#airforce relationship

[the-widow-sisters]

Okay, so I just finished the Captain Marvel MPower episode...

I have literally so, so many thoughts about this and I am literally gushing, so just be ready when you move under the cut.

But before the cut...

THEY SAID CAPTAIN MARVEL WAS THE MOST POWERFULLLLL!!!!!!!

Okay, now that I’ve gotten it out of my system, please proceed under the cut for more Carol fangirling/obsessing.

Gosh, where do I even start....

The fact that Brie Larson was an absolute queen when training for this role? I mean, this girl was pushing cars, climbing mountains, flying in a real freaking jet?!!! And she kept a smile on her face the whole time, handling it like the true hero that she is 🥰🥰🥰

And then when it got time for them to talk about Maria and Carol..... 

My gosh, I literally was grinning like an idiot. Their relationship is not romantic. It’s friendship. It’s love that you have for another person without romance required. It’s one of the purest kinds of love you can have. It’s platonic and it’s beautiful. Brie said that the love of Carol’s life is her best friend, and she truly could not have phrased it more beautifully. 

And then there was that little extended cut where they were showing Carol and Maria’s hug after Carol had the flashbacks of who she was before, and Maria’s little “I got you” had my heart positively melting. 

Maria and her were so, so sweet, and it was so nice to hear validation of the understanding that I’ve always had regarding the nature of their relationship. They’re best friends, and sisters even and they have such a deep bond that completely moves past the idea of the romantic. It eclipses that and pulls them into a league all of their own. A relationship doesn’t have to be romantic for two people to be insanely close and hold each other in the highest esteem and as their number one.

And don’t even get me started on Akira Akbar’s portrayal of Monica and just her relationship with Brie. Granted, I only got one little shot, but you perfectly can see just how sweet Brie is with her and how that truly is her little Monica 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Monica is literally her baby, and I cannot wait for her to meet with her in their upcoming movie. They’ve got to fix this rift between them and I need to see some hugs, Marvel 😤

And then there’s that part of the movie where Carol says “My name is Carol” with the tear rolling down her cheek? Brie did that. She brought that side of Carol forward, showing her emotions and the beauty of combining ultimate power with ultimate vulnerability. It was truly an artful moment with so much depth that so many people seem to overlook in favor of calling Carol “too emotionless.” 

Carol had emotions. People try to claim that she’s too cocky or something, but to that, I say look at Tony. He’s the most arrogant of them all, and somehow a ton of people excuse it and love him. Steve was arrogant in his own way. He was closed-minded and unable to understand reality for the sake of his own idealism. I love both of these characters dearly, but you can’t make exceptions for these and condemn Carol when Carol wasn’t even as arrogant as them. 

Carol had a sense of cockiness to her, sure, but it was not overwhelming to the point that she walked around like she had the whole universe in the palm of her hand (like she definitely did). It was actually even cute in a way. Many people actually seem to confuse her lack of knowing how to work on a team as arrogance when she simply just did not have that much experience with working with others often.

Carol is so inspiring and Brie, too. She’s literally the perfect pers on to play this role, and she truly brings such a real and human quality to this character. She is this character. She has put her heart and soul into Carol and even though she says that she’s simply a conduit for a concept, she truly is Carol in so many ways. 

I mean... if she wasn’t that awesome, then why in the world did Airforce enrollment of women go up by 50% after the release of Captain Marvel? Like I said, she’s an inspiration and truly the best actress to play this role. Carol’s my favorite character, and I will be eternally grateful for Brie’s incredible ability to bring her to life in such a meaningful and powerful way.

Which brings me to another of my most favorite points of all.

Carol being confirmed as the most powerful character in the MCU was extremely gratifying for me. I’ve been saying this forever, and while so many people want to get upset about that and argue that Wanda or Thor or someone is most powerful, it comes down truly to seeing it for what it is. I love Natasha. She’s one of my most favorite characters, but I have the ability to see that Carol could mop the floor with her if she wanted to. Carol could mop the floor with pretty much any MCU character with the greatest of ease. She faced Thanos effortlessly and he had the full glove of Infinity stones. Of course she’s going to be the most powerful. She may be my favorite, but I can view it with enough objectivity to know that she is truly the most powerful character of all.

So many people are going to hate her even more now that it’s confirmed that she’s indisputably the winner in terms of power. But I love my strongest and most powerful Avenger 💫💫💫⭐⭐⭐⭐✨✨✨✨

[intothedysphoria]

There was a certain type of guilt that accumulated when you know you’re the reason your boyfriend was shipped off to join the airforce.

Steve got consumed by it pretty quick.

They got caught. Steve really didn’t think he was that loud during sex and usually that would be true. Except apparently he was that loud while bottoming.

Neil hit the roof and Billy was gone like that.

He came back a year later. After Neil ran off to Alabama or Texas or Florida. Somewhere in the south.

Billy’s mullet had gone. In its place, there was a slightly grown out crew cut, hair already making an attempt to curl despite the lack of length. He’d gotten six new tattoos, including one in a language Steve didn’t understand. Probably Irish.

He’d left the Air Force the moment Neil disappeared. Apparently it had been a lot of standing around or sitting in aircraft carriers. Dishonourable discharge because Billy had shown great aptitude for flying but a complete disregard of authority.

Plus, Steve had never met anyone who was more vehemently anti military in his life.

They tried to pick up where they left off. Billy insisted that he was fine, he’d seen absolutely no combat and he’d gotten on with his bunkmates.

It wasn’t exactly Billy who was the problem.

Steve was paranoid. It was like somehow the ever present fear of Neil Hargrove had passed on from Billy to him.

Every time they were alone, Steve was convinced that someone was going to barge in and split them up. Taking Billy away from him again.

It was starting to put an actual strain on their relationship.

The worries were finally addressed in Walmart. The best place to resolve all problems.

Billy asked if Steve wanted to break up. Steve managed to stammer through “what the fuck no” before Billy demanded to know what Steve’s deal was then.

There was a beat of silence.

“Neil”

Billy’s face darkened in understanding.

They couldn’t hold hands in public but Billy’s arm moved a fraction closer to his.

It was all the confirmation Steve needed.

Things didn’t go back to normal after that. They didn’t live in a fairytale. But Steve finally let himself breathe. And slowly he let the guilt go.

For @oopsiedaisiesbaby

@shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 @runraerun @harringroveobsessed @thatgirlwithasquid

[aniesvision]

𝟑- 𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒆

𐂃 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝚏! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔!𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕, 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆!𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕, 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕, 𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔

I fix my lipstick one last time and smile at my reflection in the mirror. I looked nice and it had been a while since I'd been out partying, so all I wanted was to attract a bit of attention and enjoy my evening. To be specific, I wanted a not-so-random look on me.

Ever since I met the famous Sturniolo triplets, I've felt that something was missing from my relationship with Matt. We got along well, we flirted jokingly, we looked at each other all the time, it was as if it was obvious that there was a certain tension, but neither of us ever did anything about it.

I intended to change that, and I had strategically prepared myself, knowing that he'd like what he was going to see. I got into my car, started it and drove down the street to the address of the party.

The place was full of people, some laughing with cups in their hands, others smoking, the usual cliché of any house party.

I pushed my way through the others, doing what I could to get inside the house without having my clothes ruined by spilled alcohol.

It didn't take long for me to find the youngest brother, Chris, anchored to the fridge while reaching for an unopened can of Pepsi.

-Hey! Where're the boys? —I asked, making him look at me and smile.

We gave each other a quick hug and he took me with him to his brothers, who were in the backyard with a small circle of friends.

Immediately, before I was even 100% in Matt's field of vision, I felt his gaze on me. He scanned me from bottom to top, trying to be discreet, but with a smirk on his lips that made me want to jump into his lap and kiss him all night.

He looked absurdly handsome, wearing black pants from Chris's collection, white airforces, a basic black shirt and his usual silver necklace with a horse pendant. And the same old earrings.

I greeted everyone in the circle, leaving Matt for last on purpose. Our hug was a little longer, but nothing out of the ordinary. I stood next to him, adjusting my purse on my shoulder as I looked around and tried my best to ignore his gaze on me.

-You look beautiful. —He said, almost in a whisper, close to my ear, making me shiver.

Before I could reply, a smile was already on my face and I looked at him shyly, which was a bad thing. I shouldn't be so affected by a simple sentence, especially when he was just a friend.

I decide to get myself a drink, nothing alcoholic because I'm driving, but just to clear my throat. I fill a cup with an energy drink and take a few sips before walking back through the crowd of people in the house.

I returned to the backyard, meeting Matt's gaze again, but was stopped before I could reach him. A random guy with black hair and green eyes approached me with compliments and small talk that I wasn't in the mood for until I looked back at Matt and saw his jaw clenched.

He watched me as if my every move would determine the rest of the night, and now I felt the same way. There's nothing wrong with a little teasing, specially if it's finally going to change things between the two of us.

-Yeah, I'm single. —That was the only answer I gave the boy in front of me, making sure to say it loud enough for Matt to hear as well, considering he wasn't so far away.

He was doing everything he could not to get out of there and come over here to tell this guy to fuck off, I could see it in his frustrated look. At this point he wasn't even trying to hide or disguise his jealousy anymore, and it was funny to me that I was able to affect him like that.

I let the guy talk a little longer and get a little closer, but before our lips met I pulled away and made some excuse to go back into the house. He tried to follow me, but an arm around my waist made him think again.

-She's not available. —Matt's serious and firm, though still soft, voice stopped the green-eyed man from coming any closer.

I smile when I see Matt's annoyed face, leading me through the crowd to a mostly empty hall and opening a few doors until he found an empty bathroom and locked us in.

I look into his eyes, which are almost completely black from the dilated pupils, and make the best confused face while leaning against the sink.

-What was that? —I ask, almost sounding innocent, feeling his hands place themselves on either side of my body.

-What was that? —He repeats, sarcastically, with a scoff.

-Were you really going to let that guy kiss you? —He asks, looking irritated.

His angry face made him even more attractive than usual. I let my hands wander down his arms, staring at his tattoos in the process.

-Can't I let a cute guy kiss me? —My voice comes out low, seductive, and I focus on his eyes once again.

He's looking at me intently, his breathing already faster than usual. His hands find my hips, squeezing them tightly and lowering his body to the right level to whisper in my ear.

-Only I can flirt with you like that. —Our bodies cling to each other and my nails instinctively dig into his skin, leaving light red marks on his arms.

-If you don't want other guys flirting with me, you better make me yours. —I say, making him smile and place one of his hands on my face, moving his thumb to my bottom lip and scanning every detail of my face with his gaze.

-You're already mine.

His sentence was definitive enough to put an end to any doubts, and finally our lips met in a kiss that at first was delicate, soft and full of feelings, but soon became urgent.

His kisses went down to my neck, exploring the whole area and making my breathing become irregular, releasing the air through my mouth in sighs of pleasure.

It wasn't long before we were kissing again, enjoying every second that hadn't happened before. My free hand went down his body, finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it slightly, indicating that he should take it off, which he did. Soon enough we were both just on our underwears, desperate to feel more.

-I really liked your outfit, but you look much better without it. —Matt said, looking me up and down.

Running a hand down my body, he lightly brushed his fingers across my still-covered pussy so he could feel just how wet I already was.

A smile showed on his face and he kissed me again, going down to my neck, unclasping my bra and moving on to my breasts. He left wet kisses, running his tongue over my nipples and squeezing my boobs, leaving purple marks.

His mouth moved down my body, stopping when he reached the hem of my panties. He looked at me as if to ask permission and I nodded in affirmation. He carefully removed my panties and first ran his fingers around my clit, quickly kneeling in front of me and moving one of my legs to his shoulder.

His eyes never left mine when his mouth found my pussy. His tongue ran from top to bottom, zigzagged and moved in circles, making me moan loudly, not even caring that someone could hear it if they were nearby.

-Matt! Oh my God, don't stop. —His name sounded like a melody from my lips and it only made him go faster.

Just as I was about to reach my climax, he slipped two of his fingers into me, moving them at the same speed as his tongue. His name came out of my mouth as a moan and inspired him to continue, my fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and my head falling back in pleasure was all it took for me to reach my high and come in his mouth.

-You taste so fucking good. —He says, taking his fingers out of me and licking them clean with a smile on his face. I smiled back, helping him up and taking off his boxers.

-My turn to taste you. —I say, getting down on my knees and taking his cock in one hand, leaving the other on his thigh, scratching it lightly.

He looks at me with desire and holds my hair in a makeshift ponytail. I run my tongue lightly all over his dick, hearing him sigh, and then I kitty lick the tip, engulfing him without any warning.

I started sucking on it, bobbing my head to take in all I could fit. I could feel his hand pressing down on my head to make me go deeper and from time to time moans escaped his mouth, like a melody I'd like to hear forever.

I continued sucking him and playing with his balls with my free hand while the other stroked the rest of his member that I couldn't take into my mouth. With no warning, Matt comes down my throat, making me swallow every drop of the warm liquid.

I stand up, running my thumb around the corner of my mouth and sucking it clean. Matt turns me around in a sudden movement, making me look at myself in the mirror with my breasts resting on the cold sink and my ass tilted towards his body.

He holds all my hair in one hand and with the other he teases my pussy with his tip.

-You're going to look at me while I'm fucking you so you'll understand that I'm the only one who can flirt with you, kiss you and make you feel good.

He says, before thrusting all of him in at once. The sensation made me almost scream in shock and pleasure, and my eyes soon met Matt's in the reflection of the mirror. He looked so hot with that serious face, and after making that speech all I wanted to do was kiss him and tell him that I had always been his.

Matt continued to fuck me hard, making me almost hit my head on the mirror with the force of his thrusts. My moans came out freely and he pulled my hair every time I got distracted and lost his gaze, forcing me to open my eyes again and watch him fucking me.

A pitchy moan leaves my lips as his hand gets in contact with my ass harshly, for sure leaving a red mark, and he continues spanking it for a while, making tears form in the corners of my eyes. I could feel my legs shaking and I knew my orgasm was coming.

He didn't stop thrusting into me until I was cumming on his cock, and that seemed to be all it took for him to cum too, as I could feel his liquid filling me.

My eyes were closed as I tried to catch my breath and he grabbed pieces of toilet paper for us to wipe ourselves with. After we'd put our clothes back on and looked presentable enough, Matt grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to him.

-I mean it, I want you to be mine.

I smile when I hear it, my heart still beating fast. I knew tonight was going to change something in our dynamic, but I didn't know he felt the same, that he wanted to be together as much as I wanted to.

-I'm already yours, Matt.

He smiles back, giving me a sweet delicate kiss that didn't match at all the rough persona he was just a second ago. I let out a laugh and he looked at me as he unlocked the bathroom door.

-I'm going to have to make you jealous more often if you're going to react like that every time.

Matt rolls his eyes, but with a smile on his face, and interlaces our fingers, leading me out of the bathroom with him.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @mattsfavbigtitties @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @flow3rsturns13 @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @sturnsxbitvh @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @starnoirr @katie-tibo @sturnioloblues @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @sharkcat1928 @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @s1ut4chris @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @jupiter1700 @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 14/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018

2019 – Bradley

                Reconnecting with Jas after nearly a year and a half of no contact feels like a fragile glass butterfly in his hands, one he’s scared to hold too firmly in his hands, terrified it will shatter if he moves wrong. He continues sending pictures of his morning cup of coffee, although it’s just with a heart emoji now; no daily apology. Simply an acknowledgement that he thinks of him pretty much as soon as he wakes up. He doesn’t always get one back immediately, but their time zones are very different right now. Jas has admitted that sometimes he takes the photo and saves it to send, so he can pretend they’re sharing, existing at the same time. Bradley admits to wanting to be able to make him coffee every morning. Knows exactly how he takes it.

                His leave has been approved for December, and he’s put in a cushion of an additional week either side to allow for missed flights and natural disasters and he’ll fucking go AWOL if he has to. He hasn’t shared his little contingency plan with Jas, but he will if worst comes to worst. He doesn’t let himself think about it too much, or look forward to it. Doesn’t want to build it all up for it to crumble down around him again. And he’s working very hard to ensure he doesn’t sabotage himself. Not this time. His therapist has given him a lot to think about and sometimes he really hates how right they are.

                Right now though he’s in Ramstein working with the Airforce, some cooperative training gig and he’s trying to use it as a cultural thing, but he feels like he could just be on a base somewhere, anywhere, back home. For some reason it makes him feel homesick for what he thinks must be the first time in his life. Last Christmas he’d spent it with Ice and his family for the first time since he was a teenager. Their relationship healed enough now for him to realize and regret how many years he’s lost. He guesses the maturity and therapy have probably helped, although he sometimes feels like a little kid again, seeking out attention and approval. One of Ice’s kids has kids themselves, and that is wild to him. Ice can’t talk very well, but considering how expressive his face can be when he chooses it to be he’d had entire silent conversation with Bradley while he’d been staying.

…            …            …

>>I’m in Germany.

>>Huh. I’m in Japan.

>>Oh. I like Japan.

>>We’ll have to go together sometime.

>>Wait.

>>What are you doing in Germany?

>>What do you mean?

>>I’m deployed here?

>>Uh. I know you’re Navy. I mean. Yeah.

>>You let it slip years ago.

>>Oh. Shit. Did I?

>>I didn’t realize.

>>Yeah.

>>So. Only seems fair to tell you I’m Navy too.

>>Shit. Really? God. What are the chances?

>>Well, I crunched the numbers few years ago, and they’re not that farfetched.

>>Of course you did.

>>And I’m in Germany helping out with a cooperative training exercise. Just a short four month stint and then back home in June.

>>You sure you don’t want more details?

>>Positive. I like the idea of us having some topics of conversation we haven’t covered.

                He desperately just wants to blurt it out, has in fact tapped out his name and exactly what he does, only to delete it all. He’ll respect Jas’s wishes, even if he doesn’t like them. Even now, knowing they’re both in the Navy and Bradley could, if he wasn’t respecting Jas’s personal boundaries, call Ice and ask him to pull every active-duty man with the initials JAS and born in 1986. Surely there aren’t that many.

>>Talking has never been something we’ve struggled with.

>>Have you seen the new How to Train your Dragon movie?

>>Weirdly, I have. Why?

>>Well, I’ve only been able to watch it in German. I think I understand what is happening, but can you run me through what exactly they were looking for? I didn’t get why it was so important.

                He wants to ask why Jas has seen a movie for kids, but he doesn’t, instead waits for Jas to fill in all the bits of plot Bradley missed due to watching the film in the nearby town with a German dub rather than watching it on base.

…            …            …

                “Bradshaw. The CO would like to see you.”

                He nods his head to acknowledge the words and heads off immediately. He doesn’t know why he’s being summoned but he’s not going to start disobeying orders or summons. He knocks on the door and waits to be called in.

                “Lieutenant. You’ve been called in for a special detachment. You leave for North Island at seventeen-hundred.”

                “Today sir?”

                “Yes. A matter of urgency it seems. A shame, you’re a damned good instructor and flier. I’ll be sure to have you back.”

                “Thank you sir.”

                He’s handed the papers, a mere formality now, he’ll have electronic ones sitting in his HR account. He’s got a few hours to pack, say some goodbyes. North Island. Of all places. Okay. He’s heading back stateside.

…            …            …

                He manages to get some sleep on the flight, then rest and report in. North Island is home and it also isn’t. He always feels mixed up emotionally when he’s here, too close to his parents and all his memories with Maverick growing up. He goes and collects the Bronco from storage, unsurprised to find a note telling him it’s been serviced and run, and he swings by to visit Ice, who doesn’t seem surprised to see him at all. He looks tired though, wearing a thick jacket and scarf despite the warm spring day. Bradley knows better to mention anything, Sarah having warned him. He stays for lunch, plays with the grandkids and then, because Ice is an angel amongst men, heads to the Hard Deck where he’s just been told his best friend probably is. The fact that she’s also been called to whatever this mission is fills him with pride, she’s a damned fine aviator, definitely better than him in some respects; and definitely able to make the most of having a back seater.

                Of course she’s pissed off with him for not telling him that he was going to be here, and he can’t exactly tell her he only knows because the COMPACFLT dropped him a message. He does mutter about being in a different country less than twenty-four hours ago but she just pulls a face at him and he knows she doesn’t accept it as a reason or an excuse. It hurts a little to see Seresin again. To think about the potential they had. He looks good though. Happy and confident, the little smirk always there just on the corner of his lips. He always wants to kiss it off, but it's not his place. Has never been his place. He plays it off, tries to anyway, and his mouth still takes off without him, brain distracted by looking and he really has to practice better self-control.

                “Hangman. You look… good.”

                There’s a flash of annoyance and Bradley winces. He’s glad he went with something as mundane as good, except him saying that has always been a lead into hooking up. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to do this. Not with anyone, but especially not with Seresin. They aren’t anything to each other, never were, never will be. He’ll apologize as soon as he can for the slip up.

                “I am good Rooster. I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.”

                He rolls his eyes, but he deserves the sharp look, the slight meaness, although he also can’t ignore it, because Seresin is still an arrogant shit, for all his beautiful flying. Natasha is muttering under her breath, talking about not caring about dick sizes, and he has to stop himself from laughing as she blatantly and obviously changes the subject, the others grabbing the lifeline like drowning men. He focuses back in on the conversation just in time to hear Seresin again.

                “And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me?”

                He snorts.

                “Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.”

                Fuck. He hadn’t meant that. Not like that. God. Another thing to apologize for. He’s opening a fucking tab.

                “Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel. But that’s just you, ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment… That never comes.”

                He knows it’s a jibe about his fucking inability to commit to his relationship, and he’d like to prove him wrong by telling him that he’s very firmly back with his guy, but it feels empty when he flirted with him not even five minutes ago. What the hell is it with Seresin that always brings out the worst in him. He’s going to have to apologize but he’s going to hate every fucking second of it.

                “I love this song!”

                Right.

                He’ll apologize as soon as he no longer wants to punch him.

…            …            …

                Fortunately Natasha’s presence, the piano playing and singing force him to unwind and it shifts his mood considerably, exactly what his therapist has told him to do. Not that a piano is frequently available, but he’s working on it. He sees Seresin head out and he follows him quickly, ignores Natasha’s hissed warning to not get into a fight.

                “Hey! Seresin! Wait up!”

                “What do you want Rooster?”

                He sucks in a big breath. He can do this.

                “I just wanted to apologize. For flirting. I shouldn’t have done that. For several reasons, but it was shitty of me and I’ll work on it not happening again.”

                Seresin looks at him, expression tense and he’s worrying a toothpick which Bradley does his best to ignore.

                “Anything else you want to apologize for Bradshaw?”

                Bradley pauses, thinks back to what he said and pulls a face.

                “Fuck. Yeah. You won’t lead anyone into an early grave either. I didn’t mean that. It was a shitty thing to say. I’m sorry.”

                “Anything else?”

                Bradley blinks.

                “Uh. No… not that I can think of? Why?”

                The look Seresin is giving him is calculating, like he’s trying to figure something out; then Seresin is reaching out and tugging on his shirt.

                “Thought you might like to apologize for crimes against fashion. This is one godawful shirt you’re wearing…”

                “I like this shirt.”

                “Of course you do. Hmm.”

                “Are you going to apologize to me?”

                “For what?”

                “For calling me slow?”

                “Nothing wrong with slow Rooster…”

                The look on his face, the way he juts out his hip and licks his lips around the fucking toothpick… Bradley feels the flush hit his cheeks, can tell his neck and chest are also going warm and he steps back. He can’t and won’t engage with this. With him.

                “Was good seeing you Seresin. Have a good night.”

…            …            …

                He gets back inside the Hard Deck and he spies Natasha talking with Bob, knows she’s starting the process of getting to know her new back seater, which is usually to beat them soundly in whatever macho game they think they’re better at, and then to show them that she can and will fly, and fly well. Then she usually forces them into a self-care night of face masks and nails, for which Bradley is usually invited along to if he’s around, although he knows Coyote has been seconded into the roll a couple of times.

                “You look… whole,” Natasha says, and she reaches for his hand, inspects his knuckles and Bradley huffs in annoyance, pulling his hand back when he realizes what she’s doing.

                “I didn’t punch him.”

                “No. You just stalked out of here looking like you wanted to.”

                “I actually went and apologized to him.”

                Both her and Bob blink.

                “Seriously?”

                “What can I say, I’m the bigger man, admitting when I’m wrong and apologizing.”

                “I still feel like I should go outside and check for a body…”

                “It’s fine. I’m going to try and be nice.”

                “Yeah. Okay. Good luck with that.”

                “What she said,” Bob says.

…            …            …

                The thing is he does try, but he’s also completely thrown by the fact that Maverick is there and is apparently the one teaching them. His anger is bubbling fresh, like he never took it off the boil and he’s angry again with Ice for not fucking warning him. Maverick doesn’t look at all surprised to see him and that makes him feel even angrier. He desperately needs to either run, punch some pillows or angrily play out his feelings on a piano until he calms down. None of which he can do while he watches his godfather stand at the front of a makeshift classroom and tell them all that the mission success will come down to the pilot in the box.

…            …            …

                “So, Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?”

                Jesus Christ, one apology and the man is going to ask about his whole life history. Now is not the fucking time, not to mention the line is open and everyone can hear them. He scans the skies and screens for any sign of Maverick.

                “Would it matter if I did?”

                “What’s the story with you and Maverick?” Speak of the fucking devil… “It seems like he’s got you rattled.”

                “That’s none of your business. Now where the hell is he?”

                “Been here the whole time.”

                “Holy shit,” Seresin breathes and Bradley pulls a face, because that tone is also far too similar to what he sounds like in bed and he can not be thinking about that right now.

                He get’s shot down for a second time, knows he’s toeing the line of being an idiot, doesn’t need Natasha railing at him, or the four-hundred push-ups he insists on doing which leave his arms feeling like jelly and Hondo looking at him like he pities him. He goes back to his accommodation on base and stares at the key to his family home, wonders if he should do anything about it, ignores Natasha’s messages and falls into a fitful sleep without even changing out of his clothes.

…            …            …

                He wakes later, and his first instinct is to make coffee, except it’s late and he needs to get used to the time difference. So he makes himself a hot cocoa from the supplies, although the fat he has to chip away at the solid mass tells him it likely won’t be worth the effort. Still, it gives him something to do. He snaps a picture and sends it, just adds a jet lag is real over it and sends it. Jas has been unnaturally quiet the last couple of days and Bradley desperately wants to just pick up his phone and call him. Except he doesn’t have his number and he won’t ask for it.

                Calling was never an option in the beginning, not with the lack of service out on carriers, and the fact that exchanging numbers also meant exchanging names. Bradley has never not answered the phone with his whole name, so he’d never offered. He’s got so many regrets on so many fronts he feels like a twenty-sided dice.

>>Everything okay?

>>You’ve been kind of quiet these last couple of days.

>>You ever bump into someone and think that it was maybe me you were talking to?

>>Um. Actually yeah.

>>Once. Years ago.

>>But there just ended up being all these little facts that didn’t line up so I figured it wasn’t you.

>>Was he hot?

>>He was alright. Easy enough on the eyes.

>>Nothing happened. I was his instructor at the time.

>>You and your moral compass.

>>I’m rolling my eyes at you.

>>I’m not a saint.

>>Never accused you of that. Not sleeping with someone because you’re in a position of power. That’s pretty decent of you.

>>Got to try being a decent human right?

>>I guess.

>>Sometimes I fuck up but got to keep on trying.

>>Yeah. I guess you do.

…            …            …

                Internally he’s a mess. The fact that the mission seems impossible, has been called a suicide mission, he’s having to see Maverick everyday, and Seresin keeps looking at him like he’s trying to puzzle something out. Like how big the body bag needs to be maybe. Now he’s being told he isn’t flying fast enough, he’s going to get shot down and he’s going to be responsible for the death of his friends. Like any of them won’t suffer the exact same fate.

                “It’s not the plane, sir, it’s the pilot.”

                “Exactly!”

                “There’s more than one way to fly this mission.”

                “You really don’t get it. On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here, or a man does not come back. No offense intended.”

                “Yet somehow you always manage,” Bob murmurs and normally Bradley would smile at the comeback, but he can’t right now. His frustration and anger are carefully balanced and he doesn’t want either of them to tip over.

                “Look, I don’t mean to criticize. You’re conservative, that’s all.”

                “Lieutenant.”

                “We’re going into combat, son, on a level no living pilot’s ever seen. Not even him. That’s no time to be thinking about the past.”

                “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                “Rooster.”

                “I can’t be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man.”

                “That’s enough.”

                “Or that Maverick was flying when his old man…”

                “Lieutenant, that’s enough!”

                “That’s enough.“

                “You son of a bitch!”

                “Hey, come on!”

                “I’m cool, I’m cool. Hey, hey.”

                “That’s enough.”

…            …            …

>>I have had an awful fucking day.

>>Tell me something to cheer me up?

                He doesn’t get an answer.

…            …            …

                He still doesn’t have an answer the next morning and he sends off his usual morning picture of his coffee, feels his entre body unclench when he gets a picture in response. There still isn’t any messages but it’s not complete radio silence. There is a message from his Captain, telling him to report to the Hard Deck in civvies appropriate for the beach and he lets out a long sigh. Sends a screen shot to Ice with a what the fuck is he thinking now? To which he gets back a line of laughing-crying emojis and your guess is as good as mine.

                Well. He has no idea where the hell Maverick dreamed up dog-fight football, but at least they’re not all getting drunk together. That would have been a recipe for several disasters. It’s not that warm, but once they’re all running around it heats them up enough and it feels good to simply run around and play, forget, even for a little while, that one or more of them might be dead in a couple of weeks.

…            …            …

                As if they needed reminders about just how dangerous their jobs are without the added aspects of the mission in front of them they have the day from hell and Bradley feels responsible. Thinking his verbal sparring with Hangman somehow made it a bad day he somehow jinxed them all. Having Coyote come so close to burning in because of g-Loc, and then Natasha… his best friend. Listening to Maverick yell eject at them over and over is going to be added nightmare fodder he’s sure will enter rotation, something he can look forward to. He sits in the quiet of the room, turning when he hears footsteps.

                Maverick.

                And no-one else around to act as a buffer.

                Well shit.

                He’s tired and already emotionally raw, doesn’t want to talk to him right now.

                “They’ll keep Phoenix and Bob in the hospital overnight for observation. They’re gonna be okay.”

                “That’s good. I’ve never lost a wing man.”

                “You’re lucky. Fly long enough, it’ll happen. There will be others.”

                “Easy for you to say,” Bradley bites out. “No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.”

                He feels detached from what he’s saying, but the anger is all still there, and he feels justified in that at least, although he’s also lying. As much as he might be angry, he’d still grieve Maverick if he died. Of course Maverick tries to be calm and rational and instead of calming him down it has the opposite effect, and he’s snapping out words again, and Maverick is snapping back and god, it’s a wonder Ice didn’t bang their heads together earlier.

                “Maverick,” Warlock says, stopping them from screaming more hurtful things in each other’s faces.

                Then he learns that Ice has died and of course bad things come in threes.

                He leaves Maverick with Warlock and heads off into the dark for his base housing.

…            …            …

>>You know how I told you about my uncle?

>>The one with cancer?

>>Yeah?

>>He died. His funeral will be in a couple of days and I’m going to have to somehow not cry in front of everyone.

>>Would you give me your mobile number?

>>Why?

>>Because I’d really like to hear your voice. Talk to you properly.

>>I wouldn’t call until you gave me the go ahead.

>>I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.

>>I feel very alone.

>>I thought the other day was bad, but today has been so much worse.

                He wanders around aimlessly, wonders if maybe he should bite the bullet and either go to the rec room and play the piano there, or see if the piano at his closed-up parent’s house is even playable. He’s half-dressed for bed, mind so far away he doesn’t register the knocking until it’s louder and more insistent and he heads to the door, opening it and half-expecting to find Maverick there.

                “Hangman?”

                “Rooster.”

                “Uh. What are doing here?”

                The look on Seresin’s face tells him he’s not exactly sure either, and the fact that he’s not certain is something he’s even more annoyed about.

                “I just… I know your dad flew with Admiral Kazansky. I... I thought that maybe you might know him more than just as the COMPACFLT and be... I thought you might want company.”

                “I...” Bradley starts, because he really does want the company right now, Natasha is in hospital, Coyote is with her because sometimes things like near-misses force you to reevaluate. Not that she can come, but he wouldn’t call her anyway, doesn’t want to rain on her happiness. Not when there is no guarantee of any future right now, the bird strike and g-Loc incidents both really driving home how dangerous their jobs are.

                “Not anything else, by the way… just company.”

                “No. I... Yeah. Company would be good. Thanks.”

                “Also I figured I should take a leaf out of your book and apologize. I’m sorry. About bringing up your dad. That was a dick move.”

                Bradley blinks.

                “Um. Okay.”

                “Right. Sleeping right? You want me to cuddle you?”

                “Actually yeah, since you offered,” Bradley replies, giving Seresin a disparaging look but then takes in the fact that he’s dressed in sweats and a worn t-shirt, like he maybe come over after he’d already gotten ready for bed.

                “Come on then, finish getting ready. Always waiting for you to catch up Bradshaw…”

                “Yeah yeah, give me a minute.”

                He shuffles around, puts on a t-shirt in deference to the fact that Seresin seems seriously intent on hopping into bed with him, and not for sex. He brushes his teeth and washes his face, unable to bring himself to do any more. His mind is thinking about Sarah and the kids and grandkids. Funerals, oh which he feels like he’s been to too many. He folds himself into the bed, his head and body already feel heavy and weighed down and he cannot believe he’s watching Seresin of all people turn off the lights and then slide into bed beside him, his arm settling over his waist like a drag sail.

                “Go to sleep Bradshaw, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

…            …            …

                Despite everything he has one of the best nights’ sleep he’s had in a long time, and he can’t put it down to the sheer emotional exhaustion of the last couple of days. He woke up several times during the night, not used to having someone else in the bed, but each time Seresin had been there, arm settled around Bradley like he was holding him together. He’s not there now though, but Bradley can hear someone in the kitchen and it can’t be anyone else but Seresin. He stands and stretches, feels his back and neck click and reaches for his phone, feels a little swoop of happiness when he sees he has a message.

>>I don’t want you to be alone right now either.

                He grins and quickly types out a response as he heads to the kitchen.

                “Hey, morning.”

                “Morning. How are you feeling?”

                “Uh. Better. Thanks,” Bradley offers, because he’s a little unsettled by this softer and more accommodating version of Seresin.

                “Here,” Seresin says, and he slides a mug of coffee across to him. It’s not his usual mug, but that’s okay. The mug isn’t the important part, and he snaps a quick picture.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Um. Just taking a photo of my coffee,” Bradley states, looking up as Seresin makes a slight choking sound. “Thanks by the way, for the coffee and for staying last night. I really needed the company.”

                “Yeah. Uh. Anytime. I’ve got to go. Glad you’re feeling better Bradshaw.”

                “Uh, yeah. Thanks… see you later…” Bradley says, voice trailing off as Hangman flees like he’s on fire.

                Weird.

                He takes a sip of his coffee and blinks in surprise.

                It’s perfect.

…            …            …

                He drags himself through his morning routine and heads to Ice’s house, needs to see Sarah and the others, the only family he has. Or at least that he’s currently talking to in civil tones. He lets himself get hugged as he hugs them all in return, they’re all talking in soft mumbles with empty platitudes he knows don’t ease the grief. But being with others who are also grieving helps. He’s allowed to feel sad and miss him when he’s surrounded by people who feel exactly the same way.

                Sarah is poised and calm, her red eyes the only thing belying the fact that she’s been crying plenty. He’s sitting down talking to Samantha, Ice’s eldest daughter, when Sarah finds him and presses an envelope into his hands.

                “He wanted me to give this to you as quickly as possible after his passing. I think he was adding it to it just yesterday…”

                His throat goes tight and he runs his fingers along the crisp edge of the envelope, swallows and then gives up, lets the tears fall and hugs her back tightly as she presses a kiss to the top of his head, feels Samantha hug him from the side. He guesses he has some reading to do.

…            …            …

Dear Bradley,

If you are reading this it’s because I’m dead. Now, as outcomes go, this isn’t what either of us wanted, I’m sure. I’m glad I only had one rule with you as a teenager, and that you listened to me. This is the natural progression of things, children having to bury their parents. I am sorry that you have had to do this so often though, your life has not often been fair to you. There is one silver lining of being a dead man, and that’s getting a dying wish. Your mother had a dying wish you see, and I didn’t agree with what she wanted, but I had to respect it. It was her dying wish after all. And now this is mine, so if I meet her in the afterlife, then I know she’s not going to be able to hold it over me.

I want you to know that she never wanted you to fly.

She asked Maverick to pull your papers.

I tried to convince both of them that it was a terrible idea. But your mother became very difficult to argue with, being dead and all, and well, Maverick is one of the most stubborn and pig-headed men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I’m glad I’ve been able to count him as being a friend, because having him as an enemy would be ten times worse (and it was already pretty trying some days, as you can imagine). Anyway, I could already envision what would happen, you get your own stubborn and pig-headedness honestly at least, and it was then polished by being raised by Maverick after your mom passed.

Now, I am not asking you to forgive Maverick. However I am asking you to try. He loves you and cares for you, but what he is most terrified about is failing both of your parents. He thinks they’d be perfect parents, so holds himself up to that ideal. He thinks he needs to be perfect. Being a parent myself I know that’s impossible, I’ve just tried my best to make decisions based from a place of love and support. Maverick has always tried to make his decisions based on what he thinks your parents would want for you. Your mom didn’t want you to fly and yet here you are. And Maverick has to see that and know he failed her. And he failed you. And he will always believe he failed your father.

I never had to second guess my parenting decisions, even if I would later make a different decision with hindsight. I knew I made the best decision I could at the time with the information I had, making it from a place of love, then I couldn’t really regret it. Maverick second guesses everything when it comes to you. For all his don’t think, just do bullshit, he overthinks everything when it comes to you.

One of your parents gave you anything and everything you wanted, because he only saw you for a few months of your entire life. In between all the training and deployments, it just wasn’t enough. He loved you, do not ever doubt that, and he’d be so proud of the man you are today. I believe he would have supported you going to USNA with his whole heart. He’d be proud of you being a naval aviator. He would love that you were a pilot.

Your mother had to become both parents and then manage your early teen years and at the same time she wanted to protect you from everything bad in the world. She couldn’t protect you from losing your father, or then losing her, and I am sure she thought she was protecting you by asking Maverick to pull your USNA papers. However neither of your parents knew you as well as Maverick knew you, and yet he tasked himself with an impossible task.

So you have had a parent who only knew you really as a baby, another as a child, then another as a young man and now you’re an adult with a life and career of his own. You might have a better chance of getting Maverick into therapy than I ever did, simply by asking him. I am proud that you go. That you listened and took my advice. It’s always nice to be right. It’s been a pleasure watching you grow into the man you are today, and I know you will continue to grow.

Having you back in my life has been one of my joys. Getting to know you again, share stories with you. I’ve written a lot more down for you, and there’s a box with your name on it. Lots of photos because I’m old and we had film cameras. Make all the old jokes you want, I’m dead and I don’t care. Growing old is a luxury for some, and I am glad I got as far as I did. Anyway, I think Samantha might be digitizing the photos. Ask her. Please stay in touch with them all. You are a part of our family, even if it didn’t feel that way for you for some years. You are always welcome, never forget that. I want you to be in each other’s lives again. Maverick’s as well. You need him even if you think you don’t. And he needs you too. You’re both going to get invitations to Kazansky family gatherings, and it’s going to be awkward if you’re not talking to each other. At least give it a try. That’s all I’m asking.

Never forget how loved you are Bradley.

By all of your parents.

Ice

Saw you flying today. Made me so proud. Also made me wish I could have flown with you. Watching you fly is like watching the best of myself and Maverick. He is very unhappy with me about the mission. Doesn’t want to have to make the choice. He views it as lose-lose all round, which might be true. I hope it isn’t, for both your sakes. If I have any say in it you’ll all return safely home. I’m tired, so I’m going to go to bed now. Love you kid.

…            …            …

                They’ve been given the day off, which seems a little ridiculous considering how close the mission is. He’s immeasurably glad though, he feels shaky and emotionally raw, and he still has to get through the funeral and somehow process the whole shifting worldview that his mom made Maverick promise. That Maverick wouldn’t just tell him that confuses him, what would he do? Hate his mom for wanting to keep him safe? He just doesn’t get it. He opens his phone, not really having had a chance to look at it since the morning after he’d sent his coffee picture. Jas hadn’t replied by the time he left to go to Ice’s house, but when he opens his phone now he can see he has a couple of new notifications. The coffee cup in reply looks familiar and he realizes it’s his coffee cup. The one he usually uses except this morning… What the hell?

                He opens up Grindr and clicks on the new message, is pretty sure he knows what to expect when it displays and there it is.

>>I’m in the Dagger Squad.

                Just like that his world tilts on its axis again and he stares at the five words. Closes it and then reopens the app. Reads the words again. Actually turns off his phone and forces it to re-start. The words stay the same.

                JAS.

                Born in 1986.

                Texan.

                God he’s an idiot.

                Not just in the navy, he’s a Naval aviator.

                A photo of his own coffee cup sent back to him from this morning.

                He’s laughing at his own stupidity and he’s already cried so much today but he feels like he might just burst into tears again, his emotions all too exposed and he needs to find out where Jas-Jake-Seresin, (what the hell does he call him now?), lives. He rings Natasha, knows she’s still with Coyote. Coyote will know where Jake, (Jake feels right? Maybe?), lives. Because it’s not on base. Of course Coyote won’t give him the address and Bradley feels like screaming. Tells him to ask Jake, then to text it through to him when he gives it to him. He’s that certain Jake will give it to him. He could just ask himself, but he also doesn’t want to give Jake an opportunity to ignore him. Not that he thinks he will.

                Last night suddenly makes a lot more sense, now that he thinks about it. No one else would have known about Ice passing, and yet Jake turned up, because he’d figured it out. God. When did he figure it out? He’s trying to reconcile Jas and Jake Seresin in his head. The brash confident and arrogant naval aviator he knows and has had plenty of sex with, and Jas, the open, vulnerable and sweetly-sassy man that he’s… also had plenty of sex with. Well. At least he knows they can handle the long-distance aspect of any relationship. God he really wants to see him now.

                The address comes through and he taps it into his phone, following the directions as he drives, wishes it was closer. He doesn’t bother telling Jake he’s on his way, he already knows because Coyote has given Bradley his address. With permission. He pulls up and it’s a newly built block of condos, and he has to look for a carpark for too long before he finds one. He lets himself feel annoyed at the poor planning, grateful that it pushes the grief and shocked-joy just to the side for a moment, no matter how brief. It allows him to gather his bearings as he walks up the pavement and knocks on the door. While he waits for an answer, he wonders if he should send a message. Why the hell not.

>>Answer the door Jas.

>>Give me one good reason.

>>I love you.

>>Now please answer the door.

                “Hi.”

                “Hi.”

                He stands there and just… looks. Jake’s wearing exactly the same clothes as when he left Bradley’s place earlier today, and he looks soft. A little scared and Bradley realizes that he’s maybe worried that Bradley might be disappointed somehow. He reaches out, slow enough that Jake can stop him, or step away; cups his cheek in his hand, runs a thumb over the apple of his cheek. Wants to enfold him in a hug and be hugged in return.

                “Thank you.”

                “Uh. You’re welcome?”

                “You want to know what I’m thanking you for?”

                “Sure.”

                “My second chance. Always planned on thanking you in person.”

                “Um. Yeah.”

                Bradley bites his lip, won’t mention aloud the groveling and body worship that Jas had mentioned, is sure that Jake might not yet be in a place to hear him say words out loud. Written word is something completely different. He wants to kiss him, definitely wants to carry out the body worship, but he feels like they’re all the way at the beginning, needing to feel each other out a little bit, emotionally that is.

                “Can I hug you?”

                “Yeah, of course. Come in and close the door.”

                Of all the hugs he’s had today this one feels the best, firm, grounding and warm. Both of Jake’s arms around him, head resting against Bradley’s shoulder while his nose and mouth press against the side of his head. He presses a kiss to the top of his head.

                “When did you figure it out?” Bradley asks.

                “When did I suspect, or when did I know? Because there’s kind of different stages I went through…”

                “Yeah? Want to share? Because I… needed you to point it out apparently.”

                “Always a little slow Bradshaw…”

                “Oh my god I’m never going to live this down am I?”

                “Nope. Probably not.”

                “Okay. I’m okay with that. Come on. Blow me away with your superior intellect…”

                “You want to have this conversation while we hug in my entryway?”

                “I don’t want to let you go.”

                “Oh. I have a sofa? Or a, uh, bed?”

                “How about we start on the sofa. Can we both fit?”

                “Worth a try…”

                He makes himself comfortable in the corner and then holds out his arms, silently inviting Jake to curl up in them, to settle himself in the v of his legs. He desperately wants to be holding him again and hopes he equally wants to be held. Fortunately Jake seems to, relaxes against him and Bradley feels a sense of contentedness well up inside him. They’re both facing the same direction and part of him is glad; feels like it might be a little too overwhelming to have this coming conversation face-to-face. It’s like a compromise between being online versus facing each other.

                “So… what was your first clue?”

                “Uh, your shirt at the Hard Deck. Payback made a comment about how it wouldn’t be possible to miss seeing you arrive and it pinged something in my mind, about when we were meant to met up. You said I wouldn’t miss you…”

                “Ugh. You mean the time I stood you up to sleep with… you. I’m still very sorry about that by the way.”

                “Well, I’ve sort of made my peace with it. I mean, I can stop being jealous about the other guy at least…”

                Bradley huffs in amusement, tightens his arms around him a little.

                “Oh… When you asked whether I was going to apologize about fashion crimes. That was you sounding me out.”

                “Trying at least. You blanked me so I figured it was just a coincidence.”

                “Okay… then what?”

                “Um. I saw a photo of your dad. Nicholas Bradshaw.”

                “Nick.”

                “And Bradley Bradshaw. NickNick. Stupid double-barreled names. Then I remembered your first username, and you hating the name Pete… And how you really don’t like Maverick. Lots of coincidences that just suddenly were too many to just ignore and they made sense.”

                “Yeah…” Bradley breathes, smiling against Jake’s hair. He likes that Jake has been paying such close attention, would never have thought it of Seresin or Hangman, but it’s definitely Jake through and through.

                “So… Uh. I suspected and then seeing that photo kind of confirmed it. Your moustache and how you said you look like him. Your dad I mean. You do look a lot like him. Anyway, I thought you knew who I was, and you were making fun of me.”

                “What? Never...”

                Jake twists to give him a look, eyebrow raised in disbelief and Bradley shakes his head.

                “Not about this,” Bradley stresses.

                “So, I suspected, and then I thought you knew and hadn't told me and I got so angry...”

                “You picked a fight,” Bradley says with dawning realization, because he’s fucking been there and done the same thing, like picking at a wound.

                “I wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry.”

                “I swear I had no idea.”

                “Oh yeah, I know that now. Last night when I turned up... I almost asked you. Last night was when I started to realize that you really had no idea.”

                “Gorgeous and smart…” Bradley says, and he’s never seen Jake blush before, but he’s doing it now, his face going pink from the corner of Bradley’s eye. “And then my coffee cup picture from this morning... Shit. That’s when you really realized I was truly fucking clueless.”

                “Yeah. And I needed to figure out a way of telling you but I had no idea how…”

                “Well, you did a good job telling me. You made my coffee perfectly and I still didn’t put it all together.”

                “Still took you long enough to get here though.”

                “Oh, I didn’t check the messages until about an hour ago. I messaged Coyote pretty much immediately. Did you think it took me that long to figure it out after you told me you were in the Dagger Squad?”

                “Well, it has been about four hours.”

                “No! I’ve been at Ice’s all morning. Spending time with the family.”

                Jake makes a choking sound.

                “You’re actually… family?”

                “Yeah,” Bradley says with a quiet sigh. “After my mom died and when Mav was deployed I lived with Ice and his family. When I left Mav I pretty much left Ice too. I made up with him a few years ago. Here. Read this…”

                He shifts awkwardly and pulls the letter out of his pocket, pulling Jake back into his arms and handing it to him.

                “Are you sure?”

                “Yeah. I have literally no secrets from you.”

                He reads it again over Jake’s shoulder, let’s himself cry again and tries to not feel self-conscious about the fact that he’s holding Jake and crying. He’s allowed to feel emotions. He’s not an automaton.

                “Jesus Bradley…”

                It’s the first time Jake has said his name and he lets out another little hiccupping cry, but it has happiness behind it this time, not that Jake can tell and he lets out a little laugh of just how ridiculous the whole situation is.

                “Yeah. Ever had emotional whiplash? I think that’s what I’m experiencing today. It’s pretty fucking rough.”

                “Stay here tonight. Hell. Did you sleep okay last night? You said you didn’t want to be alone…”

                “Last night was great. Exactly what I needed thank you. And yeah, I’ll stay here. Might need to borrow some clothes.”

                “Or we can just… go to bed.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Ni-, Ro, Bradley… I do not want to waste any more time, especially considering how much time we might not have.”

                Fuck. Now there’s a depressing thought. Although it also seems like Jake is having the same internal battle about what to call him as he’s been having.

                “What’s your middle name?”

                “What?”

                “I’ve been calling you Jas in my head for so long, when I get angry with you I’m going to need to full name you…”

                “Jacob Andrew Seresin.”

                “Bradley Peter Bradshaw. Nice to meet you.”

                “You’re an idiot,” Jake says, but he’s turning, shifting to face him and Bradley smiles, knows he probably looks messy with fresh tear tracks, but he’s smiling at him and Jake is smiling back.

                “We were so close so many times weren’t we…”

                “Yep. Think it had some silver linings though.”

                “Yeah? Like what?” Bradley asks, because he’s curious.

                “Don’t want to think about some of them right now. Want to take you to bed.”

                “Yeah. Lead the way…”

…            …            …                 Every touch is reverent, and he hasn’t slept with anyone in a long while, not since he last slept with Jake in fact, which has him realizing that he hasn’t done anything sexual with anyone but Jake for… nearly three years. Huh. He’ll share that little tidbit of information later, when he’s not sliding his hands under Jake’s t-shirt and working it up off his body. Jake’s working Bradley’s clothes off, and he doesn’t usually feel the need to check in, not when it’s the middle of the day, both completely sober, but he still needs to, the emotions of everything making it a necessity.

                “Okay?”

                “Yeah, yeah. It's okay. This isn’t our first fucking time…”

                Bradley grins, lets himself press his body against Jake’s, letting them both lower their bodies into Jake’s bed. He’ll pay more attention to Jake’s room and bed when he no longer wants to give absolutely every bit of his attention to the man under his hands and mouth.

                “Sorry if I want to cater to my body worshipping kink…”

                “Selfish,” Jake says, his voice breathy and Bradley bites at his collarbone lightly.

                “Yeah. Very selfish. You should totally kick me to the curb.”

                “Mmm. See if you can convince me otherwise…”

                He feels a happy and excited swoop of pleasure that Jake seems playful, happy in himself to have Bradley in his bed, to stay in his bed for more than just sex.

                “I love you,” Bradley murmurs, and he kisses a trail down Jake's neck, then back up. Lets his fingers touch everywhere he can reach, captures Jake’s mouth in a kiss as he grinds his hips down, feels Jake’s mouth gasp open and he licks into it. They’ve had sex with each other a lot, but it’s never quite felt this heavy. Like every touch, every shift of their bodies against each other, carries with it a little bit extra weight, extra meaning.

                “I love you.”

                There are definite benefits to already being familiar with Jake’s body, knowing how he responds, what he likes. It’s been long enough since they last slept together than it’s all novel and new, while also having the deep-rooted feeling of familiarity and sense of homecoming. He wants to worship every inch of him, Jake seems more than willing to let him. The fact he can pepper his actions with I love you is exhilarating, being able to both show Jake and tell him in equal measure.

                He knows he can make Jake come twice, wants to take him apart and hold him together, give him absolutely everything. God, all the things he’s fantasized about are now potential things they can explore together and he grins into the jut of Jake’s hips, sucks little kisses as he teases along the band of his underwear.

                “Off off, get them off…”

                “It’s been months, or years, depending on how you count. What’s a few more minutes? You know I like the anticipation and building up.”

                “Fuck off, you can edge me another time. I know you want to. Right now I want you to make me come.”

                “Demanding.”

                “Damn right.”

                He pulls Jake’s underwear down and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth as he continues to work the underwear down his thighs. It’s a little uncoordinated, Jake trying to help by thrusting his hips up, his cock hitting the back of Bradley’s throat so suddenly he gags, unprepared, digs his fingers into his hip to stop him from doing it again as he pulls the underwear off and throws it elsewhere. He feels Jake’s fingers running through his hair, deliberately ignores the subtle direction to go faster, slows down and grins when he hears Jake groan and mumble asshole under his breath. Jake groans again, his whole body tensing then relaxing under him and Bradley lets himself finally speed up.

                He shifts, kneels between Jake’s spread legs so he can get an unobstructed view up his torso, can watch his face as Bradley gets his hands and mouth all over him. His fingers encircle Jake’s cock and he works fast, mouth and tongue licking over his balls before sucking the head back into his mouth. Jake is watching him, mouth open, chest shuddering with broken breaths and Bradley feels a swell of sudden and immense gratitude that he gets to have this. That Jake is allowing him to have it.

                “I love you,” he says, his eyes not leaving Jake’s as he opens his mouth and sucks Jake down again, lets Jake’s hips thrust up, ready for it this time and shivers at how gorgeous Jake sounds saying his name. He works his hand faster, presses a knuckle against his perinium, licks and sucks his balls and it’s a tight fit but Jake just stretches his legs wider to give him more space to work. He sees the muscles in Jake’s stomach clench, loves that he knows that that’s one of Jake’s tells, that he’s close to coming. Then he is, shooting up over Bradley’s fist, hitting his chest and stomach.

                “I love you,” Bradley says again, it becomes like a prayer as he runs his hands over his calves and thighs, presses kisses up his inner thigh and his balls again. His eyes haven’t left Jake’s. He licks up Jake’s stomach, cleaning up Jake’s come as he goes, smirks at the little broken sound Jake makes. Wonders if he should have said something about the lack of condom this time, but hopes that Jake simply trusts him. Three fucking years.

                “God I love you…” Bradley whisper, wants, needs, Jake to know the truth of him. Jake kisses him, tongue seeking out every groove between his teeth, moaning against him and he realizes he’s maybe getting off on the taste of himself in Bradley’s mouth. God they’re going to be able to explore and try so much more now that they have the trust that exists between them. Something he knew he wanted, and to have it, he feels so damn lucky.

                Both of Jake’s hands are in his hair, he’s being kissed so thoroughly, Jake’s grinding his hips up against him where he’s partially holding himself above him. Then one of Jake’s hands is on his ass, gripping and pulling and oh. He grinds down, presses his erection against Jake and grins into his mouth.

                “Why are you still wearing underwear?” Jake complains.

                “Mmm… was too busy getting reacquainted with your body.”

                He loves the torn expression on Jake’s face, clearly wants to argue some point, but also can’t think of anything that he can argue about. Instead he digs his fingers into Bradley’s ass cheek and rolls his hips and Bradley moans, much closer than he thought he was. He wants to drag this out, continue re-learning every inch of Jake’s body with all his years of knowledge he’s acquired.

                “Come on, want to get my mouth on you… take you fucking underwear off.”

                Oh. This isn’t quite going the way he had planned in his head, but he stands and quickly strips off the garment which Jake has been scowling at. He’s more than okay doing what Jake wants as well. He follows Jake’s annoyed muttering directions until he’s straddling his chest, head of his cock a mere inch above Jake’s mouth. It’s a fucking gorgeous sight and his mouth is dry as he watches Jake, eyes dark, and then the tight warm heat of Jake’s mouth takes him in and he groans, his hips twitching reflexively. Then Jake’s hands are on his hips, encouraging him and his eyes fall shut as he lets himself start rolling his hips, the suction around his cock tight and warm. He opens his eyes to look at Jake, to give himself a visual to what he’s feeling and experiencing and –

                “Oh god… Jake. Fuck.”

                He pulls out sharply, not able to give any warning before he’s coming. Not that coming all over Jake’s face and neck is any better than coming in his mouth, but he’s not going to assume. His breath is coming in panting gasps, his body shaking and he puts a hand down to hold himself up, stares and Jake’s eyes carefully open and Bradley shifts down, needs to be kissing him again. He cleans up his own come this time, peppers his licks with kisses and murmured I love yous against the shell of Jake’s ear. It’s not what he had planned maybe, but it’s no less perfect. They’re going to need a shower, and he can’t wait to introduce that new level of intimacy into their relationship. He settles beside him, pulls up the sheet and reaches out to place a hand on his waist, fingers brushing softly.

                “So… It’s nice to finally meet you. Properly I mean…” Bradley says, eyes searching Jake’s face and he’s smiling and feeling fond and content. Soft, he realizes, thinking about Natasha’s word she uses to describe him sometimes, especially the last couple of years when he’s been working at getting better at being more in touch with his emotions.

                “I love you,” Jake says, and like hearing his name for the first time Bradley feels like he’s going to burst. At the same time it’s like Jake Hangman Seresin melts away and Jas is there, eyes wet with unshed tears and he kisses him again, feels the wetness slide over the pad of his thumb.

                “I love you so much.”

                “Can’t believe it took us this long.”

                “You know we could have avoided all this if we'd just told each other our names...” Bradley says, because he’s definitely going to dig a little. He’s still him.

                “Names? We could have sent each other photos of our faces…”

                “Neither of which you wanted by the way. So I’m making you take the blame for just how long it took. But you also get the credit for figuring it out…”

                “Damn right I do.”

                “Love you Jake…”

                “God you’re a sap…”

                “Only with you.”

                Jake blushes and Bradley smirks, because genuine sincerity is apparently the way to make him a complete mess.

…            …            …

                Their day back at training after Ice’s funeral he feels more settled and is immediately thrown off balance again by the fact that Maverick isn’t there. He sits there in disbelief as he hears Admiral Simpson outline new parameters and agrees with every muttered and under-the-breath comment. A little distracted by the noise coming in over the radio.

                “Uh, Maverick, range control, uh, green range is confirmed. I don’t see an event scheduled for you, sir.”

                “Well, I’m going anyway.”

                “Nice,” Natasha murmurs and Bradley rolls his eyes. Of fucking course everyone is already impressed with him. He hasn’t even fucking done anything yet.

                “Setting time to target: Two minutes fifteen seconds.”

                “Two-fifteen? That’s impossible.”

                Bradley agrees in principle, however he also knows that Maverick knows himself. He wouldn’t set a time like that if he didn’t truly believe he could fly it. Jake turns around and smirks at him, as if to say this is your fucked up family and Bradley subtly gives him the finger, although inwardly he feels thrilled that he has someone with him, that knows him so well and his whole bullshit relationship with Mav. It’s such a relief, especially now that Ice is gone.

                “Final attack point. Maverick’s inbound.”

                He looks around the room, and he understands why everyone is so invested. If Maverick can do this then it proves it’s actually possible. He already knows it is, Maverick wouldn’t be trying to teach them if he didn’t think it wasn’t possible. But the others need to know it. Know it like he does.

                “Popping in three, two, one.”

                He leans forward, can feel the tension in the room mounting.

                “Bombs away.”

                Seconds tick by.

                “Bull’s-eye!” “Holy shit!” “Yes.”

                “Damn.”

                Damn indeed.

                He knows then, looking at Cyclone and Warlock’s faces that they’re probably going to send Maverick. Make him team lead. Which means either he's going, or Jake is going. There aren’t any guarantees and he can't believe their actual time together may only be counted in days.

…            …            …

                By mutual agreement they don’t talk about it. They also don’t mention anything to anyone else, instead sequestering themselves away at his family home that no-one knows about except Mav, who definitely won’t be looking. They have to air it out, and deal with the dust and cobwebs, but’s it’s not as bad as it could be and he wonders if he has something else to retroactively thank Ice for, even if he can’t anymore. They buy new sheets and pillows and the entire house soon smells of them and sex and takeout food, neither of them wanting to waste time cooking when they can just be holding each other.

                He keeps up his morning cup of coffee picture, tells Jake he doesn’t ever want him to doubt how he feels about him, even when he’s lying in bed and the cup of coffee in question is brought to him by a nearly naked Jake. Tells him the view that comes with his morning cup of coffee is much improved. The time they have together might be short but he’s going to make the most of every moment they have together.

…            …            …

                “It has been an honor flying with you. Each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission. My choice is a reflection of that and nothing more.”

                He feels sick. He doesn’t care about flying and proving Mav wrong. Not anymore. He just doesn’t want Jake to go and then not come back. He has no idea who Mav will choose, and he knows Jake feels the same about him going. They’re both good. But there are so many things that can go wrong. There’s a reason why Mav has been listing off fucking miracles.

                “Choose your two foxtrot teams.”

                “Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.”

                “And your wing man?”

                “Rooster.”

                The relief he feels is immediate, knowing that Jake is going to be safe. Is going to live. It’s immense. The look of on Jake’s makes him feel sick though, because he knows it’s exactly what he’d be feeling if Jake had just been named Maverick’s wingman instead. They find a quiet spot and Jake kisses him like he’s trying to climb inside his body, Bradley presses them together like he’d let him climb inside if he could. Then they’re having to head up on deck.

                “Give em hell,” Jake says, and he doesn’t need to say any more, he can see the unspoken words in his eyes and tense line of his jaw. You come back to me, you have to come back to me. He nods in understanding, an unspoken promise.

…            …            …

                He can’t lose his last parent, not now.

                God.

                If he survives this Jake is definitely going to kill him.

                And he’s probably going to get kicked out of the Navy.

                He hopes Jake will be okay with him being unemployed.

…            …            …

                “You all right?”

                “Yeah, I’m good. You all right?”

                Then he’s being pushed to the ground and he winces at the pain in his ribs, his head swimming a bit. Fuck. He thinks he has a concussion.

                “What the hell?”

                “What are you doing here?”

                “What am I doing here?

                “You think I took that missile so you could be down here with me? You should be back on the carrier by now!”

                “I saved your life!”

                “I saved your life! That’s the whole point! What the hell were you even thinking?”

                “You told me not to think!” Bradley snaps, because he’s got tone on him now, the fucking self-righteous asshole. They both pant, catching their breath and just stare at each other for a few moments, and he still doesn’t really know how he’s going to relearn how to not be constantly angry or upset with Maverick.

                “Well, it’s good to see you.”

                “It’s good to see you too,” Bradley states, because he’s meant to be building bridges, not yelling, no matter how much of an idiot he thinks Maverick is.

                “So what’s the plan?”

                Maverick is insane.

                That’s the plan.

                No sane person would think this was somehow feasible.

                “You’re not serious.”

                He’s thinking about Ice’s letter, talking about how he was always glad to have Maverick on his side, because it beat having Maverick as an enemy and god he hopes that still remains true. That Maverick has some infinite well of good luck. Or a guardian angel. Hopefully both.

                “You’ve got to be shitting me. An F-14?”

                “I shot down three migs in one of those.”

                “We don’t even know if that bag of ass can fly.”

                “Let’s find out.”

                “Mav!” Bradley calls out, but he’s already hustling away. “Oh for fucks’ sake…” Bradley mutters under his breath as he heaves his aching body up and convinces himself that he has to follow Mav. Does he not have pain receptors? Surely he’s aching at least half as badly as Bradley is.

                “There’s guys up there, Mav.”

                “Yeah.”

                “There’s more over there.”

                “Okay. Let’s start running.”

                “Yeah, run. Run.”

                He feels like he’s stepped back in time, the hangar holding the enemy F14 rusty. His body coursing with adrenaline and Maverick is looking crazy-eyed. Bradley knows the feeling.

                “Once… once I give you the signal for air, you’re gonna flip this switch until the needle gets to 120. When the engine starts, you got to pull out the pins and disconnect everything. You understand?”

                “Yeah.”

                Then Maverick is running around and Bradley’s glad that he apparently knows what he’s doing. He thinks of Ice and how he’d always said how crazy Maverick was. He’d always sort of thought he was exaggerating for the sake of telling a good story but is starting to think he downplayed some of the more dangerous shit that Mav has taken part of. It’s a little terrifying to think about. He hops into the back of the F-14 and stares at all the dials and little screens, only vaguely familiar. Maybe from a visit to a fucking museum. He’s starting to really believe that Mav lives the not thinking aspect of his motto, because when he questions the wings coming out, raises entirely valid concerns about it being a taxiway he is just plain ignored. No. He gets told to hang on, like he has another option or any say in the matter.

                “Holy shit!”

                Holy shit seems to be his inner and outer mantra for the next few moments, Maverick intent on having a one-sided conversation that he doesn’t need to contribute to, which is just as well because he has nothing of value to add. The way Maverick asks him to get in touch with the boat is infuriating, like it’s a simple press of a button like a kid’s walkie-talkie. Nothing is fucking working, and he doesn’t know enough to get it working. He has to ask, feels like Mav is teaching him how to drive all over again, and that was an unmitigated disaster until Ice and Sarah took over.

                “Throw the, uh… The uhf-2 circuit breaker. Try that.”

                “There’s 300 breakers back here. Anything more specific?”

                “I don’t know. That was your dad’s department.”

                “I’ll figure it out,” Bradley mutters, and he continues looking, only to see something out of the corner of his eye and he freezes for a micro-second. “Mav, tally two, five o’clock low. What do we do?”

                No one is ever going to believe him that Mav’s plan here is wave and smile. He follows the instructions though, can hardly believe that it somehow buys enough time for Mav’s brain to speed through however many options he thinks he has. Bradley doesn’t know how many he’s got, he can’t get past the idea that he’s going to die. Again. The idea of dying. Not actual dying. Maybe it’s just a day where he’s going to constantly think he’s going to die, but never actually does. Fuck he really really hopes so. He will live with the nightmares if he doesn’t actually have to die.

                “All right, listen up. When I tell you, you grab those rings above your head. That’s the ejection handle.”

                “Mav, can we outrun these guys?”

                “Not their missiles and guns.”

                “Then it’s a dogfight.”

                “An F-14 against fifth-gen fighters?”

                “It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot. You’d go after them if I wasn’t here,” Bradley states, absolutely certain of the fact. The taxiway was apparently easy and not risky at all. Holy shit his mind supplies.

                “But you are here,” Mav counters.

                “Come on, Mav. Don’t think. Just do.”

                God he hopes he doesn’t die. Then Mav has shot one of them down and he can’t believe it, warns him about the next one, feels helpless without the option to fire his own missiles. Watching the fifth-gen fighter in action is unreal and god he wants to fly one. Then they’re getting low and heading back into the canyon area, heading out toward the sea, so at least in the general direction of the boat at least. He’s grateful that the terrain does seem to confuse the targeting system, that they still haven’t been shot down and he knows if he lives through this he will need to thank Mav every day. Fuck. If Ice is somehow watching he’ll make sure it happens just to ensure they make up. It would be a power move from him for sure.

                When the second fifth-gen plane goes down, the pilot ejecting just before it smashes into the side of the canyon walls Bradley feels his heart start beating again, like his entire body has been in stasis for however long that all took. It probably wasn’t longer than a couple of minutes, but it feels like a lifetime and the briefest moment in time all at once. Through some miracle he gets the radio working, and if anyone asks him what he did he won’t be able to tell them. He attempts to get in touch with the boat, but he’s not sure if it’s working two-way, too distracted by the sudden beeping indicating the location of a bogey and he looks for it, knows he needs to be another set of eyes. Why can they not catch a fucking break? The fifth generation fighter appearing on their nose is a blow, as is them running out ammo, then flares. Nothing left to offer even the smallest splinter of hope. The plane is taking hits and he’s glad they built them to withstand hits because they would be dead by now. Then Mav is talking about gaining altitude and ejecting and he listens this time, pulls the handles desperately, his stomach sinking when nothing happens, the ejection function clearly broken.

                “I’m sorry, Goose.”

                Oh shit. He can almost feel the waves of Mav’s guilt, that his death is going to be as his back seater just like his dad. He feels like throwing up, not advisable and he’s not going to be alive to have to do anything about it –

                BOOM.

                The explosion, cloud of black smoke, vibrations and then the new jet appearing all happen simultaneously. Then the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

                “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seat belts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions… And prepare for landing.”

                “Hey, Hangman, you look good.”

                “I am good, Rooster. I’m very good. I’ll see you back on deck.”

                He’s pretty sure there’s a threat in there but he could cry he’s so relieved and happy. Soon the adrenaline coursing through his body is going to stop and he’s going to hit a wall but Jake will be there. Mav will be there.

                He’s alive.

                Nothing else matters.

…            …            …

                Having working engines to land matter.

                He’s once again very glad that Mav is the one flying.

                Fuck this shit.

…            …            …

                He’s never crash landed on a deck before and he never wants to do it again. He wonders if people have bucket lists of things they don’t want to have happen, but which have happened anyway. Sounds like it might make for depressing lists.

                “You good?”

                “Yeah. I’m good,” Bradley says, but he’s already thinking about saying similar words to Jake. Searches for him as he steps down from the F-14, his legs wobbly, body aching and head starting to pitch like he’s in a storm. He spies Jake, can’t help but smile at him goofily. He looks so good and he wants to kiss him. It’s probably not a good idea.

                “Chalked yourself another kill.”

                “That makes two,” Jake says, and Bradley will save the fact that he now technically has three for a day when he needs to bring Jake down a peg. Or when he needs to remind him that he had no choice, because taking life is not a thrill either of them particularly want.

                “Mav has five. Makes him an ace.”

                Bradley shakes his head, because he’s pretty sure Mav doesn’t like the idea that he’s killed people either, although again he expects similar sage advice to don’t think if he ever asks him about it. Maybe he might surprise him though. He calls out to him, glad they’re at least going to have a chance of mending their relationship and he smiles, starting to feel the world tilt again.

                “Thank you for saving my life.

                “It’s what my dad would’ve done,” Bradley says, and he knows it’s the truth. The hug he gets has him wincing and Jake hasn’t stepped further away than a couple of feet, has clearly been watching him carefully, is pushing his way towards him, his hands running over Bradley's face and torso in concern and he presses his face into his hand, suddenly feeling like sleep would be a really good thing to do right now.

                “You need to go to the fucking sickbay.”

                “Uh… Something you want to share with the class Hangman?” Natasha asks.

                “Yeah. I just saved his life, don't want him to fall off the fucking carrier and waste all my hard work.”

                “Come on, take me to sickbay.”

                “Okay, that’s weird... Maybe he's concussed,” Natasha says.

                “Oh, he’s definitely concussed,” Maverick says, and Bradley wants to argue, but Jake’s arm is around his waist and supporting him, leading him away from the noise.

                Then they’re going down some steps, Jake turns at the bottom and reaches for him, kisses him and Bradley smiles and hums appreciatively, even with his brain feeling like it’s swimming in soup he’ll never turn down being kissed by Jake.

                “I thought you were taking me to sickbay?”

                “I am, but first I’m going to kiss you because I am so happy to see you alive. And I won’t yell at you, because I’m pretty sure you’ve got a concussion –”

                “And broken ribs,” Bradley adds, because he’s pretty that where the pain is coming from.

                “Jesus Rooster. I am so angry with you. How dare you risk yourself like that. You’re an idiot!”

                “Your idiot though. I hope?”

                “Yes you’re mine. Damn it. Come on, sickbay.”

                “Thought you were going to kiss me?”

                “I did, but then you mentioned broken ribs. And I’m thinking we’re going to have to get creative for a little bit while you mend… come on.”

…            …            …

                Of course Mav ends up in the sick bay too, being forced to be looked over by an exasperated Cyclone and amused looking Warlock. Both clearly relieved that everyone is back alive, even if not well.

                “So, how long have you two been together then?” Mav asks, and Bradley follows his gaze to his and Jake’s linked fingers. The fact that Jake hasn’t left his side. Yeah. That’s not subtle at all. He guesses they’re done with keeping it from everyone then. He’s more than okay with that.

                “Couple of days.”

                “Over a decade.”

                They look at each other and both pull a face.

                “It's complicated.”

                Maverick looks between them and simply nods his head.

…            …            …

                Jake doesn’t leave him alone, only when Natasha arrives and tells Jake to go and eat and have a shower does he actually go, kissing him quickly and throwing Natasha a wink as he leaves. She looks a bit worried and confused and he’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.

                “So… you finally giving up on your penpal huh? Settling with Hangman?”

                “What?”

                “Your online boyfriend. You giving the thing with Hangman a go instead now? I thought you were… going with the guy online.”

                “Uh. Not exactly. Jake is my online boyfriend.”

                “What?”

                “Yeah.”

                “The guy you’ve been… holy shit. You’ve been together for years and you’ve only just figured it out?”

                Oh fuck, he realizes his mistake then, realizes he’s never going to hear the end of it. From both her and Jake both. And probably fucking Coyote too.

                “Haven’t the two of you been fucking each other for like, the last three years?”

                “Natasha!”

                “Oh no, I have heard too many drunken ramblings about his ass to let this go. You owe me so many foot massages if you want me to keep this quiet.”

                “Fuck.”

 …           …            …

>>I need to tell you something.

>>Through Grindr?

>>Yeah well, it’s relevant I guess.

>>Wanted to tell you before I delete it off my phone.

>>I haven’t hooked up with anyone but you since 2016.

>>I mean, it’s either been you in person, or you on here. So no one but you.

                “Really?” Jake asks, voice loud in the quiet of the room.

                “Yeah, really.”

                “Oh.”

                “Mmm. You’re my first choice online and you’re my first choice in person so pretty much makes you my only choice…”

                “Good. Just the way I like it.”

                “Me too.”

2019 - Jake's POV

[transingthoseformers]

Tarn geting on his infrequently used personal account on The Great Conversation and lurking in Relationship Advice before coming to the conclusion he actually needs to post because there's no previous question that addresses his problem.

Megatron gets a high priority notification that DamasceneSteel is posting. Tarn is using his old personal username! Megatron keeps tabs on his most volitle high comand member's activity infrequent as it is. "Help! I accidentally seduced a jet," is the last thing Megatron expected from the DJD leader so he lurks on his personal acccount(identity known only to Soundwave) and watches the trainwreck unfold in real time.

Tarn's geting notifications of Lucky slagger! Or, Share your Wisdom I beg you! Not to mention, Hoax! Everybody knows jets dont frag grounders ever!

Then User ShootyShoot McBangBang weighs in to dispense his wisdom. No hoax mech. I once when I was a newbuild, I slaged off my CO so bad i got temporary assigned to a grounder unit and let me say you losers on the ground are fragging weird about fragging. All weird and soft and slag when you flirt. I though my temp CO was flirting with me but when I kissed him he punched me for being a weirdo. The loser had no clue even when I explained how to him exactly how he was coming on to me!"

Tarn meanwhile is cross-referencing the database. Misfire might be an incompetent Deceptacon but he's a seeker and he's actually giving an explanation that's sheding light on of what the frag just happened with Pharma.

What would Jet courting look like to the uninitiated? Tarn typed tentitavely and waited for a response.

Hmmmm. It's really hard to describe the subtitles between flirt-threat and threat-threat to grounders but basicaly if it looks like a seeker's trying to kill you and you're still alive or they could kill you at any moment and they chose not to it's pretty likely they're trying to spike you.

Tarn blinked in shock and typed an incomplete response as he processed. Wait would that mean

KaoniteMiner2793 responded at the same time, But Starscream

Misfire cut them both off with STOP! ✋️ 🛑 Speculating on the Air Comander's love life WILL get you slagged! He'll make sure. You could be a Phase Sixer or the slagging DJD and he would find a way! Anyhow onto a shiny new and much safer topic! DamasceneSteel, you said you seduced a jet and I hadn't heard through the gosip network about anyone in the airforce geting it on with a grounder. You bringing the good news of The Cause to the Lost Colonies, or trying to pull a DocKnock?

Pull a DocKnock? Tarn typed brow furrowed under his mask

ShootyShoot McBangBang blythly typed away unaware who he had warned off. You know Knockout the medic and interogator from Velocitron? Pulled a slagging Wrecker over to our side early in the war with his impeccable valve Dom game? Break-something or other? The two of them single-handedly launched the Converted to the Cause porn genre. Its rumored some of the hottest smut in the genra were written by one of the elite trine.

It's been so long I forgot about that recruitment campaign. KaoniteMiner2793 added. It got unpopular when mechs realized they had to kill their lovers if they didn’t join the Cause and didn’t have live capture bounties.

Tarn considered his response. Misfire didn't. Live capture bounties! we had those! When?! 🤯

We still do. Tarn educated absenly before he logged off. Mostly medics and a few others who if they can be made to serve The Cause are more useful alive than dead. Thank you for your help clarifying the situation.

Tarn leaned back in his chair to best consider how to use the situation.

Megatron blinked at his screen stuned. Starscream's ridiculous stunts were courting attempts?!?! It was ridiculous! Preposterous! It made... entirely too much sense actualy. Had he accidentally been engaging in an amorous game of one-upmanship with his subordinate??? What in the Pit?!

Misfire sipped someone else's energy drink and scrolled to a new thread.

This is just great amazing great amazing great

Win Misfire for being our Ultimate The Great Conversation problem solver today

Megatron is Learning Today and he's not quite sure he's ready to think out the consequences

Tarn got what he was looking for, and shall utilize that information accordingly (oh the humanity, that relationship is going to be so fun given the conditions of this au)

Win Knockout and Breakdown for kick-starting a porn genre

The little lore drops make it extra interesting too like the part about live bounties and how for a short period of time porn was 100% used as positive propaganda

[middlingmay]

Soldier!Bucky AU

This idea has been floating around in my head for a while, but:

Bucky was never a pilot before the war. He wanted to join the airforce when the war started, but it stressed Mama Egan TF out so he "settled" for the Army.

He climbs the ranks quickly, still becomes a Major quite young, and is aces at quelling disputes because he can turn anything into a joke (usually with himself as the butt of it, but people aren't arguing when they're laughing together, right? May as well be at him.)

The Brass are well aware of the less than stellar relationship the Army boys have, and as well as "cultural lessons" before they ship out to Britain and the rest of Europe, Bucky finds himself informally appointed as his squad's babysitter.

Which he doesn't like. Because the higher ups have mistaken his charisma for responsibility. Which Bucky hates more than those drab army coats.

Speaking of which, he still has the sheepskin! He won it off an airman at a card game, and refuses to wear anything else. He's gotten in trouble for this many times, but his superior officer more or less gave up after he used it to get his guys out of some trouble.

With the RAF. Who, yep, he still hates. Because he admires the fuck out of the US Airforce.

So the RAF are insulting some US soldiers in a pub, but pretending they're not. But Bucky notices the worst culprit is a lieutenant. And a fight is brewing because his guys are bored, and spats have been breaking out for weeks now, and his CO genuinely might shoot them all if there's another issue.

So he swaggers up to the RAF lieutenant, introduces himself as Major Egan (which tips his boys off to the fact he's up to something, because Bucky never pulls rank unless some shit is going down).

But he's still an American, so the RAF Lieutenant isn't entirely swayed, until he turns around to face Bucky (because of course he just walked on up behind the boy and he knows he's "a big lad" as that farmer's wife called him, and he enjoys taking people by surprise). RAF Lieutenant is face-to-neck with Bucky who's grinning down at him, and his fellow Brits mutter "No worries, Sir," and that's that.

Towards the end of the war, he's in Europe. Has been there for some time. Got separated from his men and captured by the Germans and still ran through the forest starving and afraid, and almost killed a kid, and faced down a blood thirsty mob and escaped from a pile of dead bodies with brain on his cheek - but he still considers himself lucky. Because he got away and rejoined his men.

And they're looking for POWs - their own and allied men. They've heard about the stalags and the camps and the death marches, and they're doing their bit not to lose a single man. And Bucky, who knows what it's like to be afraid and alone and close to death out here, is zealous about that mission.

They're about a day away from the Danube, when two men stumble upon their unit at night, frozen, shaking, barely able to keep to their feet.

Airmen.

American Airmen.

Bucky barks out orders and opens his canteen and holds it up to the man nearest him. Hair that might have been blonde. Blue eyes - like the song. And he had no idea then and there that he'd just met Gale Cleven, who was going to talk Bucky into doing something very risky and very stupid to save a column full of allied airmen - just because he looked him in the eyes and said softly, "Please, Major. I just left them alone - help me save my men."

It was the first of many, many dumbass things he would do in the name of Gale Cleven.

[former-sokovian]

About me

Name: Katerina Elizabeth Crowley

Relationship status: Single (interested depending on who you are ect)

Gender: Female

Nicknames: Kat, Kit-Kat (by my cousin but you can as well if you want), Kate, Lizzie

⬇️My favourite song in the entire world⬇️

I love animals, drawing, and army/navy/airforce stuff I am always up for arguments or making new friends. I love to rp

Friends: @thewhitespiderwitch @steven-rogers-captain-america @tsumugix300

Yes I am a huge fan of goth. Big deal :)

[sevs-corner]

Masterlist + Taglist!

Links to all my works so far:

>> CoD:

~~Tf 141: Mafia AU!

OG Idea behind the AU

Main Story Chapters:

-Chapter 1: The Rain Falls but They Fell Harder

-Chapter 1: Epilogue

-Chapter 2: Jobless? More like Job-Bless

-Chapter 2: Epilogue

-Chapter 3: Home Not-So-Sweet Home

-Chapter 3: Epilogue

-Chapter 4: Its Happy Hour for Them, Not For You

-Chapter 4: Epilogue (WIP)

Assorted One-Shots/Imagines/Short Fic Ideas:

-Small Gift Giving: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz

-Another day at the Bakery w/: Graves, Alejandro

-First Date + Gift w/: Price

-Idea: Soap/ You sing the "Masochism Tango" together!

-Random HCs of the Charas: Food + Drink Preferences!

-First Date + Gifts w/: Ghost

-Them doing the small things for You: Gaz, Ghost, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, Price, Konig, Horangi

-They take you out for a picnic for being overworked: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-They watch you get drunk and sing: Price, Alejandro, Rudy

-Nursing their Hangovers: Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap

Taglist! <3

@ astreaaaaaa6 | @ accidental-obsessionist | @ sunshineistoofuckingbright | @ sleepisfortheweakpooh

~~One-Shots/ Other AUs

-Singing a Christmas Song duet w/: Graves

-Tf 141: Actor AU!: Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy, Price, Gaz, Alex, Farah, Graves

-HC's for Roach if he were in the current CoD: MW

-HC's if Roach was in CoD MW (2019~2023) Campaign

-Tf 141: Superpower/Superhuman AU!: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, Roach, Alex

-Tf 141: Navy/ Airforce AU!: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Tf 141 as Savy Playboy Navy boys: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Love at First Sight w/: Price

-Tf 141: Soulmate-Reincarnation AU Idea

-cont idea + part 2 👆by: @ persephone-kore-law

-bridging thoughts on 👆

-Graves as your partner (*yaps)

-Drag Racer! Soap and his Tf 141 crew

-Tf 141 as Demi god

Army! Tf 141 vs Navy! Reader

-Challenge 1: Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (WIP)

Tf 141 and Their Marriage Problems With You (Mini Series | Angst to Comfort)

-Price

Tf 141: as Highschool Jock Tropes: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price [18+ MDNI !! TW: NSFW Themes | Toxicity | Unhealthy r/s] {Inspo Playlist: Currently Updating}

- How the toxic relationship would be like with them

-Promposal Edition!

> Asks:

(Jock! Price First Impressions)

(Giving Simon a Mixtape)

(Simon and You as a Goth Rocker)

(Tf 141's POV of Your and Simon relationship)

Taglist! <3

@ cod-z

CoD x (Soldier) Reader: Retired Comfy AU (Everyone lives under 1 roof + Everything is platonic and has silly plot points)

-Part 1: How did it happen?: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Part 2: Moving into the house: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

Tf 141: Betrayal AU! (Follows the main campaign plot)

-OG Idea on the premise

-How the betrayal goes (+rant on plot of MW3)

Tf 141: On the Run AU (Based off @/bluegiragi Tf 141 Monster AU) TW: 18+ | MDNI

-OG Idea on the premise

-First Meeting w/: Soap

-You realize you chose to be stuck with them

[electio-aroace-navy]

RAH

introductory

so, for those of you who dont know, electio ace is someone who is ace but still desires a sexual relationship. Same thing for electio aro but its romance not sex

quinn doesn't use this blog anymore

Ki's tags: "ki posting" "ki reblogging" "ki answers" "ki's questions" (she/they)

Tag lissttt

@bisexual-airforce @obviously-enby-airforce @actual-transgender-navy @queer-military-treasury @sam-the-skelepun

@bored-dromaeosaur @thealphabetcultleader @hold-my-dr-pepper @femboy-hooters-real @duothelingo

@operagxreal @i-say-ok @gimmick-theif @gimmick-theif-theif @post-uwuifier

@firehouse-subs-fr @realsafari @totallyoperagx @truly-bath-and-body-works

@truly-jcjenson @unofficially-joann-fabric @unofficialvine @walmart-the-official @yahooo-official

@yamaha-official @yes-im-youtube-kids @ymca-for-realzies @youtubefr @actually-alberta

@antarcitica-official @definitely-brasil

@definitely-canada @definitelytherepublicofireland @denmark-forreal @denmark-official

@forever-scotland @france-unofficial @germany-official @guatemala-official @india-official

@massachusetts-official @new-york-for-real @non-tyrannical-usa @official-denmark @official-ireland

@official-new-zealand @official-the-united-states @pakistan-official @quebec-official @republic-of-molossia

@russia-totallyofficial @sovereign-state-of-alaska @spain-unofficial @telangana-official @texas-real

@the-principality-of-sealand @totally-brazil @totally-france @totally-germany @totally-italy

@same-pic-of-venus-everyday @same-pic-of-the-earth-everyday @same-pic-of-the-moon-everyday @same-pic-of-mars-everyday @same-pic-of-jupiter-everyday

@same-pic-of-saturn-everyday @the-real-uranus @same-pic-of-neptune-everyday @steve-not-anon @metal-frisbee

@earth-fan @not-10-salmon-in-a-png @same-pic-of-halleys-comet @same-pic-of-callisto-everyday @same-pic-of-eris-everyday

[areallyyellowmango]

What’re your Milkplane headcanons?

Thank you for the ask! Here are some of my headcanons for Milkplane (Steven x Francis)!

》 Despite being casually friendly with most of the neighbors, Steven is the only one Francis would consider an actual friend, or the closest thing to that

Steven was the only one able to break through Francis’ metaphorical shell, out of sheer stubbornness and repeatedly trying until the milkman couldn't just give him small-talk monosyllable answers anymore. People usually gave up on befriending Francis before ever reaching that point, but for some reason, the man was persistent

》 Steven often invites Francis for a smoke in his apartment to decompress after work.

Francis doesn't really smoke too often, but entering the Rudboys’ apartment without getting caught up in the smoke and smell of cigars and cigarettes is nearly impossible, so he allows himself one or two every now and then

Steven doesn't smoke quite as much or as often as his dad does, but he thinks it makes him look cool, so naturally he does it when Francis is around

Sometimes they chat for hours while they smoke, sometimes they just hang out together silently. It all depends on Francis’ mood. If he feels like talking, then Steven is more than willing to talk

》 Mclooy is very welcoming of Francis, eventually warming up to him almost like his own son

He invites (read: damn near forces) Francis over for dinner often, knowing the milkman rarely eats more than noodles and stale bread for dinner if allowed to

In exchange, on the days when he's off work, Francis often helps Mclooy out with shopping and cooking.

》 It gets to a point where, in the evenings, it becomes much more common to find the milkman in the neighboring apartment rather than in his own, most days of the week

Mclooy often jokes about the two being together so often they look like they're together together

He doesn't really mean it in a meanspirited way, but certainly as nothing but a joke, considering this was 50s

》 Eventually, to their surprise, so much time together did result in unexpected feelings, after all

Steven fell first, Francis fell harder

If he was to be honest, Steven had always found Francis to be an objectively attractive man, ever since first laying eyes on him. It may or may not have been one of the reasons why he was so insistent on trying to get close to him.

Steven is very good at hiding it behind his usual chill and easygoing demeanor, though. The sunglasses are also a big help.

Francis is a disaster when he's into someone, though. Sometimes he doesn't really know what to say, his already sheepish-looking rare smile becomes even more awkward, and he mentally hits himself whenever he ends up doing or saying something he considers stupid

》 Steven is one of the very few people who know about Francis’ past with Nacha, and that he suspects Anastacha might be his daughter due to the timeline of her birth and how alike they are. He doesn't mention it further unless Francis brings it up first though.

Other than that, they don't know much about eachother's romantic past at first

》 Steven has loved many women in the past, but he's also been with men during his time in deployment with the airforce, and is pretty comfortable with the fact that he's into any sort of person at this point

Francis had never been attracted to another man before, and it felt scary to him at first, the fear of finding out something so new about himself, and of being chastised for it

》 It takes a looong long time before the two of them get together. It's a long process between Francis coming to terms with his attraction, feeling comfortable enough to explore it, and the two of them taking it slow and gentle.

Per Francis’ request, they keep it a secret for a long time as well, to the point where getting into their little unspecified relationship even distances them from eachother a little bit for a while, only truly getting to be together when they were alone

And now some silly general headcanons about their relationship!

》 Whenever Francis is over for dinner, Mclooy every now and then makes jokes about him to Steven in spanish - their first language -, knowing the milkman won't understand it and purposefully leaving him confused

Eventually Steven teaches Francis some basic spanish, just enough for him to be able to understand what his dad is saying, allowing him to catch Mclooy redhanded. It did result in a good laugh between them since it was all in good fun, and it actually made his father-in-law-to-be like and respect him more

》 Francis doesn't do well with heights, which isn't a very good match when dating an aircraft pilot who is hellbent on taking him on a scenic flight in a private plane someday

》 Steven doesn't do well with dairy, which wasn't a very good match when having a crush on the milkman, and when the only excuse he had to talk to him everyday at first was whenever he brought bottles upon bottles of milk to his apartment

Instead of telling Francis about it and risking him stopping coming over altogether, Steven just stocked the milk bottles away in the fridge, only remembering about them when it'd already long gone bad

》 Their first kiss was very “hasn't kissed anyone ever vs expecting a kiss with tongue” coded. Obviously Francis had kissed other people before, but he had no idea what to do or where to put his hands when kissing another man.

》 Their song is “My Funny Valentine”

And by “their song”, read “a song that played constantly on Mclooy's radio and Francis could hear from his apartment through the painfully thin walls, and while he hated the noise at first, he began to relate the song to the Rudboys and to Steven in particular overtime”

》 Francis is the only one in the building (besides Mclooy) who knows what Steven's eyes look like underneath the sunglasses

》 They have code words they say to eachother whenever they first meet each day to make sure they're not doppelgangers

[starcrossedjedis]

Charlotte "Charlie" Barnett & Jake "Hangman" Seresin in "Take My Breath Away" [Top Gun Maverick - OFC]

"I'm not auditioning for the role of Airforce Wife, sorry." - "Well, in that case I consider myself very lucky to be in the Navy." - "Goodnight, Lieutenant."

Charlie Barnett has no desire to ever date again. After the absolute disaster that was her last relationship it’s taken her almost a year - including a move back in with her father after throwing in the towel on her coveted surgical residency and going back to her old summer job as a bartender at the Hard Deck - to put the pieces of her broken heart back together. And she can’t even begin to imagine giving it to someone new - least of all to some cocky pilot who thinks he’s god’s gift to mankind.

But Jake “Hangman” Seresin is used to getting what he wants and he’s nothing if not persistent.

In the end they both get more than they bargained for…

Not me having two decades worth of PS under my belt only to always end up the most inspired when I'm on vacation in the middle of nowhere with nothing but my phone and my thoughts x'D

tagged: @akabluekat @arrthurpendragon @asirensrage @astarionbae @auxiliarydetective @bibaybe @bisexualterror @bravelittleflower @cas-verse @chickensarentcheap @curious-kittens-ocs @darknightfrombeyond @darkwolf76 @daughter-of-melpomene @drbobbimorse @eddiemunscns @emilykaldwen @foxesandmagic @harleyquinnzelz @if-you-onlyknew @jamezvaldes @jewishbarbies @katiekinswrites @kingsmakers @koiwrites @mabonetsamhain @margoshansons @mystic-scripture @oneirataxia-girl @susiesamurai @stachedocs

[dattebabunn]

I think what the new 52 and beyond get wrong about Hal Jordan is the fact that he isn't supposed to be like his father, not at all. Pre-reboot comics have Hal's complete idealization of his father as something way more nuanced and not exactly healthy.

At the heart of it all, Hal Jordan isn't his father. He's his mother, and that's okay.

Martin Jordan historically represented a kind of toxic masculinity in Hal's life. Yes, Hal loved his father unconditionally, but comics have shown that he and Martin didn't have that strong of a connection. Martin loved sharing his love of flight with his sons but besides that? He was a man of action and Hal spent most of his time dreaming.

This is the first time we get to see Hal really interact with the idea he has of his father. The rose colored glasses are off, this is what their relationship was. Hal constantly wanted Martin to see him. See, Marty Jordan was a man's man and Hal wanted to be just like him.

Thing is, he's not. He's his mother, and that's okay.

He manifests her image when he really needs to hear good words. In my opinion, during childhood Hal was closest to his mother, while Jack and Jim were closer to Martin. As a middle child, Hal wanted to be noticed by his father. He wanted to prove he could be a man's man too, but his father refused to see him because be reminded him so much of Jessica.

Jessica Jordan, from the little we see of her, is stubborn, strong willed, and can hold a grudge like nobody's business. Emerald twilight also proves she's kind and empathetic. These are all qualities that make up Hal Jordan for better or worse.

What's more than that, every time Hal has tried to emulate his father ends in a detrimental mistake. Hal's mother didn't want him to become a pilot because of Martin's death, yes. More than that, Martin was an alcoholic. So many people in the airforce developed alcoholism, and Hal was no different.

Hal's insistence on being a pilot, a man's man, is what caused him to get into a horrific drunk driving accident. His insistence to be like his father caused him to miss saying goodbye to his mother before she passed. The thing is, no matter how hard he tries, Hal Jordan isn't his father.

Hal Jordan loves tirelessly. He's driven by his family and the people he loves. Try as he might, he isn't driven by pride, not really.

Hal Jordan isn't Martin. He isn't the man that would choose dying in a plane crash over aborting the job out of pride. He's softer, and in a lot of ways far more fragile. He's his mother, and that's a good thing.

[nychthemeron-rants]

Random Hazbin Headcanons:

Husk was a (deadbeat) family man. He had a wife, kids (probably three, give or take one), and even grandkids. That being said, he never had a good relationship with any of them. His wife divorced him in the 1970's, when they were both in their 70's. Thats how bad their relationship got. His kids barely talked to him, except one daughter who he managed to make amens with.

Husk died of liver failure that he decided not to treat because he was in his 70's and didn't want to bother.

Husk is torn between missing his kids and being very relieved he's not found any of them in hell because it means they're either still alive or in heaven.

Sir Pentious never killed in life. Sir Pentious was a snake oil salesman (hence his appearance), a scammer, a megalomaniac, and a power and money hungry prick who would do ANYTHING to further his own means. He may have attacked people with his shitty newly invented weapons, but none of them proved lethal... except the one that killed him.

Husk and Angel were both WW2 veterans. Angel served in the navy (stereotypical, I know, but it feels like what Vivzie would pick). Husk served in the airforce.

Angel was extremely repressed in life due to growing up in a mafia family. He was never out in life, and was never openly very feminine. That being said, he was extremely close to his sister and was very respectful towards her friends, and actually took women's opinions and concerns seriously. Because of this he would occasionally "chaperone" her and her friends as they all trusted him much more than the other men in the gang. However, he got mocked by the other people in the gang for the same reason the women in his life considered him safe.

Angel's only real relationship in life was a secret boyfriend he had while in the Navy.

Niffty was raised by a loving single mother. She told people her father died in the war, though in truth he was never in the picture.

Niffty went to college, but her only goal there was to find a husband despite her mother encouraging her to get a degree as "backup". She also dropped out at 19 to marry a man she knew for 2 months.

Alastor crafted a reputation as a playboy bachelor, constantly flirting with women in order to draw suspicion away from the fact he never married. In truth, he only flirted with a few close female friends, such as Mimzy who knew he was not actually interested at all.

Alastor's first kill was his abusive father.

Charlie has never been to earth but wants to visit desperately. She's perfected her human disguise.

Now that Charlie knows Vaggie isn't a sinner, she's already planning dates to the other rings of hell, but she feels guilty that the others at the hotel can't explore the other rings too. She's considered talking her dad into allowing chaperoned trips for those staying at the hotel.

Part of Vaggie wishes she and Charlie could return to heaven, but she would never until heaven has had a total overhaul.

Another part of Vaggie wishes they could start a family but Isn't sure it will ever be safe enough for that.

While Angel and Cherri are best friends, sometimes Angel says something that reminds her that he's old enough to be her grandfather.

[tgmsunmontue]

You need to learn how to fall 3/10

Hangster (and IceMav) - Bradley is too tall to be a naval aviator and instead becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. He is a civilian contractor to the Airforce and Navy to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. A more in-depth version of this post.

PROLOGUE 2003-2006

2007-2010 – The middle years

                He ends up with another part-time job, fortunately using his human performance part of his degree and working as a personal trainer, mostly early mornings. Jumping out of planes is expensive. He moves out of the house him and Mav usually live in, but months later ends up moving in with Ice when he’s diagnosed with cancer. They don’t sugar coat things, not now that he’s an adult. He has to listen to them talk about wills and property and investments and assets; wants to stick his head in the sand and just chant la-la-la until it all goes away. He doesn’t want to consider his life without them both in it. Hard enough to think he’s already lost his actual parents, he can’t lose them too.

                He sits through it though, signs forms he reads carefully because both Ice and Mav frown and look disappointed the first time he signed without even looking. They get similar forms for him, given his current career and he’s pretty sure Mav has to excuse himself to go and throw up when he says he doesn’t want to be kept on life support indefinitely if he has a bad fall. Ice just nods and accepts his decision with quiet equanimity and he wonders if it’s because he is facing his own mortality. He starts a YouTube channel, figures out how to take effective video and then edit it properly. Loads them up without commentary; originally it’s for those he’s taken up for tandem jumps, but then it’s for other instructors around the country, and then a couple of them move overseas. His channel has a small but dedicated following.

                One of the silver linings of Ice’s cancer diagnosis is the fact he seems to no longer give any fucks about what people might say about his relationship with Mav. Don’t ask, don’t tell is still in effect but it’s also definitely very firmly in the don’t tell realm as far as Bradley can figure out. Everyone who they interact with seems to simply know that they’re together, and have been for as long as everyone remembers. Definitely for as long as he remembers. No one wants to tell and he guesses that Ice is high enough up that there’s probably blind-eyes all over the place.

                Then Ice insists on Mav moving in, which he promptly leaves the house for, not wanting to hang around for listening to the argument or hearing the makeup sex that will surely follow. So they put the house on the market, then he’s given the money and told he can finally buy the plane he wants which he delays a little and carefully shops around, listening to the advice of his old instructors and also Ice and Mav. All his gifts for years are centered around either skydiving or filming and editing software. It doesn’t escape his notice that Mav’s gifts tend towards the safer indoor aspects, while Ice tends toward the safety needs. They’re both supportive in their own ways.

                Living together, all of them, properly for the first time, results in the sudden influx of photos that pop up, every flat surface has frames with photos and Ice starts taking more photos. All of their lives are visually documented on the walls and bookshelves, although Bradley notes the front room Ice uses as a study and work room remains very formal and devoid of any personal touches. Other than formal portraits, like his graduation photo. Regardless of what room he’s in he feels like he is at home.

…             …             …

                His nightmare becomes a reality, although not in full. The call he got was from Bradley, starting off with I’m alive but I’m on the way to the hospital. He’d then passed the phone over to someone else. Apparently he’d taken a bad landing after being forced to use his second backup shute. He’d been too close to the ground so had hit it hard. His hands are shaking as he walks down the hospital corridor, the only thing that has him not vomiting is the fact that Bradley is the one who called him. That Bradley was alive; maybe not alive and well, but alive enough to call him.

                “Bad fall,” Mav mutters. “Like he’s tripped over the front step and grazed his hands…”

                He pushes the door open to Bradley’s room. He’s pale, face covered in bandages, one arm in a cast and both legs in braces, but not as he’d imagined a broken spine and him being in something like full-traction it’s a little bit of a relief.

                “He’s damned lucky.”

                “Doesn’t look lucky.”

                “He had his legs tucked up, hit the ground and rolled. Like it was as natural as breathing. He dislocated his shoulder but continued with the momentum… most people I know would have hit the ground feet-first despite years of training and the shock would have caused spiral fractures. They’ve braced his ankles as a matter of precaution because the x-rays showed no damage, which is a miracle but also isn’t surprising considering he walked into the hospital. We don’t usually say that you can be a natural at skydiving, but this kid is definitely a natural.”

                Mav sighs.

                Of course he is.

…             …             …

                “If the cancer didn’t get me, then I’m sure jumping out of a plane isn’t going to kill me either.”

                “Fighting words. It’s a good thing I’m taller than you. When we come into land you’re going to lift your legs.”

                He listens as Bradley takes him through everything, despite the fact that he knows it all, having listened to it so often he’s pretty sure he could repeat it back, learning it alongside Bradley and quizzing him on it. He can follow Bradley’s instructions, he’s in the Navy. When he’s strapped to Bradley, waved the all-clear he feels a little frisson of abject terror but it’s too late, he’s falling toward to the ground and then his fear fades away and he lets out a whoop of joy, hears Bradley’s amused laughter before it’s whipped away by the rushing air. They hit the ground and it’s gentler than he thought it would be.

                “Woo! What a rush!”

                “Yeah? You like it?”

                “It reminds me of my first launch off a carrier. Damn. Yeah. I get it now. Love you kid,” he says, knocking his own helmet against Bradley’s, the words aren’t ones he says often, but feels the need to say them more often now. Doesn’t want Bradley to ever doubt how he feels. Mav either for that matter…

                “Love you too.”

…             …             …

                “You were both up there, together.”

                He should have known it would give Mav another nightmare and he curls himself around him, makes gentle shushing noises under his breath, glad now that he doesn’t have to try and do this over the phone.

                “Do you trust him?”

                “Of course I do!”

                “Then know that skydiving, especially tandem skydiving is safer than driving to and from the hangar. Car accidents are far more common and hurt far more people than skydiving does. You’ve seen him with his gear. Hell, we check it. He’s damned good at what he does. He’s meant to be up in the air just as much as you are…”

                Mav lets out a little hiccupping breath and Tom knows he’s got something that’ll definitely take his mind of everything else.

                “You know, there’s something else I want to check off on my bucket list…” Tom says, and he’s not going to move, but his otherwise grand plans aren’t getting a look in right now. This feels right.

                “What?”

                “Pete Mitchell, will you marry me?”

…             …             …

                Ice and Mav leave plans on the table one night. An extension to the house, with a shared internal door but his own front door; effectively making two houses. A large bedroom, another room for an office with a desk, extension to the garage so he can store his gear, enough room to roll out his chutes and carry out checks. It’s very clearly an invitation to never move out, but also to live independently and he finds the sticky notes they use to communicate when they’re too busy to actually stop and talk. Simply draws a heart and writes love it in the center.

                He doesn’t bother looking at moving out of home again.

2011-2015 - The later years (NEXT PART)

[newtonsheffield]

Ugh I can’t wait for the Ben/Sophie reconciliation!!

Sadly this will be happening off screen because the epilogue is taking place a few years in the future but I assure you: Ben and Sophie are very happy together, raising Benedict’s adoptive son Balthazar.

It took her a hot moment to get used to being in a committed relationship honestly. Like when Ben groaned, looking up at her from his bed as she pulled on her stockings.

“How about you leave the stockings on and stay in bed with me. Surely Kate can fly one little plane by herself.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, “It’s not actually that little.”

“I’m just saying: She used to do it all the time when she was in the Airforce, she could do it again.”

Sophie chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “I know this uniform turns you into a horny 16 year old but I really do have to go.”

Ben grumbled but stood up, pulling a shirt over his head, “Okay, let’s go.”

Sophie blinked, “You… know I can’t just take you to JFK right? Ride alongs aren’t really a thing.”

Ben rolled his eyes, “I’m taking you to the airport.”

Sophie blinked at him again, something awkward welling in her chest. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s what cute couples do. Take each other to the airport.”

“But I go to the airport every day. And if you take me then you’ll have to come and pick me up. I’m flying out of Heathrow.” She reminded him. “That’s a long drive.”

“Anthony takes Kate to the airport.”

“Anthony is going with Kate.”

“Well maybe I don’t mind the drive.”

Sophie sighed, panic flaring in her chest, “Ben. You don’t have to drive me to the airport, okay?”

She saw the hurt flicker on his face and he nodded, “Right. Well… Have a nice flight.”

Guilt churned her stomach and her chest ached as she stared at him, “ Yeah I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Sophie turned to walk away, grabbing her blazer from the back of the chair knowing she’d spend the entire night regretting this. Regretting not letting him show her how much he cared about her. she cleared her throat, “Ben can you take me to the airport?”

[rreskk]

North Yankton Trevor analysis

While he believed the Airforce was a possibility to him, Trevor was thrown into the deep end when he was insisted unstable. From the relationship between him and his mother, his inability to handle the subject (as well as talking about his father) had turned sour and, the medical professional, would see him as a hazard. With the ineffective medication and coping mechanisms, it would trouble and decrease the possibility for him to gain some wings. His mental health was shown negatively, and he was deemed unstable, being grounded for life despite his talents. Trevor was left jobless and homeless, roaming the Midwest for petty side-jobs and small robberies (but it was mentioned that he did nothing major). Not until he met Michael.

Being persuaded and “manipulated” to become this beginners criminal was purely from Michael’s fault. As vulnerable and weakened Trevor was when being discharged (from series of unsuccessful psychological evaluations), he was in this hopeless position, and obviously, Michael’s opportunistic freak within him would grab and circulate Trevor into thinking that cheating the way to success would work well. So believing he’d finally have something to bring home for his abusive mother, Trevor would wrongly fall into Townley’s hands and outcomes the monster we see today. Murderous, aggressive, unstable — when he thought he couldn’t get worse, he did. Trevor would catch new coping mechanisms and habits. His anger issues, that were already flawed, would increase by the amount of substances that would ruin him neurological. Trevor would fall into this criminal lifestyle and it would distant him from that pit of despair, replacing it by something far worse and self-destructive.

Michael would roll around with his new partner and they’d drive in and out of the states with fake ID’s, whores, smuggled dope, prison sentences — anything a person could do. Until he met Amanda, it was tight, and then suddenly he lost interest in the lifestyle he pulled Trevor into. With a new family and heavy weights on his shoulders, Michael would become fully aware of the way he had let Trevor loosen up. He had become unstable and aggressive, “a deranged killer” as he’d say. So he’d try and ease his way out. Starting with the more rejections to night outs, dinners, hangouts, then it would get more intense with the heists having to be precisely planned, and new crews having to stay in order and keep a professional relationship (no fooling around). The new Michael was cold and distant, and Trevor didn’t like it. They grew apart, Brad offering to replace Mikey until THAT job happened and Michael was supposedly dead.

However, Trevor had this complicated relationship with Michael and his family. He had developed this back and forth, confrontational relationship with Amanda, ever since her motherly instincts proven Trevor to be an endangerment to the kids. Furthermore, he did admire Tracey, the first born daughter, and would develop this softness for her. Nonetheless, Jimmy mentioned saying “a 12 year old kid does know” when recalling the presence of needles and cans (Trevor’s drugs/booze addiction), it would show how close them were together. So close that he was called an uncle, and Trevor stuck to that name, even after he believed that Michael had been killed. The idea of having/being close to a family, it would replace the isolation, making it a conflicted emotion whenever Trevor would debate on leaving Mikey after the final job.