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inmyloveworld · 7 months

Text

as usual (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~3.7k

synposis: the time for you to meet the Hard Deck, and the Daggers frequenting it, has finally come. but some digs on the oldest aviator of the bunch in front of his younger partner leave a tension between you that begs to be broken.

warnings: age gap (unspecified but in my mind was about 10 years), assumed alcohol consumption, allusions to anxiety, use of the pet name "bunny", jake is an instigator

a/n: this was NOT going to be this long in my head but once i got writing i could not stop.. enjoy some more self-indulgent comfort angst from me!

As usual, Bradley pulled up to your apartment complex right after a long day on base. And as usual, you were standing in the window like a pup waiting for its owner to come home. He made the comparison in earnest. It melted him to know someone was that excited to have him near, that you were that excited to have him near.

He could barely make it out of the Bronco before you were bounding out your door and down the stairs. Bradley had just rounded the passenger side when you reached him. The sinking sun somehow made your eyes sparkle brighter. Butterflies flew in his stomach, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face. Gentle hands caressed your hips as his caramel gaze took you in closely.

"Did you manage to lock the door?" Bradley teased. You softly grunted at the dig, feigning annoyance in a half frown. The front door and you were nothing if not eternal foes, and Bradley knew of this conflict too well.

"I resent that, I really do." His responding laugh was all it took to break your weak facade. A smile overtook you as you lit up once again to be in his presence. Your hands found home at the base of his neck as your lips greeted each other. Seconds moved in hours whenever you kissed Bradley Bradshaw. He made the noise of the world lift into a soft hum with every touch.

It was understandable that you whined whenever he pulled away. "We're gonna be late," Bradley bargained. Your mouth fell into a soft pout that he was happy to peck away into a smile, and into giggles once his lips found your cheeks, and nose, and temples.

"I thought you said we'd be late!" you laughed as you batted him away to slip into the passenger side. He held the door open for you, like the gentleman Carole had raised him to be. Then he bent to kiss you more softly, like the gentleman his father was.

"You are always worth it." You couldn't fight the flush that broke onto your cheeks to crowd the makeup already present. Blush served little purpose with Bradley lighting your cheeks aflame every chance he got. Nor highlighter, with the glow you seemed to emanate since the day he walked into your life.

His hand found home on your thigh, yours placed atop it to toy with his calloused fingers. The Bronco drove off to the famed bar where he and his naval companions flocked. Such companions were eager to meet the girl who settled their "Rooster" into domestic life.

"Cupid's sure been hard at work," Phoenix remarked upon catching her best friend cheesing at the texts you sent him. Whatever force in the world brought you to him, be it Cupid or God or Nick and Carole themselves, he was grateful. Never had he felt so complete.

"How was work today, bunny?" Bradley asked. A simple question most would roll their eyes at, you jumped to answer. You were eager to tell him of every detail: the pesky clientele, the interdepartmental dramas, even how poorly the coffee was brewed. Excitement ran through you and, by proxy, to Bradley. "Bunny" was a nod to the energy that filled you and energized others, much like the battery mascot.

Your anecdotes filled the minutes driving through the bustle of San Diego rush hour. Bradley glanced over at you every chance he got, adding in commentary where he saw fit but mostly admiring the expressions taking over your face.

He could listen to you ramble for hours, he was certain, as you did for him in his own moments of boundless vigor. An equal partnership seemed unattainable with the women he'd met through the years yet came easily with you.

What place did age have to stall a feeling like that?

Some last-minute Bronco kisses had you and Bradley walking into the Hard Deck five minutes behind schedule. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand tucked into the front pocket of your jeans to keep you snug against his side. Still, he let you lead the way, content to follow you wherever you found your feet.

You gawked at the space already half packed with people in uniform, a few civilians bridging the gaps. Various signs and regalia littered the space between windows. The perfect sunset view of the beach was on every wall. Miniature aircraft figures crowded the ceiling in permanent flight.

"Is this place for real?" you remarked, earning a kiss on your cheek from Bradley.

"That it is, bunny. As far back as my pops and Maverick," he answered, stopping as he caught his first familiar face. Bradley took the moment to lead you, bringing you to an open space at the bar. "And now in the hands of this lovely lady here. You remember-"

"Penny!" The excitement in your voice brightened the owner right up. Bradley's heart performed somersaults at your cheer. "This place is incredible!"

Penny tried to humble herself under your praise. "Hey, it's the nicest Navy daycare I could imagine." You giggled at the quip, making her break a smile. You quizzed her on her run of the bar as she pulled a draft for Bradley and mixed a margarita for you. The two of you initially met when Bradley brought you to Maverick's hangar. She was just as endeared then as she was now by your bright spirit and compassion for others.

Once you were settled with your drinks, you attempted to tip her out. Penny was quick to push the cash back at you with a wink. "On the house for you tonight. Call it my welcome gift." You must have thanked her half a dozen times as you moved across the bar. A small table against the wall was your target; somewhere to ground your drinks for when you inevitably got spotted-

"Bradshaw!" The time came sooner than you predicted. A brunette tagged with a name you'd heard too many times to count found her way to you. A man in true aviator glasses followed closely behind. Part of you tensed in anticipation. Still, your outgoing nature won over any resistance.

"Phoenix? Bradley has told me so much about you!" You reached out a hand to her. Her eyes slowly followed the gesture as if examining it.

Phoenix took her time to speak up. "So you're the one who's got Bradshaw off in la-la land?"

You blinked, trying to read into her tone. "I-I think so?"

"Phoenix, play nice," Bradley warned. She scoffed at him, finally grabbing your hand to shake.

"I haven't seen the old bird this happy in ages," Phoenix said as she met your eyes. A real smile tugged at her mouth. You were quick to mirror it as you relaxed. "Keep him that way; he flies better."

Bob followed up with his own introduction. It was hard for Bradley to contain his joy at the moment, even with the slight brows Phoenix threw his way. He hadn't told her the details of the age difference in passing; he hadn't thought it important. Bob was none the wiser, simply offering a game of darts to share amongst the four of them.

"Oh, I LOVE darts!" you exclaimed. "But be warned, it's rare that I actually hit the board."

Phoenix chuckled. "Your boy's not too good himself. We ought to split you apart so Bob and I are more evenly matched." Bradley rolled his eyes, though the interaction had his heart soaring. You were happy as can be getting to know his closest friends. They seemed happy as can be getting to know you.

Questions were passed between throws, Bob asking about your work and Phoenix asking about your relationship. It was the kindest form of interrogation you could've envisioned. Meanwhile, the empty pool table behind you was beckoning another group of aviators in your direction.

The tallest of the trio, a man with a square jaw and dark eyes, was quick to single you out. "Now, who's this pretty young thing you guys rounded up to play?"

You turned to make his acquaintance briefly, your usual cheery demeanor receding some. No person with words like that would get the better of you. Instead, you drew in a breath as you threw the last dart of your turn, hitting a triple ring in the process.

"Bradley!" you squealed. He drew you in happily as you jumped into his embrace. "Did you see?! Did you see?!"

An answer was pressed to your lips, leaving you breathless in the aftermath. Bradley hummed at your slightly dazed expression. "That's my girl."

He felt the stares of Harvard, Fanboy, and Coyote burning holes into the floral print shirt he adorned. No mind was paid to any of them, though; not until you solicited it yourself. "You must be more of Bradley's.. coworkers?"

The man of middle height held his hand out for you with a charming grin. "Lieutenant Javy Machado, or 'Coyote' if you'd rather." You were introduced to the other two, with Harvard taking some quizzical glances your way.

"I can't help but wonder, how'd you get shacked up with this fossil?" The audience around you laughed, Bradley included. He had mentioned he was a bit older than his team, giving rationale to the jest and the 'old bird' comment Phoenix made earlier. Still, something in these remarks began to itch you. You were quick to table the feeling, certain it was only your misunderstanding among old friends.

You went on to indulge them in the story of your mildly embarrassing meet-cute. A few other aviators popped in to make their introductions, Payback and Omaha namedly. It seemed that each of them, in due time, had to take their shot at ragging on Bradley's age. He brushed each one-liner off in spades, settling any greater debate with an amused chuckle rather than a defense.

The itch in you was replaced by a gnawing in your gut. You worked to suppress it as best as you could, wanting to make a perfect evening for your partner: the one who kissed you when you shot well in darts and pulled you to the piano to serenade you front and center.

But the words echoing in your ears began to shrink you in your bearings. Suddenly, you had little to say in response to any harmless question. You certainly had less to say as Harvard and Hangman were questioning why you were with Bradley "of all people". Bradley himself had gone to the bathroom, trusting you would be safe and at ease in the company of his friends. It was only upon his return that he was made to see how wrong he'd been.

Bob, the perfect wallflower, had noted the shift in your behavior. He stood by and watched as the dazzling person he was first introduced to started to lose their spark. The WSO watched as you tried to fake smiles and laugh along to the jokes cracked. None of it reached your gaze that began to dart around, as if looking for refuge. Bradley was clueless, too caught up in the moment of his worlds merging to notice one was falling back.

He returned from the bathroom and attempted to dart to your side, stopped only by Bob's light grip on his arm. "Rooster, something's up with your girl." Bradley froze. He scanned the bar, locking onto where you sat with a pair of his friends. Confusion filled him. The night had gone so well. You were getting along with everyone, even Hangman. What could possibly be wrong?

"Just trust me," Bob pleaded, practically seeing the calculations Bradley was attempting in his head. It was seeing your hands nervously fiddling together that confirmed to him Bob was right. He clapped his friend's shoulder, uttering a gracious thanks before making his way over to you.

"Mind if I cut in?" It was nothing more than a courtesy. Bradley would not let you stew in your own head a second longer. "I think we ought to be heading out soon, bunny."

Bradley outstretched his hand to you, which you gladly placed yours into. He pulled you up from the booth with ease and waved his goodbyes to the pair left at the table.

Hangman would not settle for courtesies. "Aww, come on, old man; can't you let her stay out past curfew?"

You barely had a breath to react before Bradley did with yet another chuckle. If nothing churned your stomach that night, the sound of his amusement at this running gag did. You managed your goodbyes to everyone in passing well enough as you exited the bar. The Bronco was a relieving and suffocating sight at the same time.

Silence: that was all Bradley had been given as he led you to his car. A frown fixed on his face. You were keeping a firm distance between the two of you where normally there would be none. Your fingers danced with each other in a nervous rhythm where normally they were laced with his own. Something was seriously wrong, but he hadn't the faintest idea as to what.

Bradley held the passenger door open for you, as usual, and had to hold back a gracious sigh as you let him. You would not so much as look at him since leaving his friends, but he held onto the simple gesture as a sign of hope.

He dared to lean in to catch your lips against his, only to be met by the soft skin of your cheek. Bradley stuttered backward. You had turned away from his kiss.

"Take me home, Rooster." An icy cold poured through him. You had met him in uniform, full with his "Rooster" embellishment, but had never once used the name. And he was starting to wish you never had, for the distant feeling it brought chilled him to the bone.

Bradley hopped into his seat and got the Bronco in motion toward your apartment. Maybe you needed the fresh air and the sights of the city to cool off, he thought. However, with each mile, the tension was growing thicker. He felt it in the silence walling you from him. He felt it as your quad contracted under his subconscious grip, so much that he was growing nauseous himself.

Bradley was a worrywort by default. It's why he hesitated in the air. It's why he hesitated with almost everything in his life. You had been the one piece of his existence that brought him such thoughtless bliss. Had he been too thoughtless to not notice where things were souring?

As quickly as you had raced down, you were flying up the stairs to your apartment. The thud of the passenger door slamming startled him. Bradley barely parked by the time you were halfway up the flight. He locked the doors and jogged up in the path you'd made.

His stature made it fairly easy to catch up to you. That, and the fumbling of your fingers with your key in the villainized deadbolt. You were cursing silently to yourself as you tried and failed to get the lock to turn just right. Tears began to blur your vision, making the simple task even more frustrating.

Bradley's voice was gentle, apologetic already. "Here, let me-"

"Just go home, Rooster; I don't need a fucking babysitter!"

Your response comes out sharp and cold. Your use of his callsign half an hour ago might have chilled him, but this sudden outburst froze him from the inside out. It wasn't long until you froze up yourself and realized the words you let fly.

"Whoa.. where did that come from?"

Bradley didn't receive an answer; not verbally, at least. The only response he received from you was the clutter of your keys against the ground as you tucked your chin into your chest. Soft whimpers began to shake your frame. Within seconds, your resolve gave way to desperate cries pouring from your throat. Bradley's heart cracked.

He moved into action, tucking you into his broad chest and letting you lean your weight into him. Light shushes and repetitions of "It's alright" rushed to console you. Bradley held you upright with one arm as he bent over to swipe your keys into his grasp.

"Come on; let's get inside, yeah?" he cooed as he stood back up. You said nothing and continued to cry into his white tank. Mascara stains were sure to form, but he couldn't care less.

Bradley got your door unlocked in a single try. He propped you safely against the wall as he locked the entry behind himself. You felt like you were floating with his help to get to the couch. There was no resistance or fight in you; only fear.

His hands were on your knees, rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin your jeans exposed. Bradley knelt down in front of you. He waited for you, any tell that you were ready to talk, as long as you needed.

You gathered a hiccuped breath as your sobs faded to sniffles. Your trembling hands reached for him, feeling the warmth of his grasp almost instantly. Bradley gingerly kissed your knuckles on each hand. "Talk to me, bunny." Head lifting, you finally met his worried stare. "What's going on?"

It was a simple question that had a simple answer. Yet, as you tried to form the words, you felt a rush of embarrassment. How ridiculous was it to get so worked up over some lighthearted fun? There was no reason for you to have this sick feeling in your stomach over it.

"Hey," Bradley called, moving a hand up to hold your cheek. His thumb swept at the tears still pouring from your lash line. You hadn't noticed your line of sight drifting away from him with your train of thought. As you found his face again, you saw greater desperation. He ached to know, to help. "Talk to me. Please."

And you did. Grabbing onto his hand with both of yours, you released a heavy sigh. "Tonight was great. Everyone was so nice and welcoming. They all seem like really good people, a-and I'm glad you have them in your life to support you."

Bradley managed a sad smile. Even through your own pains, you were searching for the best to make of the situation for him. He squeezed your hands holding his to comfort you in letting the other shoe drop.

"But.. I-I know you're older than them. I'm sure that, that they make those jokes around you a lot, and did way before you met me. It just.." You stopped yourself, shaking your head as if to shake the thought away. "It's probably so stupid-"

"It's not stupid if it's got you this upset."

Oh, Bradley. The only man you'd ever encountered who genuinely yearned to empathize with you at every struggle or hardship. The person who encouraged you to feel things through in a healthy manner instead of immediately pointing blame at yourself for feeling it at all. No person at any age topped the level of emotional care and safety he provided you.

Your words started to flood out, mixing together in disarray. Yet, Bradley listened intently to every fragmented sentence you gave. "I care about you. So much, B; so much it's scary sometimes. And I don't ever think of the years between us because it's all meaningless, you know? The way I feel for you, and how I think you feel for me. We each have our shit sorted, there's no weird power dynamic bullshit going on."

He restrained a laugh at your frank vocabulary. It was one of the things he admired most about you. When your feelings spilled out, there was never a filter. You expressed yourself entirely authentically. That's why your earlier silence frightened him into his own.

That was not to say your troubles were easy for him to hear, because they weren't. Who wanted to hear that the person they loved ever doubted as such?

"All those jokes… I don't want your friends to not take me seriously. That I'm with you for any reason other than you make my life so much better just by being in it, and I hope to god I can do the same for you. I don't need you to take care of me, be my 'sugar daddy' or anything like that. And-" You pursed your lips as another sob caught in your throat.

Bradley leaned in to kiss your forehead, so tenderly it sent chills down your spine. Your lips parted to release that choked cry. "I-I was scared when you just.. just laughed with them, that, that you didn't take me seriously e-either."

The words were a knife in his chest. "Oh, baby, no," he nearly gasped. "No, no; I never have thought like that, bunny."

You began to cry once more; out of the feelings you'd held that evening, out of the faint insecurity you'd held the months you'd spent together, and out of relief to hear him reassure you. The mix of emotions was blowing you over.

"Can I come up there, baby? Can I hold you?" Your answer was in the frantic way you pulled at his hands. Bradley fell into your ragged loveseat in an instant, tugging you into his lap as you wept. He rubbed up and down your back and pressed kisses into your hair to soothe you.

His voice was warped with his own emotion when he spoke next. "I'm so sorry I ever made you doubt how I feel about you. You are worth so much more than your age." He cupped your cheek again to meet your watery gaze with his own.

"You're incredible. The way you navigate life so carefree and full of light, and how you pass that feeling onto everyone you meet. How you care about everyone you meet and effortlessly brighten their day. How you care about me so much that you're this worried that I don't know it."

Your tears rolled freely onto the skin of his fingers, your body jolting with hiccups. And Bradley thought you were every bit as beautiful as you'd ever been.

"But I do. And I will treasure that, I will treasure you, every day of my life." Your responding smile was the most welcome sight. It cleared up the dark clouds that were looming overhead to shine brightly on whatever was to come. As usual.

a/n: this was very VERY loosely proofread but i am open to feedback and suggestions! thank you all for reading <3

tags: @roosterforme, @avengersfan25

#bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun rooster

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victoriansecret · 5 hours

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Hello there I am a sort-of man very intrigued by the friend who actually left on a ship?

He was already working at living history museums and had a focus in his studies on the history of naval material culture, particularly clothing, so he sailed on l'Hermione, a reconstructed 18th century ship, across the ocean entirely in period clothing. (To be clear, he was the only one in period clothing the whole time. He was also the only non-French person.) In part, he wanted to see how the clothing naturally changed from constant wear, particularly with the sort of physical, dirty work on board a ship.

Here's his old blog that he did as functionally his senior thesis talking about sailor stuff, including anecdotes about stuff he experienced as part of the journey. These days, he makes a living making and selling reproduction clothing and various other objects as well as giving tours, demonstrations, etc. His business page is here.

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blue-aconite · 10 months

Text

let me drown || chapter III - bradley’s summer part III

Summary: People aren't always what they seem.

Warnings: Allusions to smut, jealousy, swearing, angst, cheating, drinking

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Authors Note: It’s here. Enjoy. Minors DNI. Each chapter will be labelled with warnings individually.

Thank you to my amazing beta @writercole, this fic wouldn’t be what it is without you. I love you.

Virginia, Oceana Naval Air Station, Summer 2018

Bradley slammed on the brakes a bit harder than necessary, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too tight. Thea was quiet in the passenger seat, playing with the hem of her jean shorts as he sat in silence in the driveway.

Dinner had been tense, to say the least. Bradley’s mood had only gotten worse as Athena continued to pester them. At first she had taken an interest in Thea, asking her all sorts of questions. It was innocent enough but Bradley knew there was nothing innocent about his WSO. He had kept quiet though, hand resting on Thea’s knee as she answered Athena’s rapid questions.

Bob and Hangman had seemed oblivious to the tension at first, eager to catch up since they last saw each other. Bradley hated how well they seemed to get along. Like Hangman and Bob were actual friends. It felt wrong. Hangman wasn’t a friendly guy and Bob should know that. Especially if they spent months together on a carrier. He couldn’t exactly put his thumb on why it bothered him so much, but it did.

Hangman and Bob eventually ran out of things to talk about and turned their attention to Thea. To his dismay, his girlfriend and Hangman got along like two peas in a pod. Bradley hated it. He hated how Hangman made her laugh, trading life stories like they’ve known each other for more than an hour. And he hated the way Hangman looked at her. He shouldn’t be looking at her at all. Thea was taken. She was Bradley’s girlfriend and Hangman had the audacity to flirt with her when Bradley was sitting right next to them.

Bob hadn’t interfered, smiling and sharing anecdotes from his and Hangman’s time together. Bradley hated that too. Nobody had seemed to care that Bradley wasn’t really a part of the conversation. Nobody except Athena. She spared him the occasional glance, something vicious dancing across her features each time he caught her watching.

When Athena then veered into more intimate details of his and Thea’s relationship, Bradley slammed a fist on the table and told her to stay out of it. His outburst startled the occupants of the table, as well as several other patrons of the restaurant. He had excused himself to the bathroom for a chance to calm down. He hoped that Athena would keep her mouth shut while he was gone.

There had been a tentative knock on the door, Thea was hovering outside the door, worry etched onto her face. He stepped out of the bathroom, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asked as he closed the bathroom door behind him, not bothering to answer her as he tugged her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “Bradley, please, what’s wrong?”

“Can we just go home?” He had asked instead of answering Thea’s questions. He wanted to go home, wrap Thea up in his arms and never let go. She sweetly told him to head for the car while she said goodbye, never the one to push.

The drive home had been quiet, Bradley’s anger still rushing through him. Thea shifted uncomfortably the entire way, opening and closing her mouth several times but never saying anything.

She exited the car and Bradley wondered for a split second if he should go back to base but Thea called out his name, stopping in the doorway. “Are you sleeping in the car tonight or what?”

He followed her into the bedroom and they got ready for bed in silence. At least she wanted him here. Thea was already in bed when he exited the bathroom, phone pressed to her ear.

“Yeah okay. Tell them sorry for cutting dinner short. ‘Kay, I will. I love you, goodnight.” The term of endearment threw him for a loop until he realised she was probably talking to Bob. He got under the covers, desperately wishing he could just pull her into his arms.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Thea kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, fingers fidgeting on top of the duvet. Bradley doesn’t know exactly what’s going on so he settled for the one thing he did know.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.” It’s childish and he knows it but it’s also true.

Thea frowned, turning onto her side to study his face. “What do you mean?” Bradley isn’t going to insult her by asking how she could have missed the obvious.

“Hangman. He looked at you.” Bradley’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, taking a deep breath. He could see Thea’s hand moving in the corner of his eye and when she made contact with his naked skin, he sucked in another breath.

“Babe, we were talking. Of course he was looking at me. Would have been quite rude not to.” She poked his side, trying to lighten the mood.

“He didn’t need to look at you like that,” He whispered.

Thea inched closer. “Like what Brad?” Her lips pressed against his bicep, ghosting over his skin.

“Like he wanted you.”

Thea barked out a laugh, coughing when she realised he was serious and didn't find the whole thing amusing. “Oh honey. He was being polite. That’s all. And even if he did look at me like that, it doesn’t matter. All I want is you.” Thea crawled on top of him, kissing his nose when she settled on his chest. When he didn’t answer, she continued to press kisses to his face, tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip.

Flipping them over was easy and Thea gasped his name when he pressed her into the mattress. He lets his hands roam, enjoying the way she shuddered when his fingers traced along the waistband of her underwear. Her touch faltered as his hand skimmed over her shirt clad stomach, their foreheads pressed together.

“Please.” He whispered against the hollow of her throat, lips finding her skin. He pulled back to look into her eyes, repeating his plea. It’s a cheap shot but he could try. She hesitated and Brad decided to throw caution to the wind as he pressed his hips closer.

“Thea. Please, I want you. Say you want me too. Say you’re mine.” He begged. Tell me you belong to me. Tell me you don’t want anyone else. Tell me I am the only one. Tell me you don’t want him.

“I love you, Thea.” He tried again, leaning back slightly. An uncomfortable tightness grew in his chest, very much unlike the tightness of his boxers. Her silence sent him into a downward spiral of doubt and insecurities, hands reaching inside his chest and squeezing his heart.

“Brad. Bradley. Look at me.” As if she could sense his panic, Thea reached up to frame his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Promise me this isn’t because of what happened tonight. Promise me what you’re saying is how you really feel.”

“Of course it’s real.” It’s also so Athena would leave him alone but Thea didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know about the bet. But he did love her, so much he thinks there’s no room for him to feel anything else than this overwhelming need to constantly be with her.

“I love you, too, Bradley.” He didn't need to hear more, reaching down to press their lips together. Thea reached blindly for the light, the room descending into darkness as he slowly pulled the shirt over her head.

“I’m yours Bradley. I want you.”

“Nice of you to skip out on the bill, dickhead.” Was Athena’s way of joining the conversation he and Bob currently was involved in. The bar was packed with people, nothing new for a Friday night but Bradley had hoped to avoid Athena tonight. Even if he had made good on the bet, Bradley had hoped a single text would suffice and then everything could go back to normal.

He was nursing his fourth beer when his backseater joined him and Thea’s brother at the bar.

“I said I was sorry. And we did pay you back.” Bradley muttered, rolling his eyes. Athena waved down the bartender, asking for a beer, eyeing Bradley up and down.

Bob smiled politely when she joined them, munching on a few peanuts. “Isn’t Hangman here? We were talking about going to the golf course before dinner ended.” He angled the cup of peanuts towards her, a silent offer.

“No, he’s meeting someone tonight I think.” There it was again, the white hot jealousy igniting within him every time they mentioned Seresin. Everything about the man infuriated Bradley. His friendship with Bob, the very obvious way he looked at Thea.

“Well, I’ll see him tomorrow. You up for some golf Rooster?” Bob’s invitation was genuine but Bradley could think of a hundred other things to do before meeting Hangman again. He swallowed a mouthful of beer before answering.

“Sorry, but I’ve got some solo simulations to run.” There was no need to mention that he’d never played a single game of golf in his life, except on Wii. He detested the sport, there wasn’t anything remotely fun about it.

Bob smiled brightly, so like Thea’s smile. “Yeah, Thea mentioned that earlier when we spoke. Sorry man, totally forgot.”

Bob downed the last of his water before bidding them goodnight, citing that he and Seresin planned to meet up early the next day.

Athena pounced the moment he was gone, turning towards Bradley with a wicked glint in her eye. “So? Tomorrow’s the deadline, Bradshaw. Sealed the deal yet? If not, we could always call Jake. He’d be down to fuck her in a second, she’s all he’s talked about since dinner.” As always, she pushed the right buttons and Bradley forced himself to let go of his bottle before he broke it.

“Fuck him. I saw the way he was looking at her. She’s mine. Tell him to back to fuck off,” Bradley paused, letting out a heavy breath. “I did it. So you can back off now.”

“Nice. Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you chicken. I’m proud. Next round’s on me.” Athena smacked his arm, looking way too pleased. Bradley had a feeling she wasn’t going to behave any different. Before he could say something, Orca and Spot showed up, nodding their hellos.

“What is this I hear about you buying Simons? What did we miss?”

“Bet Bradshaw here free drinks forever if he fucked lil Floyd within three weeks.” Bradley choked on his beer, patting his own chest to get rid of the fluid in his throat. He turned to Athena, anger coursing through his veins. What the fuck was she doing?

“Hey look at that, big man Bradshaw. Good for you. Was she any good? She looks like she’s good.” Orca nudged his side, filthy smile in place, his blue eyes shining with interest. Bradley had every intention of walking away from the conversation but Athena clucked quietly under her breath, making crude gestures with her hands.

Spot grimaced, looking around the packed bar. “Tone it down man. What if Floyd hears? Don’t think he would appreciate listening to how Bradshaw railed his little sister.” He ended his sentence with a laugh, proudly accepting the high five from both Athena and Orca.

“Come on Rooster, share. She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she? She’s like a damn princess, all happy and shit.” Athena mocked, waving down the bartender for another round. Bradley sighed audibly, taking another gulp of his beer.

Orca and Spot laughed in tandem, making kissy faces at him. “Bradshaw, don’t go all shy on us now.”

“Maybe she was terrible. Fuck chicken, is that it? It was bad, wasn’t it? Fuck, I knew I should have let Hangman loose. You should have seen them at dinner. There were fumes coming out of this one's ears.” Athena patted Bradley on the arm. All three of them were laughing now, trading insults.

Bradley wasn’t drunk but he had consumed enough beers to have his judgement clouded. And when Athena once again mentioned Hangman, and his very obvious attraction to Bradley’s girlfriend, he had enough.

“Fuck you, Athena. Hangman isn’t coming anywhere near my girl, ever. And for your information, I fucked her until she cried. So shut the fuck up.”

Orca thumped him on the back, hooting wildly. “Hell yeah Rooster. Good man!” For a split second, pride filled Bradley and he joined in the laughter, reaching for another beer.

“Guess I misjudged you then, Bradshaw. As promised, I’ll back off.”

“Damn right you will,” he spat. “And no mention of any of this to anyone else, you understand? Any of you. I will make sure you’re all grounded.”

“Grounded for what?” Bob asked as he appeared over Bradley’s shoulder.

All eyes turned to Bradshaw as he squeezed his eyes shut for a second before turning to his girlfriend’s brother. “Nothing.”

There was a look on Bob’s face that said he knew more than he was letting on but Bradshaw was too impaired to begin to interpret it correctly. “Mhmm,” Bob hummed as he turned to the rest of the group. “I’m gonna head out. Behave, don’t make me come back to pick up any of you drunks.”

The group bid goodbye to the WSO and turned back to Bradshaw, the looks on their faces begging for details. Unfortunately for him, he was just drunk enough to give them what they wanted.

When Bradley woke the next morning, Thea’s side of the bed was empty and his head was killing him. Rolling over slowly, he spotted a glass of water and Advil on the nightstand, a note laying next to them.

Babe,

Golfing with Bob this morning, didn’t want to wake you. You came back pretty late last night. Drink plenty of water, there’s food in the fridge.

I love you, Thea

Guilt coursed through him as he remembered last night and how he had bragged about their sex life with the rest of his squadron. It was a private matter and he felt threatened enough by Athena to spill details that weren't his to share. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he threw off the covers before sprinting to the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He heaved until there was nothing left, disgust and shame mixing with the hangover, filling his entire body. How could he have felt even a tiny bit proud last night as he shared the most intimate details of his and Thea’s relationship? How could he once again let Athena influence him? Each time he tried to step away, Athena was there, shoving another drink in his hand, mocking him quietly, out of earshot of the others.

Part of him had wanted to tell her how Thea was a thousand times better than Athena could ever hope to be, how he had never had what he and Thea shared while Athena and he fooled around. The other part wanted her to leave him alone, as promised.

Bradley sat back against the bathtub, head in his hands. He only had himself to blame for this. If he was lucky enough, his squad would keep their mouths shut and word would never get back to Bob about last night. He’d rather avoid a fist to the face. And either way, Bob was playing golf with Hangman today, so he wouldn’t be around the guys anyway.

Bradley frowned, swallowing thickly as he sluggishly moved back to the bedroom, reaching for Thea’s note. ‘Golfing with Bob this morning’ stared back at him, the nauseous pit in his stomach making itself known again.

If Thea was off with Bob this morning, it also meant she was hanging out with Hangman. Bradley crumpled the note in his hand, trying to calm his anger bubbling to the surface.

After Bradley had explicitly told Thea that Hangman wanted her, looked at her, even though she was with Bradley, she had gone off to spend the day with him. Without telling Bradley about it. She had deliberately kept it from him. Before he had left for the bar last night, he asked about her plans and Thea had just told him she was going to stay at home and catch up on chores.

Now she was off, meeting the one man Bradley had warned her off from. How could she? Maybe it had been her plan all along. Maybe Bob wasn’t even there, maybe it was just an excuse so she could meet Seresin alone.

Thea had told Bradley she loved him four nights prior but if she could lie about this, who knew if what she had told him that night was true? He was spiralling, mind going over every possible scenario. How Hangman probably had his hands on what was his right this second, how Thea had lied to him.

The ping of his phone interrupted his train of thought, alerting him to a new message. Scrambling, he pushed off the floor only to see Athena’s name flashing across the screen. It’s a picture attached in the text message and Bradley felt like vomiting again. In the picture, clearly taken from a distance, Thea is laughing, head thrown back and her hand on Hangman’s arm, matching smile on his face. Bob is there too but Bradley can’t tear his eyes from how she’s touching him.

Another message pops up beneath the picture. ‘Lookin’ cosy, don’t they?’ appears first and the three dots indicate that Athena is still typing. Fury fills his veins as she sends another picture, this time of Hangman and Thea getting into the same car, Hangman’s hand on her wrist.

Bradley threw the phone across the room, watching the screen crack as it hit the wall. His heart pounded against his ribcage, blood rushing to his head as he tried to control his breathing.

Somewhere he could hear the front door opening, Thea calling his name. Was she checking to see if the condo was empty? Was Hangman waiting in the car? Did she bring him here, thinking Bradley had already gone back to base.

“Brad?” He looked up to see Thea hovering in the doorway, concern written all over her face. “Babe, you look awful. Have you eaten?” She moved towards him but stopped short when Bradley stumbled to his feet, fire burning in his veins.

“Is he here?” He spat, nostrils flaring as he stared her down. He wouldn’t let her lie to him anymore.

Thea looked genuinely confused. “Is who here? Bob dropped me off but he couldn’t stay. Didn’t you see my note?”

“Oh I saw plenty!” Bradley laughed harshly. He moved then, bending down to grab his phone. The screen was cracked in three places but it miraculously still worked. He punched in the code, Thea’s birthday, opening his messages. The picture of her and Hangman getting into a car together lit up the screen.

“This! I saw this. What the fuck is going on? Why were you with him?” He showed the phone in her face, the pictures that Athena sent him on the display. Bradley watched her face closely as she studied the phone, brows furrowing.

“Babe, I told you. Bob invited me for a round of golf and Jake was there too. Apparently they’ve played together before and me and Bob always used to play back home. Bobby said he invited you too. He said you declined.”

Bradley snorted. “Yeah, and you obviously found that particular opportunity very good. A whole fucking day, alone with him!” Tired of being cooped up in the bedroom, he shoved past Thea and headed for the kitchen.

“An opportunity? Brad, that doesn’t even make sense. And Bob was there too? I don’t understand why you hate Jake so much. He’s been nothing but kind.” Her footsteps alerted him that he was being followed.

Bradley spun on his heel, making Thea smack right into him. “HE HAD HIS HANDS ON YOU!” The force of his voice made Thea take a step back, eyes wide. Bradley watched as confusion crossed her face, mouth opening and closing. She was stalling for time. To come up with yet another lie.

Brad swore, jaw clenching. “I saw you two. You let him touch you. You’re mine and you let him touch you!”

Thea blinked, lower lip quivering. “Babe, what are you talking about?” He fumbled for the phone again, showing her the other photo Athena sent.

“Brad.. where did you even get this? Look, he was joking about something, okay? I don’t understand why you’re so upset. We played and then we had lunch. Bobby drove me home afterwards.”

She’s lying. If she had sounded guilty, Bradley might have had believed her but all she did was sound confused. Probably to throw him off.

“Stop, just stop! Just admit you clearly came along just so you could see him. Tell me, did you plan this? When I went to the bathroom during dinner maybe, hm? Did you plan to meet up with him, and then let me fuck you the same night? You feel good now, when you’ve had us both?” He couldn’t stop, not now. Bradley needed to know the truth. The tears on Thea’s face might have hurt less if he wasn’t so angry, so filled with disgust and jealousy.

“Had you both? Bradley, there’s nothing between Jake and me. I love you. There isn’t anyone else.” She cried. Her tears did nothing to stop him.

“STOP LYING TO ME! JUST ADMIT YOU FUCKED HIM!” Bradley slammed his hand down on the counter, rattling the items on there. Thea shied away instantly, backing up until her body hit the wall. Bradley didn’t care, continuing his rant. “Was he good? Better than me? ANSWER!”

Thea pressed closer against the wall, sobs catching in her throat. “Please stop. Brad, please.” When he stayed quiet, Thea took a deep breath and straightened up.

“Look at me Bradley. Look at me. I don’t understand why you would think there’s anything between Jake and me. I’m with you. Okay? I’m right here. I love you. So please, just stop, just -“.

“SHUT UP!” Bradley grabbed the nearest item, hurling it towards the wall. He realised his mistake a moment too late as the glass crashed into the wall, Thea’s hand flying up to cover her mouth. The fear in her eyes was evident and Bradley immediately backtracked. He tried to apologise, moving towards her at the same time.

“Don’t.” Thea held out a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

Bradley’s hands shook as he tried to reach for her but she moved away, further from him. “I said don’t.”

He tried to say her name but Thea only shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “I think you should go. You need to cool down.”

Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper but Bradley heard her. The anger was still burning and he scoffed, reaching for his keys. “Sure. I’ll go. Don’t forget to text Seresin that I’m gone so he can swoop in.”

He turned on his heels, collecting his phone and jacket on his way out. Thea moved, asking him to stop it and just calm down. But he knows he’ll do something he’s going to regret, so Bradley opts for slamming the door behind him, rattling the windows.

He pulled out of the driveway, knuckles white as he tried to control his breathing. He arrived at Parlor Bar before his mind caught up and for a moment he sat in silence in the car. He should go back, get on his knees and apologise. Wrap her up in his arms and never let go. But Seresin’s hand on her stays in the front of his mind and with that, Bradley made up his mind. He needed a drink.

“Well, if it ain’t Bradshaw. What’s got you down?” Athena mocked as she joined him at the bar. Bradley is already 5 beers in and not interested in entertaining her. Thea’s betrayal still stings and he downed the rest of his beer, signalling the bartender for another. Athena ordered a beer as well, leaning back in her seat. He didn’t answer her so his WSO made her own conclusions. “Aw, did you and the princess have a fight?”

Bradley swivelled around on his stool, beer spilling from the glass. “Fuck off. Leave me alone. This is all your fault.”

Athena snorted, taking a sip of her beer. “I fail to see how it is. I delivered on my end. You fucked lil Floyd, and I backed off. If there’s a problem in paradise, I’m pretty sure it’s your fault, Rooster.”

“You did this. You forced me into accepting the bet.” Rooster argued, anger bubbling over. The bartender backed away after sliding an Old Fashioned in front of him and Bradley swept it down with one gulp.

"FORCED you?" Athena scoffed, a mirthless laugh following. "Bradshaw I didn't force you to do anything. Everything you did was on your own. Did I taunt you? Yeah. But you're a fucking Navy pilot, jackass. You should be above that. Guess they were wrong about you too."

Bradley stood suddenly, the stool rocking on its legs before clattering to the floor. "You fucking bitch. You can't handle the attention not being on you for three seconds and I'm the one who should be above it?"

Athena chuckled again, a mischief flashing in her eyes before she bit her lip and closed the distance between them. "You think I'm jealous of her? You think I’m jealous of your unicorn princess? You think I didn't have attention? Bradley, I've even had your attention this whole time."

"You fucking liar," Bradley spat. The room was spinning slightly, the amounts of alcohol he’s downed in rapid succession making itself known.

"Maybe," she smirked as her hands settled on his hips before one hand skimmed his waistline and down his zipper. "Or maybe you're trying to lie to yourself."

Bradley hadn't even realised his cock had hardened in his pants while he was fuming at his coworker. Neediness overtook him at that point, fueled by the alcohol coursing through his veins, nearly enough to have him seeing double. Flashes of Hangman touching Thea in his mind, touching his girlfriend, was enough. He crashed his lips to Athena’s and pressed his length further into her hand. "Your room. Now. Fucking whore."

Waking up hungover two days in a row hadn’t been Bradley’s plans for the weekend, yet he awoke feeling like he’d been trampled by a herd of elephants, throat drier than the Sahara Desert. Trying desperately to fight the nausea, Bradley rolled out of bed while shielding his eyes from the bright life, trying to navigate his way to the bathroom.

His head was pounding and he didn't remember how he even got home. After the fight, he hadn’t believed Thea would even let him inside the house, nevermind back into her bed. Regret flowed through his body and the pit in his stomach grew. A movement from the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he thanked every God there was for Thea letting him back inside.

He stumbled into the dresser, cursing as his foot caught on the bottom of it. There shouldn’t be a dresser there, Thea had hers by the entrance, not the door to the bathroom. Bradley stopped in his endeavour to reach the bathroom and rubbed his eyes, looking around the room.

A flash of panic went through him as Bradley realised this was not Thea’s bedroom. The silhouette of the body buried beneath the blankets moved, only to reveal the last person Bradley wanted to see. Athena.

His heartbeat accelerated, bile rising in his throat as he spotted his clothes strewn across the room, Athena’s naked body among the sheets. Pieces of the night before flashed before his eyes.

“No no no,” Bradley whispered, something foul and ugly building within him, “Fuck!”

He reached down to collect his clothes, trying to escape before she woke but the nausea wouldn't let him. Bradley sank to the floor, back against the wall as he tried to desperately stop the tears. His phone is buzzed in the pocket of the jeans, the cracked screen lightning up with Thea’s name. The bile returned again and Bradley scrambled to his feet and rushed into the bathroom before emptying his stomach over the toilet. After heaving what alcohol was left in his system, Bradley struggled to his feet, hands grasped at the sink.

What the fuck was he going to do?

“Good morning sunshine. You look like you’ve had better days.” Athena appeared in the doorway. He felt sick as he looked at her. More memories of last night popped up, his hands on her body, her mouth on his skin. He coughed violently, his throat still dry despite emptying the contents of his stomach moments before.

His face twisted. “What time is it?”

“Closer to lunch. Thanks for last night by the way. Nice to know the unicorn princess hadn’t turned you into a saint.” Bradley couldn’t stop the tears from falling when she mentioned Thea.

His heartbreak turned into anger when Athena laughed. “Oh, does the prince need a tissue, hm?”

“Fuck you.” He fumed, turning on shaking legs to look at her. Athena grinned, tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“You already did, if you don’t remember. I honestly thought it would prove to be a challenge to get you into bed, but you went oh so easily. Now, tell me. Who is better? Me or your little girlfriend?”

Bradley bit back his response as her words reached him. Get into bed?

“You planned this.”

Athena scoffed, leaning against the doorframe. “I wouldn’t say that it was a plan. You’ve always been so easy to manipulate, Bradshaw. I just had to press the right buttons. I did think you would change after meeting her but it seems like you’re just the same,” she pauses for a second, taking in his reaction, “honestly, I just wanted to see if I could.”

Bradley opened his mouth but words failed him. Athena took two steps, invading his personal space but his feet refused to move, frozen to the spot.

She patted his cheek. “Thank you for your service, Lieutenant. You can see yourself out.”

He had hoped Thea wouldn’t be home when he finally made his way over to her place, but luck wasn’t on his side.

“Brad, oh good, you’re back. Listen, I feel awful about what happened. I need you to know that nothing is going on between Jake and me. Okay? I’m with you and I love you. There’s no one else. He’s just a friend. And he didn’t do anything remotely close to flirting with me. Bob was there the entire time, you can ask him. Just.. please, I don’t want us to fight.”

Thea kept rambling and he felt sick to his stomach. “Thea, babe.. I am so sorry.”

She paused for a moment. “Thank you. I understand that you were angry but your words really hurt me. I don’t understand why you don’t trust me.” The sadness in her voice brought a wave of anguish. Bradley knew he needed to tell her, but how could he when she was trying to fix his mess?

“I do trust you.” Is the only thing he can say. He does trust her. His own insecurities are at fault here, his own stupidity and inability to deal with his emotions.

“Okay, good. Uh, you kind of stink. Sorry. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make some food and we can talk more.” Thea is already moving around the kitchen, pulling out various ingredients from the pantry.

“I’m so sorry.” He says again, not knowing what else to say.

“And I forgive you babe. I just want this to be over, okay?” Thea mixed the eggs into the pancake batter, eyes trained on the stove.

Bradley swallowed thickly. “I made a mistake.”

Thea slowed her movements. “What do you mean?”

Bradley bit his bottom lip, sniffling quietly.

“After you told me to get out yesterday, I went for a drink. At Parlor Bar. You told me to calm down, so I went for a beer. I thought it would help.”

Thea pushed the batter to the side. “Okay. Like I said, I can smell it on you. It’s fine Brad.”

“No it’s not. It’s everything but fine!” Bradley wailed, rising to his full height. His heart plummeted to his stomach as Thea’s face fell.

“What’s going on?”

Bradley hiccuped, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand. “Athena showed up. At the bar. She figured out that we fought. Uh, I had a lot to drink. I was still angry, and jealous. God, I was so jealous. He’s everything I’m not, you know? And seeing you two together just bugged me, I-”

“Bradley.” His name falling from her lips stopped him in his tracks. It’s cold and harsh.

Thea choked up, hurt painted across her face. “What did you do?”

“I’m so sorry.”

She’s quiet for a long time, long enough to make him fidget uncomfortably.

“Did you sleep with her? Did you fuck her?” In the short time they’ve been together, Bradley has never heard her speak like this. He keeps quiet, his eyes trained on the floor.

“Answer the fucking question, Bradley! Did you sleep with her?” Thea’s voice shook, the trembling of her voice breaking his heart in the process.

“Yes.”

Thea laughed, the betrayal swimming in her eyes. “So after you accused me of sleeping with Jake, after you asked me if I felt good about something I hadn’t even done, you decided that the best course of action was to fuck your ex?”

Bradley leapt from his place against the kitchen counter. “I was wrong, okay?” He paused, swallowing hard. “Sweetheart, listen, it didn’t mean anything. She didn’t mean anything. It was a mistake. I was drunk, and I was angry and -” He fumbled for the right words, trying to fix the mess he had created.

“I TRUSTED YOU! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING BRADLEY! One fight and you run back into her arms?” Thea dipped her head back as she sniffled and tried to stop the tears. His heart broke as she cried, taking a step back as he approached.

“Sweetheart…-” Bradley tried to reach for Thea but she pushed him away.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me after you’ve been with her.” Her hands trembled, with anger or betrayal, Bradley didn’t know. All he knew was that she slipped further from him with each second. He had to make amends.

“Did it mean so little to you?” Thea whispered. “Did I?”

“No. You’re everything. I love you.” Bradley didn’t know what else to say at this point. At first, he thought that maybe she would forgive him but after her reaction, he knew that it’s over.

Thea laughed through her tears. They’re standing on opposite sides of the kitchen but the distance between them feels bigger. “If that was true, you wouldn’t have slept with her. You don’t do this to someone you love.”

Bradley’s chin meets his chest, head hanging low. “I’m sorry. If I could take it back, I would.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry. It won’t fix this.”

“What can I do? Please, tell me what to do.” He pleaded, trying to round the island but stayed back as she shied away from him. “Please.”

She huffed at his words. “You can’t do anything, Brad. It’s already done.”

“Thena, honey, please…-”

She looked up, hands balling into fists by her sides. The hurt in Thea’s eyes slowly burned into anger, her mouth twisting in disbelief and fury. “What did you just call me?” Fuck.

“Babe..-”

“We’re done.” Thea spat, face twisted in pain. There was an odd calmness in her voice and Bradley hated it. He wished she would scream at him. It would have felt better.

“You know, I’ve given you every part of myself. All of me. I trusted you. And in return, you’ve broken all those parts,” Thea whispered. Bradley cried, wishing desperately that he could turn back the time.

“Get out. This,” she pointed back and forth between them, “Is over.”

Bradley looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red and puffy. He looked as hollow as he felt. His image mocked him, a cruel smile twisted on his face.

His fist made contact with the glass before he could think about it. Blood mixed with glass crashed to the floor but it was only a dull ache compared to agony in his heart. It was overwhelming and he needed to feel something, anything else. With a swipe of his arm, he shoved the objects in his desk to the ground. He watched as they broke but it didn’t make him feel any better.

All he could think of was Thea’s face. The tears on her face, her anger and the betrayal he had committed. The damage was done, there was nothing he could do to fix this.

Bradley’s hands shook as he reached for his phone. He knocked over the bottle of Jack that sat on his nightstand but paid it little attention.

With trembling fingers he punched in a number he hadn’t called in years. As he waited, he both wished for the person on the other end to pick up and not pick up. He didn’t even know if this was the right number anymore.

“Hello? Captain Mitchell speaking.”

Bradley let out a sob. He’d almost forgotten what Pete sounded like. He swallowed hard before answering.

“It’s me. It’s Bradley. I’ve fucked up, I need your help.”

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#bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #fe writes #fic: let me drown #oc: thea floyd #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw

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feybeasts · 7 months

Note

Could you give us some interesting info on swedish military aircraft?

OH BOY COULD I- there's a whole wealth of stuff I could talk about when it comes to Swedish military aviation during the Cold War, thanks to their will-they-won't-they flirtation with the western powers and, as a result, their almost entirely domestic manufacturing- while many Nordic countries tended to go with various NATO staples, the Swedes got weird and wonderful thanks to one company-

SAAB. Yeah, the car people. "Born from jets" isn't just a slogan, y'know.

While the SAAB Tunnan, Lansen, Draken, etc are all fascinating, I think my favorite of the bunch is this-

The SAAB 37 Viggen. (the AJ/AJS/JA/etc-37, depending on which variant you're talking about.)

The Viggen is a multirole aircraft, and one of the first ever produced in bulk with canards- that's the second set of "wings" ahead of the first. Interestingly, while most aircraft used canards to assist with slow-speed maneuvering, perhaps most famously on members of the Flanker family of combat aircraft- such as the SU-33-

the Viggen's canards are actually a second set of lifting bodies to assist its short takeoff and landing capabilities. This makes the Viggen, quite literally, a supersonic biplane!

Meant to go extremely fast, extremely low, the Viggen was used for reconnaissance, interdiction, naval strikes, you name it- though never in any shooting war, which is probably for the best, as any shooting war Sweden was likely to be involved in would have been... bad, given it would have likely been WW3. To this end, it was equipped with terrain mapping radar, a pretty high-tech flight computer (for the time,) and a lot of steering aides, as flying low and fast in the Baltic usually meant dealing with fog, snow, and all manner of low-visibility nonsense. I remember an anecdote a friend once told me of a Viggen pilot flying a recon flight so low, one of the pictures he took was impossible to make out at first, as the structure in it made no sense- it was only when checking the flight logs that they realized he had flown under a bridge across a river- and snapped a photo of the underside!

Another interesting fact is that like most Swedish aircraft, which were expected to take off from unprepared strips of roadway, out of tunnels, even in forests (Sweden is pretty small, and any airfields would have been easy targets for a potential foe,) the Viggen is incredibly rugged- you'll note in the picture above it has BEEFY landing gear, and its engine is equipped with an automatic thrust reverser, which quite literally allows for the Viggen to stop within the span of a few hundred yards once it has landed- very necessary for taking off from short stretches of road!

It's probably my favorite Swedish aircraft for that reason, really- it's a very specific design built to very specific requirements, a truly Swedish aircraft that is quite peculiar if removed from those requirements!

Lots of fun in sims too, if you can get around the... tempermental... computer.

#asks #fey aircraft drabbles #new tag babyyyy

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thedroneranger · 1 year

Text

Beached. Part 14

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: Kyle Jassen was looking for a quiet day at the beach, but a rogue football put her en route to a whirlwind romance with a hotshot naval fighter pilot

Note: I couldn’t help myself. This fic is cross-posted, and my first TGM fic. Since I was like an excited child and immediately began writing this fic after my first time watching TGM, some canon has been ignored. Another shorty but goodie.

Warnings: 18+ only—sexual content, contains adult themes and language; minors do not interact

Word count: 2.2k

I had volunteered to help set up for Asher and Maddie’s party. Lindsey took me up on my offer, but because they could hire help, it was a ploy for us to hang out before the festivities. Emma also came, and we drank Irish coffees on the patio. Primarily, I drank coffee while Emma and Lindsey chatted about the family. Every now and then I would be called upon to answer a question about California Jake.

Lindsey sighed and sat her coffee on the table. “Those two idiots.” She was referring to her father and brother. “I’m just glad they didn’t rope Todd into boxing.” Lindsey pinched the bridge of her nose. “Normally Todd ends up wrapped in their shenanigans,” she explained.

“It’s never a dull moment with Jake.” I added, sipping my coffee.

“Not much has changed.” Emma snorted.

My eyes widened. “Do tell. I’d love some Jake anecdotes to hold against him later.”

I drank up every story as they spilled Jake’s adolescent antics. Well, the ones they knew about. My mind drifted, thinking about what he got into as the only boy—surely his sisters were spared that knowledge.

The afternoon came too soon. Todd summoned Lindsey for hosting duties, and Emma was resigned to babysitting as her niece and nephew begged her to play with them. I took advantage of the alone time and continued to sip coffee.

Jake had arrived but was busy reacquainting with cousins, aunts, uncles and longtime family friends. We already discussed that I was not expected to shake hands and kiss babies with him—we’d save that for the wedding the next evening.

I remained tucked away on the patio, not wanting to draw any attention, for as long as possible. After discreetly joining the crowd to sing “Happy Birthday” and watch the twins open their gifts, I wandered back to my perch.

Upon my return, I found Elma. “Hi!” I greeted her.

“Come, sit!” She patted the cushion next to her. She had a full tea service with sandwiches sitting on the table. She readied me tea as I sat. With a grateful nod, I accepted the cup. “Are you enjoying your stay?” She asked as she sipped her beverage.

“It’s been lovely. Mostly,” I replied, mirroring her actions.

She sighed. “I’m sorry about dinner. Thomas is often a Grade A ass.” Elma took a sip of tea.

“Why?” The question fell from my lips before I realized I had asked.

Elma’s shoulders rose toward her ears. “It’s hard to say. I think he needs Jake and is a little jealous that Jake managed to carve his own path instead of following Thomas’ wishes.”

Before Elma and I could dive any deeper, Jake appeared. “There you are.” His Seresin Smile™ beaming.

I smiled back. “Hey.” He sat down beside me and stole my tea. Elma scolded him while she prepared another one. I took the fresh one and shot him a glare. Happily sipping my, now his, tea, he pretended not to notice.

“How was your morning?” He looked at me. Elma also waited for me to respond.

I leaned back in my seat. “Mhmmm, I learned a lot about baby Jake.” His eyes widened. “Not from Elma, from your sisters. Although, I think Elma might have juicier stories.” I leaned over and winked at her. “We’ll have to chat later.” She chortled.

“Oh, boy.” He put his teacup to his lips. “I suppose it’s time for you to learn more Seresin family secrets, including our football plays.” My eyebrows rose. “I told you I needed you to throw the pigskin with my dad. It’s time for our family football game! Tradition at every birthday party.”

“You’re kidding.” I stated more than asked. Elma was shaking her head.

He put his cup on the table, repeated his actions with mine and presented his hand to help me up. “Serious as a heart attack.” He kept hold of my hand as we neared a slew of people getting pinnies and being sorted into teams.

“What happened to a casual backyard toss around?” I inquired.

“It’ll start more casual than usual—there are kids in this game.” He lowered his sunglasses and winked.

Thomas and Jake served as the starting quarterbacks and captains. In the years of Jake’s absence, Todd had been serving as a captain. However, Thomas was quick to let his son-in-law know that his biological son was much more athletically inclined and would call the shots.

It was fun cheering on the kids as they ran the ball like tiny drunk people down the field. The touchdown dances caused scores of laughter from kids and adults alike. Little did I know, Jake was beaming, watching me with his niece and nephew. At one point, they toppled me over and dogpiled on me. Everyone was unharmed, but Jake was quick to my rescue, tossing the pair over his shoulders.

Eventually, the kids got bored and it was time for the adults-only game. “Kyle.” I turned just in time to two-hand catch a ball that Jake spiraled right to me. “You’re up.”

“Excuse me?” Thomas looked between us.

Jake shrugged. “My team, I decide the positions. Kyle is QB.” Jake lined us up offensively for the first snap. Thomas quickly lined up his team to defend. “Enjoy the view.” As my center, Jake looked over his shoulder and winked as he crouched down in front of me to snap the ball. I rolled my eyes as I got into position.

Since I was still learning the Seresin playbook, Jake called the play and hiked the ball. I caught it and watched everyone running in front me. I dropped back into the pocket and looked for an opening. Jake was streaking up the field, his dad, not even close, but the closest opponent to him. Aligning my fingers with the laces, I pulled my arm back behind my head and launched the ball. It spiraled perfectly and nestled in the crook of Jake’s elbow for him to run into the end zone. We all threw our arms up in celebration.

Thomas stared at me as I jogged down to celebrate with Jake. Jake threw an arm around me as we walked back for the next snap. Thomas shrugged with a smug look on his face. “Lucky throw.” Unconsciously, a smile pulled the corners of my lips as I thought about how mad Thomas was going to be when every throw was just as lucky as the first one.

Now on defense, my team lined up. Our team had discussed the play. I had my route to cover the opposing receiver, which was Todd. The ball snapped, and I tracked his path. Thomas threw the ball, and I leapt to intercept it with one hand. Cradling the ball, I charged down the field, walking by the time I crossed the end zone. Jake was whooping and hollering along with the rest of our team.

Thomas seemed incredulous as we walked back to reset. The next four drives all ended with me throwing to a receiver for a touchdown or me intercepting the ball for a pick six. It didn’t matter what play Thomas ran, I anticipated and countered.

Not slouches themselves, Emma and Lindsey were very impressed with me. “Where did you find this machine?” They asked Jake.

He laughed. “We didn’t name her MVP for nothing!” His arm hooked around my neck and kissed my sweaty temple.

Thomas was clearly unhappy with how the game was going.“Let’s mix up the teams—redraft!” Thomas yelled.

“Redraft!” Everyone echoed. We all lined up. In addition, Thomas decided Todd could reclaim his captain position. Jake fell into line with the rest of us. Thomas allowed himself to choose first and selected Jake, so Todd picked his wife (of course!), and then Thomas chose his other daughter. Ever the good son-in-law, Todd played right into Thomas’ hand, choosing me next.

My body shook with laughter. Thomas eyed me like he wanted to have me committed. “I assume Jake didn’t have time to tell you how we met as you were punching each other in the face?” His expression never changed. I shrugged my shoulders. “Your loss.”

Jake and I lined up across from each other. “We’re doing full contact?” I winked at him. He just shook his head in disbelief. I blew him a kiss in response. Todd began shouting the play.

Through the entire quarter, every play, every position, I out ran, out jumped and out performed Jake or whoever else Thomas put in front of me. The icing on the cake was me sacking Thomas (it was a soft tackle!), forcing a fumble and recovering the ball for a touchdown.

Thomas was still pouting on the ground after my team was done celebrating. I walked back and extended a hand to help him up. He stared at me hard for a minute and then accepted it. We locked eyes as he stood. Jake clearly inherited Thomas’ height as I looked up to keep eye contact. “Good game.” I smiled and walked away.

Later, I learned I had cemented my claim as Elma’s second favorite human (behind Jake, of course). Emma and Lindsey were still in awe, and Linda was proud of how I handled Thomas.

Jake, well, it was like the day we met all over again. However, this time, his behavior wasn’t at all reserved.

As we returned to our cabin, my adrenaline was still soaring. That was my championship game. I managed to put Thomas in his place and further my rapport with the rest of the Seresins.

From behind, Jake’s hands hugged my hips and his face nestled into the crook of my neck. Quickly, I turned to face him, my hands resting on his chest. His sank to my ass.

We stared at each other, and then I pushed myself onto my tiptoes so our lips met. One of his hands slipped to the base of my neck and the other stayed planted on my backside. My hands wandered south and dipped past the waistband of his shorts.

Jake was already semi-hard. He growled as our lips separated. His jaw came to rest against my temple, and his hand stayed anchored on my neck. I looked between us and pulled his shorts away from his body just enough to allow a stream of saliva to drop into my hand. He purred as my hand worked along his length. Occasionally, I would run my thumb over his tip. Soft neck squeezes let me know he was enjoying himself.

A smile graced my lips as I listened to the string of curses and praises leaving Jake's mouth. I continued my work but guided his body to the closest surface, which happened to be the plush reading chair in the library nook. My hands left him just long enough to push him into the chair and then pull his shorts to his ankles. He wanted to step out, but I kept him shackled.

Our gazes locked, me looking up at him through my lashes. I was still clothed, kneeling on the floor. I sat back on my calves to continue guiding my hands along him. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he white-knuckled the chair arms. It was taking all his might not to buck his hips, which he knew would lead to me dragging out the handjob longer.

I held his stare as my lips moved to his tip. My lips rested on it as I let spit pool and drip down his length, my hand helping spread it down his shaft. My tongue lapped the underside of his tip, and then traced the ridges. Eventually, I slipped the whole head in my mouth. Slowly, I began bobbing up and down, adding more of his length each time. Suddenly, I felt Jake take a deep breath. I watched, never faltering, as he remembered to breathe.

My palms came to rest on the floor in front me as my mouth continued to work. At this point, I was in a rhythm, taking his whole length. Purposefully, I exaggerated some of my sounds to fulfill Jake’s favorite porn fantasies. Every so often—him plunged in the back of my throat—I’d hold him there and slide my tongue around his balls.

He groaned. “Can I cum in your throat?” Always a gentleman, even on the brink of orgasm. Encouraging his release, I constricted my throat. He melted back into the chair and gripped the arms. I stayed with him as his hips bucked. We stilled as he twitched in my mouth. I watched his rollercoaster of facial expressions as his cum coated my esophagus. After a minute, I hollowed my cheeks and began to pull away. His tip came out with a pop, and I licked my lips.

“A gift for my biggest fan.” I got off the floor and stood in front of him. He was spent—his bare chest sweaty and knees splayed but ankles together, cuffed by his shorts. His elbows rested on the chair arms and his forearms dangled off the sides. His body was low in the chair because his hips were still at the edge. He was relaxed, unguarded. After a few seconds, he looked at me.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” In his post-orgasm haze, I’m sure I looked ethereal to him—lips swollen and cheeks flushed. A smile played across my face as I leaned forward and put my hands on the chair arms.

Our faces were close. “Just wait until you see me cleaned up.”

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#top gun maverick #top gun #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin x reader #hangman x you #hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman imagine

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daincrediblegg · 10 months

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JFJ + to shut them up (please ily)

James loathed nothing more than a pause in conversation. It was an absurd anxiety, he knew, but he'd always tried to fill it. It became easier when he had a wealth of valorous stories to fill that silence with, ones that in good company would find amicable laughter, spark anecdotes from his peers (men and women, who in truth he never felt an equal to), but it never gave him long enough to think about what they must think of him. In his youth, a silence was the sound only of an elephant in the room, and more often than not, that elephant was his, carried it around like a dutiful pet, feeding it the more he told his stories, the more he held up his glorious existence on display. It never sated the silly thing, in the end. The quiet would always come after one way or another. But at least he alone would sit with it, and not another.

He felt lucky, when he realized he didn't have to hide that from you, from Francis, two of the precious few people he could call true friends to him. The silence was comfortable around you. Perhaps for the first time in his life there was a safety in the lull that found him in your company, in your knowing what hung over his shoulders. You didn't need to hear his acts of valor to love him, nor would the truth of him dissuade you from it. Either of you.

And years he never felt the need to don his mask, but on his return to England, it found him again all the same. It found him tonight, stuffed into his naval blue coat and pauldrons, medals and gold hanging off him and trapping him in it. And the need made itself known again. Helpless to recount "that damned sniper story" again, as Francis so liked to remind him. But somehow, the words didn't come as easy as they used to. He found himself pausing more often than not, the flare in his voice gone. But he pressed through, despite so desperately wanting to tell what came of the wound. What scurvy had done to it. But that wouldn't be very pleasant conversation, would it?

A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his train of thought. His head snapped to find a kind smile, and something of a knowing look in your eyes, peering up at him.

"James, may I borrow you for a moment? I'm afraid it's urgent."

Your eyebrows raised as you nodded towards the door. He nods his excuse to the party of invisible faces he found himself surrounded by, muttering a quiet "of course" before following you into another room, unoccupied, and dark, secluded.

"What is it? Are you all right? Is Francis-" is all he had the time to say before he was forcibly silenced by your quiet caring lips, slotting over them. He felt his heartbeat pick up a moment as your lips lingered, then as he settled into your soft embrace, felt it slow. Parting he found he could not produce another word for a moment.

"Shhh... it's all right James," you crooned, a gentle hand on his cheek, tracing his dimple with your thumb.

"You were doing it again. Looked like you needed saving."

He chuckled a little at that, half out of nerves, half from relief. How many times had you and Francis teased him for that damned sniper story? Too many to count by now.

"I suppose... I was," he sighs, leaning into your touch, close enough to touch his nose with yours. He breathed again, soaking in the blessed quiet, the faint chatter from the party outside feeling far away now.

"Thank you."

You nod, hand reaching to the back of his neck to pet the curls that draped below. He let your quiet reassurance embrace him, wrap him up and calm him, enough his eyes softly shut in contentment for a moment, and then a few more.

"We can leave, you know," you said once the time had passed enough, and James' eyes fluttered open to yours, doe-eyed and concerned and content. Now that was a thought. He'd been so wrapped up in his words, in his nerves, in truth, that he hadn't fully considered that as an option. He considered it seriously now, as you looked at him encouragingly.

"Shall we go?" you ask. James smiled. A sincere one. One that he'd only ever shown to two individuals in his whole life. He smiled and nodded.

"Yes. Please, I... I don't think I have the stomach for much more of this."

You returned his smile, and kissed his cheek again, soundly.

"I'll go get Francis. Get our coats and we'll meet you by the door."

He enjoyed how you gave orders. They always sounded so pleasant he couldn't help but widen his smile to know such care as this. He kissed his confirmation to the corner of your mouth gently, before withdrawing again.

"Don't be long."

"We won't."

Your hand grazed his cheek softly as you went, making its absence even fonder. He stood a moment, plucking up his courage from the floor where you had draped it, and made his exit a short moment after, heading towards the hall where a footman retrieved your coats for him to carry as he waited, already having put on his own.

He was only stood there a few short minutes before hearing the familiar sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and James turned to find you and Francis, walking arm in arm towards him. A great sigh left the older man's lips as he trekked down the hall to him, relief washing over his shoulders as he dropped the straightness in his back and square in his shoulders.

"Thank bloody Christ that's over," Francis groaned, eliciting a faint chuckle from his walking partner that made him smile.

"You can say that again," you replied, taking your coat from James' hands, wrapping it around your shoulders with grace and gloved hands. Francis reached next for his own, fingers gripping James' arm gently as he plucked his own coat, lingering a moment.

"All right, James?" he asks, his eyes warm, searching, concerned, glinting a warm pale blue in the candlelight. James nodded, soundlessly save the the small whimper that escaped him in the effort. Francis nods his understanding, a warmth renewing his grip before letting go to don his own coat.

"Home then?" Francis asks. James smiles with thoughts of fireplaces, and a shared warmth, and quiet.

"Yes. Home."

#could be read as lt or a reader. either way. whatever #james fitzjames x reader #the terror #kiss bingo #ask games #no editing we die like men you WILL hear me use the same handful of words many times #PLEASE SEND MORE FOR THE BINGO #lmao cherry I cannot escape lady terror voice now for reader inserts it's just how it is #UP NEXT WE HAVE: GOODSIR #egg’s fics

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eirikrjs · 2 years

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Correction about Raidou: The person Raidou saves from the curse is an admiral in the navy who got cursed since the navy was investigating the shady stuff the army was doing. This is a reference to the real-life conflicts between the Japanese army and Japanese navy which is considered one of the most notorious inter-service rivalries in history.

Okay, this one is complicated and I don't have a lot of time so I'm going to give the QUICK and probably useless version since it'll omit lots of details.

But basically, I won't deny what you say is correct but there are some odd things about the "important naval officer" scenario/scene, especially in the Japanese version. Much of my info on this is from a Japanese blog that goes into detail about nationalism in Raidou specifically. A healthy amount of it was summarized for me by @dijeh, who says much of it sounds a bit out there, lol. That said, there's still aspects about it that are conspicuous, but take with a grain of salt.

LP of the chapter (Episode 7: The Cursed Detective) here.

The Japanese version of this scene is available here.

If the cursed person were just an admiral, why the very coy, dramatic presentation at the Yatagarasu shrine? They could have easily created a fictional admiral character but instead chose to depict the cursed in silhouette and are talking around his identity despite his stated "crucial" role. This is just my observation.

The blogger emphasizes the following points (repeatedly, apparently, lol):

Atlus could not use Emperor Showa (Hirohito) because of his war crimes, thus they extended the Taisho era to a fictional year, 20; in reality, the Taisho emperor died of pneumonia and the era lasted only 15 years. Taisho was also a pre-war era and there is nostalgia for it.

The Yatagarasu organization is representative of the State Shinto of the period: the three-legged crow Yatagarasu was sent from the heavens to guide the first emperor, Jimmu, of Amaterasu's lineage, to military victory. State Shinto instituted the divine identity of the emperor, and the Yatagarasu organization is old and directly connected to the emperor. It specifically uses Japanese native religious imagery and names, not Buddhism.

The JP constitution says the emperor is the leader of the ground, sea, etc. forces, yet the game only names him the leader of the naval force because it's usually associated with heroic deeds, unlike the army which is associated with war crimes. (Personal anecdote: Japan still seems to be proud of its WWII naval forces and I visited a museum dedicated to the battleship Yamato near Hiroshima. I felt odd being there, since the Yamato was sunk by American bombers; I didn't feel the same way at Hiroshima, probably because its message is for global peace and total nuclear disarmament.)

The writer is also particularly bothered by the fact that you can't refuse to save this cursed person.

Last tidbit is that the god who curses the person is Hitokotonushi, who notably appears to Emperor Yuryaku in the Kojiki, where he says he can proclaim "good fortune in one word, bad fortune in one word," which the game seems to be quoting. This plays into the game's "Kunitsu seeking revenge on the Amatsu" plotline, so why would he curse someone who isn't also directly related to the Amatsu in some way?

#smt #raidou #raidou kuzunoha #soulless army #taisho #megaten #atlus

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lover-of-the-starkindler · 1 year

Text

I looked up 'Austrian court' at my library to see if there was anything floating around talking about what folks have thought was the purpose of a royal court, or at least highlighting differences between various courts (choosing Austria because France seems infinitely more popular). I didn't see anything remotely like what I was looking under that keyword.

However, they did have several memoirs of court life published at the turn of the century, and another handful from the 1930's, which is how I ended up starting Recollections of a Diplomatist by Sir Horace Rumbold. (I said I'd just take a peek at the opening chapter and come back later if it was interesting. Two volumes later...)

Sir Horace is a charming narrator as he works through his family tree--though I wish he'd gone into a bit more detail as to exactly what happened between the trading company his father worked for and the East India Company since that's no longer contemporary knowledge--and his grandfathers seem to have had quite the adventurous careers, what with taking part in Swedish naval battles and being broken out of French prisons.

Actually, his assumption that his readers are familiar with European politics of the mid 1800s in general is amusing, since this is 200 years later and he didn’t get posted to Washington after all so I don’t even have that going for me...

He casually name drops some famous composers, though. It sounds like Strauss Sr. and his orchestra was a rock band of the day?

I had hoped that when he finally got to England (after growing up in Paris our narrator was in his twenties before he visited his native soil) the humourous anecdotes would finally be in English... no such luck. The English are lovely people and charming hosts and he’s so helpful about telling you that so-and-so holds the current title, even though they were a different title during that houseparty or event, but apparently they have no lasting witticisms.

It’s also absolutely WILD to go look up someone he mentions, and discover that they’re the original of one of the Winterhalter portraits that floats through online art galleries; an annotated version of these books with visuals would be SO COOL

#rabbit trail reviews

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ltwilliammowett · 1 year

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Today, on the third day, I have a small but also funny anecdote for you.

Man over Board ????

It is the year 1843 and we are on board the Prussian brig Königin Elisabeth, which was in a storm just before Christmas Eve when a signal sounded: "Man over board" - "God rest his soul!", the captain replied and wanted to go back below deck, but when he learned that it was not a sailor but the pig destined for the Christmas roast that had fallen into the raging sea, he immediately shouted: "Boot utsetten un das Swien bargen! (Low German for "Launch the boat and save the pig!").

But since no volunteers were found, the roast remained at sea. But what bad luck - or rather good luck for the pig?

#naval history #naval anecdote #brig Königin Elisabeth #1843 #age of sail #advent calender #day3

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acrossthewavesoftime · 2 years

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Oh my, that was absolutely worth the wait. What a great chapter! And finally George made a move – he deserves Caroline and Caroline deserves him. The two of them are just too cute when they finally admit that they have feelings for each other, society be dammed. And do not get me wrong, I am happy that George got his promotion, he really deserved it after his little stunt at Trafalgar … but does he really have to go back to sea right now? He and Caroline just found each other and I have this bad feeling that Ernest still thinks he has a chance with Caroline. He was totally disgraced by Amelia’s letter and outed as the little devil he is … but I fear that that will not stop him. And what is the deal with this lovely elderly gent from Plön?

Anyway, I will wait in patience for what comes next. :-)

You really, really made it hard for me! Anyways, apologies it took so long, but was lange währt wird endlich gut, nicht wahr?

Anyway, it took me some time to figure out how this whole thing is even possible, and accidentally ended up mapping out the entire plot of a novel I’ll never write. I hope you’ll enjoy it and a fair warning, long read ahead. Warning: contains Stuart and Hanoverian family politics, naval officers and scheming siblings:

The Plot:

The Act of Settlement exists, but it is not acted upon; designed to consolidate a brittle Protestant succession suffering from a distinct lack of heirs, it is, surprisingly enough, not presently required as against all odds, Queen Anne’s sickly only surviving child William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, lives and succeeds his mother to the throne.

This of course does not go down well with the new Elector of Hannover, Georg Ludwig, who inherited the rights to the crown from his mum, Sophia. Georg Ludwig kind of wanted to be king, actually. He hates England, he hates going abroad, but he sure likes a sparkling crown, fancy new robes, and being a Very Important Person.

The cherry on top of the Hanoverian frustration is when the sickly king even fathers an heir, making it nigh improbable that an Elector of Hannover will ever sit on the throne of Great Britain. However, only time will tell if William, Prince of Wales, will succeed William IV. Riding accidents, accidental food poisoning or a beastly case of the smallpox can happen, you know?

Alas, it doesn’t.

So, all that is left for the House of Hannover to do is sit and bide their time (and secretly pray for the demise of William V).

Born into a dull life in provincial Germany and a bickering family, young Georg August Friedrich, Kurprinz von Hannover, simply feels like he doesn’t belong, and longingly looks across the sea to Britain, where everything is more worldly, fashionable and exciting. His undereducated, boring and terribly frumpy family simply annoy him, and since he has been banned from the courts of Berlin and Vienna on account of several unspecified incidents (one of which however is said to have involved a drunk pet ostrich in a full set of plate armour, though this is subject to much conjecture by historians), there is not much to do for him really, but to occasionally travel to Italy to get drunk on better wines and sleep with prettier women than are available in Hannover. One regrettable time, having always favoured women a tad older than him, he woke up next to a certain Charlotte Stuart. Tipsy on expensive champagne and merrily lamenting their fate, they had half a mind to elope together and conquer that blasted throne, the only problem being that they could not agree on who would be whose consort, a heated argument they took to the bedroom. But shh, this is all top secret, and most biographies of King George I (spoiler! J) omit this anecdote.

To his eternal chagrin, his father the Elector, called “Bauer Georg” by his people for his delightful pastoral folksiness and interest in other people’s pigsties, taking heed from his forbears after Elector Ernst August and Electress Sophie lost four sons to the wars of the tumultuous 17th century, insists Georg will stay at home and learn how to govern what little there is to govern in Hannover, while his brothers Friedrich, Wilhelm, Eduard, Ernst August, August Friedrich and Adolph Friedrich get, by the grace of their royal relations abroad, to join the Prussian or British military services and have terrific, gentlemanly adventures. He’d much rather be royal canon fodder, too, than ever have to read and be examined on another book about crop farming ever again.

And what a life is this for a prince who has found his first grey hair and is pestered about not having produced an heir yet? No, Georg cannot do this anymore. He has to leave this life behind! Screw Hannover!

Tired of watching life pass him by, measuring Age Progressing by the increase in his waistline and the cousin his parents have invited to stay at their court (and whom Georg is 100% sure his mum pays a little pocket money to cosy up to him in order to report back on him to her), Georg decides he will do what a (reasonably) young man has to do, and follow his heart: He shall to Britain! And to the sea! The vast, empty horizons will soothe his tortured soul, yet encaged at Herrenhausen palace— and those uniforms are simply too fetching to resist!

When his brother Ernst comes to visit home on shore leave from the Navy, one night, Georg steals away in Ernst’s (admittedly rather tight-fitting) uniform and is discovered by cousin Caroline, whom he has long since suspected to be his mother’s obedient creature. To his surprise however, Caroline, rather than rousing the entire house, agrees to help Georg with the cover-up and, waking Ernst, explains to him what’s going on, telling him that finally, the way is clear for him! Has he not always lived in the shadow of his older brothers, particularly the heir to the electorate? Now is the time to step into the sun! Caroline advises Ernst to pose as Georg, just like Georg is posing as Ernst. The Elector, who is stark raving mad, at least in intervals (this is what they called porphyria back in the day), won’t notice! And Electress Charlotte will know better than to make a big stink, since that would set all Europe abuzz, and potentially endanger the family.

For a time, all goes well. Georg has a rather adventurous journey to England after his belongings were stolen along the way (dancing-masters and Latin tutors don’t teach street-smarts, after all), and ends up lost and stranded in northern Germany, where a kindly man with a thick French accent picks him up in his carriage and drives him to a red brick country house in Wittmoldt near the small town of Plön, where he feeds him and provides him with a change of clean clothes. Realising that he will either be taken hostage by someone opportunistic or alternatively taken for a lunatic if he claims to be the eldest son of the Elector of Hannover, Georg decides to claim to be but the son of an impoverished family of the lesser nobility, who by the good grace of an important connexion in England have managed to buy him a commission in the Navy. The man and his family, a rather gallant son, two charming daughters and a warm-hearted wife, implore him to stay a few days and recuperate. Georg thinks the Frenchman and his family are aiding him as much as they do on account of his profession to avenge their loss of their home once he joins the Navy, but in truth, the Marquis de La Fayette and his wife, ex-courtiers, know a royal when they see one, and sensing that Georg and his fighting-spirit might provide a welcome addition in the fight against Bonaparte, help him by buying a passage from Hamburg to England for him.

Our aspiring hero thanks his noble patrons profusely before at last safely reaching the shores of his dreams, where, once aboard ship, he alas finds himself in a Hornblower-esque Hell in the beginning, yet quickly adapts to naval life. From his ship, the new lieutenant writes to Caroline every week, thanking her for her help. In a return letter, she reveals to him that she could not deny him the freedom she yearns for herself but shall never obtain, being a woman and worse, a princess, and kindly keeps him updated on the family the runaway prince suddenly realises he loves dearly after all.

Meanwhile, Ernst has gotten a taste for power. He secretly hopes Georg will never come back, because this is fun! This is what he is truly good at! He enjoys the administrative stuff, the paperwork— and the idea that one day, he will be the Elector, and maybe even King of England, if that damned asthmatic Stuart will have the good grace to kick the bucket before fathering an heir.

He is finally appreciated, people jubilantly call out to him when they see him— it is only a pity that this is happening under the name of the older brother he begins to care less and less for the more he falls in love with his new role as crown prince.

A few years pass by, and Georg, now Captain, participates in the Battle of Trafalgar, where his extreme personal bravery is noted when his ship, HMS Cerberus, intercepted the French Redoutable before she could get within firing range of HMS Victory, probably saving the flagship, and the life of Britain’s greatest naval hero, Horatio Nelson. Ernst, or rather, Georg, is a celebrated hero to the British who loudly cry for Captain Prince Ernst of Hanover to be named the prospective successor to the crown rather than his dull older brother, Prince Georg, who sits on his fat German arse and does nothing all day while his younger brother is so valiantly defending the freedom of Europe from the Corsican tyrant.

In a letter to Caroline, Georg confesses that he thinks the jig is up and the charade must end; alas, Ernst is not of the same opinion. He is fine being Prince Regent of Hannover now that the Elector has descended into such a deep state of madness that he can no longer govern his territories, and although the British toast to his name, he is not sure if a secret trading back places is even possible.

To Georg’s great misfortune, Ernst, who, since her counsel has proven so valuable to him, has taken a liking to Caroline as his chief advisor, tries to keep him from returning home. In the meantime, he proposes to Caroline, whom he thinks is his most loyal friend, but Caroline, despite knowing the mocking jibes directed at spinsters, refuses him.

A frustrated Ernst, who however thinks himself secure on his preliminary throne, takes a few weeks off to let off some steam in Venice— time Georg, informed by Caroline, uses to return home. Of course, the return of Britain’s favourite naval hero to his native land does not go unnoticed, and Ernst hurries back home only to barge into a semi-secret meeting of George and Caroline in which George who has matured in the face of battle and bloodshed, upon seeing Caroline for the first time in many years, falls to his knees and confesses his love for her, more specifically how he fell in love with her through her letters.

Ernst, hurt and betrayed, is raging— Georg is going to take everything from him! The country, the woman he loves and who has so cruelly cheated him by not discouraging George’s confession— he wants his brother dead.

Luckily for Georg and Caroline, their sister Amelia, the youngest of the Hanoverian bunch and So Over It All and sympathising with Caroline, decides to step in and publishes an anonymous letter in the local newspaper claiming to be “a person of import and close connexion to the Electoral family”. In it, she claims that “Georg” is jealous of “Ernst”, the heroic naval officer and has proposed a duel, to be had in the park at Herrenhausen at daybreak on a fixed date a week from the publication date.

Naturally, the inhabitants of Hannover, and the British delegation at court, are up in arms, and on “Ernst”’s, i.e. Georg’s side. Cracking under the public pressure, Ernst unfortunately admits in an epic shouting match with the British ambassador that he wants to be rid of his brother.

Georg meanwhile, having cultivated a sense of responsibility and duty during his years in the Navy, decides to make a public appearance and end the charade, offering a document in which he cedes his right to the succession of the Electorate, provided his remaining brothers will accept Ernst as his successor and he be allowed safe passage to England, where he intends to live with Caroline upon a meagre pension and his pay as a naval officer. Naturally, his brothers refuse to sign the document and although he is well-loved in Britain, there still is the issue that Georg is not an officer, but has impersonated one, so matters come to a standstill for a time before a cheering British public makes it politick for William V to confer upon George (this is what he calls himself now) the rank of captain in his own name.

Facing an uncertain future, with the disgraced Ernst seething at home in Hannover and George longing for some peace and quiet to meditate about his life on a starry night upon a peaceful ocean, he bids adieu to Caroline to set sail once again and follow his true calling, with a storm brewing on the horizon of European politics, and that at home: for the seething Ernst is not done yet, and attempts to hurt him by seducing Caroline in his absence, who remains absolutely impervious to his platitudes and flattery.

Escaping Ernst’s wrath becomes a lot trickier once Caroline discovers she is pregnant, and in George’s absence gives birth to a daughter, Charlotte. Fearing Ernst, she keeps the pregnancy a secret even from George, as their letters might be intercepted and read; Charlotte, raised for the first year of her life by a nurse in a village a few miles from Hannover, is to become the apple of her father’s eye.

In the end, George returns from the war, marries Caroline, becomes King of Great Britain (his nickname being the “Sailor King”) when William V, last of the Stuarts, dies and helps Ernst obtain the title of King of Hannover as a gesture of goodwill and reconciliation.

His old benefactor La Fayette receives the Order of the Garter, and Amelia a country house in England, where, before her tragic early death from tuberculosis, she is frequently visited by a certain Charles FitzRoy.

Baby Charlotte is legitimised and doted on by both her parents, who shower her with love and affection and provide her with the most stable home life of any British royal to date. The Princess succeeds her father in his titles upon his death.

This is where fiction reverts back to actual history, and we enter the Charlottian Age, named after the long-living Queen whose reign was marked by significant leaps and bounds in technology and science, as well as the largest expansion of the British Empire. But that you know already.

And here, the snippet from the story:

Georg returns home for the first time and surprises Caroline in the garden:

“Caroline?” the gentleman breathed. His face was tanned by the sun, rather unfashionably so, and his coat of blue bleached by the same; perhaps it was not the sun in the sky which had so affected his appearance, but the brightness which seemed to inhabit his heart, for he beamed at her as if before him stood Lady Jersey or another of those fashionable ladies one read of in English magazines. “Georg?”, she replied in disbelief, as much at his leaner, more muscular appearance as at the fact that his radiant smile was clearly bestowed upon her— unwed, of little stature, plump, and aging, as her aunt’s courtiers never tired of reminding her.

All ceremony was lost when Georg, tired of her surprised silence, took her unceremoniously around the waist and lifted her up until her slippers no longer touched the ground. “Fie!” she laughed, and put an admonishing finger to his chest. “You perfect beast! Are those the manners of an English gentleman? You are creasing my muslin, and you will know what your mother’s ladies shall suppose if I were to return from my walk with my gown disordered.”

“They might suppose you were swept off your feet by a sailor,” he jested, which brought a great confusion on in her mind, for she could not say if his teasing was yet as brotherly as she had always supposed his sentiments for her were, judged by his dear letters which had been her chief delight; or if he meant something else by the way in which he took her hand and kissed it before offering her his arm. “Will you not shew me the way? I scarcely remember the garden, it must have been much altered in my absence,” noted he. She gratefully continued the conversation at his suggestion, for struck by surprise as she still was, her tongue was utterly tied, and her wit quite addled by the recent confusion. “Gladly. But might I be permitted to say that you are much altered, also?” He stopped: they were stood near the little bower in which she had bid him adieu, dressed in his brother’s clothes; it seemed to her like it was only yesterday when the aging fop had disappeared to seek for a foolhardy adventure at sea. Never should she have believed that he indeed would go, and not return within the hour when his feet would hurt from carrying his excess of blubber; she had let him go for she had had some measure of compassion for him, not because she had believed in the success of his designs— and yet, there he was, freshly returned from the war. His features, though somewhat weathered, had aged rather favourably, and when he smiled, he was almost to be considered handsome.

“I am not altered,” laughed he, “and you must get me inside unseen speedily, I remind you. For you cannot think that I shall have the family see me in that—” he tugged at his coat and made a face. “Look at the lace— all rusted in the salt air— no, it shall not do. And you must change also, my dear: a feather headdress, and the pearls— you had pearls when last we met, I hope you did not lose them at cards?”

She shook her head. “Excellent. You must promise me to wear them.”

“But why?”, she replied and made him stop in his brisk step. “Am I not—”

He shook his head abruptly, understanding her meaning perfectly. “Goodness, no, never— I just remember how fine you looked— how vastly well they complimented your complexion.” His cheeks blushed crimson, as if having fallen victim to too much rouge, and he averted her eyes as in silence, they returned to the palace. I hope you liked it! :D

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