297 posts
Poetryandpickles - Poetryandpickles - Tumblr Blog
Oh no, this hurts
TOPGUNtober day one!!
I’m gonna post a fic a week this month so here’s a snippet of the fic I’ll be posting on Saturday to celebrate the first day
Prompt: forced proximity
Can you describe someone you love? (Please do.)
Simple Thing
There is no simple thing – from olive branches do not make clubs. There is no simple thing at all – from discarded stones do not build a wall. There is no clarity in ease. Where the house stood there is a little mound of dust, and from the dust we came, as they say. It is no simple thing to walk in another’s shoes. But sometimes it seems that you truly remember: the sheep, the mosque, the well.
~~Eli Eliyahu, trans Kevin Hawort
What do you mean Tom and Pete aren’t an old married couple that bought a nice house on North Island with a Mercedes and a Kawasaki parked out front? That lining the halls of said house are everything from Flight school and Naval Academy graduation pictures from the 80’s to Christmas with their family just last December?
What do you mean Bradley doesn’t come over to have family barbecues with them in the summer? Tom insisting Jake teach him how to make brisket like he does. Saying “you’ve gotta key me in on the recipe here kid!” With a mouthful of food?
What do you mean the daggers aren’t just their adopted children, and the two old men take them to the beach to go play for hours on end on the weekends or after a long day of training?
What do you mean they don’t all spend Christmas together, birthdays, Easter’s, thanksgivings, anything and everything inbetween?
What do you MEAN!?
Get your motor runnin' - 2/?
Bradley, a bit of a (very talented) grease monkey and Jake, who has been sent to see him because he's apparently the best mechanic Maverick knows.
A longer fleshed out fic at the request of @poetryandpickles based on their idea in this post. Likely going to be 3-4 parts and likely an excuse for lots of smut. Just as an FYI.
PART ONE
PART TWO
Bradley isn’t sure why Mav insists on sending work his way, it’s not like he needs it. And North Island is not down the road or around the corner. Not that he doesn’t mind the scenery, the man standing in front of him clearly regretting his life choices that brought him out her to the middle of not-quite nowhere with a car Bradley hasn’t even looked at yet. God. He doesn’t even know the make or model, and if it’s a newer car he’s going to have to go and get the diagnostic reader from his little house that’s hidden around the back.
“What’s your name?”
“Jake. Jake Seresin.”
“Hmm. Nice to meet you. Now walk me through what’s wrong with your car.”
“More like what’s not wrong,” Jake mutters and Bradley barks out a laugh, walks out beside Jake and winces under the unforgiving glare of the sun, doesn’t have his aviators and raises his hand to at least block the sun as he takes in the 2007 Toyota Camry and pulls a face. Of course it’s a fucking 2007 model. He listens as Jake lists off issues, not surprised to hear about the potential engine problems, or the melting dashboard, although the pooling water is something he’s not come across particular to this make and model. He’d bet good money it’s stored outdoors while Jake is deployed as well as near the ocean.
“You have the service records?”
“Uh…”
“For your car,” Bradley clarifies, his lips twitching in amusement.
“Oh. Uh yeah, in the glove compartment.”
“Thanks. Keys?”
He catches the keys one handed over the hood, nods his thanks. Bradley needs to look, because there were so many problems with this make and model, an accelerator pedal recall not being the least of the problems, there were also issues with brakes and wheels and he really needs to know what he’s working with and what work, if any, has already been done on the car. The idea of anyone driving around a ticking time bomb causes his skin to itch. There’re potential issues with the transmission as well for this year, along with heavy oil consumption. It’s a fucking dud of a car.
“Did you buy it new or second hand? I’m going to need to take it for a quick spin. Want to jump in?”
“You don’t need to lock up?”
“I’m just going up and down, it’ll be fine…”
He slides into the driver’s seat, waves away Jake’s apologies about the mess, because he’s seen far worse, is just hoping he doesn’t leave grease stains on any of the upholstery, but at least Jake doesn’t seem precious about it. He turns the ignition and oh yeah, crunchy. He sucks his lips into his mouth and eases it out of his drive and into the road, listening carefully, and yeah, it’s not as bad as it could be but he’s certain it could be a damn sight better. He heads back, the short drive enough to confirm things.
“What? You making a face. What’s wrong?”
“Well, you listed a lot already, but I’m going to need to check the transmission. But I want to go over the service records and see what has already been done. And you didn’t answer me. New or used?”
“Used.”
“Okay. Let me have those papers.”
Jake hands him a collection of papers and he’s pleasantly surprised at how well organised it all is considering the rest of the car. There’s a solid seven years of records, all in chronological order and held together with a clip, but then there’s change of ownership papers from 2014, and again in 2017, showing when Jake apparently bought it. The accelerator pedal recall was carried out and documented properly, and the transmission has already been fixed.
“What’s wrong with it? I was told it was a good car when I bought it…”
“2006 was a good year. 2007 was very definitely not. They started getting good again around 2013. But looks like the first owner was pretty diligent.”
“Yeah. It was like, the grandmother of some guy, and then he got it, and I bought it from him.”
“And you don’t drive it that much, which has its own pros and cons. Lower wear and tear, but if the engine isn’t getting turned over regularly it isn’t good for the battery, but also engine fluids start to break down, parts that aren’t getting lubricated begin to corrode…”
“Can you fix it?”
“Yeah. Haven’t met a car yet I can’t fix.”
… … …
He’s not quite sure what he’ll do if Bradshaw can’t fix it, despite his confidence. He can still drive it, even if the list of things wrong with it is growing longer every time he turns the ignition. Assuming Bradshaw doesn’t make it undrivable. His confidence is… attractive though. He drives Jake’s car directly into an empty bay and the immediate shade makes it feel several degrees cooler immediately.
“Right. I hope you brought a book or have lots of data on your phone, because town is a little walk away…”
“I can hang out, just point me to where I’m out of the way.”
Weirdly there’s a little comfy set up in the corner with two worn loungers, little coffee table with some books and a pile of magazines, some Aviation Traders which makes him wonder if Bradshaw works on planes as well. There’s a small fridge and Bradshaw tells his to help himself, pulling a bottle of water out for himself and Jake tries not to outright stare as Bradshaw drinks the entire bottle in one go. Drool. He grabs a bottle of water for himself, definitely needing to cool down a little. Then Bradshaw’s sauntering off, and baggy grease-stained coveralls should not somehow be that sexy. He’s left to the music of the radio and the sounds of Bradshaw doing whatever he needs to do to ensure Jake’s car won’t unintentionally kill him.
He plays around on his phone for about thirty minutes, resists the urge to take a sneaky photo of Bradshaw bending over and sending it to Trace, because she’d at least appreciate it, even while telling him off for taking pictures of people without their permission. Then he picks up one of the battered books and decides to start reading, it’s a romance novel but it’s clearly going to have a happy ending.
Then he hears Bradshaw start to sing, and surprisingly he has a nice singing voice, clearly going into his own little world and forgetting Jake’s presence completely. Sings loud and sweet along to the radio and Jake can’t help but find it endearing. He even catches him playing the air guitar and air drums at different points and it’s pretty much all the entertainment he needs, although Eric and Alexandra’s relationship has at least caught his interest, Eric’s own family being so much like his own he can feel a sick sense of camaraderie for the fictional character.
Hours slip past, the temperature drops, lights flicker on, bright in a different way. The sun is no doubt kissing the horizon somewhere he can’t see, judging by the pink and orange hues the sky is turning, from what he can see through the one raining open roller door. He’s over half-way through the book and he’s starting to feel like it doesn’t have a happy ending, and he quickly scans the back, stomach sinking as he reads the blurb. The title should have also given him a clue…
“All finished.”
His head snaps up.
“What? Really?”
“Yep. I’ve fixed up everything with the engine. Running like a dream now. Gave her new brake pads and did a wheel alignment. I mean, you’re still going to have to book her in for a proper overhaul of the seals, because salt and sun’s a bitch on rubber, so I’d recommend getting a cover for her when you’re deployed if you can’t get her stored inside somewhere. Also the drainage holes were blocked, which was why there was water accumulating, and I’ve re-gassed your aircon as well, and fixed the hole in the condensing tube which should stop the water dripping into the footwell on the passenger side.”
Jake blinks, because that sounds like a lot of work.
“Wow. Okay. Thanks. Seriously man, I didn’t think when I headed out here about the practicalities of everything. Really appreciate it.”
“Well, I don’t normally accept walk-ins, but if Mav is sending them,” he shrugs, like he is used to Mav getting what he wants and Jake guesses he does. “And you drove all this way. Couldn’t really turn you away. Come on, let me ring you up…”
Jake follows him, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, and yeah, when he looks at the printout there are quite a few parts, and five hours of labor, which doesn’t seem to match the actual hours he’s worked, and he wonders if he should question it. He doesn’t, swipes his card and considers it a bargain. The Bradshaw is handing him his keys along with a receipt and the printout.
“And you’re free to go. Not stuck here.”
“Hmm. Can I interest you in dinner?” Jake asks, because he’s got to ask, he doesn’t have to see the guy ever again if he says no. From the way Bradshaw’s slowly smiling at him he’s feeling pretty confident about the answer and he smiles slowly back in response.
“Actually dinner? Or… I mean. I have a bed not even twenty yards away…”
“Yeah? Show me?”
“What? Never seen a bed before?” Bradshaw asks and fuck yeah, Jake likes guys who are a little bit snarky.
“Not one with you in it…”
“Smooth. Come on. It's a nice bed.”
(For the love of god do not ever buy a 2007 Toyota Camry).
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Art by Azamat Khairov
Buy the ticket, take the ride… Christopher Thomas
22 or 33 with hangster? 👀🥰
I went with #33 because A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking is adorable!
--
“And this one?”
Bradley pressed his mouth against a long-faded scar curving around Jake’s calf, foot propped up against his shoulder as he stared down at the man reclining against the pillow. Jake shifted, curling a hand behind his head, his bicep flexing before it relaxed and he settled further into the pillow.
“Fell off a pony,” Jake said, a smirk curling at his mouth.
“And here I thought you were smart enough not to get on a horse when you wanted to fly,” Bradley said, kissing against the mark again before shifting closer, Jake’s knee resting against his shoulder as Bradley ran fingers over his thigh.
“No, darlin’. Not a horse, a pony.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Hell, yeah, there’s a difference. I was six at a county fair and was ridin’ this pony that was barely tall enough to hit my Mama’s hip, going in a goddamn circle and bawling my eyes out because I was so terrified. The goddamn thing snorted and shook it’s head and I had to get off according to my Mama and so I got off but I ended up getting caught up in the saddle and was dragged for what felt like hours but was apparently only a second before the ride operator got me. But it was enough to catch my leg on somethin’ and cut it up.”
Bradley did his best to keep his face straight but he couldn’t at the thought about small, Jake, red faced and crying at the sight of a horse. Jake was trying to look at him, glaring but even he was fighting a smile.
“What sorta cowboy are you?” Bradley murmured, kissing Jake’s thigh as his fingers found nothing but unmarked skin and let Jake’s leg slide off his shoulder so he could brace hands and drop a kiss over the appendix scar he had already kissed before shifting up, his exploration complete.
“The kind that grew up in suburban Texas,” Jake replied, hooking an arm around Bradley’s neck and pulling him close. “Which you well know.”
“I do,” Bradley said, remembering the two-story house with the white picket fence, two happily married parents, an aging golden retriever and two siblings, all married with screaming kids who didn’t quite understand who Bradley was to Jake, but loved Uncle Jake enough that Bradley was deemed cool. “I’ll keep your secret.”
“It’s not a secret,” Jake said, laughing as he always did whenever someone tried to pretend he was some sort of cowboy. Before Bradley could respond, Jake rolled them, settling into the cradle of Bradley’s hips and he leaned down, pressing his mouth against the scars on Bradley’s jaw. “My turn.”
Bradley lifted his chin. “You know that story.”
“I’m gonna know them all by the time I’m done with you.”
Bradley grinned and closed his eyes, settling back against the pillow. “Have at it, baby.”
would you stop for me?
AAAAAAAAA I CAN'T BELIVE YOU'RE WRITING ITTTT!!! *happy dances*
I love Jake's reaction to Bradley, it's exactly what I had in my head. *chef's kiss* thank you!
Can't wait for more😍😍
Get your motor runnin' - 1/?
Bradley, a bit of a (very talented) grease monkey and Jake, who has been sent to see him because he's apparently the best mechanic Maverick knows.
A longer fleshed out fic at the request of @poetryandpickles based on their idea in this post. Likely going to be 3-4 parts and likely an excuse for lots of smut. Just as an FYI.
PART ONE
It’s been a busy week but he’s managed to clear the bulk of the work, ordered parts actually arriving early or on time like some damned miracle. He’s managed to get people’s vehicles back to them before they expected, which always makes for happy customers. He has a loyal base, and he knows they recommend him wider afield. It keeps him busy and the bills paid. He likes it, positioned in the small area of Oak Hills. Close enough to both China Lake and North Island to enable visiting if he feels like it but not close enough that anyone can just pop in. Not that that stops Mav, but he suspects he could live in another country and Mav would still find a way of turning up unannounced.
He hadn’t intended to become a mechanic, but he had sort of fallen into it. Time tinkering on cars with Mav and his struggle to remain focussed in the classroom had meant when he’d raised the idea of entering an apprenticeship with a diesel mechanic Mav had been incredibly supportive. After insisting he get his GED. That had been the incentive he’d needed to act, and then he’d finished up and entered his first year. He’d worked hard, and it had paid off, his boss involving him in more and more challenging jobs and Bradley grew into someone that could often tell what was wrong just by listening to the engine.
Then he’d been encouraged to undertake further study, which he’d balked at, because study. But then learning about auto electrical work tied in so nicely with what he was already doing it didn’t even seem like study, simply common sense and he’d become the best damned mechanic Robbie had working for him, a fact he’d been proud of. Then he’d decided to start up his own business, sat down with Mav and Ice and talked about his parents’ house and life insurance and then they’d agreed. Robbie had a friend that was selling up and now he’s been here four years, and he thinks the locals might actually start calling him a local too soon. Any day now.
… … …
Jake’s not sure why he’s driven all the way out here, he’s driven past three other mechanics on the way to this garage and it’s only because Maverick had recommended this place that he’d kept the address in his GPS and followed it out here. For nearly two fucking hours. Who drives a dodgy car two hours to get to the mechanic? He’s hot and tired, the air conditioning unit in his car broken, well, not broken but it’s leaking something Jake doesn’t want to look too closely at but which he hopes is water. The trunk of his car now fills up with water when it rains, which had been an incredibly unpleasant surprise to find when he returned from his most recent deployment. He likes water, but he doesn’t need or want it in his car.
He pulls down a dusty road and looks around, a little worried suddenly that Maverick has sent him on a wild goose chase and he’s going to end up the next victim of a mass murderer. But no, there it is, a large shed with four roller doors, all open in deference to the summer heat. There’s two different types of tow trucks parked up out front, one looking large enough to tow a truck, and there’s also large earth moving equipment parked up and he wonders if he’s in the right place. Then he spies it, the sign declaring it as Bradshaw’s, and that’s who Mav had sent him to see. The best mechanic he knew, apparently, which Jake considers high praise coming from someone like Maverick Mitchell. He parks up and gets out, leaves the door open just in case he needs to run and make a fast get away; heads inside toward where he can music coming from a radio, Meat Loaf singing about love.
“Hello?”
He can see a body under an old van and he walks closer, repeats his greeting and hopes the guy isn’t too old. He doesn’t want to give him a heart attack or something. Then the creeper is coming from out beneath the beaten-up van and it’s legs legs legs and for fucks sake, who needs legs that long? This guy apparently, and the legs are clothed in grease-stained coveralls, but they’re tied around the guy’s waist, which is now appearing, and he’s wearing a threadbare white tank, and it’s damp with sweat, so damp Jake can see fucking nipples. He’s seen porn that starts like this.
He swallows roughly, takes in the broad chest, arms, muscles and shoulders all appearing like he’s watching in slow motion and okay, the long legs make more sense now if they have to carry all that around. He thought that he might cause a heart attack but now he’s starting to wonder if he’s going to have one instead. He wasn’t expecting this. He’d been expecting someone Maverick’s age, or older. Jesus. He thinks the heat might be getting to him, because it suddenly feels much hotter than it was a few minutes ago.
“Can I help you?” the guy asks, and he’s just lying there looking up at Jake, not even bothering to stand although he has raised his head a little and Jake can see his abdominal muscles and he was not prepared for this.
“I’m,” he coughs to clear his throat, which is of course as dry as the desert. “I’m looking for Bradshaw?”
“You found him. How can I help?” the apparent Bradshaw repeats, and he’s bracing and rolling off the creeper, coming to a stand in front of Jake, wiping his hands on a cloth pulled from his back pocket and Jake doesn’t know if it’s helped remove anything or just smeared it around some more.
“I, uh. My car’s got some issues. My CO, uh, commanding officer, he said you were the best mechanic he knew.”
“Of course he did.”
“Do you know him?”
“Maverick? Yeah, you could say that.”
Jake is surprised he guesses right, then again he supposes some people would consider knowing Maverick a bad thing, and this man looks a little resigned and he wonders exactly what this guy has done to earn Maverick’s high level of admiration, because he’s never met a man harder to please.
“So he sent you here, without calling first to check to see if I had time to work on it. Do you have another ride, or a place to stay?”
“Uh…” Jake blinks. He hadn’t thought of any of that, and he’s two hours away from his base accommodation in North Island. “Shit.”
“Let me take a look. Might be able to get her fixed up straight away and get you back on the road.”
If he can do that, then he really is the best mechanic.
Rooster🔥
(Full on Patreon)
i would describe myself as fun and light hearted and unburdened. please ignore the blood in my mouth
Look at those dimples
Top Gun: Maverick (2022) + Miles Teller + Letterboxd Reviews
Would love to see your take on film noir sereshaw. Maybe both as rival detectives or detective Bradley and homme fatale Jake.
anon, are you in my brain? this is right up my alley :))
Freshly baked 🍞
Report Writing
(I will make series of Star Trek art based on different famous works, this one is based on 1929 Interwoven Socks Ad by J.C. Leyendecker)
Stiles: Don't look now, but I think there's someone over there.
Derek: Where?!
Stiles: I saID DON'T LOOK.
Okay since I got my first post out of the way I’ll get down to business. Them <3
Ohhhh yes that's such a good idea! Because Bradley would totally name it after his dad and maybe Mav drops by on the days when he's not busy test flying planes and helps him tool around or something and you know Mav would have been the one to teach him how to be a mechanic in the first place, (on planes of course) and Bradley just took it and ran with it as he got older, turned to cars instead of planes, but he actually does know what the guts of a F-18 look like (maybe he studied up on jet specs so he could be a little closer to his dad's memory) and what if at some point later in the story Jake is trying to explain something about his jet to Bradley, and has no idea Bradley probably knows it better than he does
And a side thing here because this thing is giving me ideas
The moment when Jake realizes just how fucking hot Bradley looks in aviators (and maybe wonders how he'd look in service khakis👀)
And we gotta work the Rooster call sign somewhere in there......
Photographer Lasse Erkola
☆ COWBOY TYLER OWENS MOODBOARD ☆
Ok I am officially feral for this man. Guh.
This video is for @theglenaissance
This was only way I could get it to you