#i mean we all know i hate germany too and i think there are some things the states do better than us

[crplpunkklavier]

nearly every time i tell a fellow german person that im getting married to an american they get really excited for me because that means i can move to the usa and its such a cool and carefree place and so good to its queer people, and then depending on how argumentative im feeling the next time i open my mouth im almost certainly about to ruin their whole day

[the-froschamethyst4]

Scars are beautiful

𖤐Pairing: Husband! König x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, smut, anxiety, language, insecurities, kissing, biting, blow job, mentioning of hard and soft (you know)

𖤐Summary: After König came back from the Military and is now living at home, he's worried his wife may not want him anymore because of all his scar he has on his body now.

—————

——————

It was a nice and sunny day in Germany right now. König sat on the couch in the living room in the same pajama pants he went to bed in and a tight black t-shirt that hugged his muscles just right.

He was just endlessly flipping through channels on the TV, he lands on one that he won't watch just have it play in the background as he does some house chores before Y/n, his wife of 4 years wakes up.

He fixed coffee for the both of them and unloaded the dishwasher and had placed his nasty, dirty and stinky gym clothes in the washer.

He pours some creamer in his coffee and no sugar; he doesn't like it overbearingly sweet like his wife does.

He fixed the way Y/n likes her coffee creamer and two spoonsful of sugar, he goes upstairs and just barely pushed the door open with his foot.

König saw Y/n was already up, she was just stretching upward, and the neck of her shirt exposes her right shoulder, she smiles seeing her husband come in holding her favorite mug knowing what's already in it.

"The way, I like it?" She asked, before he placed it in her hands.

"You already know it, liebe (love)," he kisses her temple and goes back downstairs, Y/n likes to stay in bed a little bit longer looking at her phone watching TikTok videos, going through X, Instagram and opening Snaps from her friends.

König held his mug and looked down at his hand, he saw the scar on the back of his hand that was like an 'X', after coming home from the Military his body was almost covered in scars, he became nervous that Y/n may not want to be with him anymore, he hates that he thinks like this, and he knows Y/n could NEVER leave him. Especially not over some scars.

He could see his reflection in the microwave and over his right eyebrow was a scar. The corner of his upper lip had a small scar that one hurt the most, he also knows his back and chest were covered in scars as well, he hasn't taken his shirt off around Y/n after coming home a month ago.

Y/n's honestly never really noticed that he hasn't done it, before he would almost walk around the house naked.

Y/n finally came downstairs and smiled at her husband, but she could see his face was done. She walks up to him.

"König?"

"Oh hey," he says as if he didn't just see her not too long ago.

"Is everything okay?" She asks.

"Umm~" he was hesitant. "How do you feel about my scars? Have you noticed that I'm basically not walking around the house naked anymore?"

Y/n took a deep breath. "I mean I haven't noticed really, I thought since he was around guys a lot you learned to be a little more modest or something but...the scars, King...they do not bother me. I love you, don't I? If they did, wouldn't I have left already? I will never leave you over some scars that showed your bravery. I could never do that to you..." she says, cupping his face and kissing him.

He smiles into the kiss knowing he'll feel safe with Y/n no matter what.

"Usually this is the opposite type of conversation, you're usually the one trying to calm me down about my insecurities." She smiles.

"Well, sometimes I need that encouragement too."

"I know," she places her pointer finger under his chin and her thumb tugged at his bottom lip before kissing him again.

He slightly moans into the kiss. his hands went to her waist as she did all the work, her hands on his shoulders but one measly moving down tugging at the pajama pants.

He smirks knowing what she wanted, and he knows what himself wanted as well.

"Are you sure?"

She pulls away from him. "The last time we did it was the night you came back home and nothing after that, yes, I want it," she says as he smirks and started to tug his pants down, she gets off him just a little bit to see his dick.

It wasn't hard just yet; she goes on her knees and looks up at him. He moves down just a little bit slouching on the back of the couch. The cold air against his lower half just made him twitch just a little bit till her hand goes around him.

Immediately he wanted to cum in her hand.

"H-Holy shit!"

"I haven't done anything yet, King," she giggles.

"I know, but your hands are so soft and...your hands, just look small holding me," he says while holding back a chuckle.

König was big and girthy even when soft he was still big. She starts to pump his cock in her hands, he placed his head back and let out a breathy moan.

"H-Holy fuck," he mutters. She looks up at him through her eyelashes, her eyes looked cute looking up at him. "D-Don't look a-at me like that," he says.

She smirks and hums around his cock. He jolts his hips up, his tip just barely hit the back of her throat.

König grips some of her hair and just rested his hand, he wasn't forcing her or anything, he wanted to let her know, he was comfortable.

She focused on bobbing her head and swirling her tongue around his dick. He places his head back again and felt himself twitch inside of her mouth.

Then he cums in her mouth. she moves her mouth and cum leaked from the corner of her mouth. He holds her chin and watches her swallow. She opens her mouth showing off that she could take him.

"That was fucking hot, liebe..." he removes his shirt and kicked his pants away from his feet, he picks her up off the floor. "I want to stuff you now," he says making Y/n giggle at him.

"Do your worst," she teases.

--------

König was sweating from head to toe, his hair stuck to his forehead as Y/n was shaking, her body was sweaty as well, her body laid limp on the bed, trying her hardest to catch her breath.

She felt small and useless under König.

He gets off of her and laid next to her looking up at the ceiling with her, her soft pants were the only thing his ears could focus on. He sits up now and looks down at her tummy.

He leans down to rest his ear against her.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"I just thought...how wonderful and cool would it be to have a...little us running around the house?"

"A baby?"

"Yeah...why not...I talked with Price, he has 2 two kids of his own and he says when he retires, he wants to be part of their lives...and I want that too..."

"King...could I think about it?"

Y/n sometimes feels like she's ready for a kid, but she also feels like she's not ready just yet. She was a big kid of her own looking right at her.

"I'm just not sure if we are ready to have a kid yet...I have you to worry about first."

"Okay, okay, I understand," he said, looking down and chuckling. "Please do think about it."

"I will and I will get back to you when I have an answer," she giggles as König smiled and leaned down kissing her lips again.

[thetepes]

"Fuck it, I'm going to go back to calling people Nazis if they look at me funny." - 4:20 is the timestamp.

She is such a fascinating streamer, no? Dead air, no music, bringing up a cosplayer who killed themselves over accusations after saying it's perfectly fine and good to make flippant accusations. Telling her viewers to mass report Ant's videos, something which youtube found her so inert and completely fucking unable to meaningfully achieve they automatically considered his report solved because there was never any meaningful threat to begin with.

Anyway, it means nothing. This accusation. These words. Nothing, but meaningless piss from a person who so loudly declares their victimhood and cries about their status as a poc, a transwoman, a disabled person who lives off government assistance.

These things that all of which would have made you a victim of this meaningless regime to you. Let's look at who they targeted!

Black people

Civilians accused of disobedience, resistance, or partisan activity

Gay men, bisexuals, and others accused of deviant sexual behavior

 whose religious beliefs conflicted with Nazi ideology, such as Jehovah’s Witnesses

people with disabilities 

Slavic People

Political opponents and dissenters in Germany such as communists

Roma and other people derogatorily labeled as “Gypsies” 

Social outsiders in Germany derogatorily labeled as “asocials” or “professional criminals”

Soviet Prisoners of War. 

Hm, would you look at that? It seems we both meet the measure of those who would be eradicated. We would be victims of Nazis, Lily. Both of us.

Most estimates place the total number of deaths during the Second World War at around 70-85 million people. Approximately 17 million of these deaths were due to crimes against humanity carried out by the Nazi regime in Europe. In comparison to the millions of deaths that took place through conflict, famine, or disease, these 17 million stand out due to the reasoning behind them, along with the systematic nature and scale in which they were carried out.

They were 17 millions of us. A number not one of us can begin to fathom the actual scale of.

So why do only I know the weight of this between us, Lily? Are you really so disconnected from what you are that that multi generation eradicating horror is something you can't comprehend? Nazi isn't some flighty term like Republican that can mean anything from a out of touch grandma who thinks a house can still be bought for 25k to a man holding a tiki torch saying we should nuke downtown Atlanta. Nazis are one thing. They are the thing I struggle to describe as people, but they were and are people and we must remember the great evil people are capable of.

These are not the same thing. You can't just fling Nazi out like it's meaningless. To do so demeans not just the victims, but people still living. You belittle us. You belittle yourself. When you reduce Nazi to a buzzword you take away the sheer magnitude of the violence and loss they caused. Nazi is a word with meaning. It should hurt to say because of how heavy it is.

Have some pride. Have some dignity. Some grace. Have some respect for our lost kin and those that would have been our friends, for the strangers that would have been connected to us by the single thread of this group's hatred.

Give that word it's meaning.

This part is for all of us who have grown too casual with our language, not just her,

Stop calling people Nazis unless they are. Nazis aren't fairytale creatures or monsters under the bed. They're human. They're your brother, your father, your cousin, your next door neighbor. That's what's so scary about them. They're just people. Hateful people. They look like you and me. Look at what a Nazi is. Look at their beliefs. Look at what they did. Memorize it. We all must look even though it hurts because we need to be able to identify them and half of that is giving that word weight so when we see the danger we can name it. For our own safety.

It's time to demand better. It's time to have meaning. It's time to use our words and use them accurately.

[idyllcy]

crooked windows

word count: 1.5k || pt2 of sheer curtains

summary: What is there to miss if you're right there with him?

"How rare for us to be able to get a day off like this." Tim rolls down the windows to the car, sighing as you enjoy the light breeze.

"Well, we're in Spain for a reason. Might as well enjoy it." You hand him the water as you glance at the coast. "Don't forget to put sunscreen on. Don't want you burning and peeling skin."

"You're being dramatic." He huffs. "We're going to the beach house for a business meeting. It's not even a day off."

"The rest of the day is." You close your eyes to feel the wind. "We can stay back and just left the chauffeur know."

"I suppose. Did you bring beach clothes or something?"

"Maybe." You grin. "I brought you a change too. We can have dinner at the club."

"I thought you hated those."

"Not when you're dressed like a man in finance. Too bad you're not 6'5."

"Hey." Tim grumbles. "Don't be mean."

"I'm not." You huff. "You'd think all that stretching and gymnastics would go to your height, but nooo. Where did all that shit you were eating even go?"

"The stress of the two of us ignoring our soulmate bond." He grumbles. "I don't miss that awful feeling of the two of us being apart."

"Hey, you started it."

"Yeah, I did." He huffs. "Only cuz you suck, though."

You fake a look of offense, turning the other way as the rest of the ride is in silence. 

"I was kidding." Tim mumbles.

"You're the one who refused to stick around. Maybe you're just born to be a serial cheater."

"Hey—"

You roll your eyes, puffing your cheeks as Tim sighs.

"I'm sorry."

"Save it for after the business meeting."

You don't know how many people have accused you of getting the position because you were Tim's soulmate, but to be fair, it's not like you knew which son you were applying to be the secretary of. HR was in charge of all of that. You're pretty sure Tim didn't know it was you until Bruce had caught your name on a list of new recruits and told Tim to set things straight with you before he fucked up again. You're glad at least someone had a voice of reason in this entire conversation. 

You still fight though, you know, as normal people do. You wouldn't be childhood friends if the two of you didn't wrestle and tussle a little. It's only comedic when it's in the privacy of your shared vehicle. To the public, Tim has to keep up the appearance of a soulmate who nearly fucked himself over when he decided to ignore your warning. Something something soulmate propaganda something something no flaws in a system full of them, something something—

"We're here." The chauffeur nods. "Shall I come after the meeting?"

"I'll let you know in advance. We'll most likely stay a little while after." You hum. "And if I book the hotel we're meeting at, then you can come grab us tomorrow."

"Noted. Work safe."

"Drive safe." You step out of the car as Tim offers you a hand, and you smile.

You're never beating the publicity allegations.

"There's nothing after the meeting, right?"

"Mhm." You nod. "What's up?"

"Beach day sounds so good. If I remember right, this hotel has a good massage parlor too." Tim sighs. "Wine tonight?"

"Yeah, sure sounds like a night for me to be sipping on wine and not beer at a random parlor."

"Go figure. It is Spain."

"Can I get a beer in Germany next time?"

"Are you going to blow my card again?"

"Yeah." You lick your lips, grinning. "I'm blowing your card."

"That Birkin from me wasn't enough, huh?"

"No. It'd be better to give me mansions next time." You wave at the men at the table as you both step in. "Gentlemen."

"Why if it isn't the Waynes' golden secretary."

"Honored to hold that title." You have everyone settle down and Tim starts on the meeting. You've grown used to it. The men like pushing him because he's almost always younger than them, and if someone was the same age as him, then it was truly a fifty-fifty on whether or not they could hold their ground. Some like sucking up to the older men. Not everyone gets where they are because they deserve it. Most people are born lucky, you know, like Tim. You're not born lucky, but you suppose luck had a large part to play in your life. 

You let Tim take care of most of the meeting, your mind wandering off when you know he won't need you anymore, wondering if you'd get to actually relax at the beach. You'd probably end up talking to Tim the whole time and working out your problems again. Healthy communication but unhealthy habits. Maybe the two of you were just born to butt heads at all times. You still wonder if the two of you were really romantic soulmates or if the two of you just could not stay away from a toxic relationship. You know, the classic "but daddy, I love him!" moment for the both of you. God, the two of you need therapy.

"That concludes our meeting." Tim raises a brow at the men. "Any questions?"

The look he gives them indicates that he wants no questions at all. 

The men catch on enough, shaking their heads as they file out one by one.

"Please tell me we're staying here for the night."

"Just booked the suite. You wanna suntan?"

"And get burnt?"

"Bottomless brunch is too late, huh?"

"Bottomless brunch tomorrow, please. I have no meetings unless you scheduled one." Tim begs. "God knows I need it."

"Nope. We just have a dinner in the evening."

"Bottomless brunch tomorrow." 

"Yeah, yeah." You hum. "Ready to check in? Our luggage will arrive later."

"You really are abusing the privileges of being a rich man now, huh?" Tim clicks his tongue. "Did you bring my trunks?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, maybe 'cuz you hate me?"

"Tim, I don't hate you."

"I know." He mumbles. "I wonder if we could go back to how we were before sometimes."

"We're not children anymore." You follow him out, stepping into the lobby to check in, eyes focused on the way you get deja vu from the way he turns around. "Have we done this before?"

"When we were kids, once." He holds his hand out for the bag in your hand, and you comply. "We booked a hotel room overnight once because our parents were both gone. I booked the hotel and told the receptionist that we just needed a room for a night since we were all wet from the rain."

"Right, since taxis in Gotham never mean anything good." You mumble. "Do you miss it?"

"No. You're right here. Why would I?"

Tim's honesty is enough to surprise you, blinking at him like a deer in headlights as he continues walking. You wonder somedays what he got from keeping you around. You argued over everything because of the differences in the ways you've both been raised, and even if he had a visible soft spot for you in the vulnerable mornings spent tangled in each other's limbs, you wondered just why he kept you around.

"Tim."

You stop right where you are, staring at Tim as he raises a brow at you from the elevator.

"What?"

"Do you love me? Or are you doing this out of an obligation of being my soulmate?"

"We've been over this. Neither of us can love properly." He holds the elevator door open with one hand, pulling you in with a roll of his eyes. "I love you to the best that I can, though you deserve someone who can love better. You're my soulmate, and even in a world where you aren't, I'll still find you. There. Better?"

You roll your eyes.

"Timothy Jackson Drake, you suck ass at comforting people."

"Thanks, my parents were barely around."

"Did my mom not raise you better?"

"She raised both of us, and look where that got us."

You punch him, rolling your eyes as he cracks a grin.

"My mom has nothing to do with your shitty attachment issues. I came out just fine."

"We'll get through it." Tim hums. "Together."

"Awfully bold words coming from a guy who's been dating me for years and known me for even more yet refuses to pop a ring."

"A ring won't fix our arguing."

"This is arguing?"

Truly, it's not, which is exactly why the weight of the ring in Tim's back pocket feels so much heavier than it actually is. 

Not that he'd tell you. 

He'd just show you.

[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

[dreamingofep]

At Ease

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: kinda🤭

Prompt: Today is the day Elvis comes home from the army and you’re waiting for him with open arms. He wants to show you how much he missed you. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing/ tension, SMUTTT, oral sex, fingering, the usual really dirty stuff.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Hello everyone!

I love some army Elvis and he looks way too damn good to not write about him! Like who gave him the fucking right I hate it. This idea came with the help of @loving-elvis when we noticed how beautiful he looked in this interview and what fun could be had on that desk🤭 I purposefully put that bottom left picture on here for good reasons 🫣 Thank you @cryingabtab for the title name🩷

Again this man has me weak, I’ll never get over him so I hope you enjoy this little one shot and let me know what you think!

I also mentioned earlier that I'm also posting my fics on Ao3 so you can read my stuff there too if you want! The link is on my masterlist. Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

March 7th, 1960

Excited nerves rattled your body as you waited for the white gates to open to Graceland. These last two years have felt like a lifetime since the last time you saw Elvis. He left your life in such an abrupt fashion and you couldn’t believe they shipped him off to Germany so quickly. 

You had only been seeing each other for a few months before he was shipped off so it wasn’t a serious relationship by any means. You both did have a really nice connection though. One that was so easy you didn’t need to think about being a certain way with him or do anything that you didn’t feel was right. He just had this presence that calmed you, but also left you on edge with a tingly sensation running down your spine. 

He was just as heartbroken about the news of the draft as you were. His career was taking off and he was doing what he loved. Couldn’t help but feel he was cheated of the opportunity to do more, but he’s coming back home today and you know he’s going to make a big impact with whatever he does next. 

On his last day here in Memphis, you clung to his shoulders, not wanting him to go so soon. You had hope that things could go further with him but the draft might spoil those chances. 

“When I come back, if you don’t already have a man takin’ care of ya, will you be here waiting for me?” His voice cracking with emotion. 

You gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, trying to memorize how they look into yours. 

“Yes honey, I’ll be here,” you whisper. 

He cracks that crooked smile you love so much and kisses you passionately, flames building inside you. His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you in closer to his warm body. You feel your heart gallop in your chest, your body wanting him like never before. But it’s all too late, and the wonder of what could have been will haunt your dreams for the next two years. He pulls away and looks at you breathlessly. 

“If you want, will you be good for me? Stay untouched and everything,” he asks innocently with a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

You nod your head, squeezing his hand assuredly. 

Within these last two years, no guy has caught your eye, not the way Elvis Presley does. Your friends would set you up on dates with some guys but they always fell short compared to Elvis.

His daddy let you know a few days before that Elvis was coming home and he wanted you there if you weren’t busy. You were thrilled Elvis told him about you, giving you a glint of hope that he still has feelings for you. You knew you were playing a dangerous game though. Elvis could have found a new love in Germany and forgot all about you or he might want you again. 

The white gates slowly open and the black Cadillac makes its way up the winding driveway. Everyone that gathered on the steps of Graceland buzzed with excitement to get a glimpse of Elvis after all this time. 

The back door opens and out comes that tall, blue-eyed boy you’ve missed so much. He was wearing all black, his tan chest peeking out from his dress shirt that was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. A gold medallion hung from his neck and he flashed that million-dollar smile you had seen so many times in newspapers and magazines. His hair perfectly styled and drooping down onto his forehead when he moved. You couldn’t imagine a better looking man.

He gets rushed with hugs and kisses from his family members and you can’t help but feel the excitement grow inside you to get a hug from him next. His eyes dart up to meet yours standing there on the stoop of the entryway and he looks at you in awe. He politely parts from everyone and makes a beeline to you standing there. He looks you up and down, his eyes lingering places on your body longer than he normally would and it makes you blush. Elvis bites his lower lip as he smiles and shakes his head at you, “well goddamn. Aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. He wraps his arms around your torso and picks you up, giving you a big hug. You can’t help but squeal as he squeezes the air out of you. You giggle as you breathe again and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. He places a soft kiss on your cheek and sets you back on the ground, taking another look at you. 

“Is it possible you got more handsome?” You ask coyly. He grins down at you, not letting go of your waist. There’s an intense heat radiating through him, his eyes boring holes into your entire body.

“No honey I’m still just me. You on the other hand… my God you look so gorgeous. I really missed you,” he smiles. 

You can’t help but reach for his face, caressing it with your thumb, and look into those mesmerizing eyes. 

“I missed you too Elvis,” you say shyly. 

He reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers in yours. He looks back to the crowd forming and pulls you into the house, closing the door hoping no one will notice his absence. 

“Where are we going?” you say in a hushed whisper as he’s pulling you swiftly to the back of the house. 

“Away from everyone. I just want a second with ya before I get bombarded with people,” he says as he opens the back door and rushes into the back office outside. He closes the door and the stillness of the office brings a chill to you. Not only that, but the way Elvis feels around you is something you hadn’t experienced before. He feels so comforting and at the same time, dangerous? You can’t really put a finger on what it is but something has changed about him. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing either, it’s just overwhelming and makes you want to sink to your knees. The confidence that he carried now shined through him like never before. When he left, he was still trying to figure himself out, the fame blinded him and he was still a little shy kid from Tupelo. But now, the confidence he carries is so… attractive. You don’t want to get away from him.

Elvis’ hands find your waist once more and pulls you in to hug you, leaning down his face into the crook of your neck. A chill forms all over his body as his skin touches yours. 

More… your body screams. 

Your brain races a million miles per second and you try to calm yourself down. 

He sighs softly and looks back at you, almost unsure of what to say. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want anyone else waiting for me,” he coos, tucking your hair behind your ear, showing your face to him. 

“I wouldn’t have missed it, honey. It’s been too long,” you say, your hand snaking up to his soft hair. 

A new tension forms in the room and your heart pounds because of it. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye the more he looks at you. A look of want? Need? No, lust. Raging, burning, lust when he stares at you. He parts his lips and subtly licks them, his eyes looking like they’re intoxicated. 

“Baby?” He murmurs. 

“Hmm,” you say dreamily. 

“I need to kiss you,” he says as his breathing starts to hitch. 

Your hands grab onto the front of his shirt and pull him in closer. 

“Well what are you waiting for,” you whisper, pulling him into you and reaching up to kiss him. 

His soft lush lips press into yours and you could swear this is what heaven feels like. He breathes in deeply as he goes for another kiss, heat coming off of him in abundance. Your hand wanders over his chest, feeling the soft little hairs that lay there. His lips continue to devour yours, putting his hand on the back of your neck, making a soft airy moan slip from your lips as he deepens the kiss. 

Elvis likes this response from you, letting a moan of his own come out and he pushes his hips into your body. Your heart dances wildly, relishing in this new sensation he’s giving you, feeling his member grow hard with need. You gasp when you feel his bulge and your core begins to throb. 

You look up at him breathless, needing more of him but not too sure what to do next. 

“Oh honey,” he mutters, his hands grappling at your dress, scrunching up the pretty tulle fabric. 

“Elvis… I-I-I want you… you feel good,” you stutter out. 

A cute coy smile appears across his face. 

“You feel even better baby.” He says cutely. 

He walks you back toward the desk, lifting you up and sitting you down on the cold surface. He steps in between your legs, causing you to spread them apart more than you normally would. 

“Baby uh,” he stammers. 

“What honey?” 

“Have you been good? Staying a good little girl for me?” He asks. Heat rushes to your core as you realize what he’s asking of you. 

“Mhmm, yes honey. Been on my best behavior,” you assure. 

A little smirk forms on his face and he grabs a hand full of your dress up, moving it above your knee and stopping there. 

“Can I see? Can I feel how good you’ve been?” He says low, his voice dripping with temptation. 

Wetness pools in your panties and there’s nothing more enticing than having Elvis touch you. You want it so bad it feels like you can’t breathe properly without his skin on yours. 

“Yes, you can touch me,” you squeak out. 

He lifts your dress up higher, exposing your white cotton panties that now had a wet stain on them. He sees the stain and his eyebrows shoot up and he hums to himself in contentment. 

He loops his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you lift up your hips to help him get them off of you. 

You’re left exposed there on the table not sure what the state of your pussy might be looking like but based on the way it feels, it has to look a mess. He crouched down to get a better look at you, spreading open your folds with two of his fingers and seeing the wetness spilling out of you. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Someone’s been a very bad girl,” he tsks. 

Your whole body feels on edge and a bit embarrassed, but you know Elvis wouldn’t make you feel bad about this sort of thing. 

“I’ve only been bad since you drove through those gates,” you stammer. “Just the sight of you has me dying…”

“Oh I see honey… can I feel how bad… how bad this pussy needs attention” 

Your heart thumps wildly and you are so magnetized to him and his gaze. You never want him to stop looking at you like this. 

“Yes, please touch me,” you whimper. 

He leans into kiss you, his tongue entering your mouth and tangling against yours. You pull him in again by his collar and moan. He slowly pulls away, his eyes looking at you ravenously. 

Elvis places his index finger on your lips, rubbing it along your bottom lip. 

“Open your mouth and lick,” he instructs. 

Your breathing hitches and you nod your head, opening your lips apart and letting him push his finger in your mouth. You lick his long finger, swirling it like a lollipop, getting most of it wet with your saliva. You grab onto his wrist and continue the motions as he watches you intensely. A deep guttural growl comes out of him as you look up at him with pleading eyes, watching him come undone with this one small act. 

He slowly pulls his finger out, traveling down to your wet heat. His finger gets in between your slick, wet, folds and he cusses when he feels how soaked you are. He rubs it back and forth a few times, giving you a new shocking feeling and increasing the throbbing sensation that has formed there. His fingertip finds your entrance and he carefully plunges it into your core. You gasp, never having been penetrated before and unaccustomed to anything being inside you. His finger feels so long inside you and your walls hug it taught. Your mind races with the thought of what his dick could feel like inside you. If his fingers were long… surely he had something to hide in his pants. 

Elvis moans when he gets knuckle deep inside you, grabbing onto your thigh and squeezing it with his other hand. 

“Fuck honey, this pussy feels perfect. I want to be inside you so bad,” he moans, his finger curling up and pushing up against this spot inside you that could make you scream. 

“Mmm, oh god yes,” you moan, bucking your hips into his hand. He gives a pleased chuckle as he watches you grind more, figuring out what feels best. 

Suddenly, a group of voices start to get closer to the office and their footsteps become louder. You freeze, your heart sinking to your stomach as you don’t know what to do.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself.

He carefully pulls his finger out and licks all the slick that’s gathered on his finger. He moans when it hits his tongue and his eyes roll back slightly. 

“Mmm, taste so sweet honey. We’re gonna have to wait though, the reporters are coming, I need you to hide,” He says controlled. 

“What? Right now? Crap, where should I go?” You say in a bit of a panic. 

He pulls your dress down as the voices become louder, “get underneath the desk baby. Don’t make a sound,” he says as he leads you to the back of the desk and covers the back of your head so it doesn’t get hit. You crouch down and get in the corner of the desk, bending your knees up to your chest and try to control your breathing. 

The door bursts open and a bunch of men’s voices fill the small office. You hear camera bulbs flash and everyone trying to get Elvis' attention. 

“Elvis right here!”

“Elvis how’s it feel to be home?!” 

“Elvis turn to the left please!”

You hear his father’s voice telling them to calm down and ask questions one at a time. 

Elvis is quiet as they snap a few pictures and then he goes to sit down behind the desk. You see his legs move the chair aside and sits down, spreading his legs open and pulling his slacks up. 

You stare at how he’s sitting like he’s just teasing you in your helpless state. He leans forward on the desk, waiting for the reporters to get organized before they ask their first question. There’s little light coming through but your eyes get drawn to his crotch. There you see the outline of his hard member, pressing against his leg. You have to place your hand over your mouth from the gasp you wanted to make. He was so much longer than you could have ever anticipated and that growing need of having him inside you grew immensely. 

The throbbing grew inside you and you squeeze your legs together, needing some relief. You pray that this interview isn’t an hour long or something because you’re going to be in agony by then. Elvis starts answering questions very nonchalantly, his smooth deep voice bringing a zing to your core. His southern inflection on certain words makes your heart leap out of your chest. How can he be so sexy just doing the bare minimum?

His foot rubs against your leg, rubbing it up and down as he sits back and swivels his chair side to side answering the questions. 

Your hand snakes up his pant leg and you squeeze his calf. His leg tenses when he first feels you but then relaxes. Your fingers rub slow soft circles on his toned leg and he starts to move it. You’re not sure if he’s moving it out of nervousness or out of distraction but you can’t keep your hands off of him. 

The next question has you at attention and you stop rubbing his leg. 

“Elvis, did you find anyone special over there?”

He chuckles amused by the question, “No no I didn’t. I did meet this one girl… but it was no big love affair or anything. They just took some pictures when I was getting on the plane that’s all.”

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful he wasn’t madly in love with someone else overseas. But right now it honestly didn’t really matter, he wanted you and was wanting to make love to you and your body craves him. He scoots the chair in some more, leaning on the desk waiting for more questions. Your hand travels further up and finds his still hard length. The heat radiates off of him and it makes your mouth water. You rub it gently, up and down, feeling his body stiffen when you put more pressure. He clears his throat as he answers the next question and pushes the chair in even further under the table, giving you better access. 

His hips subtly rut into your hand and your need for him grows when he does this. You never thought you could make him feel like this but you have him all in your hand and based on how he’s moving, he’s loving it. 

You feel your wetness seep out of you and run down your leg. You were turned on like never before and needed him to pour all of his attention on you.

More…. Your body continues to scream. 

Your hands move up further until you find the button of his pants and slowly slide down the zipper. 

He puts one of his hands on his thigh and scrunches the material of his slacks in a frustrated manner. 

You make sure not to move too quickly to not give any attention to what’s happening behind the desk. Your hand reaches into his pants and pulls out his hard length. You press your lips together to hold make the moan you want to make as you stare at his cock. 

He was much longer than you thought and part of you is nervous to have all of that inside you, but on the other hand, you are so unbelievably horny for him, wanting him to stuff you to the hilt with it. You feel the tip of him leaking with a clear fluid. Your thumb swirls it, spreading it along his head and his hips jolt forward, making it seem like he was just adjusting in his seat. 

Your hand starts to slowly jerk him, feeling the heat of him in your palm like a hot rod. You feel so dirty for doing this but love that it’s with Elvis and it seems he’s enjoying it. Another really bad idea comes into your mind. One that you’ve only ever heard of from other girlfriends and right now, it seems like a really good idea. You want him in your mouth. 

Your heart continues to gallop, almost sure that everyone can hear it in this room. You decide to go for it, and pull back his foreskin and swirl your tongue on it. The clear fluid tastes salty but your mouth waters for more. You wrap your lips around him and put more of him in your mouth. You hear him take a deep breath in as he answers the last question and try to maintain his calm stature. 

Your wetness continues to pool more and the throbbing becomes almost insatiable. You try to not make any noise with your mouth but it is difficult. You have to take it slow and based on Elvis’ hip motions, he’s liking it. 

The reporters thank Elvis for his time and people start to file out. A few of them hang back trying to get another question in but his daddy escorts them out and informs them the interview is done. 

“Daddy, please let me be alone in here. Don’t let anyone in. I need a moment to myself,” He says calmly as your mouth takes more of him. You hear his audible gasp and clear his throat again. 

“Sure son, no problem,” He assures. 

The click of the door closes and Elvis stays still, making sure no one is going to come in. He moves his hips away from you and you release his length from your mouth. He stands up and swiftly goes to the door, turning the top bolt. You hear his footsteps come around the desk and he pushes the chair away from it. He reaches his hand underneath the desk and finds your arm and pulls you out from underneath. 

He has fire in his eyes and looks so unbelievably intense. Taking the back of his forearm, he wipes the desk off clean. Papers fluttered into the ground and paperweights made a loud thud when they hit the carpet. 

He picks you up underneath your arms and sits you down firmly on the desk. Your eyes wander down to his open slacks and see his length in a better light. You softly moan when you see it, veins protruding from his shaft and the head of it peeking from his foreskin, red and glistening with your spit. 

He places his hand on your chin, making you look up into his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ woman, look what you’ve done to me,” his head shoots down to look at his length. He doesn’t let your head move and you just have to wait for what he wants to do next. 

“That stuff you were doing was very bad… I liked it a bit too much,” he says devilishly. 

“Oh yeah? I wasn’t sure but… I’m glad you did. I really liked it too,” you say timidly. 

His hands squeeze your thighs, spreading your legs open and pulling up your dress to rest his cock on your folds. You gasp at the sensation and he moans deeply. He takes his cock in his hand to rub the tip of it on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasp and claw at his arm, cussing underneath your breath. 

“God you’re so wet honey,” he groans as his length gathers more of your arousal on him. He watches you intently, seeing how your eyes cannot be taken away from his length. He chuckles inwardly and continues to tease you. 

“You see something you like?” He asks deviously. 

Your breathing quickens as you continue to watch him rub his length through your folds. 

“Y-y-yes Elvis I umm… oh God,” you pant, letting these euphoric feelings wash over your body. 

“What baby, what is it? Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he tantalizes. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet with what you’re about to say. “I just… umm… I didn’t expect you to be so… so big,” you mutter, looking back up into his eyes. 

A soft smirk forms on his face, “it’s gonna feel even better inside you,” he coos. “Are you ready for me? You want me to take care of you?” 

Your head feels like you’re on a cloud and drunk on him at the same time. 

“Yes please,” you mewl. 

He pulls your dress up off your body and pushes you back on the desk to have you lie down. The cold surface hits your back and sends chills through you as Elvis looms over you. His hands squeeze your breasts and another bolt of lightning travels through your body to your core. 

He lines himself up and pushes the tip in, making you cry out. He grunts when he tries to put more inside of you. 

“Fuck honey you’re so tight. You need some help taking me.” He says pulling out of you and placing two fingers on your clit and rubbing there. You let out another needy moan as he works you. He coats his two fingers in your wetness and carefully pushed them inside you. 

“Ohmygod,” you cry out and your head pops up off of the desk to watch him finger you. He curls them and feels out your fluttering walls. 

“Yes baby that’s it, keep nice and relaxed for me,” He beckons. His fingers reach places you haven’t even known about, making the slick between your legs grow even more. You begin to rut into his hand, letting your instincts take over and get the most pleasure out of it. 

He groans when he watches you, almost looking envious of his fingers with how good they’re making you feel. 

He quickly pulls them out of you and you moan with feeling so empty. 

He lines himself up again against your weeping hole and looks at you, he sees your pleading eyes wild and lust-filled. 

He pushes himself in and groans heavily, your wet heat wrapping tightly around him. You cry out for him, feeling the searing pain and pleasure filling your body. He keeps a slow pace, pushing in more of his length with each thrust. You watch as he pulls out his cock and see your wetness cover it, then get buried back inside you. It’s all too much, the sensations that he brings to you are like nothing you’ve ever experienced or thought you could experience. 

Elvis hisses as he moves faster, “goddamn honey, feeling so good. Squeezing my cock so tight already,” he slurs. He grabs onto your hips and starts to drive into you like this. You moan louder, feeling the pain sear through you. 

“Elvis please,” you cry. He rubs one of his thumbs on your clit and moves it in fast circles.  

“You’re doing so good honey. Almost there,” he says as he pushes the rest of his length inside you making both of you groan. 

“Oh god Elvis yes,” you moan. Pleasure slowly starts to seep through your veins and tightens the coil in your belly. He moves his hips faster, hitting all the right places and making you feel so good. 

His face looks gorgeous like this, so concentrated on you but so lustful. He makes the most delicious noises when he takes you, grunting and panting for air as he stuffs you completely. His eyes are glued to his length going in and out of you and how each snap of his hips makes you moan even louder. 

The pain subsides and all you can feel is mind-blowing satisfaction. You sit up on your forearms to look at him fuck you, your coil tightening by the second. His hips pound into you harder, rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, bringing you closer to orgasm. 

His eyes drink you in and suddenly stop when he looks at your belly. He cusses and places his hands on your lower belly, putting a new pressure there making you feel so full. Every snap of his hips drives you wild and you’re so close to screaming his name. 

“Look baby, look how deep I am inside ya,” he grunts breathlessly. He lifts his hand and you can see the poking of his head pushing up on your lower abdomen. You moan deeply, unable to take much more. The squelching coming from between your legs makes Elvis take you faster, wanting to take you to the edge. 

“Fuck Elvis, that’s so good,” you gasp, placing your own hand on your belly to feel him inside you. 

He growls, too far gone with lust raging through him, “Oh honey, takin’ me so good. You’re gonna make me cum,” he groans. 

He leans down to suck on your breast, licking and biting at your nipples. Your walls flutter and you know you’re going to cum. He sees the panic and pounds into you harder, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“Come on baby, let yourself go,” he pleads.

You throw your head back and scream for him as your walls squeeze around his girth. Your entire body radiates with pleasure and you can’t catch your breath with how he’s taking you. 

He moans your name too, barely able to contain himself while he’s inside you.

“Goddamn baby, I need to cum…” he grunts through his teeth, his hips becoming sporadic and his strides uneven.

He abruptly pulls out of you and jerks his cock in his hand. You watch as white-hot spurts come shooting out of him and into your belly. You watch in awe as he comes undone in front of you, probably one of the single most hottest things you had ever seen in your life. The way his eyebrows furrow together and opens his mouth before letting out the most satisfying-sounding moan you’ve ever heard.

Elvis pants over you, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaning onto the desk with one hand. You look up at him in a daze, unable to comprehend what has happened within this last hour. Your body feels weak yet floating on a cloud. You have no idea sex could be that good let alone it being your first time. Those famous hips put in the work and left you breathless. You look down at the pool of his arousal sitting on your belly, and back up to him.

“Was that okay for you honey? Did I do a good job?” He asks innocently. You nod your head yes quickly, almost laughing that he even had to ask you that. 

“Oh yeah honey, you were… God I have no idea what to say, It was so damn good,” you gush.

A smile forms on his face as he looks at your body again, “Good baby, I loved it too. I couldn’t get enough,” he teases, wiping your belly off with a tissue.

“Well umm… I’m free for the rest of the day…. If you decided you wanted some more of me,” you tease.

He lets out a little chuckle and his eyes light up, “I might just have to take you up on that,” he coos.

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Tagging 🖤: @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticlOver @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7

[therealslimshakespeare]

i was thinking about what late night talks with bucky would be like (call me crazy), and it got me thinking:

other than dying (though arguably some are not afraid of dying), what do you think some of the mota men’s greatest fears are? i could write a hundred essays on each of them, they all are so different!

Gosh, this is an incredible ask and it got me thinkin. Too hard, probably. And while I didn’t summarize thoughts for everyone I did think of them for Bucky.

So much so I wrote a little blurb on it. Sorry Nonnie if you’re not even into this universe, I totally get it but I found fic to be a more enlightening method for exploring this. I wanna hear those thoughts of yours! Send them, I beg!

Greatest Fear

They got a bit existential as the weeks went on and their nights got more conscious. Ida and Bucky’s minds grew restless in the cold now that their bodies were healing. Huddled in their bunk they had debated baseball vs football endlessly, and argued regarding the accuracy of each other’s training anecdotes, the morality of mobsters and who was the better boxer: Braddock or Baer.

They’d ended up talking of the war, and both being sick of the dead end that the question of the future brought, they circled back around more concrete -if troublesome- thoughts. Most hairy landings, worst sounds either heard from their crew over the radio and what flashed across their minds when they had to finally press that abandon ship control.

And finally, Bucky ended up asking her what her worst fear was. And when Ida didn’t have it readily to hand -too used to suppressing any such thoughts even to her own self- he clarified: “Besides dying, I mean. If you’re even scared of that. Knowin’ you, maybe you aren’t.”

“I’d rather not.” she admitted.

“So? So what gets you scared?”

“This your way of fishing for another ghost story?” Ida teased.

“No. Just feels like sometimes you gotta remind yourself what it’s all about. Scared of dyin’ means you like livin’ enough to rather not stop. That sorta thing.”

“You’re saying love for one thing drives fear for another.” She summarized.

“Dunno. Just mullin’ it over.”

“I’d go through anything not to lose John.” she conceded, “Funny enough I’m positive he feels the same, so what a snarl.”

“I know he does.”

“Yeah.”

“If they put a gun to Buck’s head I’d tell ‘em Roosevelt's address and his favorite drink order, too.” Bucky expounded, tongue loosened by her tiny admission of frailty. “And he’d hate me for it.”

“All different kinds of loves out there.” Ida murmured consolingly, thinking hard on how her brother had been in a rage at her condition when he first saw her, and yet one of his first questions was whether she’d given anything up. Her Johnny knew she couldn’t live with herself if she had and he wouldn't've wanted her to. And nothing about that struck her as cold. Just as Bucky’s dangerous devotion to Gale didn’t strike her as weak. Just different.

“I saw a train.” Bucky began a thought but his voice died out with such finality Ida wondered if he’d ever pick the subject up again. But after a long moment he did, with some far away quality present in his voice that she’d never heard before, “On the way here. We were on one set of tracks and it was comin’ up the other.”

Ida had memories of trains, a lot of them. Going south all alone, first trip down to the uncle and aunts during the worst year of the depression. Old enough to know her own folks couldn’t support her, old enough to question how a ticket could be arranged but not supper. There had been trains that took her to training in Texas, then on to Iowa and Nebraska. Trains that took her deeper into Germany. One entire train car just for herself and too many German soldiers. Then the train that took them away from Ravensbruck. Ida felt an unsettled anticipation around trains that the peaceful rightness of flight had never caused her.

When Bucky mentioned trains and didn’t go on, Ida folded her hand into his huge one and squeezed it tightly. “What about those trains, John?”

“Heard ‘em before we saw ‘em.” he clarified, nodding his head conversationally as he was want to do, like he was gaining momentum towards a hard saying. Ida braced herself, squeezed just a little harder. “Not the engines, the screams. Car after car, and nothin’ but arms and faces reachin’ out. Screaming.”

Bucky’s bruised eyes were fixed, downcast gaze somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, but Ida knew he was seeing something far away. “I think I saw where they take them.” she muttered before she even had time to weigh her contribution to this horrid tale.

His eyes focused again and he looked at her with silent inquiry. “They took us to a labor camp first. Before here. Apparently one of the nicer ones, they had intentions of treating us as civilians.” Ida had been preoccupied with her aching body and her sharp terror of failure while at Ravensbruck, but not so much as to not notice the haunting vestiges of humanity answering roll beside her. “I felt like I was in Hades, the cold hell. Where the living damned can peruse each special misery waiting for them when they die. Called it a labor camp but I don’t know how skeletons like that could produce anything. Last bits of human resilience used to put together some industry to keep their oppressors fed, equipped. What an end.”

“Scares me shitless.” Bucky replied vehemently, and Ida realized they’d gotten full circle in their talk, that he’d dragged more out of her than she ever intended. Somehow neither his statement of fear nor her own felt weak in the moment. “That folks could get so hard they could do that to each other -I don’t know what to do with that, Ida. How’s it get to that point. Why’ve you got Fritz and then you’ve got…that? Same country, same sauerkraut, same uniforms. Scares me shitless.”

MOTA taglist, I only have one so ignore if this is not the universe you signed up for:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

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@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

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@piastrinho

[venriliz]

10 random facts about me

got tagged by @druidberries @alientown @papermint-airplane TY <3

u literally tagged the most boring person but that's probably what half of all people think of themselves, huh? °-° i might regurgitate some of the facts i used for my introduction post in the sims of tumblr community. i wrote a lot so i'll put a cut with the facts below here. °-°

my birthday is the 4th of july and when i was a kid (prolly like 5 or 6) i saw an american parade on the news on tv. after i asked my dad why these people are celebrating he literally told me that they're celebrating my birthday °_° i believed for several years that americans celebrated my fucking birthday bc i wasn't aware of independence day existing lmfao. my dad just loved fooling me V.V he might be dead but i'm still holding that grudge lol.

i'm kinda lucky to be alive i guess? when i was a kid i was hit by a car in what we in germany call "Spielstraße" which is kinda like a street in dense neighborhoods where kids are allowed to play freely and cars aren't allowed to go faster than 7 kph/4.3 mph. i don't now how fast the driver was but it probably was something around 30 kph/18 mph. i didn't have very bad injuries but still °-° i could've died.

i was a typical horse girl as a kid (i still like horses but i'm not riding anymore because i'm a very old 20-something with knee problems lol) and i was fucking INSUFFERABLE abt it.

i don't want to have kids or get married. i'm not one of those people who hate children like i love my nieces and my nephew BUT i have a lot of mental health issues and can't possibly take care of another life if i can barely take care of myself properly, right? marriage to me is just a weird concept. i can totally respect people getting married and if i'm invited to a wedding i'm obviously attending but i personally can't really subscribe to the idea of binding myself to someone with a piece of paper and it then being such a stupid process when it doesn't work out. also... it costs too much money lol

i have kind of an affinity for finding missing pets (i also photograph every missing poster i see so i guess that helps with recognizing them?)

i was NOT good at school like i kinda sucked and i can probably blame a mixture of mental health issues, trouble at home and also being a lazy teenager that just wasn't really built for school life lol. i barely managed to get the "Mittlere Reife" (if you're german u know what i mean. i could explain what that means but explaining the german school system would take years). english, german and biology were my only good classes. i absolutely hated math like we're lifelong enemies.

speaking of germany, i am from germany or to be more specific from the most northern region nearest to the danish border and i LOVE living here. the north and baltic sea are close to me and people here are usually quite chill. the only thing i don't like that much abt living here is kind of the regional cuisine bc a lot of it is fish and i don't like eating fish T.T

i HATE going shopping (i'm an online shopper °-° EMP my beloved) and my friends just don't take me with them on shopping trips bc they know i'll kill the mood by complaining like a child and wanting to go back home lmfao

the first sims game for me was the og Sims and i almost fried my dad's old ass pc playing it. my first vivid memory of the game was noticing that here and there random houses appeard out of seemingly nowhere. the goths got a new house that didn't fit their vibe for example lol. years later my dad told me that he used to play the game when i was sleeping and just built these houses lmfao. so i guess my dad was an og simmer oO.

i remember 9/11 (yes i'm old enough don't age shame me T.T). i was in kindergarten at that time and just came home from a friends house when the towers fell. i saw it on tv and even though i was very young i understood that a lot of people were getting hurt. definitely had an impact on me as a kid.

yeah that's it. i rambled a lot but yeah °-°

tagging @landgraabbed @olli-online @living-undead @moonwoodhollow @microscotch @crazy-lazy-elder-sims @aniraklova @tiallussims @skaterboi108 @faerun-s @cristalviper @none-of-these-days @fadingforrest @acuar-io @elderwisp @lilamausmaus @simpleratattack @azeterna @butteredfrogs @mmonetsims and everybody else who reads this! HA!

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 2: A Woofer In Tweeter's Clothing (The Louvre)

Another very solid album! I think I've heard some say that it's not really that good besides a couple standouts, but I must respectfully disagree!! More down-to-earth and less of a bag of delightfully mismatched oddities than its predecessor, yes, but that still doesn't really diminish its value in my eyes. Yeah, it doesn't really have many low points for me but it also definitely does have those couple of total classics that totally stand out (and interestingly, I realized while writing down my favourite songs that I could consider every single one on the first half of the album a favourite. Not that the second half is necessarily worse... but still interesting to actually have it spelled out and visible like that and be able to think about it). And all in all Woofer definitely continues with a very similar kind of feeling and imagery as the previous release so I'm definitely a big fan of that aspect! I really like this album a whole bunch and revisit it a lot. Just making it clear here... just in case... that yes, I do like it, even if I don't have that many specific things to sing praise about this time, maybe? Or at least not as loudly. Who knows!

But ok, there actually IS another very important thing I can't forget to mention about Woofer. Because this is THE impressive Russell vocal moments album for me, or maybe more appropriately, Russell making sounds that are both impressive and intriguing in nature. That defintely makes it stand out even among all the other early 70s albums (which also have their own fair share of such moments of course). But I'll say more on those specific moments below.

And also, continuing the topic of seasons associations here too (for as long as I remember to inculde these here, I might forget about it pretty quickly however, maybe it's just that with some later albums the associations aren't as pronounced and important! Yeah, it could be that), this album is totally autumny to me, a sunny and warm sort of autumn but when most of the leaves have already fallen down. For once it's not the exact moment when I started listening to it that becomes the associatied season, huh? But even then, I can still hear some elements of late winter / very early spring here as well.

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

Girl From Germany (this is just THE sound of the summer kind of song for me, it just makes me instantly happy. Which I guess is kind of funny considering its subject matter but that's just how it is with Sparks and I think we all got used to that at this point)

Beaver O'Lindy (!!!!! no explanation needed, right)

Nothing Is Sacred (suuuuuper underrated, I especially love Russell's entire... whatever is going on at the end here, it's one of my favourite moments on the entire album)

Here Comes Bob (this is silly but at first whenever I heard this song I always pictured the character Bob from Animal Crossing going on a little stroll so that definitely makes it funnier)

Moon Over Kentucky (another timeless CLASSIC. I don't even know what to say about it, it's just so good. And has plenty of those vocal moments too for sure)

Batteries Not Included (not... really a favourite but I still wanted to give it a mention, because I think there's something very cool and unique about it, even besides being sort of a funny little... ugh, I hate to use this word but, novelty?? song (I can't find a better word for this that doesn't come af sort of derogatory but I hope you can see what I mean with this haha)). Oh, and of course it's the first on the list of "short intro" type of Sparks songs, which I always find quite great and memorable whenever they show up over the following years.

[sunflower-author]

Hello 😁🤚🏻

I hope you are in good health and have a full spirit 💖

I'm having trouble getting in a writing mood and reading others story always make me happy. I've never really sent request before so this would be my frist, I hope it's not much trouble, and if you can't find inspiration for it, I'll understand if you can't or don't want to do it.

I was hoping you could write a yandere assassination classroom, the entire class of 3-E or just a few like Karma, Nagisa, Itona (anyone really) with a reader that couldn't care less about their yandere nature, and someone blurts out (do to feeling guilty) that they have been stalking them home and had taking some of their stuff (the class thinking reader will get mad) but reader just shrugged and say they already knew and that they need to work on their stalking because she figured them out on day 2. Gender doesn't matter, but if you do gender fluid that be nice if not anything else is good.

If you don't wish to write it, please say no◇

Please have a good day/night. ♡

SO SORRY!! This took much longer than I anticipated for!!

I really hope you like it!! If not please lmk on things I can fix!!!

Also, somehow this was a bit rushed too sorry!

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

"Hey Ritsu, are you connected?" Tomohito asks, sitting down at a desk beside her.

"Yes, the girls put the cameras in, there are no blind spots," Ritsu answers.

"Wait, no blind spots? Wouldn't that be... I don't know..." Kaede says worried.

"The cameras are only in their living room, we didn't put any cameras in anything else if that was what you were thinking," Tomohito says reassuring Kaede.

"Well we did put some listening devices, in some of the plushies we gave them, isn't that right? Itona?" Rio asks, putting an arm around him. 

"Making them was a bit tricky, but it was a lot easier to make than the cameras," Itona says, playing with his remote car.

"You guys are seriously trying too hard," Karma says, in a mocking tone having his dumb smirk, plastered on his face.

"Really now? and what do you suggest we do differently?" Ryoma asks, clearly annoyed.

"You all a bunch of babies, if you really loved Y/N you'll skip this boring stalking thing, and just take things into your own hands," Karma says, with a statistic smile.

"If we were to do that Y/N would hate us forever," Nagisa counters back.

"Really?, Because I think that if we keep them long enough, they will eventually fall for us, I mean humans are social creatures, needing contact in order to survive, with us being their only contact they will eventually fall for us, right?" Karma says explaining.

"Even if that were to happen, if we keep them isolated they might break, losing themselves then loving us, I don't want that to happen," Nagisa says seriously, looking up at Karma.

"A small price that might be paid," Karma says, shrugging "But if it were just me, they wouldn't break, but now that I am sharing the chances would be higher," he says as if the class were all just a nuisance.

"Guys! Shut Up! Y/N just walked into the building!" Hinata says, panting a bit as she just ran into the room.

With that, the room goes silent...

Until...

"Takuya I'm sorry, but I'm busy after school today how about tomorrow?" you say walking in the room. All eyes are on you, ".....Um.. Hey guys?" you say unsurely. 

The tension in the room faded, and they all started talking like nothing happened. It was a bit scary how the mood can change like a flip of a switch. 

"Hey Y/N! What were you talking about with Takuya?" Manami asks, in her usual timid voice.

"Oh just if I was able to hand out at the ramen place later on today, but I'm hanging out with Rinka and Ryunosuke later," you say casually.

"Heh, sorry Takuya but there are already three of us, maybe next time we'll invite you," Rinka says teasingly.

"Hey Y/N,  do you wanna come with me to the teacher's lounge? Korosensei just came back from Germany yesterday," Kaede asks, popping her head out the door. "Sounds fun and good, I'm in," you say excitedly, as you head out the door.

Takuya waits for your footsteps to become gone before saying "You just want more pictures of Y/N that's the only reason you and Ryunosuke, are taking them out," clearly annoyed.

"Oh whatever, you always like looking at the pictures in the end, just like everyone else," Ryunosuke says rolling his eyes.

"I.. just make sure they're good," Takuya says embarrassed.

"Your talking to the best snippers in class 3-E, we always have good visuals on our target," Rinka says, hearing the pride in her voice.

"I thought you guys said that Rinka and Ryunosuke stopped taking pictures of Y/N?" Manami asks worried.

"I... well... it's complicated," Hiroto says, trying to explain it to her, as he was the one who told Manami that they stopped taking pictures of Y/N.

"He obviously lied to you," Karma says blankly. "Your too empathic, we needed you to stop worrying over Y/N, knowing that you would break, telling them everything... well ruining everything for all of us," Karma says explaining.

"I admit that I'm not the best actor, but you guys didn't have to lie about Y/N, I care about them, just as much as any of you guys, I even made the drugs you asked for," Manami says, as he holds up a bag of different bottles.

"Wait... what drugs?" Nagisa asks, confused and curious.

"You know the the drugs, I made my own chloroform, something that calms the mind, something that weakens muscles, and lastly something that can make them sleepy," Manami says explaining.

"We didn't... Karma!" Nagisa says, angry by the thought Karma would do such a thing.

"So what if I was, I promise I won't do it alright, especially now that you know," Karma says as he puts his hands up.

"Hey guys! We're back," Kaede says, walking through the door. Signaling to everyone that you are nearby, it became a habit sometimes when they talk they become so engaged in the conversation, that they lose track of anything else, including your presence.

"Ah Y/N, just the person I wanted to see," Karma says, with a sweet smile. You know something is up when he smiles like that, just when does he normally smile sweetly?

"Karma... what do you want?" You ask hesitantly, staying cautious. 

"You know, we barely spend time with each other, most of the time you just hang out with everyone else... it seems like your avoiding me," he says hurt, clearly acting.

"Karma you know that's not true, everyone just makes plans with me every single second of the day, you know this, so what's your point?" you ask, wondering what he is trying to say.

"It's just that...don't you think it's a bit odd... that every day you have someone that wants to hang out with you, it's a bit abnormal behavior? Ever noticed how everyone treats you slightly differently? Or the fact that they know small details about you, that you've never shared before? Do you wonder why is that?" Karma says still smiling, but with a mischievous face.

"Karma..." Nagisa says, with a dark look, warning Karma.

"You messed up my plan, I'm just returning the favor," Karma says looking at Nagisa, then turns to you.

"Well, don't you?" Karma says in a smug tone.

"... I wonder why, on my first day of school, Rinka and Ryunosuke were following me home, I wonder why Kotaro somehow knows when I'm going to mess up on things, I wonder why Nagisa has a whole notebook dedicated to me, and lastly I wonder why you act so innocent when you are the worst one out of everyone, do seriously think I don't know that you hurt people that I talk to that is not in this class? And a whole lot more things of you and the rest of the class," You say, calm and collected.

"You knew this whole time?..." Nagisa asks with wide eyes.

"Anyone would have been able to see and know what you all were planning," You say turning to look back at him. (Any normal person would be oblivious to it all)

"Heh, I knew I couldn't fall in love with just any normal person, turns out you truly are unique," Karma says proud that you were conscious of what they were doing.

[0mega-x]

I keep thinking about the Bad Touch Trio and how... Well how it doesn't really work historically.

I'm especially talking about Prussia and France. These two should fucking hate each other historically, down to their core. Like, the Franco-Prussian War ??? Hello ?? WWI and WWII ?? Holy shit these two would have some GREAT PATH to walk through to get along after that. Even reconciling with Germany would be easier.

I mean- sure they happened to be on the same side at some points in History, and there was the whole enlightenment era, but apart from that, the two would be at each other's throat, from the French Revolution to the Napoleonic wars, the 1870 war that ended up in France basically loosing all potential allies in Europe to the newly formed Germany and ending up a bit isolated in Europe for a while (Prussia probably jumping from joy when this happens), the World Wars, the Versailles Treaty, etc... If we go by the headcanon that Germany was born in 1871 and that Prussia was the pain figure who raised him, then France would have more than a simple beef with Prussia (more than Germany).

As for Spain... I know way less about Spain's diplomatic history, I don't know how his relationship could be with th two. Maybe there was some resentment from France that the Franco-Prussian war technically started in Spain ? Maybe, maybe not, I don't know.

Now if we do exclude historical fact, the trio does go well together with their personalities and all. The fandom really did a great job when making these three a believe and very fun trio. Unfortunately, my mind loves history too much and cannot get around the trio being functional at all.

I might go into the whole 1870s to 1914 era for the major European powers and how they would be interacting with each other because the era is so interesting in terms of foreign policies and strategies.

Historical Hetalia will be the end of me. :)

[bloodycyrano]

Gifts I think the DAO companions would appreciate, outside of giftable in game items! (Pt1, I think this will be a long post if not sectioned)

Sten-

Incense and expensive tea, possibly imported. He talks about how he hates the smell of Ferelden, and misses home; Tea and incense being the most notable scents that stick out to him.

Cookies, or a good recipe for cookies. Everyone in the Fandom has had the dialog where Sten reveals that he enjoys cookies, and that in his homeland, there is no such thing. I think he would greatly enjoy a recipe to be able to bring such a thing back with him- Even if he may not be able to make them himself at home. My memory is fuzzy on qunari custom, but I don't think he'd be particularly allowed to bake.

A wardog of his own- I don't think he'd be permitted to keep it, upon return to the qun. But he has immense respect for Barkspawn, and I think if he were here in 2024, he'd be a great dog dad. I think he'd probably give it to his closest companion upon his return, but he would keep a detailed sketch of it with him always. He'd probably give it a specific title in his native tongue.

This is sort of a separate headcannon, but I think in a modern AU, he'd really like pumpkin spice lattes.- It's always the ones you would never expect.

Shayle-

Obviously, we know they like crystals. They like being pretty, and *sparkling*. So it's not too farfetched to assume they would appreciate gold ore or other shining metals fitted to some of their stone bits- Sort of like.. Magically grafted on with heat? Morrigan could weld them, or I'm sure Sandal could potentially do it.

I think, while they couldn't really read themselves, I think if you brought them books and such, they would enjoy hearing you read it to them. Especially if you manage to find some old records of their own lineage after the orzammar quest line.

I think they would also enjoy being given I big, stone bowl to keep shiny trinkets in- Like a crow, almost. Crystals, cute pebbles, coins, keys, etc. Pretty things for them to look at.

Leliana-

She would love it if you wrote her a poem, regardless of what it was about. I think she'd just be so happy you thought of her and wrote something lovely- I honestly think she'd love it even more if it wasn't the best quality. After all, that would mean you were inspired by her to write something of which you had no prior experience and still tried your best. She'd think it was cute.

I think she'd like it if you gave her one of your own personal favorite books or fables, with little notes on your commentary and theories. She'd love that, honestly.

A ceramic nug. No explanation needed, she loves Nugs. I've got animals I love, too. And if someone gave me a ceramic or plush critter of my choice, I'd be over the moon.

A little on the weird side, I think she'd like a type of porcelain harlequin doll. I can't think of the specific type, but they don't make them the same way anymore.. they're usually from overseas in Germany or Russia or France, you know? The ones that are really glossy and have beautiful line work in the paint? I feel like you found one in the denerim marketplace, imported from Orlais, and it would remind her of another experience she had there or even just of her time as a bard. After all, they weren't *all* unpleasant memories.

Alistair-

A golem doll. Like a little poppet. I don't think it's rare dialogue, but the other day is the first time I noticed it since I first played the game rented from a family video over a decade ago, so.. Yeah. Point is, Alistair mentions in front of "Wonders of Thedas", that Arl Eamon (I think) once bought him a little golem doll as a child, and how he adored it and wondered if there would be one like it at the wonders of thedas.

A griffon figurine. He's a Grey Warden, I think he'd like it. The wardens have always been his real home, and it's truly where he belongs. I think a memento of that is something he'd hold dear.

A book of poems about honoring fallen soldiers. I feel like it may bring him to tears, and perhaps make him confront some extra grief after ostagar, but perhaps it could also bring a sort of comfort. Maybe he isn't the most religious, maybe he has a bit of trauma from the chantry.. But I think he still prays, if only for the ones he's lost.

Again, I think he'd like a war dog. I'll never let him take Barkspawn, but he'd love a pupper of his own. If you gave it to him as a puppy to raise and train all his own, he'd probably be overjoyed.- Off topic, but I headcannon that all companions to the wardens have an extended lifespan, and live and die with their humanoid counterparts if they don't die in battle, kind of like the animal companions do with the avatars in ATLA. Far fetched, and backed by absolutely no real lore as far as I know, but I like to think it's true.

[pettytiredandjewish]

Are you pro-Israel or pro-Palestine?

I honestly don’t think it’s any of your concern but if you really want to know my “stance”, I’ll tell you. You may or may not like my answer but I’m at the point where I really don’t give a flying F. So here we go-

A little background about me-I’m not Israeli, I’m from the states but my great-grandparents on my mom side left Germany sometime a little before WW1 due to antisemitism (they were Ashkenazi Jews.) Not everyone left and the ones who did stay ended up in the concentration camps/ghettos during WW2. Honestly if my great grandparents didn’t leave Germany- well there is a high chance that I wouldn’t be here and that this family tree branch would be non existent.

I’m gonna be honest I’m a “zionost”. There is no safe place for Jews. A lot of countries made it known for many years and they are still making it known to this day. Not only is the land of Israel is considered holy (I’m not super religious but I do recognize and respect that it’s a sacred and holy site) but it is also considered a safe place for many Jews who had to leave their own homes due to all the antisemitism/hate/etc. I’m not an “anti-Zionist”. Did you know that one of Russian’s leaders during- I believe the Soviet Union created that term as a way to help destroy Jewish culture during that era? That term just rubs me the wrong way.

I constantly worry about my friends and family. I worry about mine and their safety. I have to keep looking over my shoulder when I leave the house or when I go to the store, it to work… I know my parents worry too and I know my mom is secretly happy that I attended Shabbat services via online. I don’t want to think about what would happen if something happened to me or to my family/friends. But I don’t hide my “Jewishness”. I love being Jewish- I’m not ashamed of it. It’s a beautiful culture but it also is sad too. The history is not all butterfly’s and rainbows. We (Jews) have suffered for generations but we also overcome everything that people throws at us. Are we traumatized? Probably yes, but we don’t give up. We work hard to keep our culture alive so that we can keep passing it down.

The situation in Israel and Palestine is/has always been messy. It’s like a pressure pot- every little issue and conflict has been cooking up for some time. And every once in a while someone will let some steam out- to help let out some pressure but if you keep it covered and not let out the pressure, well it’s all going to build up and explode. And il that’s what’s happening here. That’s what we’re seeing now. This is the aftermath.

So to answer your question- I’m “pro Israel”: I think that Israelites have the right to live there. It’s their home. They did not colonize it. It is also not an apartheid state. Really people- please read a dictionary to understand these terms that you keep throwing out. Gaza’s government has been unstable for some time and it did eventually fell to hamas control sometime earlier 2000’s(?) for those who don’t know and or still in denial about what they really are- hamas is a terrorist organization. They’re not a resistance group of freedom fighters “fighting to save their people” cuz they don’t give a damn about their own people. They a literally using their own civilians as human shields. They’re stealing resources that’s mental for the civilians and using it themselves.

Also quick question(s) but why is Israel getting blasted for defending themselves after Oct 7? Is anyone gonna call out the other neighboring countries for how they are handling the situation- why aren’t they opening up their borders for refugees? Also why are most of y’all blaming Israel citizens and well- Jewish people in general- i mean I know the answer to this (*cough* most of y’all hate Jews and are using this as a reason to unmask yourselves).

I honestly could keep going- I’ve mostly kept this to myself, so it’s building up, but to be “nice” I’m gonna stop there for now. I don’t know what your “stance” is and I really don’t care per se- the whole situation has been stressing me out like crazy. If you don’t like my answer to bad so sad- I’m no one’s “good Jew”. If you or anyone have any questions you can ask but if you say some antisemitic crap I will block you and depending on my mood- call you out on it too. Have a happy holiday.

Am Yisrael Chai

[cheemscakecat]

Emesis Blue Soldier’s Nightmare

So I’ve theorized that Emesis Blue was a shared nightmare, but I’ve neglected to talk about poor Solly in detail until now. I’ve mentioned what I think his nightmare was about, but not with evidence and important details.

TW: Angst, death, Soldier’s hypothetical trauma. [War is Hell for a reason]

So here’s what I think Soldier was afraid of, and why.

#1: Bad leadership

Unlike our boy RED Soldier, who was never allowed to join the military, BLU served in WWII. He’s an actual veteran that served in the army, not the Navy.

The American army that stormed Omaha beach had to make their way across Europe, and trench warfare was employed.

So we know Solly wasn’t lying/implanted with a false memory about military service.

That being said, a soldier is right to be afraid of bad leadership. If you have someone who cares more about the end goal than the men under him, or is too incompetent to come up with a good strategy, soldiers die. More than needed to, and the worst is when the leader is convinced he’s smarter than the people who have to follow his command.

He got chewed out in the sewer via grown man tantrum and blamed for literally everything that went wrong to that point. Even though Spy is arguably the one at fault for 85% of the bad plays.

And every time Solly does something really competent, that should show Spy that he’s a valuable, loyal teammate? It doesn’t matter. It falls on deaf ears and he’s still considered stupid, useless, and cowardly.

It never mattered how well Soldier did, Spy wasn’t going to respect it. And you never want a person like that leading other people to their deaths.

That being said, if Spy is afraid of becoming the worst version of himself like I theorize, then that would mean he was left open to serving the role of bad leader in Solly’s nightmare. They amplified each others fears and didn’t know it.

#2: America was never “the good guy”

The Tf2 comic takes place in 1972, and I place the shared nightmare after the unknown resolution to the 7th issue. That means the Vietnam war is still going on and being televised.

WWII was an anomaly of a war: there was a clear good side and bad side. In a lot of conflicts, both sides do terrible things at a pretty much equal rate, and the whole thing started over power or land disputes. WWII Germany was an anomaly in that it was clearly an evil power, and everyone could root for the other side.

And then it was followed up by the Cold War, and smaller proxy wars like Vietnam. It was televised, and the people of the USA saw in real time that the government was lying to them, that they weren’t “the good guys”. The grisly footage did not add up with the lies spread by the US government. The American soldiers of that war returned defeated and hated by their own civilian population.

It’s three years before the end of the war. BLU Scout may well have joined the mercenary team to avoid service in Vietnam instead of going to Canada.

Maybe Soldier didn’t feel ready to hang up his helmet, and wanted to at least know what he was getting himself into. BLU and RED don’t pretend to be fighting for a good cause, you get money for fighting some other guys so you can respawn and do it all over again.

It’s better to use a rocket launcher on a random RED merc who’ll be alive in an hour than to do what the American army was commanded to do in Vietnam. To civilians. Which was then televised and wised up the public about the truth. To this day, Americans don’t trust the government like they did pre-Cold War. You’re telling me Soldier wasn’t one of them?

Solly is a WWII veteran. He’s pretty likely to try to keep up with what’s happening in the Cold War. Watching that footage made him doubt that America was ever “the good guy”. That he and his fallen friends were ever really heroes.

This other soldier could be one of the fallen WWII friends from Doe’s Platoon, but I thought of another possibility. He’s a German soldier that our guy killed, wearing the American uniform. Because that death would be permanent, and if America was never really good, they’d have a lot more in common than Solly used to think.

Either explanation would explain why Jane keeps freezing up every time he sees the guy. But the fact that he befriended an enemy Demoman and the elongated Scout situation could both give credit to the German theory.

Demoman represented the fact that sometimes the enemy is not really an enemy, and you could have been friends under different circumstances. Elongated Scout represented the fact that war is kill or be killed, and sometimes you have to trade an enemy’s life for your own. Even if you really don’t want to. Everything was warped and staticky when the Elongated Scout was alive and chasing Soldier, and went clear again the second he was gone.

He also died twice to head wounds. The other soldier in American uniform had empty bleeding eye sockets. Soldier might have shot the German in both of his eyes during the war, and now he can’t forget the man’s face. Because at the end of the day, that guy was still a person, and they might have even gotten along if they’d been on the same side. [An actual story from a WWII veteran along the same lines of what I think Em Blue Soldier is dealing with]

#3: Russian Red Army

Stalingrad coming back over and over, scarier and colder each time could be the manifestation of Soldier’s feelings about Russians. In WWII, they were allies and in the Cold War both countries were using bloody proxy wars to try and avoid the nuclear option. But the Red army was brutal, and Soldier would know that from his time on the warfront.

The Germans tried to push their way into Russia to conquer it, committing unspeakable crimes on the way. The Red army pushed back and committed revenge crimes on their way to take Berlin. You can see why an American would be scared of what Russians are capable of.

That’s why by the end of the movie, Stalingrad is burnt and still trying to get revenge on Soldier. RED Heavy is anti-communist, but we have no idea what BLU Heavy believes. If he is a pro-Russia Communist, it would explain why Spy and Soldier planted him as a traitor in the early scenes of Emesis.

I think Soldier knowing firsthand how the Russian troops act would explain why he distrusts them while still questioning America’s honor. He got to see more of them because they weren’t shooting at each other during his war, unlike the German soldiers he had to kill. I think he also knows why America was the country that German POWs wanted to be sent to, and Russia was the absolute worst option for them.

[mdhwrites]

The Owl House Fans Don’t Know What Colonies Are

So this isn’t actually me firing shots at the show. This is about the meta commentary people like to use to elevate the show and it’s one of the most laughable to me. That it’s some grand, anti-colonial story because Belos is a colonizer and Luz stands up for indigenous people as one of them! I’ll get into the colony side of it but on a basic level, it needs to be pointed out that Belos is an American, not British. The closest he could be is one of those sent out to colonize for Britain but he was literally too young to have been a part of that decision when it happened if that were the case and those who colonized America... were treated as part of a colony to Britain. So literally he was a part of the oppressed or he’s post The War for Independence and America was never a colonial power, ESPECIALLY NOT BACK THEN.

Secondly... Just because Luz isn’t white doesn’t mean she can’t technically fall into the white savior trope. The point of that trope is just to talk about how much it sucks when an outsider comes in, makes everything better and fixes all the problems. Luz still ostensibly does that while not being a part of the culture or using the culture and its people in order to save them. Her glyphs are unknown to everyone except LITERALLY THE GROUND THEIR STANDING ON. So... Yeah, she’s not some inspirational story against colonizers. I think you’d have to write a VERY different sort of story for an isekai to be anti-colonial like that frankly. Oh, and we can’t forget that she’s literally blessed by a god because she has a viewpoint to their son that’s different from the rest of the Isles, the indigenous people, and is then empowered to go kill the ruler, who ostensibly the people approve of and chose to be there, regardless of the lies to why, because she does not believe in his methods or beliefs.

Which, you know, for either anti-colonial messaging or anti-Christian Fundamentalism is kind of yikes.

But neither of these matter because The Boiling Isles is NOT a colony. Not even close. The definition that the fans use to say it’s a colony, ruled by an outsider effectively, would have made RUSSIA a colony to Germany while Catherine the Great was ruling it purely because Catherine was a German. If that does not immediately make you cringe, you need to listen.

So as far as how they are ruled, what are the Isles? Well, I bring up Catherine not just because of the pointed joke. See, her husband also wasn’t Russian. He was a German as well but adopted by Elizabeth of Russia. When he became Tsar, everyone hated him and his policies, especially military policies, so much that they overthrew him and chose Catherine.

That’s effectively what the Isles is. They chose Belos as their ruler. Yes, they were deceived as to why he should rule them but they did choose it eventually. As far as we understand, he wasn’t a conqueror and he wasn’t even a part of a coup like Catherine was. Instead, after terrible deeds and the like, he united the Isles under his coven system, brought an end to an age and moved on with his life. His policies, besides magic, are even progressive in some ways because apparently children had no protection before Belos and then he added child endangerment laws. He ostensibly made the Isles a safer place with his guards who could respond to monster faster. The EC in fact, from the fact that they don’t do anything actually evil, especially compared to the populace, until almost S2′s finale with Labyrinth Runners (And I guess you could include Escaping Palisman but there’s extenuating circumstances there, much like how Eda is petrified for breaking the law. There’s more gray in theory to it.) That’s not how you run a colony... That’s just how you run your nation.

But of course that’s the case because the Boiling Isles literally CAN’T be a colony. See, colonies were made as a part of the concept of the Policy of Austerity. Each nation saw themselves as needing to be self sufficient, able to produce EVERYTHING required for civilization, without foreign aid. As such, colonies weren’t oppressed because of religious doctrine, that was propaganda, but out of necessity to that policy. After all, if your colonies have a real economy, they have less to give back to the mother land. You can’t tax them as much, you can’t regulate their trade as much, you can’t make sure their natural resources are going to you.

This is actually part of why the Puritans are the founders of America. They were annoying to the British so rather than dealing with them, they sent them to this weird, new world so as to bring back resources and get out of their hair. That’s also why Americans were treated maybe not quite as poorly as other colonies but we were still DEFINITELY a colony. We did not govern ourselves. Instead, Britain appointed our leaders and chose our policies. Otherwise, you know, we would have just gotten rid of the ludicrous tax on tea instead of throwing it into the harbor.

And if we want to talk more metaphorically about colonies... What culture did Belos push upon the Isles? Colonies would be made to adopt home cultures because that’s how the home country saw as the best way to rule and the best way to make the colony bend to the will of the homeland. If they act like British people, they will accept British rule more.

Except our one glimpse at the Isles is that they already look like they have the same fashion and architecture and commerce even as a Victorian era man. The architecture of the Isles literally doesn’t change between the past and the modern era, something the show actually does point out itself. Bonesborough as has a lot of the same buildings HUNDREDS of years later, there’s just more of them now.

Worse yet, the Titan is not Belos’ own religion. Ostensibly, it should be the Isles religion but they, reasonably, don’t know the Titan is alive. Belos theoretically doesn’t seem to either? Maybe? It’s inconsistent. But he establishes prisons instead of simply hanging those who do not conform in the present day. If they wanted to lean in on him bringing Puritan culture, there would have been a genuine purge of most of the Isles because of its rampant greed, self interest, art, stories, etc. that the Puritans were just very against because if it wasn’t about God, it died.

Again: The Puritans were so extreme, with such a stick up their ass, the BRITISH kicked them out of their country.

All of that would have hurt the fantasy though, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t be some effectively idealic fantasy setting. Even the dangers Luz faces aren’t the worst and a real fantasy fan would be sad to see them be gone because then you don’t get that bit of menace that comes from a good fantasy world. More oppression, more change, more shifting to an anti-magic world like Belos theoretically should have been for (remember: He only asks that you join the Coven system. He barely cares what you do with the magic after that) then you lose that part of the isekai fantasy.

It’s actually part of why Belos being a human, his statement of “You think I want conquest” being that he just wants murder, actually makes the show less interesting. Evil emperors are a dime a dozen. Any isekai protagonist would expect to be pointed in their direction and shot off like a rocket. A genuinely complex ruler though who is having to deal with balancing humanity with his religion and his duties as emperor? That would have been a GREAT wake up call to Luz to stop assuming things based on tropes.

Belos would have had to be more of a part of the show and a character in his own right for that. Or for any of this really. We would have to see how Belos contrasts against a member of the Isles more and he really doesn’t. Serving in his own interest? Got plenty of villains like that in the Isles. Not caring about murder or enslavement for his methods? Yep, that’s pretty normal, including Odalia frankly. Lies to get what he wants? I mean, fucking LUZ does that!

But he is the bad guy because he’s the evil emperor and no amount of backstory or supposed meta narrative is going to fix that fundamental, thematic failing.

==========

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[captain-mj]

Can we get some more Krüger beeing mean to Horangi? And then put in his place by König when he figures out what's going on? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

*cue the heavy breathing* Yeah! Of course! I am totally normal about this!

Horangi dug his hands into his thighs as Krüger sat next to him. "Thought about what I said?"

Horangi kept his mouth shut. He wanted to shoot him right here in fucking evac, but König was nearby and would be pissed if Horangi "started another fight". Krüger was good. Horangi would give him that. He always made sure it looked like it was Horangi's fault. It hurt a little that his boyfriend didn't trust him.

Okay, it hurt a lot.

"Listen, wouldn't I be better for him? We've known each other longer. I know how to make him happy. All you do is upset him."

Horangi dug his hands in tighter. He hated that Krüger was right more than anything. All he did was make König lately. For picking fights or agreeing to gamble. For being distracted, for not showing him how much he loved him, for making mistake after mistake with him.

Horangi hated that he was getting so worked up. The man just got under his skin.

Neither of them noticed König coming closer.

"You're pathetic. He'd be a lot better with me and you fucking know it."

König heard that one, going still right behind them. Horangi too stressed and wound up to notice and Krüger just wasn't paying attention.

"You're nothing but a recovering addict that ran away from your country because you were too much of a fucking coward-"

"That's enough." König surprised even himself with the venom in his tone. He glared at him. "You are not to speak of Horangi that way, ever. We are not and will not ever get back together. Seeing this side of you, I'm regretting ever being with you in the first place."

Krüger looked surprised, floundering a bit. "König, sch-"

"No! You are not to call me petnames. You are not to be so... so...." König threw his hands up. "Just back off!" He put himself between them. Anxiety was creeping in but more than that was his anger. Horangi had been telling him and he hadn't believe him. Had believed his lying bastard ex over his boyfriend. Oh he'd have to make it up to him. Candlelit dinners or begging. Horangi was weak to both.

"König..." Horangi grabbed his arm in warning. "We're in evac. Best we all sit down, okay?"

"You're right, my biene." That wasn't his normal nickname for Horangi, but it was one that was popular enough in Austria and Germany that Krüger would know what it meant. "But you will go elsewhere." The plane was small but it wasn't that small. He could find a place far away from König and Horangi.

König didn't wait for a response, sitting next to Horangi and pressing to his side. "I am sorry, I wi-"

Horangi leaned into him. "Thank you for coming in when you did. Didn't think I could hold it together much longer."

"I am so sorry I didn't be-"

Horangi cut him off again. "I didn't want to pick a fight in evac ya know? I ju-"

König cut him off this time. "Let me apologize."

Horangi paused before sighing. "Yeobo, I don't... want to hear them right now. I believe you."

König had a feeling this wasn't it. There would probably be talks in the future. How dreadful. But Horangi showed no signs of breaking up for the moment.

What if he did? Oh no. Had he perme-

"Stop spiraling, gongjunim. Seriously, it is okay."

König went bright red at the nickname, but it successfully jerked him out of his thoughts. "Okay..."

"What does biene mean?"

"Means bee."

"I prefer the other one you use."

"Mordkätzchen?"

"Yes. What does that one mean?" Horangi knew it.

König told him anyway. "Murder kitten."

"Murder kitten." Horangi laughed softly.