#college!flyboy

[kryptonitejelly]

Three times Jake takes on the role of your knight in shining armour. Jake Seresin x reader - I’ve imagined this in the Flyboy!universe but you don’t have to read that to read this.

College Flyboy

“12 o clock,” Jake hears you mumble into his ear as you reach up to circle your hands around his neck. Jake’s hands drop around your waist instantly, almost like a reflex as he cuts off from the conversation which he was having with the group of his teammates. They are used to it by now, Jake being distracted and dropping everything for you, so they pay him no mind, picking up easily from where he had left off.

“What am I looking at,” you can detect a current of concern, laced with a hard edge, as Jake’s eyes fan out to the background behind you, scanning over the cluster of faces in the bar to his 12 o clock direction.

“Guy in the blue shirt,” you say, hands still curled around his neck, your body taking a small shuffle until you are pressed flushed against Jake’s chest, “couldn’t shake him so I told him I had to get back to my boyfriend. Pretend, please.”

Your tone has a desperate quality to it, a sign to Jake that the blue shirt chump had been aggressive, likely he had been slimy as well.

“I got you,” Jake’s voice is almost a growl, as he catches sight of the said offender who sees you in Jake’s arm but continues to approach. He looks to be about a similar age range, but doesn’t seem to be from the same college as you both. Jake takes in the red tinge blossoming over the stranger’s cheeks, the wild look in his slightly bloodshot eyes - definitely not sober.

The stranger stops just behind you and opens his mouth to speak but is immediately cut off by Jake who simultaneously holds you tighter but doesn’t bother turning because by hell is he going to even allow the man to touch a single hair on your head. He feels your hands curl around the collar of his shirt as you turn your head to rest your cheek against his shoulder, your lips just ghosting the side of his neck. He identifies your attempt to get closer to him, to get safe, while playing into the ruse.

“Fuck off,” Jake is blunt, to the point and loud. Loud enough that it makes his teammates drop their conversation to collectively take in the sight that is unfolding. They don’t move to back Jake up because they know he’s got this, but they find themselves observing in case he does need back up. It isn’t the first time they’ve seen this happen, Jake playing the role of doting boyfriend to ward of unwanted male attention.

“Just wanted to see if she really had the boyfriend she conveniently pulled out at the last minute.”

“Seen enough?” Jake responds cooly, his gaze not leaving the other man’s. His hold on you doesn’t falter. Jake turns his head just slightly, gaze unwavering as he lets his lips brush the side of your head in an outward display of affection.

“Alright man,” the stranger holds both hands of in defeat, shrugging before walking away with an unsteady gait. His teammates resume their conversation, amused smirks on their face.

Jake doesn’t let you go until he has disappeared from sight, woven back into the crowd.

“He’s gone,” he says with a squeeze to your waist, but Jake doesn’t let go of you; not even when you unfurl your arms from around his neck. It causes you to be standing, body still flush against Jake, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to Jake’s cheek, and he finds thinking for a fleeting moment what would happen if he moved his head to capture your lips with his.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” is what Jake says before he finally lets you go.

-

Pre Flyboy

Jake hears it before he sees you. The uncomfortable fake laugh you throw out catches his attention one supermarket aisle away. It makes his brows furrow slightly and he turns on his heel to follow the sound of your voice, his search for cornstarch forgotten.

Jake’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the problem - a man standing slightly too close to you, his gaze openly dropping down to the your ass which is clad in a pair of workout tights, tracing each of your curves.

“I know a fantastic coffee place near my apartment,” he leers openly, his gaze moving up your body to meet your eyes. Jake sees you attempting to inch away.

“Hey babe, I couldn’t find the cornstarch,” is what Jake says, loudly as he is beside you in a flash, his arm coming around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side, all while placing himself as a human barrier between you and what he’s termed in his head to now be the grocery store pervert.

He sees relief in your eyes as you tuck yourself further into his hold by sliding your arm around his middle before tucking a palm into his back pocket

“You can never find the cornstarch,” is what Jake hears you say with a laugh as you look at him through your lashes with a look thats bordering on smitten - staged, he knows, but it makes his heart skip a beat.

“Help me?” He says as he begins to steer you away by your shoulders, but not before shifting both your bodies so that he is now positioned behind you, his hand on the small of your back, shielding you from further unwanted attention.

Jake throws a glance behind his shoulder, his green eyes steely and swirling with anger. He catches the eye of the grocery store perv who, taking in the way Jake’s biceps bunch under the sleeve of his t-shirt, has turned a shade paler than before.

“Thank you,” is what you say with a visible shudder as you both round the corner.

“Anytime darlin,” Jake says, his hand still on the small of your back while leaning towards you to let his lips brush against the side of your hair.

-

Post Flyboy

“Would you like to grab a coffee?”

“I don’t think so,” you say with a shake of your head and a polite smile.

“What about a drink another time?”

“I -,” you open your mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice that carries your way. You turn to see Jake walking towards you, a coffee cup in each hand.

“Hey baby,” he says, too loudly, large smile on his face. Jake maintains the smile as he walks towards you, but you see his gaze dart fleetingly to the man beside you.

“Sorry,” you say, flashing the man a look. You don’t get a chance to see his reaction, or the moment he walks away because Jake reaches you, his lips meeting yours immediately in a kiss that borders on being just a bit too much for being in public on a Saturday morning.

“He was actually harmless,” you say when Jake finally pulls away from you. You let your eyes flicker open, face feeling slightly heated from the kiss.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead before handing you your coffee, “I quite like playing the role of knight in shining armour.”

[thiswaytwoinfinity]

it’s a bad idea, right? - part 1: can’t two people reconnect

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader • inspired by sleeping with other people

Warnings: no use of y/n or physical description of reader except they have hair that can be tucked behind their ears, implied smut, this chapter is fine but future installments will be 18+

It’s finally here! Thank you to everyone for being so supportive and patient about this fic; I was dealing with some rough personal stuff and lost all my inspiration but it’s back now and I’m happy to be writing about everyone’s favorite cocky flyboy.

There’s something about a sticky summer night when you’re 22 that makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been.

It’s the third bar that your new roommates have dragged you to tonight, there’s a cocktail sweating in your hand and the bass from the stereo thudding through your head. You’re not sure if the grin on your face is from the watching all of the wannabe cowboys go flying off the mechanical bull in mere milliseconds or from the possibilities of newfound adulthood laid out in front of you. In this moment, it’s hard to imagine that you were ever scared about moving halfway across the country — away from your family, your hometown and your high school sweetheart who always thought you’d move home after college — to Austin.

In this moment, you feel free. You feel invincible. You feel like this is a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

 

“Okay, the bar is a madhouse but I managed to get another round!” Anna shouts as she makes her way back to the table, tossing her long dark hair behind her before plopping the tray of shots down in front of you and your new friends. “And there’s a new rule!”

Everyone groans in unison; Anna loves to make up drinking games, handing out shots and beers with a new rule or bet that is guaranteed to leave someone embarrassed before the night’s over.

“Oh, stop. Shit like this is how we become lifelong best friends, trust me, I read about it online,” she fires back, rolling her eyes and handing shots to you and the three other girls at the table before taking one in hand. “It’s simple. Last one to finish their shot has to ride the mechanical bull.”

“Bitch, are you trying to kill us?” Erin asks, shooting a sideways glance at Katie, who’s eyeing up her shot glass like she’s trying to strategize the best way to drink it. The two of them are sisters — “Irish twins, it’s a whole thing,” Erin explained when you first moved in — are hyper-competitive and curse like sailors. You loved them instantly.

Your tiny hope of not being the one to end up on the bull dies when you look over at Taylor, who managed to throw back her tequila when nobody was watching. “What?!” she asks, curls bobbing in the bun on top of her head as she takes in everyone’s looks of confusion and frustration. “Anna never said we had to start at the same time.”

It’s like a starting pistol went off at the end of her sentence because before you know it, Erin and Katie are both biting into limes while Anna is swallowing down the liquor with a grimace. Shit.

You do your best to catch up but it’s too late. You, the girl who grew up nowhere near Texas and have never actually seen a bull in real life, are going to have to ride one in front of this entire bar.

Years later you won’t remember the details of the bet, how your friends whooped and hollered as you made your way over to the bull with shaky knees or how the operator took pity on you when you immediately slid off and offered you a second try. The song that was playing is lost to time, as is the actual feeling of riding the bull for a whole half second.

What you will remember, though, is sliding across the tarp to rest right by a group of athletic looking guys and the strong, tan hand that reached down to help you stand up.

You’ll remember the backwards Longhorns cap on his head, the way his green eyes flashed with amusement and the blinding white of his smile as he helped you to your feet, hand lingering just a moment too long in yours. You’ll remember the way it felt like someone had set off fireworks inside of you, fingers tingling where they touched his skin and your stomach swooping like you were on a roller coaster.

You’ll remember exactly what he said to you: “Well, that was definitely the most entertaining attempt of the night.”

You giggled, a little dazed by his chiseled features, by the way he seemed to only see you in that moment, by the force of his charisma.

 “I’m Jake. What’s your name, beautiful?”

 

For a Thursday night, the Hard Deck was surprisingly packed.

The Daggers had managed to claim their usual spot by the pool table, but despite their cramped quarters they practically had to shout over the sounds of drunken sailors and the oldies blasting out of the jukebox to be heard. The table next to Bob was crowded with beer bottles, the bespectacled WSO having waved off Penny when she stopped by to clear them, promising the group would clean up after themselves. Natasha and Bradley were in the middle of some kind of dumb darts competition, being heckled by Bob and a tipsy Rueben, who had his arm slung around the former’s shoulders for balance.

Jake took in the scenery, smug grin on his face, before sinking his final pool ball with a flourish.

“And that’s game, gentlemen,” he said, turning to Javy and Mickey, who were shaking their heads with frustration.

“Can’t believe I let you talk me into betting against him,” Mickey sighed, shuffling through his wallet for a $20 bill. Javy just shrugged and threw a playful punch against his friend’s shoulder, before asking for a rematch.

“Let that be a lesson, Fanboy,” Jake chuckled, making a big show of examining the bill before pocketing it. “Never bet against Jake Seresin. They call me a golden boy for a reason.”

“Who’s ‘they?’ Everyone we know just calls you a dick,” Nat called out, making her way back to the table for her drink. Taking a look at the chaos on the table, she rolled her eyes before starting to gather up a handful of empty bottles. “C’mon, Fanboy. Help me clear some of these and I’ll buy you a beer to drown your sorrows in.”

He ran over to help, allowing Javy to slide over to Jake and elbow his buddy in the side.

“10 o’clock, there’s a whole table of pretty ladies. The blonde’s had her eye on you all night and her friend with the locs is crazy hot,” he murmured, as Jake took a subtle look over at the table in question. 5 or 6 women were crammed into a booth, and judging by the tiara on one of their heads, they were out celebrating a birthday. “Wingman?” the younger aviator asked, holding out his fist for Jake to bump it.

For a half second, he contemplated turning his best friend down.

It wasn’t like Jake wasn’t attracted to the blonde, who was, indeed making eyes at him from across the room. She was exactly his type, all bright smiles and smokey bedroom eyes, her curves and long legs poured into tight jeans. She had an air of confidence that made it clear she knew just how hot she was.

He knew that if he strolled over and gave her his best All-American smile and some of that Southern charm, he could probably win her over. They’d flirt and dance a bit and then he’d drive them back to one of their places, have some decent-to-excellent sex and he’d be asleep shortly after midnight.

It seemed fun. It seemed obvious. It seemed, quite honestly, a little boring to him.

Maybe it was because he turned 35 a few months ago and the idea of going home to his own bed after a night out was starting to seem more and more appealing to him. Maybe it was because he spent so much time trying to convince his fellow Daggers that he wasn’t a complete asshole that he didn’t want to risk them changing their minds again.

Or maybe he was just a little jealous.

Jake would see the way Rueben’s face lit up when he talked about his wife, how he would brag about every milestone his 3-year-old daughter was reaching. He felt awkward about his lack of wedding knowledge when a pink-eared Bob would ask the squad for their opinion on something for his upcoming nuptials. He’d try to ignore the weird sinking feeling in his stomach when he’d overhead Nat and Mickey picking out a restaurant for their weekly brunch double date with their respective girlfriends.

And despite the fact that he had spent most of his adult life doing whatever he could to avoid those kinds of situations, now he was starting to wonder if maybe … maybe he’d be a little happier if he had been able to settle down with someone of his own.

Oof. That thought made Jake’s chest tighten uncomfortably. So he pushed it down, smiled as wide as he could and first bumped Javy. “Wingmen for life, Coyote. Lead the way.”

 

If you had to spend one more minute squeezed up against this bar, wedged between a couple aggressively making out and a trio of rowdy Navy men who were trying to sing along to Queen, you were going to scream.

“Just come for a drink or two. This place is super chill for a Navy bar, I promise,” you muttered darkly under your breath, repeating the words your friend and new coworker had used to convince you to come out tonight.

Between a frantic weekend spent unpacking all of your belongings into your new studio apartment and a very long first week at your new job, all you had wanted to do was bury yourself under a blanket and watch Real Housewives until your brain melted out of your ears.

But you were trying to be more social. You wanted to focus more on your friendships. Do things that were good for you. That was the whole point of this move.

So instead, you were leaning so far over the bar top that you could feel the edge digging into your ribs, shouting a drink order at the (admittedly, very sweet and slightly overwhelmed) bartender. She had just placed the two beers and margarita you had asked for down in front of you when another hand appeared and tried to snatch them up.

“Hey!” you yelled, tossing the bills in your hand onto the bar as you reached up to catch the offender by the wrist before they made off with your hard-won drinks. “Asshole! Drop them, those are my beers! What the fuck?”

You swiped up the cocktail with your free hand, lest it meet the same fate and turned around to see what kind of absolute monster thought they had the right to steal drinks.

Annoyingly, he was beautiful.

Tall and broad, with sun-kissed skin and a blindingly-white smile, which held a hint of sheepishness as he realized that he had been caught red handed. There was something familiar about the way he ducked his head a little, before peering at you from beneath his eyelashes.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. I thought those were mine. Didn’t mean to steal from you,” his low, twangy drawl went right through you, settling warm and comfortingly in your stomach. “I’d offer to buy you a drink to make it up to you, but, well …”

Texas. That’s where that accent is from, you thought, instantly being transported back to your nursing school program in Austin. How many wannabe cowboys had spoken with that same drawl, trying to charm you and your friends during a night out? Not too many of them had succeeded with you, especially not after —

“Jake? Jake Seresin!?”

It had to be him. You’d know that smile anywhere, had seen those green eyes in your dreams for far too long after you both had moved on. He was bigger now, muscles more pronounced and jaw more defined, more of those cheeky smile lines creasing around his eyes. His voice was deeper too, some of his accent smoothed out after years in the military, but it had to be.

He swore under his breath, eyes widening as he made the connection as well. He practically whispered your name, as if it felt a bit rusty on his tongue, but the second you nodded, he repeated it louder, warmer, like he was slipping back into his favorite jacket.

“Shit, how long’s it been?” Jake wondered aloud, looking you up and down as if to make a note of every infinitesimal change that had occurred since you last saw each other. “You look amazing, darling. Beautiful as ever.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks heating up at his compliment. Jake always had a way of making you feel like the most special person in the room — but then again, he made everyone feel that way, as you later found out. “You look good too, Seresin. Like a proper, respectable Navy man,” you concede, though the words don’t sound nearly as begrudging as you hoped.

You’re rewarded with one of those thousand-watt grins and for a second, you’re back in a Texas dive bar, flirting with the most handsome man you’ve ever seen to the tune of some cheesy country-rap remix.

“I am good,” Jake promises, eyes locked on yours, and you think he might be back there with you, leaning up against the jukebox, the floors sticky under your feet. “I don’t know how respectable I am, but I am definitely good.”

His voice drags out that sentence, low and flirtatious, and butterflies fill your stomach the same way they did all those years ago. You can practically feel the ghost of his big hands on your hips, your lower back, caressing your cheek as the world disappeared around you that night, just the two of you creating your own little world in the corner of that dingy bar. Your lips part — to say what, exactly, you’re not sure — and you see his eyes drop to them for just a moment before —

The woman behind the bar calls out “Hangman!” with a tone of voice that makes it clear that it’s not the first time she’s said it and you both startle and turn to see her holding four bottles of beer out towards Jake, a look of exhaustion on her face. He jumps forward to take them, apologies pouring from his lips and he pointedly shoves several bills into the tip jar in order to earn an eye roll and a small smile from her. Two sweating bottles in each hand, he turns back to you and almost seems a bit relieved that you’re still standing there. (As if you’ve ever been able to walk away from him.)

“I have to drop these off with my friends,” Jake says, nodding to a table somewhere behind you, “And you should probably get those drinks to the people who sent you over here. But do — do you wanna catch up? There’s a deck out back with some tables, it’s usually pretty quiet this time of night.” He waits for you to nod, before pressing a quick kiss to your cheekbone. “I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

With one more charming smile, he’s off into the crowd and — not for the first time in your life — you’re left speechless and a little stunned, staring after Jake Seresin.

 

You’re not sure if the goosebumps on your arms are from the chill of the California evening or the way that Jake hasn’t stopped staring at you since he joined you outside on the deck. You shift slightly against the wooden bench of the picnic table, overwhelmed by the intensity of having all of the blonde’s attention on you again for the first time in a decade.

“So …” you begin, and your voice seems to startle Jake out of his thoughts slightly. “You’re a California boy now? I never thought you’d ever leave Texas.”

He grins and shakes his head slightly. “Well, when Top Gun calls and offers you a permanent station, you’d be a fool not to accept. And not to brag, but they do only offer that to the best of the best.”

“Please, Seresin. You love to brag,” you fire back, watching those green eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Well, it’s not bragging if it’s the truth. And the truth is, darling, that I am one hell of a pilot.” Jake takes a swig from his beer, before leaning a bit closer into you, like he wants to study your reactions. “What about you? What brings you out to sunny San Diego?”

“New job,” you say shortly, shrugging your shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. “Moved from the ICU to the ED, so I figured a change of location would go well with a change of pace.”

Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes and you hope he can’t tell. There’s no reason to tell your ex — boyfriend? Fling? — whatever that you followed a guy out here, especially since that whole — relationship? Affair? Complete and utter heartbreaking disaster? — situation crashed and burned almost immediately.

“Mmhmm,” Jake says, as if he can tell that’s not the whole story, and he takes another sip before seemingly deciding to let you off the hook. “And what did you boyfriend have to say about moving halfway across the country? Or did someone manage to finally lock you down after all these years?”

There’s a small, sinking feeling in your stomach as you think about the real reason you moved here for a brief, heartbreaking second.

“No boyfriend. No husband, either,” you say, wiggling your left hand at him in order to illustrate your point, and clock the way his eyes almost look relieved by the sight of your empty finger. “What about you, Seresin? Where’s your sweet, Southern wife?”

He laughs, a little cocky but a little hollow at the same time. “You know I don’t really do commitment, darlin’,” he jokes and, boy, do you, nights of watching him flirt with other girls while you pouted in the corner of the bar flashing in your brain. You take a long swallow of your beer — just like you used to swallow down your pride back then — and roll your eyes at him.

“I swear, you look exactly the same when you roll your eyes like that,” Jake says, his smile softening around the edges. “Nobody ever managed to make it quite as cutting as you.”

“Nobody’s ever been quite as annoying as you,” you fire back, but there’s no real heat behind it. Jake’s eye light up like you just gave him a compliment rather than pointing out that he knew exactly how to press your buttons when you were younger.

“I seem to remember you used to like it when I was able to make your eyes roll. Or, at least, when I could make them roll back into your head …”

You sigh, doing your best not to let on how much that comment made your face heat with decade-old memories of you two tangled up in your sheets. “There it is …” you begin, but he just leans into you a little more, those green eyes traveling all over your face as he speaks.

“I’m just reminiscing, that’s all. Can ya blame me? You’re still so beautiful …” Jake responds, one hand reaching out to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear. His fingers brush against your cheek as he pulls away and you hope you can explain away the goosebumps that erupt on your skin as a product of the ocean breeze. “And I spent a lot of time trying to get you all worked up back then. Force of habit.”

You could give into it.

Allow the sheer force of Jake’s charisma and good looks to carry you away on a wave of old memories. The chemistry that always fizzled between you is clearly still there, the butterflies that have laid dormant in your stomach all this time just waiting for an excuse to be let free once again. It would be easy.

And it would be good — you two had always been good at the physical stuff. He was so gorgeous in so many ways and surprisingly generous when you were in bed. (Jake always took pride in being the best of the best, after all).

But once you woke up tomorrow morning, after all of the awkward goodbyes and the promises to call, then what? Jake Seresin doesn’t commit; he made that clear.

And you were still bruised from your last mess of a relationship, your heart feeling tender and aching in your chest most days. There’s no way that this doesn’t end the same way it did a decade ago, with you sobbing uncontrollably and Jake moving on to the next beautiful girl who manages to hold his attention.

So, with a self-control you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull yourself out of Jake’s undertow.

“Seresin, I … that’s probably a bad idea,” you say softly, eyes dropping down to the tabletop in between you. “I just got out of a relationship and I’m not in a place —”

He cuts you off by tilting your chin up to look at him and then making a point to pull his hands back and keep them to himself.

“Hey, hey, I get it. No worries. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, darlin’” Jake explains in a rush. “I’m sorry about that. Like I said, force of habit.”

You huff out a laugh and another eye roll and you can see him fight a grin at your reaction. “Only you would describe flirting with someone as a habit, Jake.”

“Well, I’m one of a kind.”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you giggle, glad to be back on solid, friendly ground with him.

 Two hours later, Jake sent you off with a hug and his phone number as you and your friend climbed into an Uber and set off for home. She had a few questions about the “dreamboat” of a Naval aviator that you had apparently dated back in school, but was a little too excited about recounting her own evening to push you for details. It wasn’t until you arrived back at your apartment and collapsed on your couch that you realized Jake had been texting you the whole time you were in the car.

Unknown: It’s Jake 🫡😜🤠⭐️🍻🏈😉

Unknown: Hope you get home safe, beautiful. It was great to catch up with you.

Unknown: And I would be an embarrassment to the U.S. Navy if I didn’t at least offer to be your tour guide around San Diego

Unknown: I know all the best spots after all

Unknown: So text me if you want to grab lunch or something

Unknown: Or if you finally want to learn how to surf

Unknown: But give me fair warning beforehand, I remember how bad your balance is lol

 

You: lol I forgot you text every single thought in your brain

You: but having a tour guide sounds nice

You: we could get brunch this weekend and you can give me the highlights?

 

You had only just begun to take your shoes off, resigned to finally get off the couch, when your phone pinged.

 

Jake 🤠 🧡: I know just the place

You gave his text a quick thumbs up and got ready for bed smiling the whole time.

-—-—-—-—-—

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! I don’t know if I’m going to have a regular schedule with this or anything, but I will do my best! Thank you for reading about the absolute menace that is Jake Seresin

Tagging some people who asked:

@tvshowgirl81 @redbarn1995 @stoneyggirl @keepingitlokiii @averyhotchner @dizzybee03 @olliepig @lynnevanss @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem @mamaskillerqueen @kmc1989 @hookslove1592

[torchflies]

Hi TG Fandom!

It’s me again! 

So, we all know Rooster had his little meltdown and said his whole schtick: “No wife. No kids. No one to mourn you when you burn in.” to Maverick like a spoiled little brat while having none of those things. And okay, he was mad, sure, but he hit below the belt — anyway, hang on…

Imagine this instead:

A nineteen-year-old Rooster going to college classes at a university that isn't the Academy (after blowing up at the only family he has left), who falls for a Bio Major that offered him a free bulb when his tail-light blinker went out. 

I need you to imagine that he really loves this girl — the full Carl and Ellie from Up — he loves her more than anything. Of course, they have no money and they live off ramen noodles in a shitty studio apartment. But he starts a life with this girl, proposes to her with his Mom’s ring, and all he wants to do is call Mav and Ice, to call the Flyboys, to say look at her, isn't she perfect?

He starts to lose that anger, it flows out of him with every hungry night that he gives up his dinner so she can have more, with every paycheck-to-paycheck month and when they both pull all-nighters to make it through.

He slowly realizes how much Mav must have sacrificed when he was small and suddenly, he feels wrong inside. 

He wants to apologize, to go home. 

But he's still young and bitter and he doesn't want them to be right. He doesn't want not-going-to-the-Academy to be a good thing. He wants to be right. 

So he chickens out of it every time he goes for the phone, finding yet another reason to push it off. 

Until there are three positive pregnancy tests on the bathroom sink and he's barely twenty and they get married at the courthouse because they're desperate. 

They graduate at the same time and she's pregnant with triplets. 

He’s floored, because triplets? 

They have nothing, but it’s a beautiful life nevertheless.

They move to Cali and live in his parents’ old house. Bradley joins the Navy and she decides to start teaching. He refuses to ask for help, even when they struggle, even when he knows his family is less than an hour away. He also feels so guilty, because now there are going to be babies and he has a wife and it all seems so small in comparison. He doesn't care about the Academy anymore. All he cares about is her and the babies.

He doesn't know how to do this, how to be a father without the men who showed him what it is to be one.

And he's going to call, he swears he is…

Then his wife starts complaining about a headache that doesn't go away and her ankles are so swollen. 

He rushes her to the ER as fast as he can, but she has a seizure in the car that goes on for forever. She has eclampsia. She won't stop seizing. They have to do an emergency C-section. She's only twenty-three weeks. 

They lose her on the table, Baby A never makes it to the NICU, Baby C is born sleeping — there was something wrong with the placenta — and they ask him if he wants to try and save Baby B. 

Baby B, the smallest of the bunch, who has a severe form of spina bifida, a cleft lip and is barely a pound. 

Bradley says yes and plans for four funerals at the age of twenty-one. 

But Baby B doesn't die, he gets just about every dangerous complication for a twenty-three-weeker in the NICU, but he doesn't die. 

Mitchell Thomas Bradshaw — Mickey — named after the two strongest men that Bradley knows — comes home with him after seven months in the NICU. 

I need a Bradley who intimately understands what he's saying to Maverick, I need a Bradley who has had both of those things — a wife, kids — and lost them too. 

I need a Bradley who has lived a life in the interim and has grown up despite every challenge he faced, whose anger isn't really anger anymore. 

I need a Bradley who tried to call home once, only once, while his baby was dying in the NICU, and was told to stop calling after what he did by one of the Flyboys (probably while Ice was sick). 

I need a Bradley who has a deeper reason to be upset, who is angry at himself as much as he is at Maverick. 

I need a Bradley who has been raising a child for fifteen years on his own — one who gives him just as much back-talk and sass as he once gave Mav — who lost the person he loved most in the world and his children and somehow had to keep going. 

I need a Bradley who has become Maverick. 

That’s how that line makes sense anyway 🤣

[bussyslayer333]

Lay all your love on me

Summary: Jake has fallen for Penny’s niece working as a bartender at the Hard Deck for the summer. Too bad he doesn’t know how to show it.

pairing: jake seresin x penny’s niece!reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of an age gap, j*ke being an asshat, pet names, smut at the end, am I forgetting anything??? pls lemme know! MDNI 18+

feel free to send me a message or ask with requests/ ideas pls <3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was the third time this night Jake had seen you talking to that scumbag hanging near to the bar top. What did he have that Jake didn’t? Girls didn’t even like short guys (said scum bag was an inch shorter but Jake would be damned if the world didn’t know). He had never felt like this before in relation to a woman, usually they were the ones pining for him from afar. It was a pathetic sight to see for the rest of the dagger squad,

“Seriously bagman who pissed in your beer?”

Jake looked up from where he had been perched against the pool table and scowled at Rooster, did he ever shut his mouth? Now his gaze had finally been diverted from you he felt a surge of anger as he clenched slightly too hard around the neck of his beer bottle.

“Just go talk to her, with some of that Texan charm hopefully she can look past how horrifically you bombed yesterday.” Rooster smirked into his Stella.

At the reminder of yesterdays occurrence Jake squirmed in distaste.

“Come on ‘bombed’ is a bit harsh,” Bob spoke back to Rooster in Jakes defence.

Phoenix snorted so hard into her beer that some shot out of her nose and Fanboy let out a squeal as the nose beer hit his arm, alerting everyone in the hard deck (and probably a five mile radius because damn who knew fanboy had pipes) of their group. Payback began to pat Phoenix on the back and coaxed her back into a normal state of breathing but not before you could turn and mouth “you okay?” To Phoenix to which she replied with a forced smile and a thumbs up which appeased you and allowed you to turn back to ‘scumbag’.

“‘Bombed’ is putting it lightly Bob, don’t coddle him.” Phoenix croaked, and Jake finally spoke up “Look I didn’t mean what I said, I know I fucked up, bad.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Last night…

You and Jake had been dancing around each other for for a while now, it marked the third week you’d been in Miramar as you had been banished to your aunts for the summer because your mother had insisted you get some sunshine before your last year of college. Spending three months surrounded by hot navy men seemed ideal to you and you had hoped it involved a lot of beach time but alas, your dear aunt penny had roped you into becoming her newest bartender after the last had quit after a run in with a piano, a tray of drinks, a man named after a male chicken and one rowdy cover of great balls of fire.

The game you and Jake played was simple, you knew he was a flirt, heard the stories from your aunt of his heart of gold but sluttish tendencies with civilian girls in town for the summer. You knew you couldn’t be one of those girls but god was he making it hard.

Jake strolled up to the bar where you were drying glasses with a rag and tapping you sandal covered foot to the pina colada song. He leaned on to the bar top and let out a low whistle.

“That a nice sundress Sweets, I didn’t realise we were dressing up for each other now,” Jake drawled raking his eyes up and down the ditsy floral sundress you had worn (admittedly for him but he didn’t have to know).

“In your dreams flyboy,” You scoffed with a smirk looking into his eyes. The wedge sandals gave you a small amount of height advantage but your eyes still had to wander upwards to meet his.

“Every night, doll.” Jake pestered you further

“Sweets or doll? Which one is it?” You questioned but he didn’t falter, he never did.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Jake whipped out the big guns expecting you to simper, “darlin’,”

You looked him straight into the eyes and couldn’t help but giggle,

“Seriously cowboy? How often does that one work? Got all the southern belles swooning I imagine?” You snorted watching a flicker of embarrassment twinge in Jake’s eye but he stayed strong.

Truthfully, that’s why Jake hadn’t given up on you, you were funny and clever (probably much more than him) and dished it right back when he was being obnoxious, which was something Jake admired so deeply. Sure he thought that you were beautiful but so would anyone, it started out embarrassingly enough with Jake wanting you to be another notch on his belt but he couldn’t deny his desire to know more than just what you looked like in his bed. He wanted to make you snort when you laughed too hard and not feel embarrassed about it, he wanted to be lectured by you when he said something stupid and mostly he wanted you to tell him how much you loved him after doing all of that. His insecurities crept up within him so slowly, he had never had to deal with that type of feeling before, especially for a girl so much younger than him.

So in true Jacob Seresin fashion he did what he knew best, became a cocky son of a bitch.

“Sweetheart there are girls in this room begging for me to call them darlin’,”

You rolled your eyes with a hint more malice than what Jake was used to (and perhaps something which coloured you slightly green with envy). Then instead of doing the correct thing and backing down he amped it up.

“Don’t act all high and mighty when you’re dressed like that doll.” Jake knew he was digging himself a hole.

“Like what Jake?”

He knew he’d overstepped, you never called him Jake, always ‘flyboy’, an affectionate ‘bagman’ after you’d heard your favourite pilot Phoenix say it, and Jake’s personal fave ‘cowboy’ when his accent drawls our far too smoothly than humanly possible.

“Like a slut.” He spat far too casually for your liking. He was appalled at himself, embarrassed that he’d call you something like that. Jake pleaded that you tell him off, shout and scream and make regret opening his mouth. Rather you span on your heel to serve the next patron and didn’t look his way for the rest of the night. It was so much worse.

Your lack of verbal sparring, heated glances and winks when ‘Slow Ride’ was punched into the jukebox for the umpteenth time that night had Jake on a whim of nausea that couldn’t even compare to pulling 7Gs in his F-18.

He wandered back to the group looking sullen and Bob who had been silently observing the interaction was the first to pipe up.

“What happened?”

“I called her a slut.”

“WHAT?” Phoenix shrieked grasping your attention from the bar. Your ears twitched at the sound but you knew you couldn’t look back at them. Jake had humiliated you.

“I dont fucking know whenever I look at her my brain gets scrambled and I..” Jake trailed off to look at you and felt his heart drop to his stomach whilst you readjusted the the wrap neckline of your dress to cover your cleavage and and struggle to pull the skirt of the dress as far down on your thighs as it could go.

Phoenix seethed watching you as well,

“You are going to go over there and apologise to my favourite bartender we’ve ever had, otherwise I will literally shoot you down at our next training session.”

Rooster coughed up,

“Or Penny will never let us back in here again,”

Jake squinted at him in confusion, “I mean I know she’s got the sign but what does she have to do with this,”

Rooster smiled with a knowing look that Jake feared so so deeply,

“You didn’t know Hangman? That’s Penny’s niece.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Present…

After his failed apology attempt that Jake had tried to spew at you at the beginning of the evening he hadn’t been back up to the bar, leaving the drink ordering and collection down to his teammates. Penny hadn’t seemed out of the ordinary with him at the end of last night and Jake wasn’t surprised. You were a big girl who could handle her men issues on her own without running for help. Which is why he felt so foolish to be one of those dudes you discard after a stupid [read misogynistic] mistake.

Watching the scumbag return to the bar top for the 7th time this past hour (yes Jake had been counting) he finally plucked up the courage to walk over to you.

Before he could fully make his way away from the group, Rooster caught his wrist and pulled them close together.

“Are you sure about this?”

Jake had never been one to listen to Bradley but he felt the urge to currently.

“Look Jake I can’t watch you go over there and apologise just to continue your journey of trying to get into her pants. She’s sweet, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Looking Rooster in the eyes it became so obvious to Jake how badly he had fucked up.

“I dont just want to get into her pants.”

Rooster snorted as Jake put emphasis on the word ‘just’. Jake rolled his eyes and continued.

“I feel like shit for making her feel bad about herself. I really fucking like her Bradley and i need her to see that.”

Rooster nodded and released his grip on Jake, pushing him forward,

“Go get her Loverboy!” Jake cringed as you turned to see Roosters outburst.

Powering ahead just in time to see scumbag reach to touch your bare arm Jake yanked his hand out of the way.

“What’s your fucking deal?” the guy grumbled and Jake took advantage of his height and stared the guy down.

“Do her a favour and get lost buddy.”

Whilst you would have previously enjoyed Jake coming to the rescue, your mood was still significantly dampened by the events of last night.

Was that seriously how he saw you? Just some slut who was the easiest way for him to get some attention. You hated that he made you doubt yourself and you hated yourself even more so for still craving him.

Whilst the scumbag stumbled off into the direction of some other frat boys Jake fell into his spot and looked up at you apologetically.

You beat him to being the first to speak up.

“Do you seriously think after that shit you pulled, you have the right to be jealous over who’s talking to me?”

Jake went to speak again but you cut in.

“I suppose you’re here to tell me how slutty this outfit is,” you gestured down at your cut off jean shorts and tight fitting crop top. Jake wanted to admire you but felt it best not to. He cringed at your use of ‘slutty’ but figured you deserved to let it out of your system.

After turning around to serve someone else who had turned up at the bar you returned back to Jake looking slightly more willing to hear what he had to say.

“Look doll,” you rolled your eyes albeit more playfully than last time he had seen the action, “I’m really really fucking sorry. I’m such a dick and i can’t believe I said that to you.” You looked into his eyes and waited for him to continue. He took a deep breath, knowing he had to say it.

“I like you so much it’s embarrassing, to the point where I’m so cocky it makes my head hurt because somehow it’s easier for you to hate me for being a dick rather than pity me for being down so bad for you.” Jake stopped his rambling to look up at you and see you giggling. God he’d fucked this situation even further. Now you were never gonna speak to him again, just laugh at how embarrassing this grown ass man was for falling for you. Recognising the slight spiralling look in his eyes you decided to put him out of his misery and speak up.

“You are so stupid lieutenant.” You smirked at him and Jake felt embarrassed at how his body reacted to you addressing him with his rank. You continued on, “You are so stupid if you didn’t think I was just as down bad for you.”

Jake quirked an eyebrow at you, begging he wasn’t just dreaming this up.

“Jake I’ve been sold on you since the minute you walked into this bar with that smirk on your face after calling me your favourite pet name of the hour.”

“Doll you don’t know how glad I am to hear that,” Jake beamed at you, “and I’m so fucking sorry again-” he began.

“If you don’t close your mouth and kiss me right now lieutenant,” and with that Jakes lips were on yours. It was sweet, he tasted like the bitter beer he had been sipping and the emergency tictacs he kept in his back pocket. He reached his hand around your head and guided your further into the kiss until you pulled back. Jake worried he had gone too far too soon and opened his mouth to apologise again. Instead he followed your line of sight to see your aunt staring disapprovingly down from the entrance of the bar. Until she burst into a fit of giggles, you turned your head shyly and buried it into Jakes chest and he lifted your chin with his finger.

“Care to explain what your aunt seems to find so funny doll?”

Penny walked behind the bar and began attending to patrons as she spoke to Jake with a knowing smile.

“I warned her of navy boys, told her how me and her mother were back in the day, and she assured me hurriedly that she could never be like that.” You blushed as your aunt continued on. “So imagine my surprise when I walk into my bar to see you Hangman, all over my niece.”

Jake smiled sheepishly, but spoke with his usual confidence, “Well if there’s one thing I can assure you Penny m’dear, it’s that I won’t be anything like your Maverick.”

You smacked Jake on the chest lightly at the mention of your on and off again uncle whilst Penny snorted. “ I can only pray.”

You pulled away from Jake to begin helping Penny wipe down the glasses but she immediately started shooing you away with her rag. “Please darling, do us all a favour and alleviate the heavy sexual tension which has been wreaking havoc on my bar for the past month.”

Your mouth hung open as you were reminded of your aunts often unnecessary candour. Jake laughed from behind you and yanked you up by the hips so you were sat on the bar top. Spinning round to face him your felt his hot breath hit your ear.

“What do you say doll? Let’s get out of here, I have a few ways i can think of making it up to you.” You pulled back with a blush on your face and nodded hit with a sudden loss for words.

“Get her off my bar top would you.” Penny gestured in your direction to Jake.

“Gladly.” He smirked placing his strong hands on your hips. You could feel the warmth of his skin on the sliver of your midriff that was revealed by the short nature of your tight top and denim cut offs. He picked you up and placed you down in front of him which made the height difference oh so much more appetising now he was staring right down at you.

“Let’s get out of here.” You smiled up at him tugging him by the calloused hand.

Jake turns as he’s being dragged out by you and winks at a staring and shocked Rooster and Coyote. Phoenix looks up from where she was about to kick Bob’s ass at pool and makes a mental note to text you later to get as many details as she can.

Finally leaving the Hard Deck and the cool night time sea breeze is refreshing on your flushed cheeks. The sunset is in its last stages as Jake checks the time. 21:52.

“Not to be presumptuous, but would you like to come back to mine?” Jake speaks almost, nervously? You squeeze his hand in reassurance and look up.

“I thought you’d never ask flyboy.”

Jake guides you through the hard deck’s gravel parking lot to his truck in the far corner where a tree hangs down lowly over it. You snort as you realise how fitting Jakes truck is to his personality. It’s shiny and big but you can see his air freshener dangling down revealing a Yankee candle spiced cinnamon scent. Suddenly not feeling very patient anymore you drag Jakes face down to yours with both hands and lock your lips together. It’s much more heated than the kiss in the bar, which is probably due to the confidence found in not being watched by a group of Jake’s workmates. Jake slips his tongue into your mouth making you moan out in surprise.

“God you sound so sweet doll” Jake groans against your ear moving his kisses along your neck getting sloppier as they go along as to drag out more sounds from you.

“Jake please,” you whimper almost embarrassingly far gone from just kissing. He pulls away from your neck to open the door to the drivers side of his truck and you whine from the loss of contact.

Jake chuckles at your needy state and helps you climb into his lap in an action far too gentlemanly for the current situation. Face to face sat in his truck your need for Jake only grows as he bucked his hips up into you causing you to whimper into his lips.

“Sorry doll,” Jake chuckles, “you just feel so good on top of me.”

“Easy cowboy,” you simper, “I could still walk right out of this truck if you keep teasing.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jake smirks, seeing right through your lie. Nevertheless, he continues his ministrations of kissing down your neck as you grind your hips down into his. The friction of his trouser seam and your shorts bumping against your clit with each movement was addictive.

You pull away from Jake’s latch on the base of your neck and begin to unbutton his shirt. Jake helps you as the heat verges on uncomfortable. Once his chest is bared to you a knot of fire ignites in your stomach as you trace the hair that leads down his chest into a happy trail with your finger. Jake hums contentedly and reaches for the bottom of your shirt.

“As adorable as the little top is doll, I’m much more interested in what’s underneath.” Jake signals for you to raise your arms to aid him removing your shirt and you do. Your shirt is abandoned on the passenger seat as Jake stares at your bare chest. You become slightly self conscious at his silence and reach to pull you hands in front of your breasts until Jake groans.

“God you’re fucking perfect,” Jake pulls your hand that was going to cover yourself and places it between both your crotches onto his hard cock. You both moan out at the sensation. Jake reaches up to unbutton your shorts and you aid him in pulling them down and tossing them to rest with your discarded shirts, thanking the lords you opted for a cute lacy baby blue thong today instead of your trusty my little pony pants that were a common wear for you. Jake groaned again loud enough that you had half a mind to shush him.

“Doll are you actually trying to kill me?” Jake asked you with an air of honesty. You giggled in reply and reached to toy with your clit through your panties. “Yep, you definitely are.”

Jake replaced your fingers with his and pulled your panties to the side to catch a glimpse of your wetness.

“All for you lieutenant,” Jakes whole body audibly twitched at that admission and he pulled you in by the back of the head for another deep kiss with his hand that wasn’t between your legs. As you kissed messily with your free hands palming over his length Jake increased his speed and plunged his middle finger into you. You moaned against his mouth at the intrusion and whimpered trying to find something coherent to say.

“Jake please I’m so close,”

“I know doll, please cum for me.” Jake begged whilst he circled your clit once more with his thumb. Feeling you clench around him Jake repeated his actions over and over as you squirmed against him, thrashing gently as pleasure overcame you. Jake watched in awe as the girl he has dreamt about for the past month came all over his hand. Breathing hard you kissed Jake messily again as he removed his fingers from you. Parting from the kiss you watched Jake stick his fingers into his mouth and suck them clean, involuntarily clenching as you eyed his actions. Jake opened his eyes and made contact with your lust blown ones and smirked.

“Now let me actually take you back to my place doll, show you what else I can do.”

You smacked his bare chest endearingly and moved over to the passenger side to dress yourself in his button down shirt for the short drive back to his place. Jake looked over and smiled seeing you dressed in his shirt lit up by the moonlight filtering in from the windscreen, and it filled him with pride to see you finally as his girl.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: this is my first piece of writing ive actually decided to post so please comment and re blog and tell me what u think !!!

yes it was inspired by the abba song LOL i watched mamma mia yesterday and couldn’t stop thinking about jake and the whole “i wasn’t jealous before we met, now every man that i see is a potential threat,” (queue sick fighting moves)

i was also thinking about doing fics w bob and rooster inspired by mamma mia/ abba songs so whatever you want to see just lemme knowwww :)

thank u for reading

- honey <3333

[redfurrycat]

🏆📖✈️TOP GUN Fic Recs Masterlist✈️📖🏆

⬇️⬇️Below the Cut⬇️⬇️

Pairings

—🤠🐓—

Recs List 1 (Last update - 17-06-24)

Recs List 2

Recs List 3

Recs List 4 (Last update - 24-09-23)

Recs List 5 (Last update - 30-09-23)

—☃️🏍️—

Recs List 1 (Last update - 18-02-24)

Recs List 2

Characters

Beau "Cyclone" Simpson (Last update - 11-02-24)

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw (Last update - 20-07-24)

Themed

—Special Formats—

5+1 {🤠🐓} (Last update - 06-09-24) > 5+1 {☃️🏍️} (Last update - 19-05-24)

Chat, Epistolary & Social Media {🤠🐓} (Last update - 14-09-24)

—Special Events—

Christmassy "Ho-Ho-Ho" Fics {🤠🐓} (Last update - 03-02-24) > Valentine's Day {🤠🐓} (Last update - 22-02-24)

—Relationship Status—

Fake/Pretend Relationship {🤠🐓} (Last update - 15-09-24) > Marriage Fic Recs {🤠🐓} (Last update - 19-06-24) > Childhood Friends-Sweethearts {🤠🐓} (Last update - 20-07-24) > Getting Back Together (Part One & Part Two) {🤠🐓}

Kid Fic - Single Dad & Parents {🤠🐓} (Last update - 07-09-24) > Big Brother Bradley Bradshaw (Last update - 15-08-24)

—Proud to Be—

Trans Characters {🤠🐓} (Last update - 08-08-24) > Ace Characters {🤠🐓}

—Forbidden, Spicy and Citrus Fruit—

I'm a babygirl in a daddy's world {🤠🐓} > Daddy Klnk (Last update - 14-01-24) > Sugar Daddy (Last update - 07-05-24)

PWP {🤠🐓} > TO COME > Bosom!Hangman {🤠🐓} (Last update - 25-01-24) > The Chicken Peach & the Zenithal Cowboy {🤠🐓} (Last update - 15-09-24) > The Perched Rooster & the Brooded Texan {🤠🐓} > TO COME > Everywhere. Every-Fucking-Where. {🤠🐓} > TO COME

> Beautiful, Handsome, Pretty {🤠🐓} (Last update - 17-06-24)

—Top Gayn Canon-ish—

Post-Mission (Update Notice - 07-09-23 - I'm halfway done with the collecting of PM fics.. Wait for it, 'cause it's probably going to be several posts xD) > Post-Mission Aftermath > TO COME > Post-Mission Daggers Shenanigans > TO COME > Retelling, Backstory & cie {🤠🐓}

Navy - Not A Pilot!Bradley Bradshaw (Last update - 11-08-24) > Navy - Not A Pilot!Jake Seresin (Last update - 13-02-24) > Not Navy - Still A Flyboy At Heart {🤠🐓} (Last update - 21-04-24) > Top Gun Instructors > TO COME

The Daggers Discover Rooster's Navy Parentage, a.k.a Baby Goose and his Mavdad & Icepops > TO COME

—To Fly or Not to Fly?—

Daily Heroes {🤠🐓} (Last update - 02-03-24) > Spies & Secret Agents {🤠🐓} > Organised Crime {🤠🐓} (Last update - 06-09-24) > Vigilantes, Superheroes & Supervillains {🤠🐓} (Last update - 14-07-24)

Educational Occupations {🤠🐓} (Last update - 23-08-24) > High School & College/University {🤠🐓} (Last update - 03-06-24)

Flower & Tattoo Shops AU {🤠🐓} > Bakery & Coffee Shop AU {🤠🐓} (Last update - 28-07-24) > Chef, Bartender & Waiter {🤠🐓} (Last update - 14-07-24) > Mechanic AU {🤠🐓} (Last update - 07-02-24)

Musicians, Singers & Dancers {🤠🐓} > Music & Dancing within the Top Gun Verse {🤠🐓} (Last update - 11-08-24) > Actors & Celebrities {🤠🐓} (Last update - 30-06-24)

Royalty {🤠🐓} (Last update - 20-07-24) > Navy Prince, aka THE Nepo Baby > TO COME

Sports AU {🤠🐓} (Last update - 06-09-24)

—Sci-Fi, Fantasy & Fanfiction Tropes—

Hanahaki Disease {🤠🐓} (Last update - 17-04-24)

Mythological Creatures & Shapeshifters {🤠🐓} (Last update - 20-07-24) > Ghoost & Ethereal Beings (Last update - 04-02-24)

Omegaverse {🤠🐓} (Last update - 20-07-24)

Soulmates {🤠🐓} (Last update - 21-04-24)

Space AU {🤠🐓} (Last update - 04-08-24) > Time Travel/Loop & Reincarnation {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️} (Last update - 20-07-24)

—Special Tropes—

Amnesia & Memory Loss {🤠🐓} (Last update - 13-02-24)

A Rooster in Texas & Texan Jake "Hangman" Seresin (Vol.I) {🤠🐓} (Last update - 19-06-24) > Texan Jake "Hangman" Seresin (Vol. II) {🤠🐓} (Last update - 17-06-24)

Animal Companions {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

And They Were Roommates & Only One Bed {🤠🐓} (Last update - 05-06-24) > And They Were Neighbours {🤠🐓} > TO COME

Bodyswap, Mental Bond & Doppelgängers {🤠🐓} (Last update - 23-05-24)

—Media-based—

TV-Show & Movie-Based Fics (Last update - 14-09-24)

Pacific Rim Fusion (Last update - 14-01-24)

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

Requested

Iceman is Hangman's father (Last update - 13-02-24)

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

Special Lists

Tumblr Writers {🤠🐓} (Draft) (Last update - 07-01-24)

Reccing the Reccers' Recced Fics Lists > TO COME

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

PssPss...

Drop an ask if you want me to find you a lost Hangster fic! 💕

If you want a specific Hangster recs list, I'm up to the challenge as well, although I ask for patience (it takes time to search & compile). 🤗

[tgmsunmontue]

WIP FIC List - pinned post

All completed fics can be found at: ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN, however if you prefer an up-to-date list you can visit this Tumblr post, as it lists all my TG/TG:M fics and links to both AO3 and the first Tumblr post for that fic.

*ACTIVE WIPS - (updating ~weekly depending on chapter length)

Sagas of Solitude 12/21 - IceMav with side Hangster AU - angsty Nepo!Baby Bradley Bradshaw who has to keep his relationship with Mav and Ice a secret when he starts at the USNA. Featuring married Ice and Mav (but not to each other). Prologue He Remembers and Lonely Nights are both set in this verse. (Last updated 22nd September)

Season to Taste 20/? Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world. (Last updated 25th September)

*Active WIPs, versus WIPs listed below - more writing time and energy is spent working on the above, while the below are fics I work on sporadically (or in the weekends).

WIP STATUS (+ FIC IDEAS CURRENTLY GERMINATING)

FYI - everyone is welcome to take any of the ideas and do their own spin. Don't plagiarise obviously, but definitely feel free to take it and add your own twist.

A) Upon which our souls touch - 6/? - Hangster Fantasy AU (Last updated 7th September)

B) Never knew I was missing you - 1/? - Hangster AU with Jake a naval aviator and Bradley and A-list Hollywood star. They meet on a dating app. Famous and cat fishing that isn't cat fishing because online relationships are rife but...? (Tumblr idea) (Last updated 21st September)

C) To wake, perchance to dream - 4/? - Jake wakes up in the future, gets a glimpse of what their life could be and then wakes up back right before being called back to Top Gun for the special detachment (e.g. TGM). (Tumblr post and the beginning of the fic) (Last updated 1st September)

D) IceMav with unknown about children because the US Navy is evil and produced offspring because of genetics being a THING. (Tumblr ramblings)

E) Cyclone/Maverick - Cyclone is struggling to deal with being attracted to the most annoying person he's ever met. Why does he like him so much?

F) Olympic AU - Jake and Javy are the Flyboys, a synchronised diving pair. Bradley is a gymnast.

G) Party of 5 AU - Jake raising his younger siblings and trying to run the family business and grieve the life he had started to build at College.

H) From the top 2/? - an Ice/Mav epistolary fic where Jake and Bradley matchmake them, not realising exactly who it is they've matched together. AU divergent ish. (Last updated 23rd July)

I) Bradley runs away and joins the circus. Tumblr ramblings.

J) Barista Jake? Fleshing this out into a proper length fic? (HERE)

K) Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide - 8/?Transformers cross-over for help me @yeagrave is 110% to blame for me adding this... (related to this post) (Last updated 13th September)

L) Hangster Sports Team AU with Hangster being ex-es and the trade deadline coming in hot and Bradley being traded in and all hell is about to break loose... Ramblings

M) Practical Magic AU (Tumblr ramblings)

N) Two guys in the mines hooking up... (Madness)

O) Long-distance/Zoom D&D players. (Madness)

P) Rooster is a shapeshifter trapped in his animal form? Crackity crack crack. (Madness)

Q) EMPTY SLOT 😱

R) IceMav Bingo of the Florist and Undercover agent variety.

S) Jake leaves Bradley at the alter and everyone is heartbroken. Including me.

T) Bradley a mechanic and Jake still an aviator. Hopefully a short little ficlet which is actually short. (Tumblr prompt/idea)

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 6

Masterpost

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: Post-wedding, and the crew heads into quarantine, so we'll be at launch day in a couple of chapters. It's kind of looking like this thing will be around 12 parts total for now, so this might be halfway, but we will just see how it goes! Thanks all for reading, I love hearing from you guys :)

---

October 12, 2025 Nassau Bay, TX

Bucky wakes in the early morning with his body cocooned around Gale’s, chest to back, his left arm protectively slung over Gale’s side, hand pressed right over his heart. He buries his nose in Gale’s soft, messy hair, breathes in the scent of him, presses his lips to the back of his head. How could there possibly be any universe where this isn’t what he wakes up to?

Gale looks so peaceful in his sleep, his lips slightly parted, his face soft and unworried. In so many ways, he looks like the exact same sweet, innocent boy that Bucky fell in love with in college. Tall and lanky with a shy, candy-sweet smile, shaggy blonde hair, and his pretty blue eyes set on the stars. A certified nerd with a rough edge from growing up too quickly. Bucky fell in love practically on the spot. 

He remembers nights spent crammed into a twin sized bed with no AC, tentative kisses and unsure hands. Hours spent laughing, blushing, talking in the hazy line between one day and the next. The feeling of tumbling, out of control, head over heels into a love that neither of them ever saw coming.

And yet, in so many ways, Gale isn’t that boy at all anymore. He’s stronger now, more hardened, more confident, less innocent. As is bound to happen in the military. An all-American southern flyboy with a can-do attitude. A space-traveling heartthrob, eyes still on the stars. He’s constructed a face that he lets the public see – someone who is unassailable, calm and collected, walls put up so no one can hurt him. Bucky is one of few who gets to see this version, the one that is vulnerable and soft. He’s one of the only people in the world who has watched Gale grow, change, and come into himself. One of few who still sees in him that shy, innocent teen.

They’ve been through so much together. They’ve loved each other. They’ve broken each other. They’ve lived and kissed and held on tight. They’ve cried and yelled and run the other way. 

Bucky can remember more than a few tough times, times when he was almost certain it would never work out. When he felt them crumbling, white flags waving. Hearts cracking. Hands grasping. 

But they’ve always, always come home. 

Half their lives is a long time to be in love. And the rocky water of coming into your twenties, and then your thirties, is an awfully rough ocean to navigate while holding on to someone else. Growing together can be painful; anyone who’s done it knows that. But it’s also the stuff that great romances are made of. 

Bucky’s always been a bit of a romantic. And holding on with all of his strength to Gale Cleven, no matter what kind of nasty curveball the world threw at them, was the best thing he could have possibly done. He would do it all again in a heartbeat, if it meant he’d end up right here, his hand resting over Gale’s beating heart.

If there’s a universe where he didn’t hold on, he doesn’t want to see it. If there’s a universe where they didn’t make it, he doesn’t think he still exists there. Because Gale is his home, and how can you exist in a universe where you have no home? 

Bucky can’t help but smile, feeling perfectly, unequivocally content. This is the only universe he wants. He pulls his left hand up to rest on Gale’s bare shoulder, admires the silver ring on his own finger. This is the kind of moment he’ll remember for the rest of his time on this Earth: the morning after their wedding, Gale sound asleep in his arms, sunlight coming through the window as the birds sing outside. Warmth wrapping around his soul as he realizes that this man is his. He always has been and he always will be.

Sleepily, Gale’s eyes blink open to the feeling of gentle lips kissing along his shoulder. He turns his head as much as he can without repositioning, not wanting to lose the warmth of Bucky’s bare chest pressed to his back. Propping himself up on his elbow, Bucky lovingly strokes the hair back away from Gale’s eyes, and he inhales deeply at the sight of his husband blinking sweetly up at him. “Morning, angel.”

Gale’s voice is rough with sleep when he says “good morning” and grabs Bucky’s hand, holds it firmly against his chest. He yawns and relaxes his head against the pillow again, looking out through the big window across from the bed. It’s just the two of them, Benny having taken Pepper for the night. And Gale could lay here, safe and sound in John’s arms, forever. 

But Bucky has other ideas. Squeezing Gale’s hand tight, he presses his lips delicately to his cheek, then his temple, then the top of his head. He blinks slowly and takes a deep, satisfied breath as he settles back down into the bed, spooning Gale from behind so he’s wrapped up in his embrace again. He nuzzles his nose against the back of Gale’s head and looks out the window, too. At the beautiful, blue-sky day welcoming their marriage into the world. He disentangles their fingers to stroke his hand up and down Gale’s side, rubbing soothing patterns into the warm skin with his thumb.

After a long few minutes of tranquil quiet, he grins against Gale’s hair and whispers, “Let’s go flying.”

Gale huffs sleepily. “You’re not supposed to do anything dangerous this close to the mission. NASA’s orders.”

Bucky kisses the back of Gale’s head again, unable and unwilling to keep his mouth to himself right now. “Is flying an innocent little plane really that dangerous with two Air Force pilots in the cockpit?”

“You know Harding doesn’t see it that way.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Gale feels Bucky shift behind him, and soft lips move to the back of his neck, then down between his shoulder blades, making him shiver. “Seems like there’s something else you’d rather do anyways,” he chuckles. 

Bucky laughs. Gale can’t see his face, but his heart skips a beat at the sound. The prettiest sound he’s ever heard. Another gentle kiss. Teeth biting gently at the back of his shoulder because Gale is just too perfect and Bucky can’t help himself. “Let’s go flying,” he says again. 

Gale’s never been good at telling John Egan no.

–

They don’t get a honeymoon, not in their line of work, not now. So instead, they simply disappear into the sky for a while.

Marge is the only one they tell, just so someone knows where they are, just in case. 

Gale insists on flying. It doesn’t really make sense; they’re both some of the best pilots around. But for some reason it makes Gale feel better to personally ensure the Artemis 3 commander’s safety if he’s going to insist on doing something he’s not supposed to be doing. Typical. 

Bucky’s fine with that. He’d rather have his own hands on the controls, feel the plane himself, but he’ll play passenger princess for a day. Really, he’s just thrilled to be in the air. To be soaring over the Earth. He feels at peace up here, like his mind can finally slow down now that all of his problems and worries are lost somewhere far below. 

They’d managed to save up their money for a while and buy the turboprop after they’d both gotten themselves stationed at NASA. Their time in the air, either for NASA or the Air Force, decreased significantly with that transition. When not training for a mission, they both still get to do test and training flights, but Bucky has spent the better part of the last four or five years prepping for missions, first for ISS and then Artemis. He needs this escape. They both need to fly like their lungs need air, like their hearts need each other to keep beating. They haven’t been up in a couple of months, and Bucky didn’t realize just how much he missed it. 

He has many fond memories of this plane, even in just the few years they’ve had it. It needed some repairs when they first bought it off of a friend at NASA, so it was Gale’s pet project for months. Bucky’s little aerospace engineer, always itching to do something with those pretty hands. He remembers long weekend days out here, watching Gale in jeans, a loose white tee shirt and aviators, his skin glistening with sweat as he worked on the thing under the Texas sun. “Yeah, you fix that plane, baby!” Bucky would call out as he sipped his coffee somewhere off to the side.

“Little help might be nice,” Gale would reply. 

“Nah, I like the view from here!” He, of course, was talking about Gale looking like a wet dream. Wondering what it would take to get him to take off that soaked shirt already.

“Fuck off!” Gale would call back, and Bucky would say “Can’t believe I let you kiss me with that dirty mouth.” 

Gale proposed to him in this plane. Proposed being a loose term. They took a spontaneous afternoon flight some late summer day a couple years ago, and they’d been in the air for about an hour already. Bucky had just learned that morning that he was going to the moon – “the fucking MOON, Buck” – and was yammering on about it all, his thoughts jumping this way and that as his mind just raced. 

Gale was being oddly quiet, but his mind was racing, too. He was thrilled, obviously. Beyond thrilled. It was absolutely everything his boyfriend had ever dreamed of. But flying to the moon. Let’s just say there are some risks associated with that. 

Bucky doesn’t even remember what he was going on about; it doesn’t matter. Something about the training he and Curt would be doing for the lander, maybe. But that was when Gale just cut him off out of nowhere. Staring straight ahead, not even sparing a glance over, he blurted out “we should get married.”

That had shut Bucky right up. He sat there, open-mouthed, frozen. His brain had to reboot. 

Gale had been thinking about marriage for a little while. He didn’t know if Bucky had. They never talked about it. It had always just been them, no need for it to be legal. So Gale just… never said anything. Could never quite figure out the how or the when or the why. But something was gripping his heart too tight at the idea of letting John fly some 239,000 miles away from the planet without a strict guarantee that they belonged to each other somehow. He didn’t dare put words to it, but what if something… went wrong? Selfishly, perhaps, he needed to know that John Egan was his, and he needed to know that, if necessary, he’d be able to make certain decisions, know certain things, be in the room for certain conversations.

That was what was spinning through Gale’s mind as he flew the plane, as Bucky went on so excitedly about this amazing opportunity. It’s not a very romantic reason to propose, but the idea had been pounding away in his heart for months now anyways, and it simply couldn’t be contained anymore.

“Do… do you not want to?” He asked after a too-long beat of silence, his hands clutching the yoke too tight. Because of course, this wasn’t it. This wasn’t the time. Gale screwed it up. Maybe Bucky didn’t even want to. They never really talked about it, after all. “I… it’s fine if you don’t. It’s fine. Sorry. That wasn’t… that-“

“What do you mean do I not want to?” Bucky had exclaimed, staring at Gale incredulously. And, yeah, Gale actually looked nervous. 

“Well, I understand if-“

How laughable. The mere possibility that John Egan wouldn’t say yes to Gale Cleven. He shook his head, looking at Gale with all the love in the world. “God, Gale,” he laughed. “Of course I want to marry you.”

He got a lunar mission and a fiancé in the same day. It was the best day of his life. 

And now here they are. Married. One last flight before Bucky goes to the moon. He runs his thumb over the ring on his finger and watches as Gale walks around the plane, inspecting it carefully. I am the luckiest fucking bastard on this planet. 

No matter how many times they fly, there’s always a rush when they take off. Bucky whoops loudly into the headset, like the true professional that he is, as they climb higher and higher, picking up speed. Gale laughs at him. This may not be a Houston-approved outing – and he may get chewed out for it if anyone finds out – but the pure joy it brings Bucky is worth it.

From the regional airport, they fly back out over Houston, watch Johnson Space Center pass by below them. Bucky leans forward and gives it the middle finger through the window. 

Gale glances over and scoffs. “Why?” he asks into the headset. 

“They don’t want me up here,” John says. “But I don’t give a damn, if I wanna fly with my husband I’m gonna fly with my husband.”

“It’s for your safety and the integrity of the mission. Not because they have something against you flying.”

“Yeah, but I’m still gonna stick it to ‘em.”

Gale rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning like a little kid. They fly together all the time, but it’s different today. Everything feels brighter. Everything feels okay. 

They head out towards the water, fly along the coast of the Gulf. Bucky points to a pod of dolphins that they can barely make out, their fins dipping up and down in the waves. When Gale looks over, about to say something, he stops short and just stares at this wonderful man who, for some reason, was dumb enough to say yes to marrying him. This image of John, his side profile, illuminated by sunlight as he looks out the window with the most joyous little grin, headset on over soft, dark curls, is how Gale will remember his husband until the day he dies. Perfect.

When the plane turns, there’s nothing but open water. It looks almost like the wing could dip right into the blue ocean. Bucky closes his eyes and breathes deeply, pretends it does, ocean water spraying up, splashing the window, white sea foam outlining the wingtip, glistening in the late morning sun. But when he opens his eyes, they’re still thousands of feet up. He can smell the salt in the wind. He looks at Gale, who’s looking back at him like he’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. The way you might look at the sunrise overtaking the Earth from your post on the ISS, or at the milky way spilled out across a star-filled night sky. He’s looking at Bucky like he can barely believe he’s real.

Bucky leans over and presses his lips gently to Gale’s. When he pulls away, Gale still looks dumbstruck, like his brain has simply stopped working. “Eyes forward, you dork,” Bucky laughs.

This, right here. Flying high in the sky with the love of his life. This is his home. 

–

October 22 Houston, TX

They don’t get a honeymoon. Instead, two weeks before launch, less than two weeks after the wedding, Bucky and the rest of the Artemis 3 crew start quarantine. Today they ship off to Cape Canaveral in Florida, where their ride to the moon awaits. 

Last night there was one last send-off party. Toasts and hugs and “good luck”s and “don’t fuck this up”s. One last drink (one last hangover). For the newlyweds, one last night of amazing, ‘please don’t die but just in case let me love you with my whole body’ sex. This morning, one last kiss goodbye through breath that smells like too-strong coffee. One last I love you that doesn’t have to be over the phone. One last look. One last touch.

They’ve done this before. They’ve been away for much longer, when they stayed on the ISS. But it’s different this time. The stakes are higher, down here and up there. They both feel it, but they don’t say a thing. 

Gale hugs his husband goodbye at JSC, and Bucky joins Rosie, Curt, and Alex so they can set off for the Sunshine State. They won’t see each other again until mid-December.

Usually this is when the spouse heads home, back to their life, their family, their job, thinking too much about all the what if’s and what then’s. But Gale Cleven isn’t just the husband of one of the astronauts. He’s an astronaut, too. And he’s got a lot to do for Artemis 4 in the next two weeks before Artemis 3’s mission control has to take up the majority of his time and brainpower. So he pretends he isn’t worried. Pretends it’s just another day, another standard mission. And he gets to work here at the space center.

–

October 26 Cape Canaveral, FL

Quarantine is not a vacation. It is not restful. Nothing about Artemis or the lead-up to it is restful. They still work 12+ hour days, it’s just that now the four crew members are basically the only company each other has. Early mornings start with athletic training. Late nights end with reviewing mission protocols. They’ve started pop-quizzing each other as they toss around a small rubber football on their downtime (it’s only had to be confiscated once so far). The in-betweens are filled with VR mission simulations, more review, meetings, and more athletic training.

This is a group of professionals. But they’re also a group of rowdy best friends who will go to great lengths to keep things interesting, and the small support team quarantining with them is far more likely to go insane being locked up in here with them than any of the crew is. 

After only a few days, the support team has had to put abrupt ends to multiple games of truth or dare, keep Curt from attempting to parkour his way around the common area (twice), prevent Bucky and Rosie from getting into a physical fight with Alex over a Yankees vs. Red Sox debate (all in good nature, right?), and repeatedly reprimand them for playing childish but increasingly elaborate pranks on one another. Repeat: it’s only been a few days.

“Bring back Marge!” Curt pleads to Dr. Huston, their flight surgeon, when he all but begs them to calm the fuck down and stop finding ways to somehow make quarantine dangerous.

“Yeah, bring back Marge!” Alex echoes.

“Marge can’t quarantine with you,” Dr. Huston states flatly. He loves these guys, but they will be the death of him. “She’s your Public Relations Officer, not your handler.”

“Well she does a better job than you lot,” Rosie mutters, and Dr. Huston can’t help but laugh because, of all the people to be giving him shit, it’s the crew physician.

Yes, NASA assures you, they are in fact professionals.

But other than the evenings that they spend trying to find ways to entertain themselves, they work diligently and collaboratively the entire day, with little room for distractions. If they’re really really good, sometimes they get to go outside into the little courtyard in the middle of the building. But for the most part, they are inside, working, waiting, hoping their medical tests continue to come back with no problems. No one is allowed to visit them in person at this undisclosed quarantine location on Cape Canaveral. Contact with the outside world is limited to phone and video calls. So around 9 pm one night, Bucky sits at a table in the common area with his laptop, talking to Gale about this and that, mostly just happy to hear his voice.

“Alright,” Gale says eventually. “Get around to what you actually want to ask me.”

“What, I can’t just talk to my husband?” Bucky asks. Gale sighs deeply and waits for Bucky to go on, so he does. “How’d the game go last night?” The World Series just started, and Bucky has made sure that the whole damn crew knows.

“This isn’t Apollo, John,” Gale points out. “You have internet. Look it up.”

“Haven’t had a chance. I’m spending my first free moment since yesterday with you,” Bucky smiles sweetly and Gale rolls his eyes. 

“What makes you think I know anything about the game?”

“Cause I’m the most important thing in your life and you like to make me happy.” 

They both know this is true. So Gale gives in and starts relaying the highlights that he wrote down. Bucky nods along excitedly, asking questions here and there only to get a glare from Gale that says you're lucky I’m telling you anything at all.

“At the bottom of the ninth, Dodgers were up 6 to 2,” Gale says at the end. “Then Aaron Judge hit a home run with three guys on base. And Juan Soto hit another home run. Yankees win 7 to 6.” He recounts it all with so little emotion, save for a small smile at the end since he knows it’ll make Bucky happy, and Bucky will never understand. 

He leans back in his chair and throws his head back, arms spread wide in celebration. It’s only game three and only the Yankees’ second win of the series, but things are looking damn good. Then he sits up to look at Gale and shakes his head fondly. “How can you not be romantic about baseball?”

“Did you just quote Moneyball?” Curt calls from across the room. 

“Fight me!” Bucky yells back. 

“Whoa whoa, hold up,” Alex says, completely serious as he stares at Bucky. “Buck’s actually paying attention to baseball? Damn Bucky you really do have him whipped.”

“Have since day one,” he proudly replies. Gale blushes and rubs a hand over his face. 

“Wait what was the score?” Rosie asks urgently as he walks into the room, stopping beside Bucky. He waves at Gale through the camera and Gale waves back. 

“Yankees,” Bucky says. “7 to 6. Down by 4 in the ninth, but Judge hit a grand slam and Soto brought it home.”

“Fuck yeah!” Rosie holds a hand out for Bucky to high five. Alex, the Red Sox fan, says nothing, and Curt is glad of that because he can’t stand another heated argument about it right now.

As the others go back to whatever they were doing, Bucky picks at the hem of the faded old Yankees sweatshirt he’s wearing. It’s one of his favorite pieces of clothing. A comfort item. He pulls the neck up and presses his nose to the soft fabric before looking knowingly at his husband. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you stole this.” He’d noticed the moment he put it on the first night here, pressed the fabric to his nose and breathed deeply, couldn’t get enough. 

It smells overwhelmingly, amazingly, just like Gale. And Bucky could just drown himself in that scent. 

Gale shrugs. “Wanted you to think of me when you wore it. And how much I don’t care about that sport,” he jokes. He doesn’t say it’s your favorite, and I know you’ll wear it every night of quarantine, and I know it helps you calm down. And I wanted to bring you extra peace. 

He doesn’t say that, because Bucky already knows exactly what he means. He smiles at the thought of Gale wearing a damn Yankees sweatshirt around the house any time Bucky wasn’t there in the last week, making sure it would smell as much like him as possible. Just to make Bucky feel a little extra loved. It’s too big for Gale, he’d be almost swimming in it. What Bucky doesn’t know is how Gale wrapped himself right up in it, inhaled Bucky’s scent in just the same way, let it bring him peace, too. 

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers. “I miss you.”

“It’s only been a few days,” Gale reminds him.

“So? I still miss you.” 

“What are you gonna do when you’re on the moon, then?”

“Miss you more.”

Curt walks over to where Bucky is sitting and claps him on the shoulder. “You better get your head on straight, Egan.” Bucky shoves him off as Curt looks at Gale. “Don’t worry Buck, we’ll get your boy toy back home to ya in one piece.”

“Thanks Curt,” Gale says, almost sincerely.

Curt blows him a kiss. “Love ya babe.” Then he looks back at Bucky. “Now loverboy, either get a room or hang up. Just stop makin’ us listen to you two bein’ all cutesy an’ gross.”

“You’re just jealous,” Bucky grumbles.

They finally hang up after too many I-love-you’s, and Bucky can’t place the feeling that’s settled in his chest. He slouches down in his chair, pulls the neck of the sweatshirt up again, and breathes in Gale’s scent. He knows it’ll fade soon, the more he wears it. And after quarantine, he won’t even have this. 

He feels a sudden, sinking need to remember how it smells exactly.

But then he goes to sit with his crew, joke around for a while before they sleep. Before they wake up and start the whole busy day all over again.

T-minus 10 days.

…

…

Part 7

[read-and-write-]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks to @suseagull04 @kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes @wordsofhoneydew and @nocoastposts for tagging me today!

So, you know how I have many wips and some of those have been paused for a bit? Well I started another one, but it's short, it's sweet, and it's coming to your Ao3 very very soon (as in later today or tomorrow) with some ✨ surprises ✨

Affectionately called [gestures into the air] smth smth college au falling in love one voice note at a time but real title love has a voice (and it's yours) because Alex is 100% a chronic voice noter.

The first of January, there’s a string of missed calls and messages, sent since the night before only a few minutes after midnight.

Henry, can you please answer my calls? We need to talk, I’m not mad that you kissed me, you took me by surprise, that’s all, but I… I think I’d rather say this to your face. I’ll come by, I don’t care if I have to freeze to death outside your apartment building until you answer the door. In the middle of the afternoon, following a screenshot Henry sent of his chat with Alex.

Did you know that if you change my contact name to “My dearest, most beautiful boyfriend” your messages will send faster? We’ve been together for… okay, it’s been three days, but I’m frankly offended you still have me as “Alexander Claremont-Díaz” in your contacts, where has the love gone?

Okay for once I'm early so I'm tagging @happiness-of-the-pursuit @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @songliili @gay-flyboys @rmd-writes @cha-melodius @itsmaybitheway @theprinceandagcd @junebugclaremontdiaz @heysweetheart-writes @cactusdragon517 @14carrotghoul @xthelastknownsurvivorx and that's probably not everyone fjshsns so you know, open tag

[riallasheng]

Good day, Sheng I hope you've had a lovely day!

I was curious to know if you had any information on what the TB TOS boys studied and specialized in? Were they awarded with anything?

Hello my lovely anon! I apologize for the delay, but I was out visiting friends until late yesterday. ^^ I'm home again, which means I can dig through my novels and comics to answer this as best I am able!

Of the various sources, the official bios (there's at least 3 versions there of), the TV21 comics, and the Fleetway comics are the ones that are most likely to give the answers. There are also bits and bobs scattered around the various canon sources. Overall, I'm pulling mostly from the Fleetway for this, as it actually went the most into depth for what you're asking and while Fleetway / complete Thunderbirds Story DOES have some continuity / canonicity issues the education and specializations parts overall are solid.

Going in my preferred age order (because there's actually more than one XD )

This got long, so readmore deployed! ^^

Scott:

Given the ages involved, Scott skipped grades to one degree or another, because he seems to have graduated high school at 16-17 rather than 18. (Spoiler Warning: Gordon is the only Tracy that didn't skip grades. TinTin and Brains skip grades too, although Penny did not)

Scott seemingly went to a 'normal' college / university for ~2 years (Fleetway puts it as Tracy University, where Scott specialized in astronautics and got his astronaut wings, which at minimum DOES explain where / when Scott GOT his astronaut wings, which he DOES canonically have as all his official bios mention he is a trained astronaut and he is one of Three's canon pilots with a fair amount of knowledge / skill in space) as he doesn't start Yale until 18

At 18, Scott went to Yale for 2-3 years and finished his formal education at Oxford for 1-2 years (these numbers bounce around a bit in the various bios/mentions - though it being ~4 years in total is constant across all of them) and graduated top of his class - though not valedictorian or salutatorian, simply in the top 10 / top 5 - specializing in aeronautics / aeronautic engineering, mathematics, and navigation. We know he does have SOME education / degree in engineering as he the one that helps in designing / engineering / etc alongside Virgil. We also know he was heavily involved in the design of Thunderbird 1 and 2, with some refs to him being the primary designer on One. Scott definitely has a Bachelors and might have a Masters in one / two / all of his three degrees, but there's no indication that he has a Doctorate in anything. He seems to have had aeronautics / aeronautic engineering as his primary.

All of Scott's bios state that he served in the Air Force right out of College (so he would have joined at 22 to 23 years of age, then would have served 4-6 years). He was an officer, rather than enlisted, although his stated final rank ranges between Captain (of-3) to Colonel (of-6) so you likely can go with what you please there, although Scott IS referred to as a 'commanding officer' in the Air Force, which usually means Major (of-4), Lieutenant Colonel (of-5), or Colonel (of-6) though. We've no idea what his callsign would have been, though some fanon ones I've seen are Flyboy, Ace, Scooter, Falcon and Eagle. I use Mercury myself (Mercury Seven, and it refs his speed AND 'silver tongue'/communication skills)

There's multiple references to Scott serving in 'the War', although what War that is is VERY vague and hard to pinpoint. (Oddly, Fleetway using the 2020s timeline DOES make IDing the war in question easier... With Scott serving in his 20s, that would make the war in Fleetway the Global Conflict / WW3, which took place ~2010 and was how the Global Government / World Government formed.) For the most common 2060s timeline, it's really unclear what 'war' Scott would have been fighting in in the 2050s. outside of the confusion of 'what war', Scott was at minimum an 'ace' (5 kills in aerial combat / dogfighting), might have been an 'ace ace' (25+ kills) although that one MIGHT be a misprint where the word ace was accidently doubled, and there is a passing reference in either the novels or comics (I forget which ^^;; ) to him being 'War Ace', which is a title awarded to the 'best pilot / most skilled ace' in a war. So 'War Ace' is a potential accomplishment for him

He is officially a 'test pilot', and can fly pretty much anything / everything. It's mentioned he CAN fly the Tiger Moth so he can mange bi-planes, he apparently flew a stunt plane (so propeller), he's helicopter (and apparently helijet) certified, and he's flown a wide array of jets, rocket-planes, and space craft. (He has a pilot's license, helicopter / helijet license, and astropilot license). He has a Class-D (standard driver's) license, and he apparently knows how to drive a motorcycle so a Class-M license too. He might have a Class-B (farming equipment) license, and would have had a military license that functioned as a CBL (commercial) Class A/B/C license and might have gone through the work to get that again as a civilian. We do see Scott driving heavy equipment and the like when not 'IR' so he might have the commercial license. He has a non-commercial boating license, and miiiiight have a civilian submarine-craft license. Seems to have a diving license. Definitely has a sky-diving and paragliding license.

Scott somehow was given the Medal of Valor and quite possibly Medal of Honor as well. both are EXTREMLY difficult to achieve medals, almost always only given out in wartime, and we never are told what he did to achieve them

Scott retired in his 'late 20s' (probably around 28) 'with honors', which would mean an Honorable Discharge. That's right about when IR would be in the final set up stages / Tracy Island buildings and silos being built and the like.

It's strongly implied in the comics that Scott was a POW at some point, but nothing officially states it flat out. There's a vague refence to him having been shot down at some point in the comics as well. These have lead to the widespread fanon that Scott was a POW, usually in Bereznik. If this is the case, Scott would have a Purple Heart Medal and a Prisoner of War Medal. It also would explain why no one finds it odd that he retired as young / early as he did.

John:

Rather like Scott, John seems to have skipped grades, as he graduates High School at ~15 years of age (there's a VAGUE hint in TV21 that it might have been as low as 14. It's also implied to have been that low in Fleetway because John is only around 21 when he starts at Tracy University, AFTER finishing 6 years at Harvard).

While John has always been deeply interested in manned space flight and the heavens in general, his real passion (and career) is canonically in communications.

John starts attending Harvard University, and graduates as Valedictorian (he's top of his class, but there's a mention to him giving a speech at his graduation, which usually goes to Valedictorian) getting his degree in electronics and laser communications / communications in general. Since he wrote a thesis, he must have gotten a doctorate in ONE of these fields (likely communications)

John was HEAVILY involved in the design / building of IRs communications gear and might even have been the lead in it. both the 'listening in' and the 'communicating between each other' parts. He also seemingly was very heavily involved in the designing of TB5

He created a laser communications device that was 'revolutionary' and won him awards and accolades. (An achievement that was later stolen by Lt. Green in his bio... Spectrum bios had a VERY bad habit of stealing accomplishments of previously existing characters. In further example, Green also stole 'best communications officer / specialist WASP has ever had' from Phones, Harmony stole 'best pilot alive' from Scott, Grey stole 'back messed up and 4 months in hospital after a sub/high speed boat crash from Gordon AND 'first captain of the Stingray' from Troy, and Rhapsody stole quite a few of Penny's spy achievements)

John also located a previously unknown quasar, which became known as the Tracy Quasar System.

He's published at minimum 4 astronomy and outer-space textbooks, and at least 1 book on communications

After getting a doctorate in ~6 years at Harvard at 20-21 years of age, John then got his astronaut wings / became an astronaut. Fleetway puts him at Tracy University for this as well. (He might have been Valedictorian again, as he's referred to as being such for his astronaut training in... Countdown? I legit forget where the ref is. There's an implication that John was Valedictorian more than once, basically). All of the Tracys are genius level smart, but John seems to be the brightest star of them all

John worked on a civilian (or at least non-military) space station / space program for at least a few years. What group and station is debatable. It could be NASA, the World Space Program, etc. He further could have been on the International Space Station, Freedom Station, etc. The only things off the table are military groups, and he CAN'T have served in the World Space Patrol (Fireball XL5)

John has his pilot's license and space-pilot / astropilot license. He likely has a rocket-plane license (ie: a atmospheric craft that can escape the atmosphere and is space capable). He MIGHT have a helijet license, but he doesn't have a helicopter license. He has a Class-D (standard driver's) license, and he apparently knows how to drive a motorcycle so a Class-M license too. He might have a Class-B (farming equipment) license. He has a non-commerical boating license, and miiiiight have a civilian submarine-craft license. Seems to have diving license. Might have a sky-diving and paragliding license.

John also is a highly skilled athlete, having achieved many awards and records. We only know about him being involved in running, but WHAT KIND of running varies between sprinting (rare), long-distance (more commonly reffed) and cross-country (most commonly reffed), or trail or obstacle course (middling)

I'm not sure how John left his space career / stopped working on the space station without attracting attention, oddly he's the ONLY one that doesn't have an easy excuse for joining IR! Scott apparently had SOMETHING happen that gave him an honorable discharge and had no one questioning him retiring from the Air Force, Virgil apparently intended to work as an engineer FOR Jeff's company once he graduated, Gordon had the hydrofoil crash and an Honorable or Medical Discharge from WASP, and Alan was only 19 and hadn't really STARTED a career. TinTin either was just finishing her University education and/or like Virgil was working for Jeff's company as an engineer. Brains started working for Jeff at his company while Brains was still in college. John's the only one with a career outside of Jeff's company that DOESN'T have a coinvent 'stop working there' excuse.

Virgil:

continuing the running theme, Virgil seems to have skipped grades - more than Scott did, but less than John, graduating High School at 15-16.

Virgil started higher education at 16 at Denver School for Advanced Technology, but he's sometimes put in Yale or another Tech school. What his degree was varies. Fleetway has it as 'Advanced Technology', but he's also had Engineering / Nuclear Engineering listed in his official bios. He usually took art classes and music classes, and sometimes he has a degree in art or music mentioned, so he likely minored in art and/or music alongside his Advanced Technology / engineering major. He seems to have graduated at 20-21 with a Masters in Tech/Engineering and a Bachelors in art/music. There's no refences at all to him having a doctorate (only John and Brains have that), and while he seems to have been 'top of his class', there's no indication he was Valedictorian or Salutatorian. So, like Scott he would have been in the top 10 or top 5, but not the number 1 or 2 slots.

Fleetway claims that Virgil was on the Denver Football team and was a good player on it, but that is the only reference to it or sports in general. Something to remember is that Virgil is actually NOT the heaviest / buffiest in build of the brothers in TOS. He's well built, but Scott and Alan are both heavier /buffer in build than he is, as is his father. Virgil isn't LEAN, but he'd be a Middleweight, built sort of like Tony or tom Cruise or the like. Muscled, but not a brick house. Scott is consistantly referred to as 'powerful' in build, and is drawn as heavier / bulkier in muscles than Virgil. Heavyweight class or something like the traditional 'superman' build like Cavill or the like. Alan and Jeff are a bit more powerful / bulky in build than Scott, so upper end of the Heavyweight. Not modern day Body builder / the Hulk bulk, but say Hulk Hogan, Dwayne Johnson, Arnold in Terminator / Predator type build. Gordon is about Virgil's build / a swimmer's build. John is lean /lithe but not lanky. Built like a runner.

Virgil HAS sold art and had it on display at galleries, possibly even at a museum or two, which is quite the accomplishment. He's also played music semi-professionally, although I can't find or recall an refences to him winning awards or contests in music.

Like John, Virgil got his astronaut wings / went to a second school after his primary (Fleetway again puts this as Tracy University) and he seems to have gone to this second school when he was ~21. Fleetway has a fun incident where, while at Tracy U, he used his advanced technology degree to service a faulty space capsule during a training space-flight.

So far as I can tell, Virgil's plan was to graduate and work for Tracy Tech / Tracy Industries / whatever version of the MULTIPLE names that Jeff's company has you'd like to use XD upon graduation. He likely DOES officially work as an engineer for his Dad's company (his brothers as well) on top of IR duties.

Given when IR got started (September of 2065) and Virgil's age AND his graduation date(s), Virgil would have been working at Jeff's company for at least a couple of years before IR got started.

He has a Class-D (standard driver's) license, but no Class-M / motorcyle that we're aware of. He ABSOLUTELY has a Class-B (farming equipment) license, and has a CBL (commercial) Class A/B/C license. We know he has a pilot's license. While he has his astronaut wings, he might not have an astropilot license, but he would at least he have a 'limited' one - equivalent of a 'student driver' where he can be a co-pilot but not a solo. He has a helicopter and helijet license. Seems to have both a commerical and non-commerical boating license. Seems to have a civilian submarine craft license. Might have a diving license. Probably has a skydiving and paragliding license.

Gordon:

Only one of the brothers NOT to skip grades, as he goes straight from High School to WASP Academy at ~18.

Gordon was showing skill in swimming at only 3 years of age, and joined a professional swim team as early as possible (13 or so, though he would have been on school swim teams / training prior to that)

Gordon was one of, if not the, fastest freestyle swimmers in his prime. We know he won Gold in the Olympics for the Butterfly Stroke at 16 (Considering his birthyear, he might actually have been 17 given the years the Olympics fall on). We know he also got other awards / medals, but we can take it as fact that his only Olympic Gold was this. He might have gotten Silver and Bronze in other races. However given the 4 year gaps, this would have been the ONLY Olympics Gordon took part in - he would have been too young for the previous, and the ones after would be either after his hyrdofoil accident or IR.

Gordon went from high school straight into WASP. He probably was 18, buuuuuuuut there are hints that Gordon might have served in whatever War Scott and Phones and Troy and others in that age group fought in, so Gordon MIGHT have been able to sign up for WASP at 17 and basically before he graduated high school. To quickly explain, while you can sign up for the military at 17 with a guardian's permission for most branches… submarine service (and thus WASP) is not one of them, as it's strictly volunteer and 18+. You have to VOLUNTEER to be on a sub, and outside of wartimes you must be 18 or older. Thus IF, and only if, there was a 'War' on, Gordon could have joined WASP at 17.

Gordon was put in command of a bathyscape, which means he was an officer. You usually have to be 19 to become an officer / begin officer training BUT you can start at 18 during wartimes so... Gordon would have started his officer training at 18-19 and become an officer at 19-20. We've no mention of what rank Gordon was at his retirement, but to command a submarine, even a bathyscape, he has to have been a Lieutenant-Commander (of-3) minimum, but he can't have been more than a Captain (of-5) as he wasn't part of the admiralty. I make him a Commander (of-4) because I am an old geek woman and I love him having the rank level of 4 XD

While in WASP, Gordon came up with a revolutionary and unique underwater breathing apparatus... it's implied that the scuba gear we see used in Stingray are the ones that Gordon designed. Gordon later improved these for IR.

Gordon was in a high speed hyrdofoil crash (I know it says 400 mph, but I honestly would prefer it to have been going FAR slower... 400 km/h maybe XD ) that almost killed him, injured his back, and left him in a WASP hospital for 4 months (note that is his FULL TIME in the hospital, including his initial / in hospital Physical Therapy). The crash happened VERY recently, btw, like two years MAX before the pilot episode, but no less than a year and a half prior to the pilot, so it would have happened no earlier than Sept 2063 and no later than Mar 2064. A lot of fans give him lingering physical issues from this (heck I'm one of them), BUT it's important to remember that we see Gordon getting up to fairly normal physical activities in all canon material (even Fleetway where his accident is directly mentioned / shown), so he is not HEAVILY impacted by this. If he has chronic pain, it's mild for instance. If he throws his back out on occasion, it's rare and he recovers quickly, etc.

He has a military boating and submarine license, as well as a non-commercial boating license and civilian submarine-craft license. he miiiiiight have a commercial boating license, but he's never shown with commercial craft so *shrug emoji*. he ABSOLUTELY has a diving license. He has a Class-D (standard driver's) license. He might have a Class-B (farming equipment) license, and would have had a military license that functioned as a CBL (commercial) Class A/B/C license and might have gone through the work to get that again as a civilian. Likely has a piloting license, might have a helicopter and helijet license.

Alan:

Alan was interested in both car racing and space from a young age (and unlike TaG, it looks like he actually had a stronger interest in CARS than in rockets). He seems to have skipped grades, as he was in college by 15 years of age as he was far enough into his astronaut training to be in space at 16 as one of Alan's accomplishments is that he is the youngest astronaut / lunarnaut known, having been either in space OR on the moon (or at minimum he got his astronaut wings) at only 16 years of age AND he still holds the record for highest number of passes and holds the current record for graduating in record time.

It looks like Alan went first to college for his astronaut wings (Fleetway has it as Tracy University) and likely got a Bachelors, graduating at 16 years of age.

He then went to another school (Fleetway lists Colorado Tech / Denver Tech) and got a Masters at 17 (maaaaybe 18). WHAT he got it in varies wildly across canon sources though. He's got astronatical engineering, space travel, CAR engineering / design, and communications listed. So likely pick and choose as ye please. I personally go for Vehicular (car) and astronautical engineering. To be totally honest, I'd replace the Tech school with a Racing Academy and have it where Alan got a Bachelors in astronatical engineering at Tracy University at 16, and a second Bachelors in Vehicular Engineering & Design at a Racing School at 17, then went from there to join the World Space Patrol Astopilot Academy for 1-2 years before going back to his racing career for the 1-2 years before he joins IR

Alan then joined the World Astronaut Patrol Academy... aka the military branch that Fireball XL5 is part of. Alan was in the Astropilot program, but for unknown reasons in canon, he left WSP / Astropilot program before graduating when he was still 18. To solve this issue, I replaced one of the astronovices in the Fireball comic story 'The Astronovices' with Alan, as that would have given him a General or Dishonorable Discharge. Alan DOES hold the record for youngest Astronovice as he joined at ~17 or so, and he apparently was pretty likely to be one of the few to pass the grueling requirements and graduate (seriously, out of an intake of 200 potentials, less that 25 graduate for each 2-3 year training cycle).

Alan started his racing career while still in college, likely starting driving at 16-17 as it's said he's been racing for 'a few years' when he wins Pararola at 19/20. He probably paused the racing career for the 1-2 years he was in the Astronovice program, then resumed it at 18 when he left WSP (for whatever reason he DID leave). He apparently has a few wins / medals in racing under his belt and left a successful racing career to join IR, although he WAS young enough (only 19) that him deciding to join Jeff's company as a vehicle engineer who occasionally tests the vehicles the company makes likely wouldn't draw too much attention. (Alan was a 'champion' race driver and officially a car designer by the time he joined IR at 19.)

He ABSOLUTELY has a Class-D (standard driver's) license, and seemingly has a Class-M / motorcyle, and obviously has a SCCA (racing) license. He might have a Class-B (farming equipment) license, but that's debatable. We know he has a pilot's license. He might have a helicopter license, but we never once see him piloting a helicopter. He's a bit more likely to have his helijet license. He ABSOLUTELY has an astropilot license, even if he didn't get the military / Fireball craft license. Seems to have a non-commerical boating license and a civilian submarine craft license. Has a diving license. Probably has a skydiving and paragliding license. Certainly has a rocket-plane (aka astmospheric craft that can escape gravitational pull and is space capable) license.

If anyone wants, I'll do these for TinTin, Brains and Penny - I'll even try it for Jeff, Kyrano, and Grandma Tracy, although we have FAR less to go on for them

[mercurygray]

watching the rain forrrrr Fred & Brady?

Oh, this was a good one. Thank you for giving me an excuse to write them!!

It was bound to be quieter, out here with the rain.

She hadn't joined the Red Cross to be the center of attention - it was true enough that you got some of that being one of four girls in a truck, but that wasn't the same as having the spotlight on you for an unscheduled one-woman episode of Command Performance using a borrowed guitar.

Sadly for her, though, it looked like her usual seat was already taken. John Brady rose from one of the crates, his pipe giving him an almost patrician air. "Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't think there'd be anyone out here," Fred said, turning to go back inside.

"Plenty of room here for whoever wants it," Brady offered, gesturing to a second crate with his pipe. "If you don't mind a little company, that is - or the smoke."

"Reminds me of home, actually," Fred said, smoothing down her jacket and sitting down. Her grandfather had smoked a pipe - usually out on the fire escape, so the apartment wouldn't smell too awful. The smell of it calmed her. "It was getting a little loud in there for me."

"The sound of earnest appreciation," Brady said with a smile. "You made that guitar sound better than Jimmy does."

Fred blushed. It had been Curt's idea, because wasn't it always? Now, now - I think I'm owed a little treat for making it home in one piece, eh? Now where's - where's Fred? I wanna hear her sing me something. I know she's got a real sweet voice and we ain't all heard it yet.

She'd tried to beg off but Curt wouldn't take no for an answer, so they'd chivvied her up on stage, and Jimmy Hobart had handed over his guitar and pulled a stool out, and she'd tuned it up and asked Curt what he wanted to hear. Somethin' nice, he'd said with a grin. Somethin' sweet.

She wasn't about to go singing him a love song, so she'd pulled out one of those cowboy ballads she thought she'd be singing so often, I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences, Gaze at the moon till I lose my senses, Can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences, Don't fence me in.

She'd done that one, and another by Gene Autry, until Egan had joined in and gotten the whole club singing, and then Hobart had come back and she'd been able to sneak out the back door, back to the rain and the smell of Brady's pipesmoke.

"Not all of us studied music in college, Lieutenant Brady."

"You know, I wouldn't mind if you called me John," he offered quietly. "Curt's not Lieutenant Biddick, is he?"

Well, Fred, you walked into that one. "Curt excels at making himself an exception. There are rules I'm supposed to follow - and up until I got here I was pretty good at it."

"What do you think changed?" Fred looked over at Brady and found he was watching her with careful, considerate eyes - an armchair philosopher with his pipe.

She snorted and looked out into the night at the rain. It was a good question - what had changed? She was still the same person who'd left Madison twelve months ago - still had the same parents, the same college degree, the same training. Was it this place, or these people? The answer came back very unannounced, and she smiled to herself about it. "Apparently flyboys are very persuasive."

Brady chuckled. "On behalf of my fellow flyboys I will accept that compliment. So do you have any other tricks in those uniform sleeves of yours, Miss Fred? You dance, you sing, you play the guitar, you charm hardened pilots out of their seats, you make excellent donuts and a hell of a good cup of coffee. Is there anything you don't do?"

Now it was her turn to laugh out loud. "I also play a pretty good game of cribbage."

He didn't have time to respond to that, because just as she'd said it the door was opening again and Curt, listing a little bit to starboard, joined them outside. "John Brady, are you getting my best girl a drink?"

Brady sat up a little straighter, taking his pipe out of his mouth. "I can be, if she needs one."

"Hey, what is your drink, by the way?" Curt had turned his attention to Fred. "The next time I phone in I'll know what to ask for."

"A whiskey soda." Fred looked over at John, a little impressed.

Curt clapped him on the shoulder. "He remembers! See, this is why you're never gonna leave us, Fred, because we spoil you. And do you know why? Because we know a good thing when we see it. And you, Fred, are a very, very good thing."

"Maybe even the best thing?" Fred asked, getting up from her crate. Duty called - somewhere in her mind she could see the shift supervisor tapping her wrist. She'd danced too long with the same soldier, and there was no more time for quiet.

Curt was laughing at that, pulling her back inside and saying something about the jitterbug and showing Blakeley what was what and who was who. And Fred couldn't help but notice the feeling of Brady following them, resuming his seat on the stage and his clarinet, the smell of rain and his pipesmoke lingering on her jacket.

[kryptonitejelly]

flyboy!universe - but readable as a stand-alone. jake seresin x reader. the two times when jake sees you in a skintight dress (ft. college flyboy!jake) ngl, but two was entirely inspired by the skims dress.

-

one

college!flyboy era

Jake’s gaze has been trained on you the moment you stepped out of your room and into his line of sight.

“Too much?” You ask, hands smoothing down the fabric against your hips as you look up at him, waiting for his opinion. Jake sees the hint of insecurity flash through your eyes and it baffles him, because you look great.

“No,” Jake tries not to let his gaze run down the curves of your body, but he fails, miserably, “you look good.” Jake mentally kicks himself as the word ‘good’ tumbles from his mouth - the southward flow of blood through his body clearly limiting on his ability to speak, fucking hot, was more like it.

“Really?” You ask again while moving towards the wide full length mirror which leans in a corner of the living area of your apartment.

“Yes,” Jake pushes himself to a stand. He walks up behind you and you meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Really,” you ask, your voice trailing off, more an open ended statement than a question which Jake punctuates by dropping his chin onto your shoulder. The thin straps of your dress allow you to feel his skin, warm against yours.

“Yeah,” he repeats again more firmly as you both lock gazes in the mirror, “and you smell good.”

You find a slight flush start to creep up the back of your neck as Jake turns his face; you can feel the tip of his nose against your skin, and his forehead and the softness of his hair brushing your cheek. You feel Jake’s gentle inhale as you see his eyes flutter close for a brief second.

“Are you sniffing me,” you blurt out, mildly flustered at the action and the clench it makes you feel in your lower belly, “that could be perceived as creepy”

“Me?” He mock gasps as he straightens to his full height, “how could you.”

You mourn the loss of Jake’s skin against yours, but not for long as he takes a small step forward, your back connecting with the front of his body. Jake can feel the curve of your ass against him and it takes all of him not to let out a desperate groan.

“Maybe I should change,” you say, your gaze tearing away from Jake’s reflection in the mirror to run over the dress hugging each inch of your body. You move to take a step forward only to have Jake reach out to stop you by tugging you back by your arm.

“You will do no such thing,” he says just as you stumble into him, meeting a hard wall of muscle. Jake holds you steady with a hand on your waist as your palms press against his chest for stability. It gives him the chance to observe you both in the mirror, you pressed up against him and he can’t help but think how good you both look together.

You open your mouth to protest just as the doorbell rings - you hear the calls of your friends outside, a sign that you’ve both let them wait below the apartment block for a tad too long.

“Promise you look good,” Jake says his fingers giving your waist a reassuring squeeze before he gently tugs you towards the door and out towards your friends and the night.

two

flyboy!era

Jake glances down at his phone, giving a light tap to the screen to check two things - the time, and if there were any messages from you.

“They’ll be here,” Bradley nudges Jake lightly on the shoulder.

“Not soon enough,” is what Jake grumbles to himself as he takes a swig of his beer. An early Saturday morning tee time with the gang for him, and a late night over at Penny’s house the night before for you meant that he hadn’t seen you proper, since the day before yesterday - Jake wasn’t counting your half awake goodbye yesterday morning as seeing you. He was, admittedly slightly on the crankier side today from not having spent time with you. After all, the point of you being here, in San Diego with him was so that he could see you daily before you both went back to normal life and him to facing the possibility of being shot across the world with little warning for potentially months at the drop of a hat.

“Didn’t peg you as needy,” Payback teases gently, but with no bite, from across the table.

Jake opens his mouth to retort when he sees you step into the bar, laughing shoulder to shoulder with Phoenix. It distracts him to say the least, as he places the beer bottle back on the table, his body twisting in the chair, neck craning so he can get the best view of you from his perch. Jake’s focus is your face, but he lets his gaze drift down your body, over the grey form fitting dress that hugs your curves like a second skin. The dress ends just around your ankles, but the thin material that accentuates your curves, Jake notes is making more than his head turn as you walk in.

Jake catches your eye and the way that your face lights up upon seeing him makes his heart swell. He doesn’t take his gaze off you and watches as you scrunch the side of your in one of your hands and pick your way across the crowd towards him. Jake can’t help but think back to that one time in college when he bad to practically drag you out of the house in a similar, albeit much shorter dress. He marvels at the differences the years have made to your confidence. You’ve always been beautiful to him, a sight for sore eyes, but that confidence now, well Jake thought it made you pretty fucking hot.

“Hi,” he has his feet on the ground and arms open the second before you reach him, so you oblige, stepping into his embrace.

“Hey,” you respond, arms going around Jake but the palm of your hand raised up in a wave at the gang behind you. You can’t see them past Jake’s shoulder, but you hear a chorus of greetings to you, and almost audible eye rolls at Jake.

“You look good,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, while letting one hand drop down to your rest on the curve of your ass, his gaze scanning across the bar. He sees the gaze of some patrons dart away, and meets some disappointed ones. Jake was fine for people to look, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t stake his claim.

“You like?” You say as you pull away. It allows Jake the opportunity to take you in again, from the dip of the neckline which showed just enough cleavage, to the contours of the material which hugged your waist in while rounding your hips out.

“I can’t decide if you look better in the dress or without it,” he says, not soft enough and it earns him a series of loud groans from behind you coupled with crumpled up paper napkin or two chucked at his head. His words make you flush, while you let out a soft embarrassed groan of your own to which Jake squeezes your waist before ducking his head down, lips beside your ears, opting instead to say the comparably more chaste line to you only, “I love it.”

Your smile is all the reward Jake needs, but as you lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips in thanks, a hand on his bicep for support, Jake can’t help but think he is the luckiest man in the world.

[latibvles]

APOCALYPSE AU? APOCALYPSE AU.

okay guys who asked for mouse hole apocalypse au. nobody? well here it is anyway under the cut because I have lots of thoughts and feelings:

Willie! Willie is with her little brother Otto. I think they lose their parents fairly early on in everything and Willie works hard to keep them both alive. There’s also essentially 0 people she trusts and so she and Otto stick to themselves stick to their guns and try to make it day-by-day

Enter Viv who’s been on her own since this thing started — she and Willie probably meet via “getting each other out of a sticky situation” and then ending up stuck together like glue because of course they do.

I feel like Benny and June have been surviving together since it hit Chicago but didn’t know each other prior. What if we met trying to loot the same corner store xx

Jo has a medic-y role in this verse. No idea how she comes into the mix but I like the idea of her treating people’s bumps and bruises (bite angst, anybody?)

Harrie starts off pretty okay until a hoard tears up the family farm. In the most non-gimmicky way possible, she carries one of her baby chicks around for quite some time because she loses her family. She can save this, preserve it, etc.

I think Lorraine and Lena might be attached together. Maybe Lorraine’s siblings too (Otto needs friends his own age guys). Lena’s got a car that gets them far enough out of the city

On that note Carrie being with a different group, but getting picked up by Benny and June? That’s a look. (It was Benny’s idea, he’s got a big heart and she’s a kid)

I haven’t quite decided where Fern comes into the mix either. But we all know she’s smarter than she looks. She might be in the viv boat of “lone survivor until she isn’t” but per her personality — a lot more charismatic about it

Inez and Macon meet first in this, and they pick up Alex a little later while they’re heading up North. They definitely save his life and he’s their emotional support Arts person as Cari so brilliantly put it

SOME EXTRA STUFF I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT:

Benny has his beard in this one, guys. He grows it during a winter and June makes fun of him for it because she’s a terror

Bucky also has the POW camp curls

Okay so maybe half this AU is just getting them as dirty as possible but it’s not my fault they look good when enduring horrors

Buck/Bucky/Marge/Brady is a survival group. The Three Bs all met in college. Brady is Marge’s favorite that isn’t Buck

Eventually all these little groups come together in one way or another. The Three Bs + Marge meet Viv Willie and Otto in a warehouse on an abandoned airstrip and that’s where they decide to settle

^^ If you need visual inspo, Prescott from The Walking Dead: The New Frontier

I'm playing with somebody in this gaggle of not-flyboys & flygirls getting bit... for yanno.... fun and fresh reasons (maybe Bubbles)

Can we tell I haven't thought about how all the guys get there eventually? Sue me.

I do think this AU needs more Harding

[thatsrightice]

All of the flyboys thinking Croz is a virgin only to find out he did quite a bit of experimenting in college.

[actuallyitsstar]

headcanon asks for Bradley: 1 and 19?

✨ send me a number + a character for headcanons! ✨

1: holiday headcanon

christmas was always one of bradley's favorite holidays, all throughout his childhood. every adult in young bradley's life, all with varying backgrounds and types of childhoods of their own, could come together to agree on one thing: bradley's christmases should be magical. carole, trying to keep the magic of those first three christmases with everyone all together alive; mav, trying to give bradley the kind of happy memories he never had; ice and slider, woven into the family by carole's steady hand, determined to give this little makeshift family what it needs. bradley remembers holiday baking with mom, learning about the traditions of ice's family, so different from theirs; neatly-wrapped gifts from santa, much lumpier gifts that were also "from santa", supposedly, but he knew those ones were from uncle mav- it would be fair to say bradley was a little spoiled when it came to the holiday season.

after carole is gone, and it's just he and mav, those years are empty and feel meaningless, but they try. they try for carole's memory, for each other, and for ice and the others. bradley's eventual disillusionment with the holiday doesn't start there- no, it starts after.

once he and mav have their falling out, it's like someone has flipped the light switch. the last few chrismases were quiet ones, lonely without mom, sure- but he and mav got thru them together. after losing mav, too, though, it's radio silence. bradley goes from loving and enjoying the christmas season to hating it, overnight. the first christmas after is bleak. a long december and a somehow even longer december 25th. the only accompaniment that he has for the next four years of college are the cards and the letters he doesn't open. he spends it in the dorms alone while everyone else goes back to their families.

once he meets phoenix in flight school, things start to look up, just a little. she has a lively, bustling family full of extended relatives and family friends, and they're happy to fold in one more. it still doesn't feel right. it doesn't make him feel at home. for all their effort and kindness, phoenix's mom is nothing like carole and phoenix's dad is is nothing like goose- and as much as he hates himself for thinking it, more importantly, is nothing like mav- and the traditions and energy are all so different that it just feels unfamiliar. though it tugs painfully on his emotional aches and pains, he is grateful to have somewhere to go and happy to be included, even if it only exemplifies to him how alone he really is, and how he really doesn't seem to belong anywhere.

post-mission, post-reconciliation, bradley isn't sure what to expect. he imagines that mav would have built a life without him in it by now and is dismayed to learn this is not the case. he isn't sure if mav will want him around for the holidays after everything he's done and said. phoenix pushes him, telling him that of course he's welcome at the trace family table again this year, but you really ought to stick around and sort this shit out. through much hesitation, bradley does.

the post-reconciliation christmas is not lively or bright or boisterous like the christmases of old. it'll never be the same, without mom, without uncle ice, when the other flyboys have families of their own to worry about now. but mav welcomes him, wants him to be there, and it's more at home than bradley has felt in fifteen long years. it's not about the food or the gifts or the decorations. it's about the people- person, actually. it's about being invited into mav's life and heart even when he knows he can never deserve to be in those places again. at the end of the day, the old christmases were always about family and love and connection, and even though they're quite different on the surface, the new christmas is about all those things, too.

19. favorite photograph headcanon

photos were and are such an important part of the bradshaw-mitchell family. bradley knows it- and it's a part of why, when he leaves, he doesn't take the photos of himself and mav. he knows that to mav, that will say something, loud and clear, and he wants to be hurtful- he wants his emotions to be heard and understood. instead, he takes with him only the photos of his mom and dad, and a couple with the flyboys that mav took, and subsequently was not in; but bradley tells himself that he doesn't need the pieces of a relationship that there's no point in trying to salvage, so he leaves all of those pieces behind.

except for one.

it's a somewhat dilapidated polaroid, taken with his dad's old camera, snapped by carole as she'd stood on the back porch of the little bungalow house that bradley grew up in. in it, a six-year-old bradley sits in mav's arms, held up at eye-level in one strong arm as mav points up with the other. bradley has one hand fisted into mav's shirt, and his gaze and rapt attention are locked overhead. mav always used to tell little bradley to look up at the stars if he missed him, because it's the same stars- they always have that between them, at least. in the photo, mav points out the constellations they share even when apart, and bradley listens intently, trying to commit the names to memory. when he became old enough to have one, bradley used to keep it in his wallet.

eventually, when it's all fallen apart and those connections between them have been severed, bradley gives a new photo the place of honor in his wallet, a photo of he and mom- but he can't just throw out the old picture, no matter how angry he feels when he looks at it, no matter how badly he wants to. it goes into the box with everything else, with letters and cards and artifacts that mav sends him or that he can't bring himself to throw away. sometimes on a quiet, lonely night aboard a carrier or on leave, floating adrift in the world with no anchors to speak of, he thinks about it. he looks at the stars and he sees that image in his mind's eye and he remembers being six years old and thinking mav would always be there, and he wonders sometimes in the most empty moments if the old man still remembers all that shit about the stars. if he ever still looks at them, still thinks of it, of bradley, if he ever wonders anything about bradley the way bradley wonders about him. deep down inside, he knows that he mustn't. deep down inside, he tells himself that there's no chance in hell mav does. because, if he does, it means bradley threw away something that was still alive. it's a fate he cannot bring himself to accept.

when they've reconciled, bradley will find that old beat-up picture in the box. he'll show it to mav. i never forgot, he'll quietly admit. i always thought about it. i- i guess i thought that you probably didn't even care to look at them anymore. i just- i thought it was over. mav will take the photo, tattered and much-handled, from bradley's outstretched hand, studying it with a reverence that bowls bradley right over. i looked at 'em every night, baby goose, he'll admit. always hoped you might be looking, too.

tysm for this ask !!! and for your infinite patience in my disastrous ability to reply 😭😭but i loved answering this ask sm !!! and i definitely did not answer it in longhand at my job and i also definitely did not accidentally write so much about the christmas thing that i had to chop it way down for this ask because it accidentally kind of became a chapter of something lol. i am a disaster. but thank u so much and i hope u enjoy and are well!! <3<3<3

[poorboypictures]

Ben 10: Biomatrix

(Warning: this is a little long)

Ben Tennyson was 16 when he found a broken Omnitrix in the woods while on a camping trip with some teammates, celebrating their victory in the last game of the season. As he tried to get it off, Ben accidentally activates the device and transformed into an amalgam of himself and a Pyronite. After some mishaps, and a fight with a giant robot looking for the watch, Ben decided to use it to help if/when the opportunity came.

Gwen Tennyson was invited to go camping by Ben as a way to help get her mind off of college exams; though the two weren't close, Gwen took up the offer, reminded of their road trip with Grandpa Max. At the camp site, Gwen was the one to spot the impending forest fire from Ben's transformation, and was the first one to rush to help, discovering Ben, and giving him the idea to create a backfire to stop the original.

JT Mackleroy used to bully Ben after befriending Cash Murray, but changed his tune when Cash voiced his unconcern for anyone caught in the forest fire, let alone Ben or Gwen. Following Gwen to help, JT brought a pair of fire extinguishers to try and douse the fire before it got out of hand, but it was too big by the time he arrived, so just kept the flames at Bay while Ben and Gwen tried coming up with a plan. afterwards, JT apologized for bullying Ben and even wanted to try and be friends again.

After that camping trip, Ben, Gwen, and JT team up when something would happen in or around town: Ben is the muscle, using any one of ten transformations in the newly dubbed Biomatrix; Gwen is the informant, using her research abilities to find any bit of information no matter how minute; and JT is the equipment guy, his time as the Soccer teams equipment manager giving him an insight into any and all items that may come in handy.

Because the Biomatrix is damaged, it doesn't fully transform Ben, but the effect on each alien varies, along with how complete each transformation is.

Hot Shot: Ben's first alien, and arguably the most complete due to how little of "Ben" is left once the transformation is "done", being a few inches taller than Ben, but is still primarily, physically a Pyronite. Abilities include limited Pyrokinesis and heat resistance and detection.

Wildmutt: The transformation is more of a 60/40 split, making Ben look like a Vulpimancer werewolf, and because of this, can talk, though not well, utilizing short simple sentences only when he needs to. Abilities include echolocation, enhanced sense of smell, enhanced strength and flexibility.

Diamondhead: Petrosapien crystals form pieces of armor around Ben rather than actually becoming Ben but aren't as tough as normal Petrosapien crystal. Abilities include crystal generation, enhanced durability, and weapon formation originating from the crystal gauntlets.

XLR8: Due to some of the more important biological features of Kinecelerens are missing from the transformation, XLR8's top speed is a fraction of what a normal Kineceleren can move, but is still incredibly quick, topping out around 200 miles an hour. Abilities include enhanced speed and perception, and limited enhanced durability.

Cerebrum: Even with the partial transformation, Cerebrum is still the smartest alien in Ben's arsenal, but isn't as smart or as small as other Galvans, surpassing the average but is nowhere near the top, and stands at an even two feet tall. Abilities include enhanced intellect and mechanical knowhow.

Tetraman: For some reason, because of the incomplete transformation, the Biomatrix improperly scales the power of a Tetramand to Ben, giving Tetraman more power than natural Tetramands have, while being much smaller in size and stature, standing just under eight feet tall compared to the natural 10-12 feet. Abilities include enhanced strength, stamina, durability, dexterity, and sight.

Flyboy: An odd combination, Flyboy would remind you of some horror character fusion of man and insect, which makes Flyboy one of four transformations useful for interrogations. Abilities include flight, enhanced sight, goo generation from eyes, tail doubles as blade.

Angler: Due to the transformation being incomplete, Angler can stay out of water longer than regular Piscciss Volann's, but not by much, so Ben tries not to use him too much on land but keeps extra water on hand just in case. Abilities include enhanced swimming, strength, and durability, underwater breathing, jaw can unhinge for powerful bites.

Upgrade: The Galvanic Mechamorph primarily takes the shape of Ben, and leaves most of Bens clothes untouched compared to the other transformations, but because of the incomplete transformation, Upgrade can't fully merge with technology, leaving the primary body exposed while the "arms" are engaged. Abilities include technokinesis, "eye" laser, limited plasticity, enhanced durability.

Specter: Something about the transformation keeps Ben from using it too much, describing it as being like someone is always behind him, trying to tell him something; Ben really doesn't like using it, even if the situation calls for it. Abilities include phasing, possession, and flight.

If anyone has any questions or transformations they want to see, feel free to send me some asks, my inbox is open.

[noneedtoamputate]

Sleepover Monday! If we were going to get Ellen a job on an airbase and a flyboy, please explain which one would draw her eye. (This is a terrible alternate universe in which Chuck does not exist, because I am mean.)

No worries, Merc. I think it's fun to imagine an AU for Ellen. Maybe this is all happening while Chuck is pining after June in TDS or kissing those Dutch girls in the series.

I think Ellen really wants stability in her life. It's not something she grew up with, someone being there for her. Because of that, I don't see her wanting to get involved with anyone on a flight crew. She can't plan a future with someone who has a fifty-fifty chance of coming back from the next mission. Ellen loves these boys, but she can't let herself get romantically involved. She leans towards the meteorological officers and the Stars and Stripes reporters who hang around the airfield. Because the other girls know this, and that she is not competition for the pilots, she knows all the gossip on base.

Ellen also loves underdogs and people who do their job well and don't always get the credit they deserve. I'm not sure if she would have been an officer because she had some college, but if it was allowed, I definitely see her dating someone from the ground crew. If she was at Thorpe Abbots, I think Ken plays matchmaker and sets her up with someone on his team. They plan the Halloween and Christmas parties for the English kids in the nearby village together (she loves that he loves kids) and swap Armed Services Edition books and talk about them over coffee.