#thank you for the ask rooster!

[cool-island-songs]

7 and 19 for the writing meme owo

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

It's looking very eclectic rn, Rooster. Idk if there is a most pulled from artist, but I use lyrics for every single chapter title and most fic titles because I simply cannot name things. It's an impossible task for me and I hate it.

Ok actually I went through all my titles and chapter titles and this is what I've got so far, so Fiona wins:

Elliott Smith (x2), Tommy Genesis, Bauhaus, Fiona Apple (x4), Neutral Milk Hotel, Jclef, Depeche Mode, Portishead (x2), Ministry, SZA, Melanie Martinez don’t judge me leave me alone, Bettye Crutcher, Carly Rae Jepsen, Dinosaur Jr., My Bloody Valentine, Sonic Youth, Allie X (x2), SOPHIE, Cibo Matto, 10cc

me af at all times

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Oh, honestly, like every pairing. Twenny is my second fave after Creek rn so for sure some Twenny and I have two Creekenny fics in the works I'm excited about. But I want to write every ship I have any thoughts on whatsoever. It takes time because I spend a while thinking about new characters/dynamics before writing them.

Probably overly self-conscious/who cares, but I never want people to think the way I write a ship at a given time is how I see them in any fixed capacity. It's just what I'm interested in exploring at that moment with two fake guys. Fanfic is fun because you can explore so many different things with your fiction dolls

[squipdop]

some simple ref sheets for a "6 Years Later" AU i started working on a good long while back

the concept of jr counselor max is so important to me i have so many thoughts on this

[torchflies]

I can’t remember what fic it was but essentially mav couldn’t read very well (or he was dyslexic like I said I can’t remember) but he still read Bradley bed time stories but the stories were based off the pictures in the book. Would Jake do that with his swamp chickens growing up so they would have bed times stories?

Also how does slider ice and mav react to finding out Jake is dyslexic????

P.S. I love you’re writing ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much for the compliment, Nonny! 😭❤️

Oh he absolutely did that! Also all the Cajun stories he heard about while working with adults to get money, fishing and lifting heavy stuff, he commits to memory — he tells them the scary stories of the rougarou and feu-follet.

He wants them to be like ordinary kids, scared of things that go bump in the night, not people.

Jake copes with his dyslexia very well as an adult, most people don’t even notice his occasional stumbling over words that he spells or him taking a little bit longer to read something. His kids have never known anything different, so it’s normal for them for one kid (usually Mack) to do all the ordering if they go out, or to read street signs aloud. They just do it like second nature and eventually someone asks why… Oh, Ness has math brain and he’s tired so I figured I would read the sign so he didn’t have to double check.

Jake, turning bright red as he drives the crew around: She means I’m dyslexic.

It changes nothing and everything. 😉❤️ Suddenly every piece of paper Jake gets handed by Mav is at a lower contrast level so it’s easier for him to read. Slider will offer to read aloud a chunk of the big NATOPS Jake is studying. Ice won't give him directions like left and right, he’ll use specific coordinates or clock hands, or “follow the yellow car”. Bradley will proofread his writing without a single comment and Jake… is very confused.

[thebahwrites]

I just read spoonful of sugar and I fucking loved it so much (Jake is obviously a cat in person form how have I never seen that before???) but I also saw this tiktok right before I read it and I had to share because it feels like this would be Bradley and cat!Jake once they start to get along

It took me a MINUTE to respond to this and I'll tell you why: you sent this RIGHT AFTER I saw that tiktok and joked to Forsty about it, so anyway here we are, 10+ years into their relationship and--

(art from my boy @forsty) for: a spoonful of sugar (helps the medicine go down)

[the-insouciant-scientist]

To caoimhe; how many chickens could you take on in a fight before you're overwhelmed?

Caoimhe gets a bizarre look on her face. "D'you mean physically overwhelmed, or... uh... emotionally? No, okay, you probably mean physically." She says tentatively. "Hm." She turns away just slightly, eyes flickering over the ground as she takes a few steps in a loose half-circle. The toes of her boots sweep arcs into the dirt, as if pantomiming this theoretical fight. Every few seconds she tallies something up on her fingers, and eventually she turns back to you. "At least a dozen hens, depending on how angry they are, or three roosters." A slight gesture to her calf, although hidden behind leather and canvas. "That one isn't theoretical. Might be more nowadays, but I'm not keen to find out. Got enough scars from those bastards already."

[compacflt]

I'm so happy to hear you will still be active! Your content is my current hyperfixation. Would you be willing to write something in which Rooster is declared KIA or MIA during his estrangement with Mav and Ice? Or maybe even after they have reconciled? Very curious to see what outliving yet another Bradshaw would do to them. Whether you want Rooster to stay dead or be found alive and brought back is up to you! End it how you want I am just a fan of the way you display emotion in your characters while still keeping them canonically in character.

Again feel free to ignore this ask if you had rather not write it, I love your work and think you are awesome!

oh god that might literally kill me 😭😅

They’re super far buried in my blog, but I did write two “Bad Endings” this summer

This one is where Ice & Mav stay broken up after ~2002 (pulling rooster’s papers, Carole dying & related aftermath)

And this one, which might interest you, is where Mav & Rooster stay dead after the TGM mission & ice (never having told Maverick he loves him) has to come to terms with the rest of his life alone

(which i think is very fun to compare to the good ending which is now on ao3)

and to cleanse the palate, another version of the good ending :) ice being dad-shaped

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

made up fic title (kinda… it’s also a song☺️)

“Meeting the Master”

Thanks G! 💖 I'm not familiar with the song, but I still love the title! (sorry if I went a little nuts with this one 😅)

Jake wiped his hands on his slacks for the third time in the last five minutes. Tilting his head side-to-side, he rolled his shoulders to crack his neck. Then he wiped his hands on his slacks once again. Bradley reached over and took his boyfriend's (sweaty) hand and linked fingers with him. "Hey, it's okay. This isn't a big deal." "Not for you, it isn't," Jake muttered under his breath. "It's bad enough I had to find out years later that your 'dad' was the Maverick. And now this! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Bradley shrugged. "You didn't ask. Besides, how was I supposed to know you had some weird hero-worship thing for him?" "It's not... I just admire him greatly, that's all. And yes, maybe I had his picture in my dorm back at the academy for inspiration but there's nothing wrong with that." The look on Bradley's face said differently. "Dude..." Before Jake could try and explain himself further, the door to the office opened. Jake dropped Bradley's hand as he snapped to attention, though he was quivering as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Maverick was the first to exit the office. He took one look at Jake's stiff, sweaty appearance and shook his head, chuckling to himself. Then he stepped to the side and Jake's heart leaped in his chest. Standing before him was the man he had looked up to since the day he had decided he wanted to be a Navy pilot. Hell, he was half the reason Jake had made that decision. Though the man was older and more frail-looking than the pictures Jake was used to, there was no denying it was the same person. Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky. Bradley stepped forward and embraced the man. "Hey, Uncle Ice. It's been a while." Admiral Kazansky nodded with a smile as he returned the hug. Bradley had warned Jake about his uncle's cancer and how even though he managed to survive it, he had lost the use of his voice. But voice or no voice, Jake was still not positive this wasn't all just a dream. Bradley took a step back and motioned towards Jake. "I want you to meet my boyfriend, Jake. You might have heard about him, callsign Hangman?" Recognition lit up Admiral Kazansky's face, and he gave an impressed nod. Jake almost passed out right then and there. But his lightheadedness only increased as the man extended his hand. With far more enthusiasm than Jake intended, he grabbed the Admiral's hand and shook it vigorously. "Admiral... Mr. Iceman.... Sir. I can't tell you what an honor it is to meet you! You've been my idol for as long as I've been flying and I just... Wow! I still can't believe I'm meeting the master!" Admiral Kazansky smiled and raised an eyebrow at Maverick who was across the room leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Rolling his eyes, Mav muttered, "Yeah, I heard him, Ice. But don't get a big head. The kid almost pissed his pants the first time I met him too." "Actually," Bradley chuckled. "He threw you out on your ass at the Hard Deck the first night you met." Admiral Kazansky's hand tightened around Jake's for a moment and Jake froze, horrified at what the Admiral must be thinking about him. However, the Admiral's face broke out into a playful grin and he began to silently laugh, his steel blue eyes shining with joy. He slapped Jake on the back before wrapping his arms around both Bradley and Jake's shoulders and guiding them into his office. It was official. This was the greatest day of Jake's life.

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it

[ladywaffles]

Mav and Rooster for #13, please!

mav & rooster + nudging the other one

i still do not know the meaning of brevity. send me a pairing and a prompt!

It should be a joyous occasion.

The prodigal son has returned home. Neither he nor Maverick died on their mission from hell. Ice, with his non-existent immune system, survived a lower respiratory infection, which turned out to be pneumonia, which nearly went septic. None of them managed to start World War Three, despite the fact they were all grasping at straws by the end of it.

And yet…

Maverick, Ice, and Bradley sit gathered around the dining table. It’s the same table Bradley remembers from his childhood, pockmarked with Sharpie stains, key scratches, and one notable gash from the summer Ice taught him how to properly use a steak knife.

They’ve all taken their usual seats: Ice at the head of the table, Maverick to his left, and Bradley to his right. When his mother was still alive, she would flit between sitting next to Maverick and Bradley on a whim. She’d always say she never could choose between her two boys.

Dinner is on the table in front of them. Maverick pulled out all the stops and made a spread fit for a holiday party. A rib roast, roasted potatoes, garlic green beans, and a slice of coconut cake for each of them from Ellen’s Diner across town.

They sit in stilted silence, looking at each other. Ice is glaring at Maverick. Maverick is staring at Bradley. Bradley is resolutely trying not to make eye contact with Maverick. He does not dare look in Ice’s direction; Ice is the Iceman after all, and he can feel Ice’s cold gaze from his own chair, thank you very much.

Ice taps his fingers on the table. Bradley’s learned, in the weeks since he came home, that it’s how Ice gets Maverick’s attention so he can sign. Maverick does not look at Ice at all, continuing to have a one-man Western showdown with Bradley.

Bradley trains his eyes on the table. He can just barely make out the outline of his sophomore year campaign posters for student government, if he squints. He’d tried new markers that year, in hopes of sparing the poor table more Sharpie stains, but the ink bled straight through the poster board and settled into the wood, permanently.

Ice taps the table again.

Maverick raises his eyebrows at Bradley, then kicks his ankle under the table.

Ice signs Maverick’s name, adapted from the sign for pilot: a sideways I-love-you with the fingers facing out like bull horns, and each hand forming an M instead of the normally straight palms. Maverick kicks him under the table again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bradley sees Ice look up to the heavens, as if to ask for divine intervention to get Maverick to behave. Bradley bites the inside of his cheek. Ice knows better than anyone that Maverick lives up to his name. He might have mellowed out some with age, but he’s still Maverick at heart.

The F-14 that’s currently parked at North Island should be more than enough evidence of that.

Ice clears his throat and opens his mouth.

“Don’t!” Maverick whips his head to Ice. “The doctors said five more days before you try to talk again!”

Ice raises one perfect eyebrow, as if to say, Gotcha.

“Ice wouldn’t do that,” Bradley fills in, the words muttered under his breath. “He’s not stupid.”

Maverick kicks him again, but Ice looks pleased. At least one of you has some goddamn sense in this house, he seems to say. He feels the air moving as Mav winds his leg back, but he’s getting wise to his old man’s tricks, so Bradley beats him to the punch and sends the toe of his shoe straight into Maverick’s ankle.

Maverick smiles, a glint in his eye. Before he can act, Ice grabs both of their wrists.

The message is clear: knock it off.

“He started it,” Bradley says, throwing Mav under the bus.

“I did not!”

Ice rolls his eyes. They all know very well who started it.

“Why are you kicking me?” Bradley asks.

“Because when I went with you to get the replacement parts for the Bronco last weekend, you said you’d ask Ice what you told me when we had dinner this week.”

Ice turns to look at Bradley head on. He might be almost forty years old now, but sitting in his chair at this dining table from his childhood, with Ice’s full attention trained on nothing but him, makes him feel like a naughty teenager again.

“Oh, yeah,” he says sheepishly, glaring at Maverick as he does. “Yeah, I did say that, huh.” Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Mav.

Maverick only smiles. I give as good as I get, kiddo.

“Well, you know I’m rotating back Stateside for my next deployment, and I was wondering… Well, I wanted to ask…”

He bites his tongue. Why is it so hard to ask this of Maverick and Ice, the two men who raised him? His parents, for all intents and purposes?

“That is, base housing sucks. And I’ve still got Mom’s house, but I’ve been meaning to get the carpet ripped out and new floors put in for literal years now, and if I’m gonna do that, then I might as well get around to all the other updates and renovations I’ve been meaning to do for literal years now, and—”

“Bradley wants to know if he can move back in for a few months while he gets the house fixed up,” Maverick cuts him off.

Ice huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, you old geezers,” he sulks. He’s sure they enjoyed his squirming. It was probably the highlight of their very boring week.

Ice reaches out and squeezes his hand. Yes, he mouths. Of course.

“Sucks to be you, Maverick,” Bradley says as he serves himself a generous helping of potatoes. Ice tries to hide his smile in his own plate, but he isn’t fast enough.

Maverick smiles. “See? I told you! What did I say? Come on, let’s eat.”

Ice glares at Maverick again. He signs something that Bradley can’t translate for himself yet, but he’s been in the hot seat with Ice enough to know that Maverick is not even close to off the hook for whatever it was that Ice wanted to talk about.

Maverick scowls at them both, and then kicks him under the table. Again.

[cool-island-songs]

7, 13 (Kyle), 15 owo

7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?

I'm pretty tolerant of things this time around, and I only grow more tolerant the more I talk to people who like different things from me, so it's gone more in the other direction. Things I have grown to like less are not things I would say I can't stand, because I'm a creature of habit and there's always some sense of fondness and nostalgia.

I will say, not to dump on these ships at all, that when I was writing out little SP fic ideas in my notebook for the first time about a year and a half now, I found myself incorporating Bunny and Clybe in an unthinking way and then realized, "Wait.. I don't actually often like these. This isn't how those dynamics would make sense to me." I can for sure conceive of angles on both ships I'd be interested in exploring, but I think I was sort of pairing the spares so to speak and don't want to do that if it doesn't make sense for the story or isn't something I have genuine interest in or thoughts about.

13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character? (Kyle)

I don't think he'd be nearly as concerned about his own ass, dick, and balls as the fandom seems to be. I think he'd call many of you slurs. I don't think he would be a leftist and if he did become a leftist, he'd be into Vaush and Chapo several years past its prime. Dear god...

15. Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?

I think you said something similar, but I still think it's funny. I like da show. I don't want it to end. I stopped watching in the mid-late teen seasons because I stopped finding it funny, and having gotten caught up during the pandemic, I'm really enjoying everything I missed out on and the more recent stuff they've put out. I like unpopular seasons like season 20 even. There's a lot of Tegridy, but I'm still curious to see what's going to happen with the Marsh and Black families out on their respective farms. It doesn't have that same small town madcap early seasons of a cartoon show feel anymore, but I kind of like that.

This is perhaps an odd media comparison, but if anyone has seen the most recent (third) season of Twin Peaks, there is a similar sense of being unable to get back the feeling the show once had. It's very intentional in Twin Peaks. It isn't the 90s/00s anymore, they've done these very intentional gentrification and global warming and real estate development focused plots/arcs so the feel being different is meant to reflect a reality about the country. That's what the show's always been about and even when I don't agree with their spins on things, I find the show always hones in on these fault lines in the broader culture in a fascinating way.

I'm in it for the long haul. I love this stupid show

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

When Hangman went to the jukebox right after Rooster walked into the bar, he might as well have just selected “Mamma Mia” by Abba.

[torchflies]

Do Bug and Joey ever try to jokingly switch places to see how many people can tell the difference?? I know Jake and Javy can clock it a mile away. I feel like Bob is also really good about it. Slider can also see the difference but he plays along since he lives for a good prank. I'm heads or tails on if Ice and Mav can spot the difference. Bradley most definitely can't tell the difference and that's why the switched places

SCREAMING!

They're identical twins, of course they do!

Jake and Javy can absolutely clock it a mile away, they can tell the girls apart by their walks. 😂

Uncle Bob is excellent at it. Slider can absolutely tell too, he reads people ridiculously well and he can hear the difference in their voices. 😂 Most of the Daggers can't and the Flyboys are lost.

Ice can tell if he interacts with them, on sight no — but if he drops something, Bug is going to pick it up on reflex before it hits the floor. She is a Girl Scout through and through 😆🫡 she has earned that helping the elderly badge, thank you. Joey would go get it too of course, but her ADHD self will watch it hit the ground and skitter away before she moves.

Mav can’t tell at all, he is as hopeless as Bradley. He has to use a trick that Jake taught him. If he tosses something at the girls, they will catch it with different hands. They're mirror twins, so they have different dominant hands 😂

Bradley is hopeless, completely and utterly hopeless. He once went to the bathroom at one of Joey’s cheer competitions, came back and wondered why Jake and Bug were gone. Turns out Joey was hurt and swapped places with Bug when they were allowed to perform a second time. Bradley never noticed.

The girls give him endless shit for this, as is their civic duty. 😂🫡

[catzgam3rz]

If ur still taking dino requests please consider the oviraptor, my misunderstood king

THE misunderstood king, we stan

unrelated but I could not for the life of me find a breed name for the rooster I used as a reference so I guess it's just the default American chicken????

[elwenyere]

hi elwen!! for the WIP title game, would you share more about How To Shoot Somebody Who Outdrew You? (which I do specifically hear to the tune of the kd lang cover lol)

Hello brigit, my dear!!! Thank you so much for the ask. Titles are from this WIP game.

"How to Shoot Somebody Who Outdrew You" is a Top Gun WIP that started as a deleted scene from a different, Hangster fic called Kick the Tires and Light the Fires. I was writing a scene set during The Mission (in the time between when Jake hears Bradley get shot down and when he realizes Bradley's still alive), and I wrote some interactions between Jake and Natasha on the carrier deck, with the idea that she would be the one to help Jake figure out how to launch and fly cover for Bradley and Mav. I really liked the scene that resulted, but I felt like the vibe between Jake and Natasha was SO charged that it would actually have overloaded that particular fic, which didn't otherwise have much Natasha. So I thought...well, what if there were another fic where the triangular dynamics among Jake, Bradley, and Natasha were the focus?

I'm still filling out what I think will be a 5+1 structure (5 go-arounds + 1 final approach), but here's the scene that became the seed for the story:

“Hangman,” she says. “Seresin. Hey, come on, man.”

He looks up, tries to bring her face into focus.

“He came to me,” he blurts out. “Before the mission. He asked me for help, and I turned him away. I turned him away. Nat…did I kill him? Did I -”

He can’t finish. His chest aches. He’s choking.

“No.” Her hands are on his face, her nails scraping under the padding of his helmet. “Don’t fucking say that. Don’t - there was nothing you could do, Jake. I’m the one who - I was there, and I heard him get hit, and I - oh God.”

A noise thrashes free of her throat, and Jake grabs for her hands, clutches them in his own.

“Phoenix,” he says. “Hey, Phoenix.”

Stay with me, he wants to say - nonsensically, because he hadn’t realized she was with him before. Don’t leave me alone with this. Don’t let it break you.

And there’s too much aluminum and steel in between them, but her palms are strong on the hinges of his jaw, and Jake holds on.

“Jake,” she starts, but whatever she was planning to say is cut off by the radio coming back to life:

“Sir, we’re receiving a signal from Rooster’s ESAT.”

Jake and Natasha lock eyes. Jake’s pulse settles. His mind goes still and clear.

“The catapult -” he starts.

“I’m on it.”

“I’ll need the deck crew.”

“I’ve got it. Run the start-up.”

She drops from view as Jake’s hands fly over the control board, and then she darts back into his periphery, one hand fisting in the strap across his suit.

“Hangman,” she says. “You both come back. You hear me? You both come home.”

Jake looks at her, feels the weight her grip gives to the world, and he grins.

.....

Thank you again for the ask, my dear!!! And the kd lang cover is 👌👌👌 vibes for this.

[yikes-00]

For the smut prompts:

“Use your words, baby.”

Thank you!!!! So I’ll edit this better tomorrow when I’m not half asleep but here you go!!! I hope you enjoy!!

WC: 478

Rating: Explicit/E- minors DNI please✨

Tags: d/s themes, dom Bradley, sub Jake, implied brat Jake, boot worship, hand jobs, cuddling as aftercare, sex with clothes on, dirty talk.

AN: please be kind✨ good vibes to everyone💙

“Use your words baby.”

Jake forces his eyes open. The dull ache of the cement ground is nothing compared to the pulsing need that moves through him with every slamming beat of his heart. His cock hurts trapped in his pants. His boxers are too tight and he tries to subtly shift to relieve the pressure.

Bradley’s hand is rough against his face. His fingers slide over Jake’s sweaty skin before tracing the outline of Jake’s chapped lips. Jake’s mouth opens and Bradley’s fingers slide against his tongue.

“So pretty,” Bradley says roughly. As if they didn’t just have the biggest fight of their short time of knowing each other, “you’re so pretty, but you already know that.”

Jake’s throat flutters as Bradley slides his fingers deeper into Jake’s mouth. Jake lets his eyes close as he sinks into the feeling of Bradley filling him up.

“You just need something in your mouth, don’t you?” Bradley asks softly. His finger gently move, pushing deeper into Jake. “Something to keep that bratty mouth of yours shut.”

Jake moans softly and Bradley huffs out a laugh.

“I’ll take my fingers out and then I want you to tell me what you want.”

Jake grunts softly at the loss as Bradley’s fingers slide from between his lips, a string of spit thinning and then breaking.

“I wanna come,” Jake says roughly, “please.”

Bradley smirks. His lips turn up. Jake keens low in his throat. Bradley’s boot slides between Jake’s legs pressing against his cock.

“Go on baby,” Bradley says nodding down, “show me how much you want it.”

Jake rolls his hips forward. His rhythm is slow and tentative. The first pressure sends shivers down Jake’s spine making the heat in Jake’s gut pool. Jake lets out a broken noise as he jerks forward rutting against the hard friction chasing his release. It’s hard to stop once he starts. His body moving on its own accord.

Jake lets his eyes close. He can’t look up and see the disinterest or distain in Bradley’s face. Jake feels it before it happens. The rush of blood through his ears as his motions lose rhythm. His moans turn to please and Jake isn’t even sure what he’s begging for.

A wrecked noise is torn as Bradley pulls away the friction. For a fraction of a second, Jake knows that -

His orgasm slams through the second Bradley’s hand slides into his pants. Cum coats Bradley’s hand and the inside of Jake’s boxers. His weight falls forward as he leans into Bradley letting the numbing bliss of his orgasm rush through him. Bradley’s hand is tight enough to let Jake work himself through it.

“So pretty,” Bradley’s voice is barely an echo, “such a pretty boy for me, using your words to make a mess of yourself.”

Jake sigh softly as he lets Bradley hold him, gently hands rubbing over his body grounding him.

[compacflt]

I absolutely adore your writing!!! If you're taking prompts, then anything involving Maverick + Ice's academy ring would be 💖💖

In bed. Early afternoon. The mid-‘90s.

Midsummer sex in Southern California is one of those things that feels more romantic than it probably is, maybe just because of how it leaves you: sweltering and sticky and satisfied. It’s two in the afternoon on a Saturday, and he and Ice are currently sweltering and sticky and satisfied, and working on being asleep, with absolutely no plans otherwise. Which is nice. Nice to just do nothing for once in their hectic lives. Well, they have to go to Bradley’s Little League game around seven, and then take him out to dinner, per Carole’s orders, but that’s it. Otherwise no plans.

He’s just kinda pondering. Thinkin’. They’ve been sleeping all day, so they’re not gonna sleep tonight…maybe Carole will take them out dancing…that would be fun, even if they’re a little old…what was that movie called, Saturday night fever, yeah, he could use some of that…But not right now.

Right now is pretty perfect. Not a hundred percent perfect, because nothing ever is, but pretty close. The sun (maybe too hot, it’s Southern California) is high and strong and golden; the windows (letting in all kinds of bugs because they aren’t screened) are tossed wide open; the curtains (the previous tenant’s, moth-eaten and ratty) are billowing in the breeze; the ceiling fan (creaky and could crash down and kill them any moment) is circulating lazily; Ice (Ice) is dozing next to him. Romantic, in an imperfect, Southern-California way. Easy. Laid-back. No-stress. Maverick is staring up, through eyes-half-closed, at the shimmering ocean-blue caustic reflections of Ice’s Naval Academy ring, swaying on the ceiling in time to his gentle breaths. Kind of beautiful.

And then Maverick has a thought. Well, maybe more of an idea. Which is never good.

And it’s one of those thoughts. One of those ideas. Not necessarily dangerous, per se, but definitely a little impulsive, definitely a little stupid. In college, one of his engineering professors had told him, You know, the problem with you, Mitchell, is that you’re a certifiable genius ninety percent of the time, but it’s that other stupid-ass ten percent that gets you in trouble. Maverick had answered, That’s a solid fucking A.-minus! and nearly got stuck on academic probation. Saying something like that is an A-, stupid-ass ten-percent idea. So, too, is the idea he’s currently having. But he’s not gonna stop himself from having it. He’s fucked-out and still up for anything. He’s in his early thirties. Basically puberty round II, and he’s in bed with Tom Kazansky, who’s resting his big Naval-Academy-ornamented hand on his chest, so excuse him for not thinking straight.

Maverick picks up Ice’s right hand, the one on his chest, and holds it gently, trying not to wake him. He wants to get a good look at this ring. He’s never really looked at it up close before. That ugly gaudy blue stone is almost surely fake. Glass, maybe. What’s it taste like?

He brings Ice’s hand to his mouth. Doesn’t stick Ice’s whole ring finger inside, because Ice would wake up then, but he does lap the jewel of the ring with his tongue (tastes like Ice’s sweat, as expected), and then bites the crown, and then draws as much of the ring into his mouth as possible. Just trying to get it wet. Tracing it with his tongue for sensory pleasure. When he takes it out of his mouth, some of his spit goes with it. And now, sufficiently lubricated, he reaches up with his other hand to wriggle it off, so curious, brain-addled, a little desperate, his chin still wet with his own saliva…

…and Ice whines, “…No.” Barely even a coherent sound. Almost like a moan. Fuck, so close to a moan.

“No?” Maverick whispers. His fingers go still on the ring, indecisive.

“Already tried,” Ice breathes, then sniffs and licks his lips and swallows and sighs. Eyes unmoving behind his eyelids.

This thought goes straight to Maverick’s dick. Ice, experimenting. “…You…have?”

“Doesn’t fit.”

He can hear himself breathing for a moment. Shaky breaths. “…Even soft?”

Ice’s face scrunches in half-asleep annoyance, mock-wounded offense. “You’ve seen me.” You’ve seen me soft, you know I’m not fitting in a ring meant for my finger. Okay. Maybe that should’ve been obvious. But Maverick sometimes loses his mind a little when it comes to sticking his dick in places it shouldn’t be, which is how he wound up in bed with Iceman Kazansky in the first place. And also how he keeps winding up in bed with Iceman Kazansky. “…Even soft.”

Maverick whispers, “…Can I… try?”

Ice grumbles, “No-Gimme-my-fuckin-hand-back.” And he pulls his hand away and half-consciously wipes the spit off on the sheet and then starts moving and lumbering and shifting his weight in bed, preparing, as only half-asleep people can prepare, to roll over onto his other side. As he does, he keeps on mumbling, his brain clearly not online yet, “Not-takin-you-to-the hospital ‘cause you got stuck-in-my…fuckin’…if you wan’ me to jerk-you-off wearing-it, okay, I’ve done that forty-one-thousand-times…but not…” And his other shoulder hits the mattress and Maverick can hear, in the cadence of his breathing, that he’s immediately passed out cold again.

Maverick pokes him and prods him and wakes him up. “Ice.”

“…What.”

“You just said you would. You can’t say it and then fall asleep.”

Ice mumbles something very rude, but reaches back behind himself anyway, gropes around blindly until he finds enough purchase to give Maverick a few half-hearted and not-very-compelling tugs.

Then, apparently getting tired, he pulls his arm back and carelessly orders (rather lucidly for a man who’s supposedly sleeping), “I’m sleeping, Maverick. Finish yourself off.”

“…Gimme it.”

Ice acquiesces, if only to make Maverick leave him alone; and pulls his ring off and passes it over his own freckled shoulder.

No, of course it doesn’t fit, even only half-hard. Maverick’s flopped over onto his back to try. He glances over at Ice—at the downy invisible fuzz on his shoulders glowing white in the sun, at the smooth suntanned plane of his back, at the sheet pooling over the sharp angle of his hipbone—then back to himself. Gives himself a couple pumps, gets himself all the way hard, sets the ring atop his cock like a little crown, looks over at Ice again, wishes he were awake so they could laugh about this together for a minute and then Ice could tell him to not be so fucking juvenile and then suck him off. Ring in his mouth as he does. (That would probably hurt, actually. All that motion and all that metal. Lots of ways that could go wrong. Moving on.)

And then—here’s a thought—Maverick…puts it on. Just slips it onto his right ring finger. Steps into a heritage he’s never owned. Could’ve, but never will.

It does feel powerful, to wear it. Like marrying the Navy. This is forever, Navy-baby. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part. He imagines the life he could’ve had at the Academy; and wonders if Ice, who was twenty-one when Maverick was still only eighteen, would have even given him the time of day. Probably would’ve shoved him into lockers in high school. Okay, that’s a turn-on, too, weirdly. Okay. Things to consider. The brass of the ring is still warm from Ice’s long slender fingers. Feels good. Inspires the question: does Ice keep the ring on when he jacks off out at sea? Probably. It does feel good. Feels powerful. The historical force of America’s Navy, condensed into the force with which he’s gripping his own cock. (And other normal thoughts.) Yeah, Ice probably keeps it on. Definitely. He’s married to the Navy. Jacking off out at sea wearing his Navy wedding ring is just consummating the marriage. (And other normal thoughts.) Maverick wonders how many times Ice has done exactly what he’s doing now. And that’s a turn-on, too, obviously.

He turns onto his side, tips his forehead against Ice’s upper spine, mouths at the velvety skin there, presses his nose against him. Of course there’s the musk and salt of his dried sweat, but also the softer, cleaner smell of him that Maverick’s come to recognize as unmistakably Ice…who left the Naval Academy as Brigade Commander and whose class ring is being worn by the hand Maverick’s slowly lazily fucking…willingly given…Ice has always kept it on, for all their various activities. Married to the Navy even with his fingers knuckle-deep inside Maverick. Sort of like an extramarital affair. Maverick likes being the other woman; and also, those are good memories, the ones where Ice was knuckle-deep inside him, and this ring was pressed up against the most intimate part of him, does the Navy know you’re cheating on her with me? —he comes a little quicker than he had intended, and a lot more quietly than he thought he would; just sort of lets it wash over him, inevitable, unsurprising. Not earthshattering or anything, but he also wasn’t dragging it out.

And then he has another thought, ooh, goody! —lodging itself inside his honey-thick burning pleasure. So he indulges this impulse, too, and before the last couple spurts, he thumbs Ice’s ring off into his palm and then cups himself loosely and finishes half onto the ring and half onto the sheets. (It’s laundry day. That’s why they were up all night having sex, and not exactly stressing about the mess. Ice has Maverick’s laundry schedule memorized by now.) Fuck. That’s good.

Before the clarity can hit him and take all the fun out of his idea, he catches his breath, solidifies, and holds the wet ring back over Ice’s shoulder—has to tap him to drag him back into the land of the living. Ice startles a little, but he accepts the ring back into his hand. What’s he gonna say? What’s he gonna do? It’s got Maverick’s come all over it! Maverick is instigating. Intentionally.

…Ice just sleepily puts it back on, and in a couple seconds is dead to the world again.

Maverick’s stuck there for a minute, his brain going clear and his mouth open idiotically, but then he closes it. There’s nothing he can say. Yeah. That was the logical conclusion of that interaction. Whatever.

He smiles to himself, yawns, and rolls over to doze off again. Deal with it later.

And a few slow golden hours later, when the sun is floating orange and swollen above the horizon outside, and the alarm Maverick set on his digital watch goes off, ensuring they don’t sleep through Bradley’s baseball game, Ice groggily comes to and sits up on the side of the bed and yawns big and fucks up his already-fucked hair a little more with his fingers. Sighs, drowsily drags a hand down his stubble, scrapes a hand over his stomach, itches the hair on his chest. Then he looks at his right hand, at the glinting ring, glinting a little duller because of what’s dried on it; then he glances accusingly down at Maverick, who’s still stretching next to him long and lazy like a cat, silently inquiring, …did you…? And Maverick (who hates being accused of anything, even and especially if he’s guilty) huffs and rolls his eyes at the presumption, but finally relents, yeah, I did. And Ice just exhaustedly nods and smiles and shrugs his shoulders in common understanding, saying, yeah, I get it; don’t worry about it; it does that to me, too… and then tiredly heaves himself out of bed to go wash his hands.

[merry-andrews]

Zombie Apocalypse AU;

Bradley being the leader of his small group of survivors, they find Jake on accident when boy was badly injured and barely holding a gun straight with his bloody hand. They'll patch him up and suggests him to stay with them so Jake sticks around for few days (which leads to first time he sleeps with Bradley) and next morning he's gone and has taken some supplies with him too..

Few weeks pass until they meet Jake again. This time the boy helps them run away from a hard situation surrounding by zombies and this time, Bradley won't let him go. That boy takes first step and offers to share his caravan, his supplies, his everything and his life with Jake if he stays. And this time Jake accepts but he only stays as one of group's member. Saying he doesn't do 'feelings' and 'domestic life'. They'll continue their journey to find big colony of survivors (the place's called East of Eden and is the only place people not-infected live there).

Jake and Bradley take 'guards' part (everyone should have a role in colony). One night Jake wanders a little too far away and Brad in tow to stop him but something happens and they're under zombies attack before they know. Bradley gets hurt during saving Jake (not bitten!) And Jake spends days at his bedside, holding his hand and begging him to wake up (he's going through harsh fever because of injuries and lost lots of blood) he kisses Brad's forehead when he opens his eyes; "I can't stand losing you again, marry me"💗