of your own.

“Ya know, I was kind of expecting you to be fashionably late, Roo.”

While he’d never been late for work - Bradley understood the importance of time management, valued his job and wanted to make a positive impression on his superiors - he had a habit of making a grand entrance elsewhere. Most nights, he sauntered into the Hard Deck fifteen minutes after everyone else, dressed in a gaudy Hawaiian shirt and blue jeans that always hugged his thighs just right. He nearly always showed up to Sunday brunch with a hangover, twenty minutes after the agreed upon time, and already nursing a hangover.

But the thing about Bradley’s habitual lateness; he’d never been late for you.

If you made plans, agreed to spend quality time together without the rest of the Daggers, he made it a point to show up. Hungover, exhausted, burnt out from a long week - it never seemed to matter. Bradley had never left you hanging and you’d long since stopped wondering when that day would come. Instead, you thanked your lucky stars that Bradley Bradshaw deemed you worthy of his time and attention and grinned at him as you approached the Bronco.

Bradley caught the teasing lilt to your voice immediately, saw the glittering amusement in your eyes, and laughed himself as he shook his head. “I figured I got lucky enough getting you to hang out with me. Didn’t want to push it by being late.”

“Very thoughtful.” In true Bradley fashion, he opened the Bronco door for you, aviators slipping down the bridge of his nose as he took in the outfit - casual, but still nicer than anything you’d wear to the Hard Deck - you wore. You ignored the warmth creeping up your chest at the weight of his gaze, swallowed it in hopes of drowning the butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach, as you shook your head. “And chivalrous, too! It’s a wonder you’re so painfully single, Bradshaw.”

The roll of his eyes was playful, unbothered by the teasing jab at his relationship status - something that had become a running joke among the Daggers by this point, anyway - as he rounded the Bronco to join you. “It’s the emotional unavailability,” he defended, shrugging as he turned on the vehicle. “Or something like that.”

“At least you’re self-aware. That counts for something, I think.”

Occasionally, you wondered if the jabs at Bradley’s lack of a love life - or, rather, lack of a committed love life, lack of a steady love life, as he’d had his fair share of flings over the years, though they’d slowed to a complete stop since his return to Top Gun - ever bothered him.

Jake started it all a few months after the Daggers’ friendship became real, shortly after that first mission ended. He made some stupid joke about Bradley’s lack of commitment after he found himself committed to a pretty bartender and it was true enough. Bradley hadn’t had a steady partner in years, not one that he deemed worthy of introducing to his friends, anyway, and you all took turns playing armchair therapist to rationalize why.

Still, Bradley seemed to take it all in stride.

As he always seemed to, Bradley shook his head and laughed quietly as he pulled away from the curb. Instead of arguing, carrying on with the bit as he sometimes did, the conversation fell into a natural lull as he allowed his usual playlist - comprised of eighties throwbacks and the occasional song from his days as a frat boy - to fill the cab of the Bronco.

While it should’ve been uncomfortable, silence with Bradley never was. Even in the beginning of your friendship, back when you were both bright-eyed and overwhelmed with the seemingly endless possibilities your futures seemed to hold, Bradley was was comfortable. And even back then, when your heart seemed to skip a beat every time he smiled at you - every time you were certain your skin would remain permanently on fire, every time you were certain your giddy laughter would give you away - it was always easy.

No matter how much time seemed to pass, no matter how many miles separated you, Bradley had always been a constant. And it seemed that no matter where in the world you found yourselves, when you reunited, there was an overwhelming feeling of returning home.

When you stopped to think about it, that comfort - that feeling of home, that stability - was what kept you from risking your friendship with Bradley.

Though you’d harbored an ever-growing, seemingly never fading, crush on him since the day you met, pushing for anything more came with a risk of losing him for good. Acting on those feelings, acknowledging them outside the confines of your own thoughts, meant risking everything you’d built.

The friendship you shared survived distance, months spent oceans apart; it survived seemingly endless stretches of time with limited communication; it survived deployments, periods of discomfort, moments of doubt, and everything in between because there was no pressure.

With Bradley, there were never any expectations.

Bradley had always been comfortable because with him, you felt the freedom to just exist. He never expected you to be anything other than yourself, accepted you for the person that you were, and saw the beauty in that. He never judged you for saying the wrong thing or having a bad day, never thought less of you for needing a shoulder to lean on. He never made you feel less than.

There was never a fear of fucking it all up but you knew the moment you crossed that line, the moment you allowed yourself to give in and fall completely in love with Bradley Bradshaw, you were opening yourself up for a heartbreak you’d only had nightmares of.

Before you could spiral further, fall into a pit of despair so deep it would take the rest of the weekend to climb out of, Bradley’s voice cut through the din inside your head. That voice, rasp a balm for your suddenly aching chest, rang in your ears as he declared, “Hate to interrupt your attempt to solve all the world’s problems, but we’re here.”

A cursory glance out the window confirmed his statement and you blinked as you took in the sheer size of it all. “Fritz really undersold this place,” you said, sparing Bradley a quick glance before eying the packed parking lot. “It’s massive.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting but I don’t think it was this.”

A hum of agreement was all that seemed necessary and even that was lost to the ether as Bradley parked and shut off the engine. While you were entranced by all the bar offered, eyes wide as you scanned the patio just to the side, he was quick to round the Bronco and open the door for you. He grinned when you shot him a look, eyes sparkling with a sort of mischief as he awaited your teasing comment about chivalry, but you both remained quiet for a moment as you crossed the parking lot.

The bar itself looked like something plucked from your fondest childhood memories; a clash of past and present with an arcade facade, a mini-golf course, batting cages, and a go-kart track out back, all accompanied by a few bars scattered around, and you were struck by a sudden wave of nostalgia as gravel crunched beneath your feet.

Bradley seemed to be, too, as he gestured to the course with a grin. “I think every mini-golf place I ever went to growing up had one of those bridges.” He pointed to an awkward length bridge, covering the short distance between holes split by a trickle of water meant to represent a river, and you laughed.

“At least they’re useful.” At that moment, a small group climbed single file over the bridge - when they could’ve easily just stepped over - and you hummed. “Well, sort of. All the ones on the Gulf Coast have random alligators.” Bradley’s laughter was cut short as he raised a brow, question of whether you meant real alligators or statues - or maybe both - but you only shrugged.

Though you hadn’t been stationed together in years, you’d kept up with one another. Any time you moved, packed it all up and traded this coast for that one, you shared the details with one another. Bradley had been sent photos from Florida - pictures of alligators and Disney and stormy beaches - while you were sent photos from Virginia and, after the fact, the middle of the ocean.

The only time either of you kept your relocation a secret was his initial return to Fightertown as it came after yours and he’d wanted to surprise you.

That line of conversation and the following contemplative silence didn’t last very long as Bradley spared you a glance. “What were you thinking so hard about on the drive? Thought I saw smoke coming out of your ears.”

Bradley was often direct with you, asked questions you would sometimes prefer not to answer, but there was no chance you intended to share your line of thinking. He would get it, you knew that, but the conversation was unnecessary as you were doing just fine hiding it all. So, you shook your head and offered him your best smile. “Doesn’t matter. Just a long week.” That wasn’t technically a lie, it had been a painfully long week, but he didn’t need to know that all thoughts outside of him ceased to exist the moment you stepped out your front door to see him waiting for you. Instead, you attempted to redirect by gesturing to the batting cages. “We starting or ending there?”

There was a look in his eyes that made you fearful he would continue his line of questioning, one that said he didn’t believe you, but he seemed to think better of pushing. “I was thinking we end there,” he reasoned as he glanced over and offered you a half-smile. “Build the suspense, you know?”

“Or get enough drinks in that neither of us will be up to our usual.” It was playfully accusatory, teasing in a way that felt so natural with Bradley, and you felt a small sense of triumph as he laughed.

“You were in a batting cage, I was day drinking,” he reminded you, snickering as he repeated your quip from earlier in the week. When you cut your eyes at him, his smile seemed to double in size. “A beer or two won’t have any impact at all on my batting average, Angel.”

“I’d like to say that I’m surprised,” you sighed as you stepped through the front door, “but I don’t think I am.”

Bradley rolled his eyes fondly as he followed you inside, close behind to keep from being separated. “C’mon,” he urged, “first round’s on me.”

Knowing Bradley, every round would be on him. He’d insisted since being reunited, declared he was making up for lost time when he dragged you out on nights he knew you’d rather be in bed, but you knew better. Bradley was better with actions than with words - small gestures, such as buying a round or completing an annoying to-do list task - and used them to show that he cared.

This was a conversation you’d had a dozen times before, a fight he never let you win, so you made no effort to argue as you headed for the bar.

The entire building was impressive, decorated to match the overall theme of childhood nostalgia with neon signs and patterned carpet. The walls were lined with old games - Pac-Man, Space Invaders, pinball machines - and it seemed that everywhere you turned, there was something new to discover.

Little conversation was shared at first as both you and Bradley were too busy marveling at the sheer size of the space. It was almost overwhelming, too many choices in one building, but soon, you were wandering through the vastness of it all in search of your next activity.

Much of the night passed in a blur of bright colors and loud noises. The games themselves were fun, easy enough when you had a drink in your hand - though you and Bradley both kept it light with only one drink each, too busy having fun to return to the bar and wait. Bradley’s presence, however, made it all the better.

Bradley kept you close as you weaved through the crowds, one hand at the center of your back - respectful, but still enough to have your breath catching in your throat with every press of his fingers as you felt the warmth of his palm through the material of your top.

While you opted against the go-karts and mini-golf, you’d already formulated a plan to return with the rest of the Daggers in tow. You and Bradley mapped it all out between games of skee ball and Crazy Taxi - you’d begin with go-karts, before the group started drinking, and end with the pair of you showing everyone up in the batting cages. It was perfect, silly and fun, and you found yourself forgetting everything that wasn’t the immense joy you were experiencing.

Hours passed in a haze of giddy laughter and jokes traded at the others’ expense before you finally made your way outside. With his hand still at the center of your back, slipping lower with every step, Bradley guided you to the batting cages with a grin.

“Alright, slugger,” he teased, eyes bright and glittering in the overhead lights as he gestured to the rack of bats. “Lady’s first. Show me how it’s done.”

With a playful shake of your head, you stepped away from Bradley and reached for a helmet and a bat. There was no doubt that he believed you - he believed nearly everything you said, whether he should have or not - but he was once a pitcher, too. It was an experience you shared, one few people you saw daily understood, and you knew this was less about you proving yourself and more about finding something you had in common and celebrating it.

The entire night was a way to spend time together doing something you both loved, something you rarely got to indulge in these days, and you were grateful he’d suggested it. Even as you stepped into the batting cage, weight of Bradley’s gaze heavy against your skin, you felt nothing but the giddy excitement you’d been experiencing since stepping foot into the bar.

Had it been anyone else, you might’ve felt nervous. The teasing, the playful jeering as you took a few practice swings, might’ve made you afraid of looking stupid. But this was Bradley. While he could be competitive, it was always playful - with you, anyway. This was fun and you knew he would cheer you on regardless, so you nodded when he asked if you were ready to start.

When the first ball came flying toward you, speed at the max setting, you inhaled deeply before taking a swing. The ball whistled as it soared high, a resounding ‘ping’ echoed through the cages and earned a few glances from passersby, and you felt a sort of relief as it flew into the net before bouncing back toward the return.

Laughter, amused and a little awed, rang out behind you as you caught Bradley shake his head from the corner of your eye. “You weren’t joking.”

“You almost sound surprised, Bradshaw,” you teased, though he didn’t - not in the slightest. “This one’s going to the left, top corner,” you informed him as you shifted your hips and waited for the next ball.

As it flew high and left with another sharp ‘ping,’ Bradley leaned against the barrier and folded his arms over his chest. “Where are we goin’ for dinner?” The question was asked with a smile, bright and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Your choice since I’m clearly going to be paying for it.”

“It’s not over ’til it’s over.” Even as you spoke, words interrupted by a huff of effort as you took a swing, Bradley seemed unconvinced. And, if he’d been as honest as you, he had every reason to be. With a laugh, you offered, “I was thinking about that place by the beach, the one with the cool patio.”

“Sure.” Bradley would’ve allowed you to choose regardless - and wouldn’t have let you pay for him, even if you proved to be an awful batter - because that was the kind of friend he’d always been. The restaurant on the beach was a shared favorite, however, a staple that you visited at least once a month, and you knew you would’ve likely ended up there, anyway. So, you felt little remorse about your choice, even as he continued. “You’re only two balls in but you win,” he relented, laughing as he lifted his soda to take a sip. “Where’s this one headed?”

“Straight up the middle.”

Between pitches, you spared him a glance over your shoulder. You expected him to look bemused, pretending to be put out by your ability, but there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was fond, brighter than you expected, and you almost convinced yourself it was pride that had his shoulders set a little straighter as a passing pair praised your ability.

Even the brief notion that Bradley was proud of you, impressed by your ability in a way few others had been, was enough to warm you from within. Heat flooded your veins, much as it did every time he spared you a wayward compliment, and it took a conscious effort to keep yourself from preening under his scrutiny.

“Why am I not surprised you’re a place hitter?” His question was punctuated with another resounding ‘ping,’ followed by a ball flying into the net, as he shook his head once more. “Starting to think you were grown in a lab, Angel.”

It was clearly teasing, a soft jab accompanied by laughter, but you couldn’t help the bashful shrug as you readied yourself for another ball. His jokes about your perfection had become more frequent, accompanied by soft laughter, and though you knew he’d witnessed your flaws, it still made your skin prickle any time Bradley saw the good in you.

Still, you swallowed the warmth and tightened your grip on the bat. “Told you, batting cages while you were day drinking.” There was a brief pause as you took another swing, this hit a line drive to the left, before you admitted, “Softball and nursing school didn’t leave much time for fun or friends so, batting cage it was.”

“We would’ve been friends,” he declared, certain in a way you wished you could be - though you were grateful to have met him later in life. You knew yourself well enough to know that you likely wouldn’t have been able to handle the schoolgirl crush you’d formed almost immediately after meeting him, not then. But Bradley didn’t give you much time to dwell as he hummed, “We could’ve been day drinking and hitting the batting cages together.”

“I don’t know if I would’ve befriended frat boy Bradley.” Though you offered him a teasing grin, laughed when he rolled his eyes, you knew that you would have. You were half-certain that you would’ve found Bradley in any life and fallen just as hard, no matter the circumstances of your meeting. But you kept that realization to yourself as you teased, “His idea of fun sounds like it could end in an ER visit.”

“Would’ve given a student nurse some real life experience,” he reasoned, smile growing into something brilliant when you laughed. “But at least you admit it sounds like fun.” Bradley tipped his head then, brows furrowing as he watched you take another swing. “Why’d you play, though? Nursing always sounded hard enough without being an athlete, too.”

Over the years, you’d had more conversations with Bradley than you could count. There were very few topics that hadn’t come up as you shared nearly everything - your career, your friends, your hobbies, your interests, your hometowns - but family was one of them. And, in a long line of similarities, your reason for playing softball and his reason for playing baseball was rooted in family.

Bradley once mentioned that baseball was originally deigned something to do, a task that got him out of the house and incorporated him into the community when he and his mother moved to Virginia after Goose’s death. He once shared that it was something his father loved as a child, an alternate life path he could’ve taken, and indulging in it made him feel a little closer to the father he missed. He admitted that it made him feel weightless - long before he experienced true weightlessness in the cockpit of a jet - but he’d never asked you why.

It was just one of those things that went unspoken until it didn’t.

“Family,” you revealed, not bothering to turn even as he made a noise of understanding. “My grandmother played. She got married and had kids really young. Sports weren’t really a thing for women in her time, anyway, but there was a rec league in town. She was amazing; a switch hitter, place hitter, a damn good pitcher. If she’d been born a little later, she could’ve made a life for herself playing. But she wasn’t and she couldn’t. My mom tried to take after her but she never really got the hang of it. I was the only one who did, so, I guess I figured I had to be the one to live the dream for them.”

The weight of your rationale was not lost on Bradley, you knew that, but he was never one to push for more. That was enough, enough vulnerability for a batting cage in the middle of a crowd, so he shifted. “Do you still play?”

Once upon a time, after a handful of drinks and a few stories about the Naval Academy from the Daggers, Bradley shared the things he missed about college. Baseball was one of them as he hadn’t played since graduation. He’d been asked, a handful of times, to join in on the odd pickup game here or there but it wasn’t the same and you knew that. There was little a pickup game could do to recapture the feeling you’d experienced on a field with teammates but Bradley seemed to realize that you’d at least swung a bat since graduating.

“Sometimes,” you confirmed, finally sparing him a sideways glance. Those brown eyes followed your every move, every shift of your hips or flex of your foot, and you felt your skin prickle under his scrutiny. You shrugged, returning your gaze to the machine, and took a deep breath. “I join local leagues when I can, if I hear about them. It was easier when I was working at a hospital with civilian nurses but most of the time, they don’t really want me joining in. I can never promise I’ll be around for a whole season or that I can make it to everything. I get it, though. They want someone who’s going to be there.”

When the machine finally shut off, you turned to face Bradley. There was a look on his face that you couldn’t read - something contemplative, softer than you expected - as he declared, “Their loss. They’d be lucky to have you, Angel.”

Bradley’s sincerity was obvious, almost achingly so, and you felt your heart clench at his declaration. It meant more than you knew it should but before you could dwell, consider exactly how it made you feel, Bradley headed for the controls.

“Wait,” you called out, before he could press the ‘start’ button. “Don’t you want to bat? I feel like I’ve been in here forever.”

“Don’t mind me.” He smiled, this one real and bright, as he gestured to you. You stood, still inside the cage with a bat clutched in one hand, and lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

A storm of butterflies filled the pit of your stomach. Your skin heated, your heart thumped just a bit too hard in your chest, and you had to tip your head to hide your face as you shook your head. There was a slight edge to his voice, a deeper rasp that you’d only heard used at the Hard Deck - locked in conversation with pretty girls you watched him take home instead of you - and you were almost convinced you imagined it. However, before you could question it, Bradley laughed.

“Oh, you’re getting shy on me now? Really?” As desperately as you wanted to make some sort of witty quip, return his teasing with some of your own and hope that your voice didn’t shake, you could only attempt to swallow the warmth creeping up your chest as he pressed the button. “I’m having plenty of fun watching you, Angel. Keep going!”

There was a warmth to Bradley’s comment that seeped into your bones, warmed you from within. Bradley complimented you frequently, sought to make you - and other friends, including Natasha - feel proud, but this was different. There was a weight to everything he’d said throughout the course of the night you’d never felt before.

The weight of his statement, the softness with which he spoke, had your voice catching in your throat as you waited for the machine to start. Your heart continued to thunder in your chest, cheeks heating, but you attempted to disregard the feeling of Bradley’s gaze burning into your skin.

When you finally found your voice, heart still beating just a touch too fast even after the first hit, you shook your head. “One more round,” you relented, “and then you’re up, Bradshaw.”

If Bradley heard the waver in your voice, if he noticed the slight heave of your chest as you fought to even your breathing, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he nodded easily. “Of course. We have to end the night with a laugh,” he reasoned, poking fun at his own abilities. “You gonna be my relief hitter when I strike out?”

“It’s a batting cage, Roo.” It was meant to make you laugh, meant to ease the tension you knew he could see in your shoulders, but it worked as you leaned into a swing. “There are no strikeouts.”

Before he could counter, make some joke that would keep you laughing and fully ease you back into the moment, a passerby - who’d definitely had more than your one drink - yelled, “Damn, man. Your girl’s killing it!”

“Yeah, she is.”

Three words, a simple acknowledgement of a drunken compliment, and you nearly missed the next pitch that flew toward you. It likely meant nothing to him - he likely hadn’t even noticed the man call you his girl - but if you weren’t careful, you knew this moment would play on a loop in the back of your mind.

It was intoxicating, the idea that someone else saw you as Bradley’s girl, but you made a herculean effort to stay focused on the task at hand as you took swing after swing. A handful of passersby continued to cheer, drunken words of encouragement rang out with every ball you sent soaring, but Bradley kept quiet as you flew through the remaining pitches on the machine.

There were no witty quips, no jokes, and you were grateful for the relative silence as you allowed the repetitive motion to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Finally, when the machine reached zero and you’d reached a state of semi-normalcy, you turned to watch as he grabbed his own helmet and bat.

Bradley approached with a smile, though it was softer than it had been all night - gentle, almost timid in a way you’d never seen him - and brushed your shoulder with his own as you passed in the entryway. Though it was far from the first time he’d touched you, a jolt of electricity flew through your body at the contact and you struggled to inhale deeply as you offered him what you hoped to be a teasing grin.

“Alright, frat boy,” you hummed, voice quieter than you intended but still playful enough, “show me what you’ve got.”

The quip made Bradley laugh, even as he shook his head at the nickname. “Prepare to be woefully underwhelmed, Angel,” he teased, offering you a grin as he settled into his stance.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

With a nod from Bradley, you pressed the ‘start’ button and watched as the first pitch flew toward him. And, with that very first swing, you knew he’d been telling the truth.

Bradley’s first attempt ended in a foul ball, right off the tip of the bat, and the second fell just a little too close to his hands. His third was a complete miss, though he made a decent effort, and you lifted your hand to cover your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter.

There was no telling how much of this was an act - playing up his lack of ability to make you laugh, to make you feel better about your own prowess - but you couldn’t help yourself as you winced when he dropped his shoulder and missed a third ball.

“Nevermind. You really are a shitty batter, Bradshaw.”

“Funny, that’s what every coach I’ve ever had said.” When you laughed, shaking your head at his self-deprecating joke, Bradley took another swing. With another miss, he spared you a quick glance over his shoulder. “This is why I was a pitcher,” he acknowledged, glancing at a ball that rolled past his feet. “Next time, we’ll go to a field somewhere and I can redeem myself.”

“No redemption necessary. I believe you’re a good pitcher,” you promised him, laughing as he jolted away from a ball spiraling too close for his comfort. “Pitchers aren’t supposed to be able to hit.”

Bradley made yet another attempt and you nearly clapped as this one connected and flew into the top right corner. With it, Bradley laughed. “That’s the best you’re gonna get,” he declared, smiling as he spared you another glance. “Press stop for me, Angel?”

With a laugh of your own, you pressed the ‘stop’ button and waited a moment for Bradley to exit the batting cage. As he stepped out, returned his helmet and bat, you took a moment to study him.

Bradley Bradshaw was beautiful. Though you kept your feelings for him a closely guarded secret, everyone knew you found him attractive. You weren’t the only one who thought so, especially on those nights he wore the jeans that hugged his thighs just right to the Hard Deck - especially on the nights he wore his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned, collar of his undershirt weighed down by aviators and exposing a sliver of sun kissed skin - but you were always struck by just how pretty he was up close.

Though you’d never been much of a fan of the mustache - a commonality on every base you’d ever been stationed at, especially among pilots - it worked for Bradley. It suited him and you were glad he hadn’t been talked out of it yet.

Even on the toughest of days, Bradley always offered you a smile. He made it a point to be honest with you, to tell you when he felt rough or when he’d seen better days, but he always left having shared at least one smile. It was always encouraging, always there when you needed it, and you were grateful that Bradley deemed you worthy of his smile.

And those eyes - warm and beautiful, always so expressive whenever he regarded you - never failed to make you weak in the knees. With every gaze you shared, with every glance exchanged, you found yourself falling deeper into a hole you knew you would never be able to climb free from.

However, as Bradley turned to you, you felt the air escape your lungs as you began to realize that you were alright with never being able to climb free.

As afraid as you were that the comfort you found in Bradley would be lost should you allow yourself to fall completely, you realized that he would never allow that.

Bradley had been a part of your life for years, there for you through the best and worst moments of your life. No matter what happened, he’d proven to be a constant - a home for you to return to in even the most troubling of times. There was never any doubt that he would remain in your life, even if you learned what it was to love and lose Bradley Bradshaw, and you began to accept that.

In a stunning moment of realization, you came to the understanding that should you choose to give this a try, should Bradley want you in the way that you wanted him, he would do everything in his power to be there for you regardless. And should he not want you - though, as you finally gave yourself the space to consider, you wondered if the things you rationalized as friendship actually meant more to him - he would never leave you out in the cold.

Even if everything that could go wrong did go wrong, even if a relationship happened and ended in heartbreak, you were confident that Bradley Bradshaw would remain constant.

After years of stability, years of love and patience, there was little that could push him away.

“Angel?” Bradley’s voice broke through the haze, drew you out of your thoughts and back to reality as you blinked at him. He frowned, concerned, and took a half-step closer as he studied your face. “Are you okay? I lost you for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” With a smile, you gave Bradley a nod - hopefully convincing him that you were, in fact, alright - before gesturing to the mini-golf course. “I think we played everything inside but there’s always mini-golf, if you want to keep playing. But I’m good if you want to call it a night.”

“I think my pride’s taken a severe enough hit,” he teased, expression relaxing slightly as he glanced toward the parking lot. “Let’s get you home. It’s almost past your bedtime, anyway.”

Though you rolled your eyes, you shook your head fondly as Bradley fell into step beside you and began heading slowly toward the Bronco.

The question you’d wanted to ask for a long while - whether Bradley wanted the relationship you did, whether he saw you win the same light - lingered on the tip of your tongue. After years of wondering ‘what-if,’ you finally allowed yourself to ask the question aloud.

“Bradley?” Warm brown eyes met yours, soft and still slightly concerned, as he hummed his acknowledgement. “Is this…” You weighed your words for a moment, considering, before you finally settled on a question. “Are we on a date right now?”

A soft, half-smile lifted the corner of Bradley’s mouth as he reached into his pocket in search of his keys. It was almost bashful, the way he ducked his head, and you swallowed to keep yourself grounded as you waited.

“I wanted it to be,” he admitted, voice quiet as the din of the bar began to fade. “I was going to really ask, make it obvious that’s what I wanted, I just…”

Bradley’s hesitation felt familiar. His shrug, noncommittal and questioning, was the same thing you found yourself doing whenever Natasha questioned why you refused to make a move. There was a tinge of fear in the pink dusting his cheeks, in the set of his shoulders as you approached the Bronco, and you held your breath as he shook his head.

“I like being your friend. I’m happy to be your friend,” he stressed, coming to a stop at the passenger side of the Bronco. In the dim light of the parking lot, Bradley’s eyes glittered as they met yours. “I haven’t spent this long being your friend as some sort of consolation prize, worried you didn’t like me back. This isn’t settling and I don’t see our friendship as less than a relationship,” he assured you, soothing a worry you’d buried deep - one he likely sensed all along. “I just… I always knew it wasn’t the right time, we were both trying to establish ourselves. But when we were apart, I thought about you all the time. I missed you all the time, more than anyone else.”

Knowing that Bradley valued your friendship first, believed it to be important - worth as much as romantic love, not something he simply settled for in place of something he’d rather have - made your chest ache as you reached out to place a hand on his bicep.

“I missed you, too, Bradley.” When his eyes met yours, smile soft and gaze so reverential it nearly stole your breath, you couldn’t help but take a half-step closer.

Bradley remained quiet for a moment, as if considering his words, before he smiled bashfully. “I’ve always thought about this,” he admitted, hand lifting to cup your cheek. His palm seared your skin, warm and heavy and a comfort you’d wished for for years, and your breath caught in your throat as he continued.

“Why now?”

It wasn’t a question you needed an answer to, not at that moment - not under the buzz of a streetlight and in the view of drunken strangers - but it seemed important as you struggled to focus on anything other than the warmth of Bradley’s skin pressed to yours.

“Mav. He got his second chance with Penny,” Bradley reminded you, voice soft. “We never lost touch but this was another chance. I couldn’t let this one pass me by.”

“Kiss me.” Bradley smiled then, clearly pleased by your request, and leaned in. He pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss, a chaste peck, and you nearly laughed at the feeling of his facial hair brushing your skin. His lips, slightly chapped, were warm and you lifted a hand to the back of his neck as you mumbled against his mouth, “Like you mean it, Roo.”

With a half-step, you pressed yourself impossibly closer and released the years of longing you’d suffered into the kiss. Fireworks popped behind your eyelids, blood simmered in your veins as heat engulfed your entire body, and you wondered if every kiss would be this wonderful as Bradley’s free hand fell to your waist. His fingers pressed into your hip, lips working against yours, as everything around you ceased to exist.

Despite the heat of the night, the dimness of the parking lot, you would’ve been content to remain there for the rest of the night. All that mattered was Bradley, his body pressed to yours as years of longing were swept away, but all too soon, a loud cheer broke through the blissful haze.

A group of drunken passersby cheered, whistled and encouraged you both as they wandered through the parking lot to meet an Uber, and you pulled away from Bradley with a laugh. As you tipped your head to hide your smile, mild embarrassment heating your skin, you decided that the moment still couldn’t have been better.

Bradley seemed to agree as he grinned and brushed a thumb across your cheekbone. “I can’t bat to save my life but I think tonight was a home run,” he teased, laughing as you groaned at the pun. “C’mon, let me take you home.”

“Please. Before I decide I’ve had enough of the awful jokes and leave you hanging.”

Years had passed in which you suffered through Bradley’s awful jokes with a patient smile and a disbelieving laugh. There was little you wouldn’t do for him, even less he wouldn’t do for you, but you were still left giddy by his rolling eyes. “There’s no getting rid of me now,” he promised, laughing as he started up the Bronco. “We’re in it for the long haul.”

It was a promise, one that you hoped he’d be able to keep, and you felt a surge of hope for the future.

There was no expectation for the rest of the night, no pressure as you made your way back to your place, and you were content with that. Neither of you said much on the drive, simply allowed yourselves to exist together, and for the first time, you had no worries about ‘what-if.’ Instead, there was only the thought of ‘what could be.’

A deeper conversation had to be had, you both knew that, but there would be time for that later. There was an entire future awaiting you both.

And instead of wishing it to arrive so soon, you focused solely on the moment at hand.

As Bradley walked you up the sidewalk, palm warm in your own, you made no effort to wipe the smile from your lips. The giddy feeling in your chest made you feel as if you were walking on air, excited for the possibilities that now seemed endless.

The unknown was always terrifying and there was no guarantee for the future - no guarantee for anything more than the moment at hand. But Bradley Bradshaw had always been a constant. He’d been by your side for years, steady and true and loving. He was home, a light in the dark, and he was right; with him, you’d certainly hit a home run.

___________________________________________________

Author’s Note: It has been a Shit week. I’m going to go rewatch Top Gun and lay in the dark for a while. Enjoy the friends to lovers fun.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name, @callsignharper, @peoniarose, @hangmanscoming, @rh3tt, @dakotakazansky

#bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick imagine #top gun one shot #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #v's fics

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twofrontteethstillcrooked · 21 days

Text

deancas first kiss, s12 au. For @deancaskiss, belatedly 🎂🎉

When Cas came back into the cabin with their bags, Dean was fiddling with a radio on a bedside table. An energetic fiddle reel disintegrated into static which was replaced with a loud voice proclaiming that many, many fine and upstanding cars were on sale for low, low, bottom basement prices--

"Enough of that," Dean said, and snapped off the radio.

"Has something happened?" Cas dropped the bags on the rather well used couch and tuned all his attention to Dean.

"No, no. I'm fine and dandy." Dean wiped his eyes, which Cas was horrified to see were a little red, a little wet.

"Are you sure?" Cas crossed the small room and laid a hand in the crook of Dean's arm.

Dean went still, looking back at him, before taking a breath. "Just a sad old country song on the radio." His voice sounded funny and it made Cas's chest ache.

"Okay." Cas pulled back his hand.

"I'm really fine." Dean's expression brightened as he looked past Cas to the window. "I think there's enough time for a walk before it's completely dark out. Wanna go with?"

"Of course," Cas said sincerely.

Dean went still again, like he was surprised at Cas's agreeing to accompany him. He broke the eye contact with a small laugh, as though he was embarrassed about something. There was a light flush across the tops of his cheeks. It was incredibly attractive, and that, Cas knew, was not something that was to be mentioned.

"Sam says he and Mary should arrive in another hour," Cas told Dean a while later, after his phone had buzzed in his pocket.

Dean nodded and kept staring out over the little lake behind the cabins. They'd taken the pebble trail that ringed the lake like a dirty pearl necklace and were seated on a big rock roughly the shape of horseshoe. Cas wished for a bit more cushioning and a less sharp breeze, but otherwise felt content. If he concentrated he could sense the warmth of Dean's body; he tried not to lean over towards it like a flower seeking sunlight.

The actual sun had drooped behind a bank of scraggly cypress and maples not yet in full leaf, their springtime samaras an almost purple hue in the fading daylight. The choppy water of the lake made clickety, whispery noises. A nuthatch in a nearby oak was either despondent or desirous, or both, and Cas felt a kinship.

"What was the song about?" he decided to ask.

Dean smiled, briefly. "Home."

"Oh." Cas waited.

"Nope, that's it, nothing else to it." Dean elbowed him. "Song just caught me the wrong way."

"The lyrics," Cas guessed.

"Yeah." Dean gave him a rueful look. "Guess I'm a little homesick too. Which is silly."

"I don't think so," Cas said. "These last couple of cases -- well, it's been nearly two weeks since we were back at the bunker."

Dean shook his head. "Sometimes home isn't so much a place-- Though I do miss our washing machine and dryer and the water pressure in the showers." He cleared his throat. "But that's not the point."

"A feeling of home," Cas started to work out. "It's about who you're with when you're there, I suppose."

"Exactly." Dean looked away. "And the thing is, I've been with my family these last two weeks. So that's been great."

"Except for the beatings," Cas posited. "And the beheadings."

Dean snorted. "Except for those."

"Despite those," Cas said, "I've enjoyed spending time with you and Sam and Mary."

"I'm glad you've been with us." Dean looked out over the water again and shivered. "I'm glad you're coming home with us too," he said quietly.

Something heavy and thorned curled in Cas's throat, for reasons he couldn't quite explain; it took him a moment to respond. "Well. So am I." His phone buzzed twice, sounding even more startled than he felt. He thumbed open the screen display and squinted at the text. "Sam says they had to detour off of I-70 and there's a bad storm moving in. They're going to try to find a room and hunker down for the night. Mary has a lead on another werewolf pack, if we want to meet them near Wamego tomorrow."

"That'd work," Dean said.

Cas sent a couple of texts and Sam sent back a thumbs up emoji.

Dean shivered again and hunched into his jacket a bit.

"We should go back to the cabin." Cas stood up and stretched while his lower back applauded his efforts. "Get you warmed up."

He hadn't meant to say something provocative; but Dean's eyes had gone dark as he watched him.

"You stash a tropical beach in one of our bags when I wasn't looking?" Dean asked, his expression changing to one of amusement so quickly Cas almost blinked.

You've been imagining things, Cas told himself. Wishful thinking isn't reality. The weight in his throat widened, scratched.

"No," he managed to say. "But I'm sure the cabin has blankets…" He trailed off as the humor in Dean's face faded to something soft and steady, that earlier stillness concentrated, giving off its own heat.

Cas found himself corralled into the v of Dean's legs, Dean holding him at the hip with his hand as he traced the outline of Cas's lower lip with his thumb. Cas didn't need to take a breath except yes he did; and either way, Dean was standing and then his mouth was on Cas's and Cas realized how lonely starvingly cold both of them had been, how chilled by the breeze and the nightfall and the years of distance that suddenly, thankfully, no longer existed between their bodies.

The first kiss became the second became the third. There would be more and more, Cas thought, dazed at the sound of Dean's gentle groan as he let Dean slip inside. It was so much better, kissing Dean, than Cas had ever let himself picture or pretend it could be. When they finally paused, for a minute, they leaned against each other and took shaky breaths and smiled, tentative and hushed. They walked back to the cabin and locked themselves in for the night. They made good use of the blankets and the rather well used couch.

"Is this what people mean by 'making themselves at home'?" Cas asked once, and Dean grinned and pulled him back into bed.

#deancaskiss #destiel #deancas #fic #snippetfic #spn

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chaotic-ish · 1 month

Text

synopsis : what's gojo without pranks?

warnings : nope ! Just fluff. And him calling you pookie (he totally would)

a/n : got bored af. And i thought this would be cute— i thought.

“HOLY—“

you wipe away the penetrable whipped cream that settled on your face, staring up at gojo in disbelief.

He had given your face a whole plate of whipped cream as you stumbled your way in the kitchen.

“HOW DARE YOU—“

Gojo laughs uncontrollably, with wheezes and snorts all the same while pointing his index finger towards you. “You should have seen the look on your face!”

“YOU BITCH. I DON’T THINK I CAN EVEN SEE.”

He continues laughing, the sounds of giggles dying down to a playful tone as he walks over to hug you from behind, leaning in from the side to take a peck of whipped cream from your face. “Oh, chill, y/nnn, it’s just a harmless prank!”

He licks his lips, humming in delight as the sweet taste graces his tongue.

You taste much better, he thinks.

“My make-up—” you whisper, carefully wiping away dabs off whipped cream over your face and proceeds to dip it in your mouth, letting the treat sink in your mouth.

how much whipped cream did he put in that plate?

“—IS RUINED.” you elbowed him hard in the stomach, but not enough to hurt him.

gojo winces, painting a fake sad look over his face, "heyy, be gentle with me, love, I'm delicate."

he sighs, clasping his hands together as he displays one of his best puppy eyes and convincing pout.

His eyes grasped the attention of the shimmering ceiling lights, clear azure irises widening it's lids.

He actually looked like a whole-ass puppy in the streets.

You grab a few pieces of tissue on the kitchen counter with a scoff, cleaning off the last bits of whipped cream on your face.

But you can't say otherwise that the face he gave you was incredibly cute. It just squeezes your heart to let it melt into a puddle of affectionate goo.

Those eyes make you weak.

But you're not losing to him so easily.

A sigh hesitantly leaves your lips, you cover half your face with an open hand.

"I hate that you do this to me..."

Gojo smiles a goofy smile, pulling your hand away from your face to pepper your cheeks with gentle kisses and ending it with a another one at the end of your nose, making a 'boop' sound as he does.

"That means you'll forgive me right?" He looks at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly sideways.

you lean forward and cup his face with both your hands and lean in as if to kiss him, gojo was already fooled as he flutters his eyes closed and sticks his lips out.

he looks so silly.

But you pulled away at the last second, his eyes lifting its lids when the awaited kiss he thought was coming didn't, leaving him dumbfounded as he eyes you narrowly, not understanding why you pulled away so suddenly.

Then, the pang of realisation hits him—

"Y/n! Why???? Are you mad at me for doing that prank at you????"

You say nothing, successfully ignoring him as you walk out, throwing the dirty pieces of tissue in the rubbish bin while you’re at it.

"HEY. DON'T IGNORE MEEEE," he whines, arms stretched out, hands clench, unclench as he chases after you.

he absolutely dislikes you ignoring him, even if it's just a small tease, which he was well aware of.

A set of arms grab you from behind, pulling you close until your back hits a wall of hard muscle, you feel a chin rest on your head.

"I’m sorry, please, forgive me my dear pookie, snookie, cookie, doopie, cutie pie."

You cringe, your hands on his forearms as you turn your head to face sideways, only a glimpse of gojo could be seen from your peripheral vision.

"In your dreams—“

the sudden feeling of fingers poking your sides caused your body to jerk in response, a small giggle curling the edge of your lips into a small smile. But you still couldn't shake gojo off you, his arms are around you tight to hold you in place.

you should be a bit stern maybe, maybe, you sho-

-poke. poke. poke. poke.

poke.

a few pokes, then birthed multiple tickles on your sides, gojo's fingers making it's work on the curves of your waist.

You held in your giggles, laughs and snickers in your stitched lips, bottling your stiffled laughs until you were about to burst like a balloon with too much helium.

Gojo urged his fingers to make it even more unbearable, your tickle spots being vulnerably attacked.

And you did. Burst. Into laughter.

So much laughter that it's starting to become contagious, like your endearingly soft smile...your profounded happiness, that melody of a voice you have-

Are more than enough to make this man smile ear-to-ear.

You could almost hear the pitter-patters of his heartbeats thrumming in his chest.

"Forgive me," he whispers to your ears, pulling your body down to the floor with him. "C'monnn, I promise I won't do it againnnn."

There was absolutely no way he would not do this again.

"Never—“

"Mhm?"

He sticks his tongue out, it emerges from the corner of his lip as he wraps a leg around your lower body, making sure you weren't able escape his antics.

"Y/n...sweetheart, I'm sorry, m'kay?" Even with the attempted apology, he still wouldn't stop his hands that were still latched to the shaft of your hips.

He can't help the softened expression that crept up on his face and spent it's holiday there.

"SATORU GOJO-" you gasp, "STOP- PLEASE."

"No way! Not until you forgive me." He says, leaning down to plant small wet kisses up the side of your neck, trailing red spots down to the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hands never slacked off.

"Ah, okay! okay! I forgive you! I forgive you! Stop!"

Gojo smiles contently, watching how your breaths come out in huffs of invisible smoke.

"There, see? Not so hard now, is it?"

You turn yourself to face him, "Nah, it was very hard."

He holds his hands up in a show of attempt that he was gonna tickle you again, but you caught one of his hands, entertwining your fingers with his, both of you holding on tightly.

"Don't you even dare."

"Sheesh, I wasn't trying to, you're so grouchy." He grumbles, letting his face fall down to land a kiss on your temple and brings one of your hands to his cheek, clutching it tightly.

a few seconds pass by feels more like a few hours, he just stares at you, like nothing else exists anymore. Staring at you with his lovestrucked gaze, you couldn’t love him less.

“And, by the way, your make-up isn’t ruined,” he whispers, a thumb running over your cheek, “You look exactly the same without it, love, you’re just that pretty.”

you smile, your cheeks suddenly feel violently hot.

there it is, gojo thinks, there is that wonderful smile that has the power to brighten his day, make him forget the worries and stress he gained. You’ve stolen all the space he has in his world, because—

you are his world.

He takes a few breaths, appreciating the breath-taking view in front of him. He thanks the world, the universe, and god himself, for putting you two together.

He doesn't know what to do without you.

"I love you so much, y/n, I really do." He whispers, holding you impossibly closer to him.

“I know, I love you more, ‘toru.”

i feel like the ending is a bit too cliche— someone tell me why isn’t he real. why can’t he exist :(

taglist: @zennyxxy, @asters-r (sorry zen i got bored.)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #fluff #jjk fluff #drabble #female reader

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bigmakxp · 9 months

Text

Monty isn’t jealous, envious or wants to take Freddy’s place nor does he hate him either.

Spoilers for Ruin btw!!

So the popular theory right now that everyone’s claiming to be canon is that Monty was jealous of Bonnie and Freddy and decommissioned Bonnie to be in the band and makes his way up in the band and take Freddy’s place as well. The most popular reason for this theory is because of the Monty Golf ARcade game that shows Monty as the lead while Freddy’s in the trash. At first glance, I can see why people fall for this and think Monty wants Freddy’s place in the band but there’s some evidence that suggests otherwise.

1. The faz watch message Monty mischief makes it clear that Monty has missed main stage performances more than once to stay in Monty Golf, The place where he was once just a one man band in his own attraction (info thanks to ruin). If people are claiming that he was the one who decommissioned Bonnie out of spite or malice or fame why would he bail on his position that he went to such “great lengths” to get? Like I’m genuinely curious how it fits.

2. People never talk about this. Just moments before in the game we heard Vanessa threatening to scrap Freddy if he was involved protecting Gregory and Monty would run the shows. Now I know she said that his casing would be slapped on a new endo and it would be a temporary thing but his endo, Freddy’s true essence and person (or robot) would be scrapped thrown in the trash. Sound familiar? A certain AR game depicting just that? Nope not a clue.. /s

3. So your not convinced still? Fine. One of the endings of security breach has Gregory and Freddy driving off in a van and just who did they put in Freddy’s position as the lead? Yup. Monty. And they created an entirely new animatronic as a 4th member, glamrock mr. hippo. The decisions of fazbear entertainment is… questionable. But this proves that game is not Monty’s true intentions or desires it’s more of the company’s desires if anything. He might just be pushed into situations that he has little control over.

So in Ruin, in the Monty golf ride there’s a scene of cardboard cutouts of Bonnie, chica, Roxanne and Freddy, the original four glamrocks while Monty is looking in admiration and starry eyes. However, Freddy’s is in the shadows so people assume that Monty definitely dislikes Freddy. I think people are reading to into this though as this could have another meaning too. Call this a bit on the nose here but hear me out.

Freddy is the only one who is not present in the pizzaplex or the entirety of the ruin story. Or at least his proper head isn’t and there’s a headless prototype attacking you. Point is every cutout that has lights on them is still in the pizzaplex activated or deactivated and that includes Bonnie.

It’s just astounding that people draw these conclusions about Monty based on sources that probably weren’t even made by him or might not reflect his personality and claim it as canon. The information that we get in ruin still makes most of Monty’s character vague and non-confirming. As much as I try to accept the theories that Monty really does envy Freddy and decommissioned Bonnie on purpose I just can’t. Cause a lot of the contrasting evidence sticks out like a sore thumb.

I’d like some feedback on this whether you agree or disagree I’d like to hear different pov and interpretations on this.

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf ruin #montgomery gator #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #five nights at freddy's #monty gator

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bonefall · 8 months

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What irritates me so much about the Leafpool and the three situation is: it's Starclan's fault. It never had to happen in cannon. Squirrelflight isn't barren. If the Erin's wanted drama, they could have made the three Ashfur's, and had Squirrel pretend they're Bramble's. I'm glad in BB you made her barren, but it still just irritates me. Leafpool got done so dirty. If I was in her paws, and after Bramble had me forcibly step down, I'd ask someone to honor sire (maybe from a different clan?) kits for me then look Bramble straight in the eye as I started showing.

It's one in a long list of "retcons that happened to reduce the agency of characters because the warrior fandom will otherwise find any reason to fucking hate women." I don't believe that Po3 was written with the revelation of Leafpool's Wish in mind.

(leafpool's wish is where the "barren/StarClan telling Squilf to take the kids" Thing comes from)

In fact, most books that come out seem to completely forget the detail. Squirrelflight's Hope doesn't mention it. Bramblestar's Storm totally omitted it. Squirrelflight is never pissed that StarClan literally lied to her.

So it makes it really feel like a less egregious version of Spottedleaf's Heart; a poorly thought-out addition specifically aimed at the fandom misogynists who write screeds about how Brambleclaw/Thistleclaw Were Good Actually and their shitty behavior was just a Bad Woman Who Wronged The Poor Babies.

AND to be clear what I'm getting at with this comparison is that both these books are awful, because they're cowardly. They don't stick to their guns and say, "BLUESTAR AND SQUIRRELFLIGHT WERE RIGHT TO MISTRUST THESE MEN BASED ON THE REASONS THEY HAD." They badly retcon in EXTRA reasons for them to come to the conclusions they did.

They concede to the fandom misogynist. Their existence agrees that the original reasons they had were weak, so the writers shoveled in extra horseshit to make them "more correct" to do what they did.

"Don't worry guys, it's not that Squirrelflight took her sister's children to protect everyone involved, and that she's right to mistrust her mate who trained in HELL and never revealed any of his own secrets until his shitty half-brother killed her dad once. Nope! God lied to her and told her to. Told her she was barren, even. Now Squilf can remain morally pure while Brambleclaw abuses the shit out of her. Soblem Prolved."

So like... I don't even think that they should have been Ashfur's. This worked perfectly fine as it was in Po3. Just commit, assholes. Bramblestar's an untrustworthy piece of shit. Condemn him for turning on his children, confirming every terrible suspicion Squirrelflight had. Point out that the Three get treated differently when the secret comes out. Ask what, exactly, Leafpool could have done differently and have people have different opinions on this.

but like. keep squirrelflight being barren :/ Please let women just be unable to have kids sometimes. Please.

#bone babble #tw spottedleaf's heart #warrior cats analysis

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sophiainspace · 2 months

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Hello!!! For the character asks game, I’ve got four for you for your icon there, Mick Rory: 2, 7, 8, and 21, if you feel so inclined!

Aww, my icon indeed <3

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

His loyalty. An underrated thing about Mick Rory. If he’s on your side, he’s never leaving it, and he would die for you. I just queued a gifset of the season 6 (I think?) scene where Mick persuades Sara to come home and tells her she’s his oldest friend (the ‘Rogue Canary with the missing member’ feels, I swear) and it’s like. He was devoted to Len for 20 years, in whatever way you want to interpret that devotion, and he gave that loyalty to Sara - who he calls Boss just enough times that you feel it - and that was no small thing for him. But he would defend her life with his, along with the rest of the Legends. And he did, a lot.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

The sheer weight and quality of creative fanon means we have so much history to draw on for Mick in fic. And it all comes from very few references. Burning down his house. The fight in juvie. The 30-year partnership with Len. And that’s… about it, I think? But look at the amount of young coldwave/young Mick fics and headcanons those lines have spawned. Incredible. I’ve never written a character (or pairing) with so much glorious fanon backstory. It is a gift. (And the fandom didn’t even do all that much with the rich vein of everything we learned later about his family. We had already had given ourselves so much to work with!)

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

It’s kind of related to my answer to question 2. I’m not a huge fan of the general fandom opinion that Mick was only ever mistreated by the Legends (or the writers) and hated every second of his time on the Waverider. Opinions will vary, of course, but I adore that found family for Mick. We do not speak of season two, which was poorly written and used Mick as a plot point, but for the most part after that I think it was clear that Mick loved the Waverider crew and vice versa. He grew as a person a lot on that ship, and he had an arc that I liked a lot overall, with some fantastic unlikely friendships. We got writer!Mick, and dad!Mick, and right-hand-man-to-Sara!Mick, and the growth of so many relationships we never could have predicted (don’t tell me he didn’t freaking adore Ava by the end, after the inevitable rocky start between them), and I loved it all. At times the writers liked to use him for a source of quick comic relief, and at other times his storylines were weird or nonexistent, and there was a little too much ableist writing there, but I still liked where he went on that show. I suspect it comes down to people who only like Mick with Len (romantically or otherwise) who didn’t like to think that Mick could have - and did have - a life beyond the Rogues. And I say all of this as a still deeply devoted coldwave fan, for they are truly my OTP. But still. I love Legends Mick, in a very different way from how I love Flash Mick, and I love the way he grew beyond Len.* Is a lot of my Legends Mick headcanon? Yep. Do I care? Nope. They gave me just enough to work with. :)

*I’m so tempted to get into how, while I love Mick with Len, their relationship was deeply codependent and Len clearly kept him from growing because he was a possessive bastard who loved Mick but also wanted to control his partner on his own terms. And how, even though it took Mick a while to realise he could be his own person outside of that partnership, he grew in some directions he never could have if Len hadn’t died. But that’s off topic - and hey, that headcanon is already in quite a few of my fics, with room for more… P.S. Did I mention I love coldwave and am also quite fond of Len (the possessive bastard) okay good

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I love autistic Mick headcanons and playing with them. And of course, I love everything you can do with coldwave, because of all the fanon stuff I mentioned above. Hey maybe it’s time for another coldwave fic…

Character ask meme

#thank you for the Qs!#ask meme #mick rory #meta #legends of tomorrow #the flash tv

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atthebell-moved · 9 months

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Okay and then after that avalanche of clips I have a few thoughts myself:

First thing, Etoiles kicked ass today, no doubt about it. The only reason he had to nope out of the fight with Not-Dapper the first time was that it was spawning 500 HP moscos with strength 10 and resistence 10-- there was no way he was winning that fight. And the final code ended up leaving because it knew it couldn't take him alone in a fair 1v1 (or even a 2v1, as evidenced by him killing not-dapper).

Second thing: The codes are continuing to mimic the eggs, but not particularly well. Again, Etoiles knew immediately it wasn't Tallulah, and Not-Dapper didn't even show up as an egg initially, it just switched mid-fight. I'll be interested to see how this evolves as they keep learning; for now, I'm not convinced they'll ever be that convincing, at least not anytime soon and not if everyone comes up with ways to check if it's genuinely their kid, as Pomme as done with her parents already.

Third thing: Keep seeing folks point out that it was QNPC06 and not QNPC04, so it couldn't have been Dapper's actual admin. Guys, I understand that at this point we've all memorized the admin accounts, but I would not be remotely surprised if they decide to switch things up for things like this. Getting too comfortable with the status quo and what's "allowed" in terms of meta is exactly what the players should not be doing-- otherwise they could very easily get caught up on whether the code monster named Tallulah attacking them is actually QNPC02, and if that means it really is Tallulah. Besides that, QNPC06, from my understanding, isn't typically used for eggs and is generally used for Walter Bob and things like that. I would not be remotely shocked if some egg admins still have login powers for it and can and have played Walter Bob and other QNPC06 admins. Getting too attached to how it's been before and having certain set expectations is, at this point, actively dangerous.

Like I'm always saying with Quackity, anyone could be lying. The updates accounts could be lying or partially hiding the truth, the admins can be coy about how much they say, and it makes perfect sense, in an already suspicious and paranoid environment, to want players to maintain that sense of distrust when it comes to the codes mimicking the eggs. That doesn't mean this was for sure Dapper's admin; Etoiles said he knew details about mobs and strategy that he'd mentioned specifically to Dapper, but pretty much anything said on-stream is fair game for admins to use as info, IMO, as the Federation or the codes could be spying at any moment, and depending on how secure the location is, could have any number of ways to have witnessed info passing hands like that. And it seems like they've set decent precedent for that before, which is important to note. TL;DR on this one: I think everyone should be a little more suspect about trusting the admin account numbers, and really any info that isn't distinctly and explicitly out of RP, since so many meta elements are folded into the server as well.

Final thing: This fight (well, fights) was absolutely brutal, and it was clear the codes were heavily targeting Etoiles. Whether it's a grudge from the election dinner, them deciding they've learned how best to attack players by watching him, or something else, it was really interesting to watch, and I'll be curious to see how it plays out. I can't imagine anyone else getting targeted that hard while on their own, so any further attacks will, I think, provide some cool insight.

#bell.txt #feel insane and so buzzed from that it was so fun to watch #qsmp #code attacks #etoiles #july 31 etoiles code attacks

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fazedlight · 7 months

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mel!!! your cat grant & max lord interlude ficlet got me to thinking - i was wondering if you had any thoughts on if they had kept maxwell lord in national city when lena luthor had arrived, what would that look like if he were a ‘tech industry’ foil instead of/in addition to morgan edge?

Oohhh yes!!! (Ficlet for reference.)

I honestly really liked Maxwell Lord’s character on the show. I was not digging the Max/Alex romance that seemed to be brewing (I just don’t think it’s possible for Alex to develop interest in someone with such clear disregard for her sister), but I really liked him being the tech foil. I think he makes a far better one than Morgan Edge, who was just a boring old out-for-himself psychopath.

Maxwell Lord, on the other hand, did feel driven by a mission. He had a deep distrust of the government due to his parents’ deaths, and I do genuinely believe that he wanted to do good in the world. But unlike Kara, he is much more cynical and practical in his approach. And much more willing to allow for collateral damage.

It kind of reminds me of the difference between Lex and Lillian. Lex is just power tripping (Jon Cryer absolutely kills it in this role, otherwise I’m not sure I’d like Lex nearly as much as I do). But Lillian is the much more interesting Luthor villain, because she genuinely thinks she’s doing good for the world - her view of the “world” is just very narrow, because it only focuses on humans, and she’s perfectly fine being a bigot. If we take it a step further with Lena’s villain era, she really served as an anti-villain - Lena’s cause was fundamentally good, but her methods were deeply misguided.

I’m trying to imagine how Max and Lena would’ve gotten along. I think, like with the Daxamite invasion where Lena and Lillian kind of team up, we could see reluctant teamups between this pair as well. But unlike Lillian, Max doesn’t really have a reason to hide the truth of Kara’s identity from Lena. Would she have figured it out sooner? Would he specifically have left clues that led Lena there?

He might even have walked in assuming that Lena knew, before realizing that she really didn’t. And from there, maybe he would’ve driven a very different type of wedge, maybe try to sow distrust. Canonically he starts out as a powerful business man, and eventually becomes involved in Cadmus...

Hear me out, but it might’ve been interesting to watch Maxwell Lord sliding into darker territories (working with Lillian, Cadmus, etc) and trying to take Lena with him. We know he’s attracted to powerful women (like Cat), and he’s smart enough that Lena might’ve found him initially interesting (like, let’s be real, this would’ve been a far more interesting romance arc than Lena/James… though in this case, I’m imagining more of an antagonistic FWB where Lena starts to see some of his points).

Lena would never join Cadmus, she’s not anti-alien. (Max might not be overtly anti-alien, but it's not important enough for him to avoid either.) But she has blind spots that it takes time for her to see (eg the alien detector), and maybe she feels more and more sympathetic to Max’s positions over time.

That puts Kara - who is more than a little in love with her best friend - in the tough spot of knowing that Max joined Cadmus, knowing he’s basically trying to seduce Lena into darkness (Kara is definitely not jealous about his other successful seduction nope nope nope it has nothing to do with that!!), and while she knows Lena would never set out to cause harm... she’s falling into a trap.

So what does Kara do? She tells Lena she’s Supergirl, and Lena now knows that both her best friend and her fuck-buddy-sometimes-romance have been lying to her all along.

I’m not imagining a villain era for Lena here, because I still think that was mostly prompted by Lena’s murder of Lex (you can see a clear delimination in my fics of when she is vs. isn’t angry about the secret, and when her anger is vs. isn’t leading to a villain era).

But she might try to go it alone, close up again and avoid people. She’d dive deep into her lab work, trying to cure cancer or something, improve humanity without interacting with anyone. The lab is safe. Science doesn’t betray you. Statistics don’t lie to you. (Statistics do lie, but she has character flaws.)

She’s content to live her life as a science-inventor-hermit…

Until Kara shows up bloodied at her door, and says “I need your help”.

#I didn't mean to get all “IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-” but I did whoops sorry #supercorp #asks #anonymous

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stickers-on-a-laptop · 1 day

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@faketokufan

"What are you doing, my companions?" Tarou asked, finding that Haruka was hunched over a tablet while Saruhara looked vaguely disapproving.

"I want to download this emulator so I can play it and make it more accurate for my manga, but I can't figure out how to do it! This game is as old as me, can you believe it?"

"Which game?" Tarou came over to look at the screen, finding it was Pokemon Fire Red.

"I asked Kijino if he had an old Gameboy hanging around, and he said he didn't have one! I thought he was target audience age for that, though? Ugh, he's so not helpful."

"And now, a haiku:

Seasons pass slowly Animals live their short lives And time will move on."

Tarou and Haruka ignored him.

"You know how to do this stuff, right, Tarou? All this fancy tech stuff?"

"Does your aunt have a Gameboy?" Tarou asked, accepting the tablet without answering the question. He wasn't sure if he knew the "fancy tech stuff" but then again, it shouldn't be too hard to figure out.

"I've been banned from touching a lot of her stuff," Haruka sighed, tossing her hair. "Even though I'm so cute and perfect."

Tarou looked up at her for that one, before looking back at the tablet.

"Hey, actually, what's everyone's favorite Pokemon, I should draw that too! Saruhara-san?"

"I don't know what you are speaking of."

Haruka took out her phone and searched something up. "Here's the Pokedex, pick one!"

Saruhara took the phone, scrolling through whatever Haruka had found. He'd tilt his head every so often, making faces at the screen like he wasn't sure he liked what he was looking at.

"Woah, you have a phone now?" Tsubasa asked as he slid in next to Saruhara, grabbing a menu and hiding his face in it.

"No, this is Haruka's."

"Ah."

"Tsubasa-san, what's your favorite Pokemon?"

"Mr. Mime."

"Ew."

"Shit, bye," Tsubasa said as an officer came into Donbura, making him open a Door and leave.

"Did you figure it out?" Haruka asked as Saruhara handed the phone back and went back to drinking the tea that had been ignored in front of him.

"What is Tarou figuring out?" Sonoi took the place Tsubasa had been in.

"Haruka wants to download an emulator for Pokemon Fire Red," Tarou explained.

Sonoi frowned. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Nope!" Haruka sang out.

"You should just get the original version," Sonoi said, taking the tablet away from Tarou.

"But he can figure it out, I know he can! Besides, if I could get the original version, I would have!"

"Can't you just use your Points for that?" Sonoi pointed out.

"That's a waste of Points, come on," Haruka said with a roll of her eyes. "Still can't believe Kijino didn't have one, otherwise I would have used his!"

"Why do you need to play this, again?" Saruhara interrupted.

"Because last time Sonoza said it was clear I had never touched the game, and ate all my paper."

Tarou took the tablet back, trying to figure out the site Haruka was using.

Sonoi yanked it out of his hands, turning the tablet off with a huff.

"If you must play this, find a different way to play it that doesn't involve…this," Sonoi commanded.

As Haruka protested, Master watched the whole thing with bored eyes, a Gameboy right next to the register.

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nikofortuna · 9 months

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JTTW Chapter 5 Thoughts

Caught up to Chapter Five for the @journeythroughjourneytothewest Reading Group!

While Heaven was mostly at fault for the trouble in the last chapter, this time around it is Sun Wukong who messes up plentiful.

But for the time being he’s making friends again! This time travelling around in Heaven!

Related to this I firmly believe they made a mistake assigning him to look after the Garden of Immortal Peaches not just for the obvious reason. He takes his job very seriously much like the previous one and that is kind of presenting as an issue here. He doesn’t socialize as much anymore.

As for the obvious reason this was a clear mistake on Heaven’s part, they put someone, who is very much still a monkey at the end of the day, in charge of delicious fruits. What were they expecting would happen? Him not eating any? Now that was just plain foolish.

There is a much better and somewhat obvious job he could have done instead. Delivering messages, something that has been mentioned by the Daoist disciples in chapter two and that he pretended to do in his scheme towards the Barefoot Immortal. His cloud is faster than most as a matter of fact, something the Gold Star definitely knows. This way he’d also socialize more and would have a change of scenery regularly, so it would be far less likely for him to get bored, which was their concern to begin with.

About the peach trees themselves, those taking thousands of years to ripen, so they mean Earth years or Heaven years? I’d say Earth years as I asked how years are counted in Heaven before and the common consensus was that they are almost always counted in Earth years. So it still takes quite a while for them to grow, but not nearly as long if you live in Heaven as well.

I don’t quite understand why Sun Wukong immobilized the Seven-Gown Immortal Maidens. They didn’t object to staying in the garden for a little while longer until he gets back. In fact he didn’t even give them a chance to respond at all.

At this point I would like to mention what are arguably my favourite designs for the Immortal Maidens, which are from the movie My Son Goku by Tezuka Productions. Though they are missing the White-Gown Maiden, the lady to the very right in the first screenshot being the Lady Queen Mother herself.

Also this perfect screenshot I got by chance.

Since before starting this journey of reading the book only having seen various movies, I used to be under the impression that Sun Wukong took from the Festival of Immortal Peaches, because he was upset that he wasn’t invited. But nope, that is not the case actually! It was simply because he couldn’t restrain himself. Silly monkey, that particular string of trouble he got into was on him and him alone.

He does believe he was not invited, but that is something he only mentioned after the fact, so I’m inclined to believe in the moment he arrived at the banquet without actually knowing if he was invited or not he acted purely on impulse. Back at Huaguoshan he excused his behaviour assuming he wasn’t invited, which he never actually found out for certain.

When the other Demon Kings got captures during the siege of Huaguoshan, I’d like to think Sun Wukong talking about them not being monkeys and thus not really their concern towards his four commanders was more him telling himself that in an effort to cope.

Before, he did already display some troublesome behaviour towards the Dragon King who tried to accommodate him as best as he could. In the last chapter he didn’t necessarily overreact when leaving Heaven for the first time given what we know, and otherwise behaved rather well. However this chapter he stepped out of line in ways that were not okay without proper reason and is dragging his friends and family into it as well. One might have noticed by now that I’m a rather avid Great Sage defender, but I can’t defend actions that are without excuse.

#xiyouji #journey to the west #jttw #my son goku #osamu tezuka #sun wukong #monkey king #immortal peaches #jttw reading group #jttw book club

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renaisguy · 4 months

Note

Dashing, dashing... Off to find someone 'dashing.' The thought really messes with her as she prowls around the courtyard for anyone with a gift in their hands. To label them 'dashing'... Isn't that the same as admitting they're hot? No, no Larcei--chase those thoughts away! It's not someone attractive that she needs to find, but someone vain. She vigorously shakes her head as she continues, searching for some other way to psych herself out of playing into her gift-giver's hand.

She happens upon Forde.

And he doesn't look bad. Not good either, but maybe, kinda, sorta passable-by-her-standards? Enough to get her to stop walking, at least. And more importantly, he has the aura of one who would call themselves dashing. Not haughty enough to use another word, but cool and confident... And she hates him. She decides on the spot that she'd cut a circle around the path he had been walking, shoving her note in his face with a searing blush.

"Don't read into this, but was this you?" The tone of those words is a flying accusation tied down by gratitude and back-minded doubt. A thought lingers in her that wonders if she's wrong about this whole thing--and how catastrophic that would be--even if she kicks it to the sidelines. And there still stands the fact that he got her a gift. A real good one, too. She'll have to express her gratitude, if begrudgingly.

"Y'know, this is a lotta hot air to be blowin' at a gift exchange. Did you think you were makin' a match just because you drew a girl's name!?" She huffs, pulling back with stamping feet. Her arms cross over her chest. The answer is a loud and clear 'no'. Now with this done, she sighs--the next part doesn't come out so easily.

"Well, you're not, but I'm here to say thanks. Despite it all, I think you've knocked me dead with this. What's your name?"

Forde was simply going about his day when a girl he'd never met started yelling at him, and chucked a letter at him. 'To: Larcei. From: Your dashing Winter Envoy'. Hang on a moment...

"Um, sorry, but I'm not Larcei. You must have the wrong person." Never mind the fact he'd already received his gift, and the woman handing them out had been far less rude than-

Oh she was Larcei.

He looked at the note again, now things were sliding into place. She thought he had sent her this note as part of his gift... She thought he was dashing? Her current attitude suggested otherwise, but maybe she was one of those girls who pretended to hate you while secretly adoring you...

He was getting off-topic. Whether or not she thought he was dashing was secondary to the fact she thought he would describe himself as 'A dashing Winter Envoy'. And regardless of whether he would, he hadn't in this case.

"Sorry, you've definitely got the wrong person." He felt bad pointing this out now, after she'd gone through all that sincere stuff at the end. "I didn't even write a note, unless..." Perhaps Lady Rhea had written the note for him, was it lady Rhea who found him dashing?

Wait a second, her name was Larcei. He was being an idiot, he knew the name of his giftee. This girl was unrelated.

"Nope, definitely definitely the wrong person. I appreciate it though." He flashes her the most charming smile he can muster. Yeah, he was pretty dashing, wasn't he?

#swiftscion #toaseasonsgreetings #//he's having a silly day

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notallsandmen · 8 months

Text

Trope Game

Thanks to @orionsangel86 for tagging me ❤️

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

* -10 -> very dissuaded

* 0 - don't care either way

* 10 -> very enticed

* nope -> if it's a hard no and you'd never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or you'd insta click out of the fic if it wasn't tagged

Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it's conditional.

Age gap: 0 ( -10 — +5)

This is one I’m torn on.

I am a lot more squicked out by characters dating between developmental brackets — a first year college student dating a senior highschool student, a uni lecturer dating a uni student, an immortal character dating a mortal etc — than the age gap itself. That being said, I won’t read fics if one of both of the characters are under 20. Period. Nor will I generally read fics for immortal/mortal ships, because knowing that one of them will eventually be left behind makes me sad, and because of the hyperbolic Mary Sue degree needed to justify how a human mortal would ever attract a centuries-year-old character.

On the other hand — Look, I am a sucker for forbidden love, and if there is a taboo, I wanna poke it with smut fic. And I essentially have a divorced virgin kink, so I’d be lying if the age gap trope didn’t appeal to me — particularly if combined with grumpy/sunshine trope, and if the younger character takes care of the older. Give me your middle-aged hot messes learning to love again!

I think the guiding rule for me is the hypothetical question — if the younger character was the same age as the older, would they still have fallen in love? If yes, then I adore it. If no, then I hate it.

Codependency: +7

speaking as one half of an ADHD couple which only barely makes up one normally functioning adult — codependency is a) inescapable and b) hot.

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: +7

I shouldn’t find this hot. But I do. Sorry. All my ships have a slightly feral possessive element to them. And a touch of jealousy which is only rooted in insecurity (ie, not actual suspicion/blaming/shaming/controlling behaviour) provides great hurt/comfort fodder

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): +10

The grumpy/sunshine dynamic is my catnip — I will never be normal about this. And I love physical contrasts/differences, too.

Enemies to lovers, Enemies with benefits: +7

I love this, but only when done well, and when the enemy-dynamic is grounded in miscommunication/different personalities clashing/different coping mechanisms. It shouldn’t be actual hate-fucking, or negging/bullying escalating to sex.

Friends with benefits: -8

I’m an irredeemable romantic when it comes to fic reading, so unless there is an eventual romantic relationship in sight, I’m not interested.

Sex to feelings: +9

Pining-while-fucking is a gold star trope. I am particularly fond of the ”Grumpy cynical slut corrupted by romantic and reduced to a flustered blushing hot mess” trope. (TMI — This is how I got together with my partner. I am the grumpy slut.)

Fake dating/relationship: +6

I enjoy it, as long as it does not require so much suspension of disbelief as to veer into ”Too Forced Proximity” territory.

Friends to lovers: +8

I love it in M/M fic, bi-awakening fics etc. But since I have many platonic relationships with male friends, I tend to get squicked out by M/F pairings, especially if I can detect even a whiff of friendzone bitterness etc.

Found Family: +10.

I will loudly sob over these and return to them again and again. Yes, I have attachment issues, and no, I will not look too closely at that.

Hurt/Comfort: +8

I mean, if no one is crying, I won’t be able to relate to these characters at all.

Love Triangle: NOPE.

Never. Only Ride or Die pairings for me, otherwise I will get jealous and insecure on behalf of the characters. The same goes for too much ”will they/won’t they”, uneven emotional investment etc

Poly, open relationships: NOPE

To be clear, I don’t want to reduce polyamory to a fic trope or imply that poly relationships are not as committed as monogamous relationships. Personally, I am just too insecure to cope with anything other than monogamy, and the same goes for fic.

Mistaken/hidden identity: -7

I will just be stressed out until the reveal, and then I have rushed through the story and not enjoyed it.

Monsterfucking: +7

A lonely sad creature finding someone who thinks that they are beautiful and desirable and worthy of love — how can I not be obsessed? — No, I don’t think that says anything about me

Pregnancy: -9

I am happily childfree and do not need to experience it in fic either.

Second Chance: + 2

It all depends on the Hurt/comfort ratio —how bitterly the relationship ended the first time, how much angst until reconciliation, etc.

Slowburn: +8.

Sexually and emotionally edge me for +100K, please.

Soulmates: 0 (Meh)

Hellooo confirmation bias. I don’t really like the magical soulmate (born with soul markings etc) trope, and I find the real-world notion of soulmates too unrealistic to be enjoyable (especially because it often comes with spiritual/religious connotations).

Tagging @academicblorbo , @beatnikfreakiswriting , @ml-nolan , @chaosheadspace , @beholdme , @reallyintoscience , @valeriianz

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undertale-outcode-imagines · 2 years

Note

Nightmare, error, dream, and ink comforting the reader after someone made a "joke" about weight loss as they're plus sized?

Jail to that person. Jail for one thousand years. Stinky person. That's just plain rude. >:(

Nightmare: That kind of behavior is like asking to be murdered. Unless you make it very clear you wish otherwise, the dumbass is going to get stabbed through the chest. Of course, you still get cuddles afterward. If you're lucky, Night might actually wash the blood out of his jacket first- He'll reassure you however you need, and probably end up in a blanket fort watching shitty kids shows while Killer saves an absurd amount of blackmail to his phone. Nightmare notices, but he can't get up without disturbing your sleep. Poor guy.

Error: He'll at least pause to ask you before trying to murder the person, but if you agree, the whole au is getting burned to the ground. Assholes. Although he can't cuddle you, he's still going to drag you to the antivoid for semi-handholding (holding pinkies) and undernovella. At some point you gain a mysterious handmade cardigan. Wonder where it came from. Definitely not your resident glitch's collection of clothing he secretly made for you, nope :)

Dream: He's still highly against murder. Unfortunately. The idiot's just going to get a very stern talking to, and then it's time for ✨hot cocoa cuddles✨. Snuggled up on the couch, two mugs of hot cocoa and a surprisingly well-produced romance playing on the TV. Blue would be saving blackmail if he wasn't busy chasing Ink in circles, in hopes he won't disturb your sweet moment.

Ink: Ink doesn't really know why you're upset, or what to do about it, but he knows whoever you were talking to is at fault. So he just flips them off and walks away. Dream discourages murder, otherwise he'd have joined Nightmare and Error in commiting homicide. He doesn't really know what to say to comfort people, so he's probably just going to end up awkwardly hugging you for a bit before dragging you to an especially pretty au to use you as an art reference. For two hours straight. The art is good, but you're sore from sitting in the same place that long. Whoops. That can be remedied by a hot bath, and cuddles.

...did I mention cuddles yet?

#my touch starvation is showing isnt it /lh #tw blood mention #tw murder mention #long post #ish? maybe? its kinda long #undertale #undertale headcanons #undertale multiverse #utmv #headcanon #x reader #nightmare sans #inktale sans #ink sans #error sans #dream sans

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darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght · 6 months

Text

Chapter 3- Part 9

Igglybuff, I see. But that’s fine- I’ll just have Streak lower its Defense a bit with Tail Whip, and then we’ll-

…Oh yeah, Igglybuff can Sing. First Gullet with Yawn, now this Singing Igglybuff? Just when I was feeling proud of myself for being able to Poison my enemies right back, Sleep comes along- and the shop in Grand Hall doesn’t even sell Awakenings!

And she’s switching into Ducklett! Well, fine, two can play at that game- I’ve got a Water-type of my own!

Have fun spamming Water Gun against Riptide!

Indeed, Riptide takes care of the Ducklett, forcing Igglybuff back out. In the end, I decide to use Glare because of the type advantage, which works out very well because Glare isn’t put to sleep and defeats Igglybuff!

And a new move to boot! A Dark-type one, too, and with the chance to flinch- I like it!

No thank you.

(on a related note, happy Ace Week everyone)

Now that the way down 3rd Street is clear, let’s see those cops by the sign again.

A base…are they talking about those Team Meteor guys those two in Grand Hall were talking about?

See, they do exist! Take that, nameless female NPC!

Anyways, behind the Pokémon Center is this small alleyway, and one of the NPCs…looks like the guy who stole the Magikarp! The salesman did mention he’d probably be somewhere in Peridot Ward, but- I mean, he also said the guy would probably be at the end of the ward’s train tracks, and this is not that.

Still, even if this isn’t the thief, I still wanna see what’s going on back there. But just in case he and his blonde buddy wanna pick a fight, I’m gonna save (plus, I haven’t saved in a while anyways). And my Pokémon are already healed up, so- let’s see.

Just walk past the Pokémon Center and-

…So- funny story.

After I saved, and like right as Xera walked past the Pokémon Center into that alleyway, my laptop sorta…crashed? In a way? The entire screen just cut to black like the power had been cut, I couldn’t do anything, but I could still hear the in-game music. When I tried closing my laptop and opening it again- yeah, that stopped the music (like it would if my laptop had gone into sleep mode), but the screen was still black even after I opened it again.

So, I had no choice but to restart my laptop. That did fix things, luckily, and it is a VERY good thing I saved out of paranoia before that happened, because otherwise we would be having some ISSUES. Just goes to show that being a spastic saver in video games is always correct.

I still don’t know why that happened, my laptop was a little laggy beforehand but to just break like that? Just go to black, nothing else? That was really weird.

So, with no other explanation, I’m gonna blame…YOU TWO!

Those two broke the fabric of reality itself to try and stop Xera and her team from getting anywhere near them! Well joke’s on them, we have technology!

Excuse me? A Pokémon in an abandoned house, not even in a Poké Ball? I mean- that was how we found Echo earlier, he was just kinda sitting scared and alone in an empty house. Is that what these two are talking about? Or is there some other event involving a wild Pokémon in an empty house we haven’t seen yet?

There’s another house right there. If they’re not talking about the Whismur event, maybe this could be it?

Ah, nope, just an old lady.

Wait, what? They reversed the priority on Ally Switch? Isn’t the whole point of Ally Switch, like- in Double Battles, the one Pokémon can switch sides with the other, so moves that would have hit the Pokémon on that side will instead hit the one who used Ally Switch? Like, sure, I haven’t seen it used that often at all, and I’m sure there are better moves and strategies that effectively do the same thing, but- that is what Ally Switch is for. Making it go at the end of a turn- doesn’t that defeat the entire purpose?

And even ignoring all of that- why Ally Switch? Out of all the moves that one could consider lackluster or underwhelming, why did they choose to edit Ally Switch of all things? That’s just- that’s such a specific change, I’m so curious as to why that was done.

Let’s head back out and touch some grass, geez…

At least this street has a cool name- “Spitrail Street.” Also, I’m certain that lady is a Trainer we can fight, but I’m not gonna worry about her right now, we’re still exploring.

#pokemon reborn #pokemon reborn spoilers #pokemon fan game #pokemon reborn screenshot let's play

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