#top gun maverick fic idea

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

hey quick q has anyone done a pacific rim AU for TGM??? Cause uh if not…..👀👀👀👀

[tgmsunmontue]

When Bradley keeps growing past the 6'5" limit of being a naval aviator Maverick lets out an internal sigh of relief. He's not going to be the one responsible for stopping Bradley from becoming a pilot.

Of course he thinks too soon because Bradley ends up falling in love with sky diving (an 18th birthday gift from Mav), and okay, that's a calculated risk. Mav indulges it. He understands that need to be risky although Mav can never understand why he'd want to jump out of a perfectly functioning plane. The fact Bradley has a bunch of honorary uncles who are all pilots means getting someone to fly him up for jumps is easy. He gets his licence before his 19th birthday.

He goes to college, studies, but he LIVES to jump out of planes. He works as a skydiving instructor and also does tandem dives with people - it pays good money.

He deliberately puts himself into spins and then recovers, over and over again. He makes YouTube instructional videos. He goes into spins when his parachute is deployed and has to do a release and use the reserve chute. He then collapses his chute only to extend it again. He's an adrenaline junky.

Over the next decade or so Bradley becomes an EXPERT in spin-recovery and ends up as a civilian contractor brought into train aviators on how to recover if they, or their parachute goes into a spin after an ejection.

Mav is a nervous wreck and Ice tells him he only has himself to blame.

(And can you imagine Bradley training Jake, Jake flirting (badly), and Bradley isn't impressed. His god father is Pete Maverick Mitchell, he has dinner with him and Admiral Kazansky at least once a week. Then Bradley decides to fuck with him. Tells him sure, he'll go on a date. And gives Jake an address to pick him up from. It's Ice's address... so Bradley pretends that Ice is his dad all the while Jake is pretty sure his life is now over.)

Edited 27th Feb 2024 - this is now a fic titled 'You need to learn how to fall' #You need to learn how to fall

[kryptonitejelly]

ooooh can we get more baby girl stuff 👀 im really loving it for some reason because it has now been stuck in my mind that flyboy jake = baby girl 🫠

it’s hard to shake isn’t it

-

“Now everyone at base is calling me babygirl Seresin,” Jake grumbles beside your ear. He has his hands wrapped around your body, palms snaked under your top to rest on the skin of your stomach and his chin resting on your shoulder as he envelops you from behind.

“Are they wrong?” You tease, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the window that is looking out into the darkness outside as you continue slicing up the strawberries in front of you into halves. A pointed look at his current posture and grumbling.

“Yes,” you get one stubborn word of reply.

“Babygirl Seresin,” you say teasingly, as you raise half a strawberry, which you hold in front of Jake’s mouth.

“Only yours,” he grumbles again as you feel his lips against your fingertips before he steals the fruit out of your hand only for his actions to be promptly met with a shout.

“MY STRAWBERRIES, DAD HOW COULD YOU.”

The tiny yell has you shaking with laughter as you place your hands down against the counter for support.

“To think I buy those goddamn strawberries,” is what you hear him huff in your ear and for your only as he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

[halestrom]

no? yes! - a little hangster drabbleficlet

“Hey Bradshaw. Wanna go on a date?”

Bradley blinked, looking over at Hangman sure he had heard wrong. “What?”

Hangman smirked and leaned over the table, toothpick at the corner of his mouth. “A date.”

“A date?”

“Yes.”

Bradley glanced at Nat to see if he was hallucinating, but she looked as confused as he felt. “What?” he repeated.

The smirk didn’t go away, but it did change into something sly. “Yeah, you know. Dinner, drinks, conversation. I might even slip you some tongue if you’re good.”

There was an answer, Bradley was sure of it, but his brain had stopped working as soon as he heard the word ‘good’ in that low drawl. “Um.”

“Soooo. No,” Jake said, toothpick sliding to the other side of his mouth as he leaned back.

“What? No!”

“So, yes?”

“No!”

“No?”

“Yes!”

“Good,” Jake said, standing up and before Bradley registered what had happened, Jake leaned in and kissed him, the toothpick gone and Bradley’s lips tingled and he wasn’t 100% sure it wasn’t just from Jake’s never ending supply of Burt’s Bees chapstick.

Pulling back, Jake winked at him before standing and heading out. “Pick you up at seven,” Jake called over his shoulder.

Bradley gaped at Jake’s retreating back before looking over at Nat and making a confused noise.

“Mazel tov,” she replied, downing her beer and standing up to join the rest of the squad who had stopped in the middle of a game of darts to watch the exchange.

As he watched, Fritz slapped a pile of money into Bob’s hand with a scowl. Bradley made another confused noise and looked at the door where Jake had left. He was up and heading towards it before he thought about it, ignoring the cheers from his teammates as he slammed his way into the light and almost barreled over Jake who was standing there smirking at him.

“Eager, are we? I don’t mind. We can go mini golfing to kill time before dinner,” Jake said, turning and heading towards where the Bronco sat, a bright blue beacon and all Bradley could do was follow.

“What…Han…Se..what?” Bradley demanded.

Ignoring him, Jake rounded to the passenger side and tugged on the door handle, which didn’t open because Bradley hadn’t even grabbed the keys yet. Looking at Bradley through the window, Jake raised both eyebrows and pointedly tugged on the handle again.

“What is happening?” Bradley demanded, hearing the whine in his voice even as he scrambled for his keys and unlocked the doors.

Jake swung himself into the passenger seat like he had done it a thousand times, and somehow he looked like he belong there. “Get in the car,” Jake said, voice muffled by the closed driver’s door.

Bradley stood there, staring at Jake as he tried to figure out how his afternoon had gone from relaxing, to out of his control. As he stood there, for the first time in the entire time of knowing Jake he watched Jake shift in the seat. To someone else it would look like Jake was getting settled but Bradley had known Jake for a long time. And it was the first time he had seen the man fidget and he realized that Jake was nervous.

And that more than anything cleared out the lingering confusion as he yanked open the door and pulled himself in. “You’re certifiable,” he muttered even as he turned the car on.

“And yet, you want to date me.”

Bradley ignored that in favor of beginning to drive. “Where’s the golf course?” he muttered, wondering when he had lost control of his life.

“Get on the freeway,” Jake replied, relaxing back against the seat. “Hey, Bradshaw?”

Bradley glanced to the side in time to see Jake shoot him a lazy smile that had no right looking as good as it did. “What?”

“You look good,” Jake said, voice softer than Bradley had ever heard it before and when he glanced over, Jake was watching him, the lazy smile gone in favor of something soft.

“I am good, Seresin,” Bradley said, realizing that, despite the insanity of the last five minutes, he was. “So do you.”

“I know,” Jake said, voice as confident as it always before waving a hand. “Take the first exit. We have a reservation.”

“What if I had said no?” Bradley asked, wondering how much planning Jake had put into this

“You wouldn’t have,” Jake said, voice knowing, as if there wasn’t any doubt about the outcome of the day.

For once, Bradley had no reply  to that and instead, took the exit, figuring he might as well get used to the lack of control he suddenly had in his life. He was finding that he didn’t mind at all.  

[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

[enthyrea]

friend of mine gave me the brainrot so. top gun ‘86 but they’re in a band!

goose and mav had the idea to start the band after a night at the o club- goose drags slider into it who drags ice into it (who wanted to join anyways but was too proud to admit it) ice and mav argue about who gets to be lead vocal but eventually ice relents, and it’s not just because of the smile on mav’s face… definitely not (icemav worms got to me)

anyways this is super self indulgent but very fun to draw so pls enjoy

[wearerandomlyyours]

I had the goddamned strangest dream which led to a weird story idea but I have no clue if I'll ever get around to writing it:

TimeTravel!AU where post Layton IceMav end up back in time in WWII, and after convincing the US that they're not spies (Ice: I'm a goddamned Polish Jew you think I'd willingly spy for the Axis? Interrogator: That's fair) they convince the Navy to let them fly for them.

It's a little rocky at first, having to get used to much slower aircraft, but once Ice and Mav settle in, they're deadly. Their kill counts quickly soar past Ace to Ace-of-Aces, with whoever is in the top spot swapping dogfight to dogfight.

It takes three years for the Luftwaffe to finally take out the two deadliest pilots to ever fly, sacrificing 20 of their brand new jet fighters to bring them down, losing over half in the process.

Iceman and Maverick wake back up in the future and finally understand why everyone had always compared them to the legendary WWII pilots 'Blizzard' and 'Wild Thing'.

[romcomxb]

okay but i really wanna write a songfic to army dreamers by kate bush, and it’s divided into sections, like the ‘what a waste should have been a father’ would be goose ‘should have been a polititian’ woulda been ice ‘should have been a rockstar’ would be mav-

and each section would go into their childhood dreams that slowly become ‘more realistic’

[whohasthecards]

Idea

After the mission, Jake apologizes to Mav and Bradley about bringing up the Goose incident, and explains that he was just trying to get Bradley to fly faster and better in a fucked up way. They both forgive him, and Bradley thinks maybe now they can both be good wingmen to each other.

However, that's not the case. Although Jake still hangs around the Dagger Squad and gets closer to them, he's hesitant around Bradley. Not enough for most people to notice, he's still a sarcastic asshole, but he's wary around Bradley and Bradley doesn't know why.

Jake is actually still hurt about the time at the Hard Deck when Bradley told him, "Hangman, the only place you'll lead anyone is an empty grave." Bradshaw brought up one of his greatest losses when he was just joking around. It hurt. He knew that the proper thing to do is talk about it, but instead he just keeps Bradshaw at a distance and watches him to make sure that the other man won't randomly lose his temper. He's only accepted in the Dagger Squad because he saved Rooster and Mav's lives, he won't fuck that up by accusing Rooster of being an ass about something that happened months ago. Rooster probably didn't even remember.

He was right, Rooster didn’t remember. Just that they were making jabs at each other.

Rooster is talking to Mav and Ice about Hangman being distant and Mav just tells him to give Hangman time to get used to having a team.

Ice starts hanging around the Top Gun base more, and eventually starts building rapport with the Dagger Squad. Especially Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin who seems to really look up at him. However, unlike others who do, Seresin can actually hold a conversation and doesn't just hang on his every word and treat him like some kind of god. Ice likes the kid.

(Ice thinks the Dagger Squad knows about his marriage with Mav and how he raised Bradley. Dagger Squad does not know.)

Eventually, Ice asks about his relationship with Rooster and Jake spills the whole thing about what Bradley said, and the lost of his former wingman. Ice is livid. He confronts Rooster about it, and tells Bradley to apologize and to better watch his temper.

When Bradley does, Jake asks how he knows about that stuff. Bradley said Ice did and how his uncle is always trying to make sure wingmen stick together.

Instead of being comforted about this, Jake feels betrayed. Betrayed that sometimes he told Ice in confidence was just out and about now and becomes upset about it and walks away. He feels stupid for not realizing that IceMav was a thing and that Bradley was their pseudo-son, and thinks that Ice just wanted to get close to him, so that Dagger Squad would stay together.

Jake starts distancing himself from Ice and starts withdrawing from the team.

Everything eventually gets straightened out with some intervention from Mav, Javy, and the rest of the Dagger Squad. Mav by telling Jake that Ice just likes to fix things, and accidentally oversteps. Javy by threatening Bradley to never ever say shit like that to Jake again. Ice then apologizes to Jake and tells him he just found Bradley's behavior unacceptable and didn't mean to overstep. Jake accepts the apology and they both start bonding again.

Bradley and Jake start becoming true wingmen not only in the air, but also on the ground.

Happy ending, Dagger Squad + IceMav all vibing together.

[iceman-maverick]

icemav bikeriders au

you got a license for love

The man stares as Tom gathers the empty glasses from the table, gives him a dangerous, hungry grin that lights a flame in Tom’s stomach. He looks away quickly, and turns on his heels for the sanctuary of the bar.

“Slider,” the rouge drawls, “Who’s this?”

“Easy there, Mav,” Ron warns between sips. Some of the other bikers, bruised and rowdy and dripping in denim patches, erupt into laughter.

“What?” Mav laughs. Tom can feel his gaze, it makes his face heat. “I’m just making conversation.”

And that’s how it starts.

---

Tom owes his father money, like a lot of money. He starts bartending to make it work and somehow finds himself at the center of a thriving, dangerous motorcycle gang.

(aka the bikeriders au!)

[demichrising]

For @hangmanbradshaw

[tgmsunmontue]

🌻🌻🌻 THANK YOU 🌻🌻🌻

Just wanted to put out a little word of thanks, gratitude and positivity for the TG/TG:M fandom as a whole.

I arrived late and still felt welcomed. I haven't seen ship wars here and it's just been such an overall wonderful and positive experience.

So, thank you to everyone who comments on my fics, comments especially help my brain fire off new ideas and get me writing 2-3k/day when time permits.

To all the amazing artists who have encouraged me to pick up drawing again, thank you. I hope to find joy in drawing and painting again like I do with writing.

So. THANK YOU.

🌻🌼🌷🌻🌼🌷🌻🌼🌷

[kryptonitejelly]

you can't tell me this is not flyboy!jake coded because look at his confident eyes?? and the smirk??

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cv2GNRUq_Ql/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

ugh, i’ve seen this and its sooooo fucking cute 🥹 100% flyboy!jake. i mean that look after, cmonnnnnnnnnn. i really struggled at which era to put this in, but i’m going to say flyboy!era - some time post part 6.

-

“Babe, does my shirt smell weird to you?” You hear Jake’s voice cut across the conversation you are having with Yale and Payback.

“No,” you throw back your response absent-mindedly, not breaking the series of small nods which you are giving in response to the words coming from Yale’s mouth.

“It does,” you hear Jake’s statement come across, more firmly this time and it makes you shoot Yale an apologetic look as you turn your body back towards your fiancé who is holding the collar of his shirt out towards you.

“It smells like detergent,” you say as you lean forward, the scent hitting your nostrils still centimetres from Jake’s collar. He doesn’t respond and you lean further into Jake, when you feel it, his lips against your forehead. You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips which causes the lips against your forehead to tick upwards into a smile.

“You sneak,” you laugh as you pull away, amusement tinged with a slight touch of exasperation as you find yourself staring into a pair of smug greens.

“Your sneak,” Jake corrects, throwing you a sly wink.

“Again, you guys make me sick,” you hear Fanboy comment from across the table.

“This is your fault,” Phoenix points towards Yale, shooting him an accusatory glance.

“What did I do?” Yale defends, both hands raised.

“Rule no. 1, we don’t fight with Seresin for her attention,” Rooster supplements gleefully, “he gets needy,” he adds in a stage whisper.

“I do,” Jake affirms, the ghost of a smug smile still on his lips a she slides a hand onto your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

[starcrossedjedis]

B A S I C S

full name: Charlotte "Charlie" Barnett

gender: female

sexuality: straight

pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

family: Charlie is an only child. Her parents divorced when she was fifteen years old. Her mom has since remarried and moved to Maryland with her new husband. Her father still lives in the old family home and is quite happy living the "single man with a workshop" lifestyle. Charlie gets along well with both her parents, but was always more of a daddy's girl which is why she chose to come live with him when her whole life fell apart a year ago

birthplace: San Diego

job: following the premature end to her surgical residency, Charlie returned to her former summer job as a bartender. She's currently working for Penny at the Hard Deck - much to her father's dismay who isn't a fan of the military in general (and pilots in particular 😏)

phobias: none really, but she gets a bit queasy in small spaces

guilty pleasures: smooth peanut butter straight from the jar

M O R A L S

morality alignment: lawful good

sins: bitterness, burying of talents,

virtues: honesty, generosity, caring

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: she used to be very extroverted, alas what happened a year ago makes it harder to grt out of her shell around people she's not completely comfortable with.

organized/disorganized: organized

close minded/open-minded: generally open-minded, but rn she might be in a habit of seeing people as the sum of their stereotypes

calm/anxious: anxious

disagreeable/agreeable: depends on where you’re standing, I guess?

cautious/reckless: cautious

patient/impatient: patient

outspoken/reserved: outspoken

leader/follower: she had all the making of someone who could be a great leader, but her ego has taken such a mighty hit that she might never get that part of herself back

empathetic/unemphatic: empathetic

optimistic/pessimistic: rn? pessimistic

traditional/modern: modern

hard-working/lazy: hard-working

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Charlie & Jake

brotp: Charlie & Natasha

notp: IDK… Charlie & Pete? 😬

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

[thiswaytwoinfinity]

it’s a bad idea, right? — a jake x reader story inspired by sleeping with other people

Jake Seresin doesn’t do commitment. He’s happy to love ‘em and leave ‘em, making it clear from the jump that he only wants something casual. But with his 35th birthday just behind him and a new, permanent assignment keeping him in one place, Jake is starting to chafe against the “playboy” label he used to embrace. So, he makes himself a promise: the next time he dates (or even hooks up with) someone, it’s going to be for keeps.  

Just after making that declaration, though, he runs into you — a former fling who has returned to San Diego after yet another agonizing situationship has left your heart broken and your pride wounded. Apprehensive of the dating scene and suspicious of Jake’s new vow of singledom, you decide to befriend him so you two can help each other on your respective journeys of self-discovery.

And despite your history, you both promise that everything will stay completely and totally platonic. Seriously. You mean it. There will be no funny business of any kind. In fact, you’re barely even attracted to one another …

What could go wrong?

Coming soon

[comfortablynumb]

As far as I’m aware, there is no Star Wars Top Gun au and that makes me very sad. Can we please stop for a moment and imagine Luke Skywalker as a trans queer navy pilot? Can we imagine the sexual tension he could have with the several naval pilots around him including, but not limited to, Biggs Darklighter, Han Solo, and Din Djarin? Can we imagine the sheer gayness of Luke surrounded by muscular men playing football on the beach? Can we imagine the drama that ensues when Luke discovers his father, the esteemed ex-naval officer who was presumed dead, is now a terrorist? Please, for my sake, someone write this fic.