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zablife · 2 years

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One Night Stand in Fightertown

Summary: You've just arrived in Fightertown and meet a mysterious, older man who intrigues you. Drunk and horny, you agree to spend the night, but what happens in the morning?

Author's Note: This is my first time writing for Cyclone so please be kind! Please note GIF was all I could find for smut, so please do not focus on the woman's attributes (Or the fact that she's wearing a fucking bra?!?! Wtf is that about? How's he supposed to suck your tits?)

Song they're listening to on the jukebox is Otis Redding's "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay."

Warnings: 🔞, smutty, smut, smut, very little plot, unprotected sex, impact play, daddy kink

“You sure I can’t take you to dinner, honey? It’s your first night in town and you don’t know a soul,” your father said in a concerned voice.

“I’m fine, Dad,” you said with a laugh at his overprotectiveness. “I just need a night to myself,” you explained.

“Ok, I know when I’m not wanted,” he guilt-tripped you.

“Are you going to be this clingy now that I live in the same city?” you teased. “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast,” you reminded him before ending the call and shoving your cell into your back pocket. Heading back inside the bar your roommate recommended, you ordered another drink and meandered over to the worn out juke box.

You bit your lip and tilted your head as you read the selections, trying to decide which tune to play. You finally chose a familiar song and punched the yellowed buttons with your index finger slowly, your buzz catching up to you faster than you realized as you stopped yourself from pushing the six instead of the eight. As your song began to play, you swayed your hips to the music, feeling pleasantly warm and happy in your own little bubble.

Tonight was about relaxation and a fresh start. You needed to have some fun and clear your head before work started. You tried not to think about work now though as you stood by the open window, breathing in the sea air. You’d finally made it to California and you were going to enjoy yourself.

“Ottis Redding, nice choice,” you heard a deep voice say behind you. You spun around to see a dark, handsome man standing behind you and your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of him. He had muscular arms, a broad chest and trim waist, accentuated by the tight t-shirt and jeans he wore. It was casual, but stylish. The ruggedness of his jawline was punctuated by the slightest hint of stubble and you noted how there was tinge of gray there. You raised an eyebrow at him. An older man, you thought. This could be interesting. Not like the boys who usually tried and failed to capture your attention.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You didn’t want to appear overly eager, but his gaze was already making heat rise to your cheeks.

“I’m impressed that you know it,” he said continuing to compliment you. He stepped closer, placing his beer on the table beside you.

“Well, he’s one of my dad’s favorites so I sort of had to form an appreciation early on,” you rambled.

“Ooh, hitting me with that already. How old do you think I am, sweetheart?” he said with a playful wince.

You held your hands up in mock protest, “No, no. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. You were wondering how I knew the song,” you said trying to defend yourself.

He smirked at you and you saw a glint in his eye as he extended a hand to you, “No offense taken. My name’s Beau. What’s yours?”

“Y/n,” you said shaking his hand and feeling your hand slip into his large, rough grasp. He held you there for a moment, locking eyes with you and you swore his breath hitched.

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” he said. “Now that we’ve established your taste in music and my age, let’s move on to something more important. You want to dance with me?” You nodded, placing your drink next to his on the table and held your breath as you felt him slide his arm around your waist.

The rest of the night was a blur of drinks, easy conversation and several rounds of pool. You were delighted to learn that your skills were far superior to his and threw your head back with laughter as he cursed at the accuracy of your bank shots. Soon it was last call and Beau’s hand was on the small of your back. You didn’t hesitate as he lead you out of the bar for a walk along the beach.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been given a tour of the city yet,” he said. “I was sure a hundred servicemen would have offered by now,” he said glancing at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Nope,” you shrugged. “But I just got in today.”

“Ah, that’s it’s then,” he said with a shake of his head.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve been around military types my whole life. I’m not the type of girl who swoons over a uniform,” you said matter-of-factly, staring out over the ocean.

“Really? Well, what does make you swoon then?” he asked, stopping suddenly.

You turned to look at him slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder seductively. “Let’s just say I like men, not boys.” Leaning into him for a deep kiss you whispered against his lips, “Besides, the only place in town I’d like to see right now is the inside of your bedroom.” You felt him smirk as he ran a hand down to grab your ass.

“You giving the orders now?” he asked in a low voice.

“We can negotiate. I have a feeling you know what you’re doing,” you said biting your lip.

——————————————————————

You arrived at Beau’s house in record time and he escorted you inside with the urgency of a man who wanted you badly. He pushed you against the wall and removed your shirt immediately. You allowed him to pin you, wanting to feel his weight against you at last. It was as satisfying as you had imagined. He wasn’t timid, wedging a knee between your legs and pressing it into your throbbing cunt in one swift motion that left you breathless. He rocked into you as his mouth worked yours open in a desperate kiss, pushing your hands from your body. He grabbed your wrists suddenly and pinned them over your head as his tongue delved deeper into your mouth, exploring and tasting you as low growls escaped his throat. You moaned in pleasure at the thought of him ravaging you.

When he broke away, you raked your nails through his thick hair and pushed his head toward your neck. He began pressing kisses to your jugular vein and then your collar bone, not wanting to miss an inch of your delicate skin. “I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling at your earlobe playfully as one hand massaged your breast. Unhooking your bra for better access, he leaned down to suck a nipple into his mouth and you nearly screamed at the contact.

“Fuck, I want you so bad,” you cried out wantonly. You felt him smirk against your chest and he scooped you up in to his arms, carrying you toward his bedroom. When you arrived at the meticulously appointed room, he threw you onto the bed and you squealed as you bounced off the mattress. Beau laughed as he lifted his t-shirt and threw it over his head. You gasped viewing his perfectly defined chest and ab muscles in the dim light. He looked as though he had been carved from stone and you pushed up on your knees, crawling toward him and reaching out a hand to trace your fingers over his cut lines. He grabbed your hand and began to suck on your index and middle fingers while gazing at you intently. Your breath caught in your chest as you watched his eyes darken, feeling your clit pulse against your jeans.

Holding you by your wrist he instructed, “Lay back and show me what you like.” Then he quickly removed his pants and then your jeans. Now nothing stood in your way save for the tiny, lace thong you wore. You traced the delicate fabric with your wet fingers, then stretched it to the side to pump your fingers in lazily. You shivered suddenly and he asked, “Are you cold?” You bit your lip and nodded. Moving closer to you, he offered, “Can I warm you up?” You removed your fingers and watched as his large hand came to rest over your cunt. Soon you felt the warmth from his palm radiate over you as you struggled to breathe normally.

You swallowed harshly, wanting him to finger you, suck you…anything but this torture of waiting. Finally, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to your clothed pussy. It was so delicate and sweet you barely registered anything had happened. Was he joking? you thought. You reached out and grabbed hold of his head, attempting to pull him back to where you needed him most.

His reaction was harsh, jerking your underwear down to deliver a stinging slap to your pussy as you hissed in surprise and pain. He chuckled as he looked up at you, “Don’t be impatient, baby. Promise I’m gonna take good care of your sweet little pussy.” Then he leaned down to soothe you with a full kiss to your lower lips that felt so good you dropped your head back onto the bedding with a whimper.

Diving in to take your clit into his waiting lips, he sucked hard, making you see stars. He treated you exactly the way he promised and as you bucked your hips into his face, chasing your high, you wished his attention to your sensitive bud would never end. You began chanting his name like a prayer as he lapped and sucked, adding his fingers to your pulsing cunt. The sounds of his digits entering your wetness, made the most obscene squelching noises, but you didn’t care as you raised your hips to him, begging for more. His fingers hooked inside of you in just the right spot and you began panting with your impending orgasm. “That’s it, let go for me,” Beau urged. “Cum on my fingers, honey,” he said as he stroked your walls expertly and that was all it took to make you come undone, crying out loudly and shaking beneath him.

When you finally came back down to earth, you realized Beau was still holding you against the mattress with one arm across your hips. You hadn’t realized the force of your orgasm and rolled your head from side to side to shake the fog from your brain. What had he done to you? He rose from the edge of the bed and hovered over you to kiss you full. You tasted yourself on his tongue and desire set into you once again. You reached down to grasp him through his boxer shorts and felt how hard he was for you.

Pushing up onto your elbows you tugged at his shorts eagerly as though unwrapping a present. As you freed his cock, you gasped at his size and licked your lips in anticipation. Running a hand behind your head he asked, “Won’t be a problem will it?” You shook your head and took him in hand, trying to close your fist around his thick length. He extended a hand to steady himself against the wall as you sat up to take him into your waiting mouth. You lapped at the precum that was leaking from his tip savoring the taste of him as you licked ever so slowly. Finally he took your chin in his hand reprimanding you, “Don’t tease me.” The sharpness of his words sent heat straight through to your core and you began taking him into your mouth inch by inch. He stroked your cheek with his thumb as he let out a contented sigh, but the moment of tenderness ended when he began thrusting. You relaxed your throat to take him as deeply as possible, but still gagged harshly on a particularly deep stroke, saliva dripping down your chin. Beau withdrew to give you a rest and you took the opportunity to raise up and plant your hands on his chest, pushing him to the mattress firmly.

You swung a leg over his torso, mounting him before he could protest and sunk down onto his cock in one quick movement, closing your eyes as you relished the exquisite feeling of being stretched to the hilt. You lifted your hips and sank back down again just to experience it again. You released a shaky breath and felt Beau’s hand come up to brush the hair from your face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said breathlessly. His hands rose to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples as you rode him.

He couldn’t keep his hands from your hips for long though. He kneaded the flesh, sinking his nails into you and you knew you’d have bruises by morning. The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls was too good for you to mind. You loved the mixture of pain and pleasure melding as you took what you needed from him. You could tell he was enjoying himself as well, the way he looked up at you with an awe-filled gaze.

Your second orgasm was building quickly and your legs were tiring. Beau noticed you slow down and took control of your movements, clamping his large hands at your hips and dragging you over him again and again. Just as you were about to scream out with your release, he lifted you off him and you were left panting and confused. “Get on your knees,” he commanded and you obeyed without question.

You stuck your ass up for him and he brought a hand down over your cheek, watching it jiggle. Intoxicated by the sight, he repeated the action again on the opposite side before rubbing a hand over your stinging flesh. “Please, please fuck me, Daddy” you whined in desperate need of relief, pushing back into him. And then you stilled, suddenly wondering what he might think of the nickname.

Using a knee to spread your legs further apart, he chuckled, then replied, “What did I tell you about patience, little one?”

Relieved and excited that he enjoyed your little game, you answered breathlessly, “I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise.”

You swallowed thickly as he teased the tip of his cock at your entrance and pushed the thick head into you with a low groan as he savored the feeling of your warmth. When he resumed thrusting, the pace was punishing, so much so that your legs began to tremble. Finally, they gave out entirely and you collapsed flat on your stomach, but Beau didn’t stop. He kept pounding into you, one hand on your hip and one hand intertwined with yours on the mattress. “Taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praised.

Without warning you came around him and the feeling of your tight, velvety walls milking him was all it took to trigger his own release. He spilled inside you and you moaned at the feeling of his seed filling you to the brim. "Fuck," he groaned, hot breath hitting the back of your neck as the waves of pleasure engulfed you both. He kept his weight off you, resting on one arm, but stayed inside you a moment longer as he placed kisses along your shoulder. “You were incredible,” he murmured against your skin.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” you said with a giggle.

“Let me help you clean up,” he said, uncoupling from you to stand and disappeared into the en suite bathroom. When he returned he gently wiped between your thighs with a warm washcloth and kissed you softly as he cupped your cheek. “Do you want to stay the night? I could use a good night’s rest with a beautiful woman,” he asked with a charming smile. You nodded and snuggled into his side, resting your head on his chest and carded a hand over his chest hair until you fell into a deep, uninterrupted slumber.

————————————————————

You woke before dawn, an old habit having been raised in a military household. Dressing as quietly as possible, you glanced over your shoulder at Beau as you left still in disbelief of the incredible evening you’d had. You jotted down a note and your number on a pad in the kitchen before leaving for your apartment. You knew you’d have to rush in order to be on base in time for your first day. Shit, I promised to meet dad for breakfast, you thought. And you moved even faster to be ready on time.

Miraculously, you made it and had an uneventful meal. After you finished eating, your dad gave you a tour and introduced you to a few people to make you feel welcome. As you were leaving to go to work, he joked with you that your normally pristine bun was a little out of place this morning. “Did my little girl have a wild night or something?” he teased, patting you on the shoulder. You nearly spit out your coffee before realizing he was joking. As Beau rounded the corner looking handsome in his uniform you were hit with a wave of shock and actually did spill your coffee.

As you stooped to clean the spill with a napkin, your father greeted him. “Good morning admiral!”

Fuck, they know each other! Of course, they know each other! you thought, wanting to sink into the floor.

“Good morning!” Beau called out in a clear voice. Knowing you couldn’t avoid him forever if you worked on base together, you collected yourself and stood as straight as possible, giving him a salute.

He saluted in return and said, “At ease, lieutenant…” then paused as he read your nameplate. “Bates?” he said looking from you to your father. “Any relation?” he asked nervously.

“Beau, this is my daughter, y/n,” your father said proudly.

“Nice to meet you,” you said extending your hand a bit too quickly. You searched his eyes to see if he would play along and he did, allowing you to release the breath you’d been holding.

“I have to return to my desk now. Do you think you can find your way, honey?” your father asked.

“I think so. Thanks for breakfast, Daddy,” you said with a nod and he turned to leave you and Beau standing in the hallway looking at each other.

Beau took a step closer to you once your father had left asking, “Warlock is your father?”

“You’re Vice Admiral Simpson?” you countered in a panicked whisper. “This is going to be awkward,” you noted.

“Why would it be awkward?” Beau asked, pretending not to understand. He hooked his fingers into your belt loops and pulled you toward him slowly until you were flush with his body and tilted your chin up toward his smug face. “Because you call me daddy too?”

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#Top Gun Maverick fanfic #Top Gun Maverick imagine #Beau Simpson x reader #Beau Simpson x y/n #Beau Simpson x you #Beau Cyclone Simpson #Beau Simpson fanfic #Beau Simpson imagine

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ohthatstragic · 2 years

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You Made It - b.s

a/n: this was different to what i usually write, and i loved it. unfortunately there is no gif of a young jon hamm so please, enjoy this dramatic one above ;) thank you for the request!!

also pls don’t repost or translate any of my work.. i don’t give you permission to do that.

pairings: young!cyclone x reader

warnings: fluffy hehe :3

wc: 1,802

the request: 'fluff with a young Cyclone? Like maybe he didn’t think that you’d be able to make it to his Top Gun graduation, but you surprise him!'

Cyclone stood surrounded in a sea of white uniforms; cheers and whoops echoing in his ears. The young pilot was thrilled to have graduated top of his class - his heart was full with pride. However, there was an emptiness he felt as he glanced around his milling classmates, their faces beaming with glee. That emptiness in him could only be filled by one person, and that person was you.

You and Beau had known each other since high school and you made sure to stay in touch with each other when he had told you he was joining the Navy to become a pilot. You were ecstatic for him, of course, but you couldn't help the pit of sadness that grew in your chest as you realised your best friend would be leaving you. For a long time. You'd see him now and again when he had a break, but it wouldn't be enough to fix the growing hole in you.

Beau made sure to tell you when he was graduating, he called and sent you letters, multiple even, but he never got a reply. The young grad assumed you had moved on with your life - maybe you'd finally got that dream job you'd always gushed about, or maybe you'd found the love of your life. That last thought drove a knife into Cyclone's half-empty heart and he grimaced at the thought of you finding someone other than him to make you happy. The man had fallen for you, and hard. For the entire time he spent at Top Gun, he kept a photo of you in his F-14 for good luck, and that reminder to make sure he came home.

"Why the glum face, Simpson?" Berlin asked with a smirk, clapping a hand on Cyclone's back. The future admiral glanced at his classmate and a small smile picked at his lips. Berlin had gotten his call-sign when he taxied his aircraft into a wall whilst making a turn - it was a hint to the Berlin wall in Germany. It was utterly coincidental that the man was also from German descent, his name being Lucas Schmidt. He had grey eyes with a pale complexion, a messy mop of brown hair strewn across his forehead.

"It's nothin'," Cyclone shook his head, his eyes flying back to the entrance to where the graduation was being held. "'Suppose it just feels surreal that we've graduated." He added with a brief laugh, trying to seem genuine.

Berlin frowned at his classmate, his thick, wiry eyebrows knotting together. "Yep," He sighed. "Shit's gettin' real now!" The other pilot chuckled, and Cyclone joined him in his laughter, trying to push away the thought of you not being here to finally see him graduate - top of his class too. That hurt the most.

"Hey, Berlin, get over here!" IRIS yelled from across the lot, throwing out a hand to wave at the aforementioned pilot. Cyclone held back an amused smile, his mind wandering back to the many times that IRIS, also known as Jack Loweman, had gotten black out drunk and wandered away to do utterly stupid things. It stood for I Require Intense Supervision. Berlin looked to Cyclone, holding out a hand for him to shake.

"Hope to see you in the future, man. Good luck with everything!" Berlin flashed a bright grin at his classmate, and Cyclone smiled back extending his hand out to take Berlin's, giving him a firm handshake.

"Thanks, man, you too." Cyclone nodded, his light blue eyes watching the fresh grad jog away. He pursed his lips as he tore his eyes away from the group of chattering pilots and down to his hand that fished out his worn, leather wallet from his pocket. He popped it open, fingers gliding between the folds to pick out a sun-damaged photo of you. Cyclone's face twisted into a sad smile as he stared at the messily-trimmed photo of you, the emptiness in his chest suddenly feeling bigger than it first did. "I did it, Y/N." He whispered to himself as his thumbs grazed across your pictured face, a feeling of deep sorrow and regret suddenly enveloping his body.

"Disappointed that you graduated, Lieutenant?" You teased with a brief laugh, staring at the back of your best friend's dipped head. He suddenly perked up, his body turning around like a gust of wind. The sad smile that was on his face soon contorted into one of surprise, his mouth falling agape as he stared at you, speechless. "Don't look too happy to see me, then, jeez!" You laughed again, slightly awkward, a little unsure of why he was reacting the way he was. Didn't he want to see you? What were all the letters for then?

"Y/N...?" He uttered quietly, stepping forwards. You bit down on your lip, nodding gently. "You made it." He breathed out, his face still completely shell-shocked. "But... you didn't- you never..." Cyclone stumbled over his words, unable to comprehend a normal sentence due to the malfunction taking place in his brain currently. How were you here? How? You never replied to any of his letters or calls for months?

"I told you I was coming in a letter I sent you, I ran out of money so I couldn't pay for my phone bill," You explained, a shy and bashful smile reaching your lips as you gazed up at Beau, the feelings you tried so hard to dispose of returning within an instant. He didn't reply, he just kept staring at you, dumbfounded. "You didn't know that I was coming?" You whispered, suddenly understanding why he was so shocked at your presence.

"No- I mean, I-I called you so many times, sent you so many letters, I-I thought you'd forgotten about me," Cyclone stuttered, blinking rapidly, his eyes never leaving you. "I never got your letters." He muttered and reached a slow hand up to grasp yours; your heart racing at his touch. You swallowed thickly in an attempt to bury the familiar feeling of fullness that threatened to consume you.

"Well, I guess that explains the awkward situation right now," You joked, a dry laugh leaving your lips. Cyclone's lips finally perked up into an amused grin as he stepped forwards once more to embrace you, his arms tightening around you like a vice. You squeaked at his strength as he squeezed you, and Cyclone quickly let go of you, your hands sliding to his chest. You felt tears prick your eyes as you gazed up at him, an uncontrollable grin reaching your lips. "You look great, Beau." You choked out. The naval aviator chuckled, his hands coming to rest lightly on your waist. "I'm so proud of you."

"I feel great." He joked as he reluctantly took his hands away from your waist and placed them on your arms, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. No matter how long he had been away, his humour stuck with him. "Thank you, Y/N/N." Cyclone said with a proud smile, your hands staying on his chest. Your teary eyes fell from his glossy ones to where your hands laid, sucking in a shaky breath as you caught a glance of the golden aviator pin that sat above his military badges. "I missed you." He mumbled, catching you off guard. Your eyes flew to his.

"What?" You blinked.

"I missed you." He repeated with a gentle smile. "I thought you were done with me, Y/N," Cyclone said, his eyes softening as he stared at you. You only stared back at him, the tears that had bubbled at your waterline suddenly threatened to spill over. "I'm really happy that you're here." He added quietly. His hand reached up from your arm to brush through your hair, sending a jolt through your body.

"I missed you too, Beau," You sniffled, unable to control the oncoming tears. "I missed you so much, Beau, I was so goddamn worried about you." You cried quietly, making Cyclone's smile twist into a sympathetic one.

"You didn't need to worry about me, Y/N, I was fine," He chuckled, the pads of his thumbs quickly rushing to wipe away the tears that fell from your reddened eyes. Your brows quickly knitted together at his words. He so desperately wanted to kiss your tears away, but he knew he couldn't. You weren't his. Yet.

Vigorously, you shook your head at him. "I didn't know that, this is the Navy, Beau, anything can happen! You could die in an accident, or fall off the ship, or-" You gasped, feeling your throat tighten as you spoke. It was easy for Cyclone to say those things, he wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of him dying in a tragic accident. He wouldn't have to deal with the overwhelming grief and sorrow that would plague and riddle your body, the regret and the what ifs.

"It's alright, Y/N," He hushed you, pulling you against his chest gently to soothe you. You quietly sobbed against his smart, white uniform, a dark patch of your tears pooling against it. "Everything is completely safe, there's many safety procedures to prevent such accidents." Cyclone said as he stroked your head, pressing a soft kiss to it. "For the record, I don't think anyone is stupid enough to fall off the ship, Y/N/N." A deep, chesty laugh left his lips and you rolled your eyes at him, pouting your lips.

"You know what, next time you get deployed, I don't care what happens." You folded your arms against your chest in a defiant manner, clearly unhappy with what Cyclone had said. Despite your best friend being quite intelligent, anyone can slip and fall...

"You don't mean that." He gasped, trying to bite back the laugh that threatened to fall from his lips. You were so cute, and he almost couldn't handle it. He had forgotten how adorable you could be after all this time without you by his side.

"I do!" You exclaimed, still staring at him with narrowed eyes. Cyclone rolled his eyes at you, a playful smile on his lips.

He curled an arm around you, his hand coming to land on the small of your back. His thumb gently brushed against you, and a shiver ran down your spine, shaking you from your playful tantrum. Cyclone felt his smile widen as he felt your body relax against his touch. Suddenly, he realised his heart felt full again. "C'mon, Y/N/N, let me introduce you to everyone else." Cyclone chuckled, leading you towards the large group of his classmates who were currently laughing at something Berlin had said.

"Fine. I still don't care what happens to you next time."

"Y/N!"

i hope this was okay, it was a little hard but i enjoyed it!!

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#top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #cyclone x reader #cyclone x y/n #cyclone x you #beau simpson #beau simpson x you #beau simpson x y/n #beau simpson x reader #maverick

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angelic-dreams13 · 1 year

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Working with Cyclone and being his pretty little secretary and also his partner, which ends up being a lot of fun.

Right now you’re under his desk mouth warming him whilst he’s scolding Maverick for the 182822th time this week.

And even tho you’re not bratty at all, you really like Maverick, he’s fun and you don’t want Beau to fire him again, aaaaand also who are you fooling? you’re getting really impatient and needy, not to mention your jaw's starting to ache, that’s why you start bobbing your head slowly, licking his cock in a painfully but delicious way for him.

Cyclone coughs to hide the groan that almost left his mouth and Maverick looks at him confused.

And if Beau was angry before, he gets even angrier at your actions, but he knows that the longer he takes yelling at Pete the more you’re gonna risk both of you two getting caught because you just can’t seem to stop.

When he dismisses him, he’s so mad you immediately regret trying to be the Good Samaritan. He orders you to get out of his desk and makes you kneel in front of it, and in no time he’s fucking your face until you’re gagging and crying.

You start whining and he knows that’s the sign that you’re getting even more needy, so he lets you ride his boot, but you know better than to cum without his permission. And you’re sure that after what you did there’s no orgasms for you in days. Right when he’s about to cum he pulls out of your mouth.

You look at him so confused but he just orders you to sit on the edge of his desk and to open your legs as wide as you can; safe to say you don’t really understand what’s going on but you obey, and oh lord, why did you do that.

He starts spanking your pussy in the most painfully but delicious way, his thumb every once in a while rubbing your clit just how you love it. You swear you could cum just from this.

Beau thinks you had never looked so beautiful, even with your makeup ruined, your little bambi eyes had never looked as pretty as right now. When you mutter a “please daddy can I cum?” He snaps back to reality and he remembers that this is a punishment, so he quickly tells you no and flips you over his desk to bend you, and with no warning he thrusts into you, making you almost scream, the stretch of him was something you could never fully get used to.

Beau starts fucking you mercilessly until he’s stuffing you full with his cum, when he pulls out you think he would leave your sore pussy alone for good but nope, he starts spanking and rubbing you again and again until you’re drooling “Now baby, what do we say when we misbehave?”

And at this point it’s too hard to think but you really make your best effort to talk, you mutter a weak “sorry daddy” and whimper “I just didn’t want you to fire him, he's really nice to me” and it’s the truth and he knows it but oh lord does it make him jealous.

“Oh is that so, baby? He’s really nice to you?” He asks, so condescendingly, you nod “Mmh, I see, but would he ever make you feel as good as Daddy does? Because I don’t think so” and you’re quick to shake your head “no Daddy, he could never make me feel as good as you, only daddy knows how to make me feel good”

He smiles and praises you “good fucking girl, now just for this time I’ll let you come” and he kneels to eat your pussy so softly and delicately because he knows how sore it must be. When your juices are dripping down his chin and your legs start to shake even more, he knows you’re close “that’s it baby, let go” and right as you’re about to, he stops.

You cry and look at him with the biggest puppy eyes and pouty lips he’s ever seen, but he’s a man of discipline and what kind of Daddy would he be if he let you get away with it. After all the adrenaline came down and you slowly came back to your senses, Beau would start to hold you and kiss you.

One thing you loved about your Beau was how gentle he would be after a punishment (as he should) he would see how much you’re shaking and how vulnerable you’re feeling in this moment, so he would softly caress you and whisper the sweetest words in your ear, he would wrap your naked body in his arms and sit you on his lap while humming a cheesy love song that you adore “Shh, it’s all good baby bunny, Daddy's here.” He would whisper “Oh, and just for the record, I’m keeping your panties” and you just chuckle and nod sleepily.

Ahskdkdkddk soooo this is my first drabble I think hehe <3 hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 besitos a todos!

@sebsxphia HOPE YOU LIKE THIS

#let’s see how long this lasts #beau simpson fanfiction #beau simpson imagine #beau simpson x y/n #beau simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson #beau cyclone simpson x reader #cyclone x y/n #cyclone x reader #Analu tries to write #am i entering my writing era? omg

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lieutenantfloyd · 10 months

Note

i LOVE the iceman dating headcannons - can we have cyclone dating headcannons pls 🙏🙏🙏 i am in such a cyclone mood atm it’s unbelievable

Dating headcanons — Beau "Cyclone" Simpson

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x reader

Warnings: Slight mentions of insecurities and trauma.

a/n: Hello and thank you! I really enjoyed writing this!

If you haven't already, please check out the general Cyclone headcanons I posted a while back, as there are more than a few references to them in this post!

The first several months of your relationship will be the toughest.

He's terribly guarded and has all but forgotten how to let anyone in.

You'll honestly just have to wait him out. Meeting him where he is and proving to him that you're in it for the long haul.

When he finally starts to let you in is when your relationship gets very serious.

He's quite traditional in how he views his (and only his!) role in a relationship.

On the flip side, he expects next to nothing from you and is wholly grateful for you even just being with him.

I headcanon that he's had to look after himself since a pretty early age, and is used to just kind of... getting by?

Like he's extremely put together on a professional front, but on a personal one, he's an "eating a shitty frozen microwave meal in front of the TV on a Friday night" kinda man.

Not that he couldn't take better care of himself, he just found putting all that effort in for one person a bit depressing.

Now given the opportunity, he's an absolute dream to date

He's paying all the bills, doing the home repairs/improvements, taking your car to the shop, etc.

If you protest this, he will sit you down and quite literally tell you that "your money is your money, and my money is also your money."

And like I said, he expects nothing in return.

However, if you do want to do something to make his life easier, like pack his lunch or iron his uniform, he'd be a goner.

It's also in these small gestures that he best shows his love.

Doing the tasks you dislike, knowing your preferences, anticipating the things you'll need to complete, and making your life just a bit easier is where he shines.

At each restaurant and cafe you go to he has your order memorized.

He is the best cook and will cook for you whenever he has time

He's totally the breakfast-in-bed type too!

Will probably have stayed up late the night before to bake a loaf of brioche for french toast, and will serve it to you on a fancy wooden breakfast tray (that he handmade) with a fresh flower from the garden because that's just the kind of man he is.

If you offer him any he'll refuse, instead preferring to have you fuss over him and his habit of having nothing but a single cup of black coffee for breakfast.

He will, however, accept bacon. Thick cut, cherry smoked.

His desk both on base and at home is covered in pictures of you.

Like Iceman, he isn't jealous, but very protective.

This is also the only point of contention in your relationship.

He has some insecurities and would be absolutely devastated If you were to vie for others' attention or flirt back with them.

Ironically, he absolutely loves to show you off; and will use any such occasion to spoil you.

Will tell you stories from his various deployments.

And cherishes the way you squeeze his hand when the tougher memories come back.

Very nearly worked himself into a worry the first time you were going to stay at his place.

Now he struggles to sleep without you beside him.

Loves nothing more than to cuddle up with you in bed or on the couch.

More often than not, you'll end your day just like that.

With the added bonus of him reading whatever book he's been reading aloud to you.

Will 100% take you on bookstore dates!

He'll order himself a coffee in the cafe before happily setting you free with his wallet.

Will happily carry and/or guard the stacks of books you pick out.

If you happen to pick out a book or two for him, he'll get almost bashful??

Knowing you not only cared enough but paid enough attention to his interests to know just what he'd like hits him directly in his soft spot.

Each year he takes you back home to Alaska.

It's one of the few times you get to see his personality shine in private and in public.

The trips are only a few weeks long at the most.

Although as the days pass, you both secretly hope to get snowed in for the whole winter.

These trips have spawned not only some of your favorite memories as a couple, but moving back there with you in tow has become his retirement plan.

! taglist !

@marchingicenotes7, @bayisdying, @princessofglitterland, @bella-law, @austin-butlers-gf, @callsignaries, @katesmadness, @dannyramirezwife, @oliviah-25, @luckyladycreator2, @shakira-sasha, @xoxabs88xox, @Criminalmindsandmarvel, @fanboyluvr, @alexxavicry, @madamemelancholysstuff, @paola-carter, @barbiewritesstuff, @dozcan123, @withakindheartx, @nyx2021, @teti-menchon0604

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saltsicklover · 8 months

Text

Prompt Request: Sneak Peak

Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Read the Complete Story HERE

I got sent this amazing ask and I got started working on it before life decided to become ridiculous and get in the way off all of my writing time. So, I wanted to post a little sneak peak of it, as it is still in progress.

I hope you like it, @inkandarsenic !

"Is your father planning on coming to your graduation?" The question is so simple, the next plausible question after toasting to her Mother's life. Monsoon bristles at the question, her expression becoming impossibly more tight, pinched.

"He's uhm," The foam in the bottom of Monsoon's glass is the most interesting thing in the room. Tears are flooding her eyes again, and she's turning back to the shitty bar napkins in the even shittier dispenser. Cyclone knows his question hit a nerve based on how she is frantically pulling napkin after napkin out of the dispenser; and the Admiral's guilt swims to the surface. He is sure that the horizon of it can be seen in his iris's, if Monsoon were to look past the evident sadness that has made a home there. He's pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, blue in color and perfectly folded. He offers it to her and it's taken with a slightly shaky hand.

"M.I.A. or AWOL?" Cyclone asks. There's a bit of humor to his question that neither of them comment on.

"He went AWOL when I was seven," She doesn't take her eyes off the popping foam in the bottom of her glass, "Then I suppose he went M.I.A. three years later, when he stopped sending birthday cards,"

Cyclone hates the way her shrugs are all noncommittal and vaguely unbothered. He would have killed for a chance to raise his child, hell, he would move the Earth if that meant he even had a chance to do something. The fact that a man would walk out on his family, on his own child, it makes him sick. There is still something else Monsoon isn't saying; the way she chuckles is almost wax poetic with the way she rolls her eyes. Cyclone raises an eyebrow at her as he gestures to the bartended for two more on tap.

"I was in Admiral Kazansky's office today," She chuckles again, eyes glassy and unfocused. Cyclone slides the new beer over to her. He brings his up to his lips as she breathes deeply, trying to order the words together in her head, words she can't believe she is about to say out loud.

"There's a fucking picture of my father on his desk," Then she is downing the beer in quick, deep gulps. It's half gone before she sets it back down. Cyclone's brain is working on overdrive, swerving the hazy clouds of intoxication, searching for the mental picture of the Admiral's desk. Monsoon is chuckling in quiet disbelief, picturing the damn photo on his desk, her father and the Admiral shaking hands during their time at Top Gun. It makes her sick, really, but she doesn't need to say it based on the way her face feels, all contorted and ugly.

#cyclone's daughter reader #pete michell's daughter reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #michell reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick x you #top gun maverick x y/n #top gun fanfiction #top gun dad #top gun angst #mavericks daughter #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #pete michell & reader #beau simpson & reader #cyclone & reader #cyclone simpson #cyclone top gun

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archivallyfound09 · 11 months

Text

The Vice Admiral's Niece

Summary: At a yearly Navy dinner, Vice Admiral Simpson decides to bring his niece to get her out of the house after a breakup. She isn't thrilled until a certain aviator catches her eye all night.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader (female, she/her pronouns, no y/n) Warnings: The usual. Everything is Mature, I'll mark explicit. Drinking, swearing, sexual innuendos. Mention of a breakup and of parent death-nothing graphic. ----------

"I don't know how you do these things," her voice was strained as she came down the tall flight of stairs. Her dress was a bit too tight for her comfort zone, the dark emerald satin starting to feel more like a noose wrapped effortlessly around her body. Her hair was done in a new way and a bobby pin was doing it's damnedest to continually poke into her brain.

"Honey, I don't have time for the whining, just get down here," Cyclone rolled his eyes as his recently shined black shoe tapped impatiently on the cream colored marble floor.

"Sorry, Uncle Beau- I mean, Command- I mean-" her stuttering was complimented by her stumbling down the stairs in the great hall. A sheepish grin took over her features as the Vice Admiral reached out to catch her after missing the final step.

"Listen, Billie," he sighed as she straightened her dress, her ears pricking a bit redder at the nickname ("Kill Bill" was a movie she had demanded to watch as a kid, not understanding the content of the movie and when her uncle finally let her watch it, she was haunted by nightmares for weeks. Unfortunately, the nickname was too cute not to stick).

"- I just need you to smile, enjoy the food, maybe dance, and then we'll get you out of here." He sighed as he saw her head drop again. He had agreed to take his niece to the annual Navy function after his wife had insisted upon it- the poor thing had just been dumped and, having lost both her parents previously, she had practically been living at her aunt and uncle's.

"Billie- look at me," her eyes slowly looked up at her uncle.

"I know I know, just don't trip," she took in a deep breath and forced a smile. She linked her arm through his and they walked into the grand ballroom, her heartbeat matching each click of her heels as they were announced in.

-------

Hangman almost spat out his drink when he saw the Vice Admiral walk into the room.

"Holy shit- look at the piece on Cyclone!"

The entire dagger team whipped their heads to look towards the ballroom's doors, trying to catch sight of what Hangman had seen. Fanboy thought it was a joke until he saw the woman with the placated smile bowing her head towards some of the other commanders nearby.

"Jesus! Who knew Cyclone had it in him? I can't-"

"She's not with him," Phoenix interrupted, "His wife's been on base recently," every male in the party looked at her befuddled, "You morons, we all saw her! He introduced her to Maverick before training like two weeks ago!"

Fanboy and Coyote looked at each other and shrugged, Bob pretended to agree and then shook his head, and Hangman downed the last of his drink. Phoenix was about to chastise the group again when she noticed that she had gotten no response or commentary from Rooster.

"Bradshaw," the sandy brown hair barely tilted towards her at the mention of his name, "for the love of god, do NOT try anything with the Vice Admiral's daughter." Rooster was still frozen, his eyes locked on the woman who had walked in. He couldn't help but memorize every detail of her: the way her dress flowed behind her with every step, the folds of the dress around her left hip, the way her hand kept perfectly still on the admiral's forearm.

"Yo, Rooster, friendly wager?" Hangman's voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him to, for the first time since she had entered, turn away. He shook his head and went to challenge his fellow pilot, but suddenly felt the hair stand on the back of his neck. He slowly turned around. half expecting the Vice Admiral himself to be breathing down on him.

As Bradley's eyes scanned the room (and while he ignored Hangman's taunts and preemptive bragging), his eyes finally locked on the culprit. It was her. Seated in the middle on a long banquet table, her soft eyes stared at him intently, as if she wanted him to know that he was the object of her attentions.

Almost as quickly as he caught and held her gaze, the Vice Admiral next to her tapped her wrist, forcing her to turn and shake hands with Warlock as he took his seat. It was after some short remarks that the dinner then began.

Bradley was quick to notice that the woman seated on the stage in the front was keenly observing him as he continued to mindlessly eat the food in front of him. He was grateful to have chosen a seat to the side of the round table so he could catch her eye every time she glanced at him. He loved watching the way she would pause with her fork pointed down and then fein interested in the conversation happening around us.

When the Vice Admiral took to the podium and started droning on and on about, well, honestly, Bradley had no idea about what. He just kept his gaze on the beauty at the table. She was no longer hiding that she was looking right at him and he was sure he was going to get caught, eat least by someone at his table.

He glanced around and realized no one was paying him any mind (well, except for Hangman who waggled an eyebrow at him as a taunt, focing Rooster to roll his eyes). With his conscious clear, he took in a shaky breath, caught her eye again and gave her his best "Rooster" grin. He could've sworn he saw her giggle and glance down quickly to grab her napkin to stop the laugh as Warlock looked over at her curiously.

A few moments later, Rooster was convinced he had crossed a line. His eyes continued to plead with her to look back up at him, even just one more time. He settled to studying the way that the dress draped around her shoulders and the delicate golden chain that lay right above her collarbones.

He had finally made his mind up- he needed to meet her. Cyclone be damned. His career be damned. His life be damned. He needed thirty seconds with this woman. To do what, he wasn't exactly sure.

It was at this moment that Rooster realized he had checked out a bit too long. Everyone else at the table was standing. Payback had kicked his chair leg hard, automatically causing Rooster to stand. He started catching the compliments from the Vice Admiral:

"...our Naval Aviation Warfighting Development Center has continued to not only grow the finest aviators in the Navy, but continues to utilize and deploy alumni of the Navy Fighter Weapons School to help complete missions that are, well, impossible, frankly."

She knew the joke was a cheap one, but, when you're Vice Admiral, you get a laugh out of every joke you give at the annual dinner. Her aunt had warned her of her uncles terrible sense of humor and inability to read any joy in the room. She giggled to herself.

She wasn't quite sure why, but her eyes kept wandering over to the pilot (she assumed) with the moustache and the brown hair (or was it sandy? the lighting was horrific in the ballroom). He had caught her eye as soon as she walked in, but in a way that every other eye who glanced at her had not.

His gaze was kind. Inquisitive, but kind. She had grown up around naval pilots most of her life after her dad and then her uncle's chose professions. She knew how most were, especially those of the Top Gun variety. When she saw him stand as a graduate, she felt her stomach drop- this guy was bad news.

And yet, she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as he stumbled to stand and immediately looked to lock eyes with her.

Bradley continued to hold her gaze and gave her a crooked smile as his fingers mindlessly played with the hem of his dress blues. He had forgotten that he was in this ridiculous penguin suit. Thank god, he thought, as Warlock motioned for the task force at his table to sit down. He caught Maverick's eye as he sat and shrugged, but Pete Mitchell knew better: he had seen that look in a Bradshaw's eye before. It was the night that Goose had met Carole.

"And, before this party really gets going," Cyclone gave a hollow laugh which was reciprocated just as lifelessly, "I do want to thank all the support systems that are behind each and every one of you. Your families, your parents, your siblings, your children. I'm honored today to have my niece with me this evening." He paused and some tittering comments were whispered at tables.

"My wife Kelly said that I should clear up any confusion about my date tonight, lest any of you think this is my style."

The sternness of his comment mixed with the ridiculous clarification actually caused uproarious laughter that was quickly snatched up by the DJ as the music started. Cyclone sat down and gave a small smile to his niece, patting her arm.

"Aunt Kelly wrote that for you, yeah?"

He took a swig of his whiskey, "Damn right she did. Everyone in this room thought I was a dirty old man til I said something."

She laughed and hugged her uncle, thrilled that he was finally starting to lighten up a bit.

"C'mere Billie, let me introduce you to some members of Bate's team. He's got some characters you might remember...."

She stood gingerly and took her uncle's arm, smiling at Rear Admiral Bates as he started to walk her towards the table she had been staring at all night.

"Knew someone?" Her brain was in overdrive- who had she met before that her Uncle knew that would be at Top Gun who-

"Billie. My God! the last time I saw you-"

Cyclone cut him off "The last time you saw her she was 10 and I threw you out of my office."

Maverick wasn't capable of having a sheepish look to his face, but he tried his hardest. Billie smiled at the pilot and hugged him, though she wasn't entirely sure that it had been her in her uncle's office when the altercation has occurred. But, she wasn't one to make things awkward.

"So nice to see you again," she gave him a short bow and desperately tried to see through Bates as he was standing directly in front of the chair that had kept her interest.

"Maverick is working on a new team as a strike force. His group of graduates is right here," Bates stepped out of the way and she stared at the table. Well, she stared directly at one member of the table. She forced her eyes to leave as the names and callsigns were relayed to her, but there was only one she cared about.

"uhm, I'm Br-Bradley Bradshaw. I go by R-Rooster." His voice was more than she could've imagined. It was sweet and gruff and had a rasp to it that made the sweat prick on her skin. It was then that she realized that they were waiting on an introduction. Her uncle had already started for her.

"-but we usually refer to her as Billie or Ms. Simpson," the emphasis was put on the second of the two names and everyone caught the implication. She felt her cheeks go hot but she took a deep breath and forced herself to tear her eyes away from Bradley Rooster Bradshaw long enough to say hello.

"What you all do is incredible. Thank you for your service and your sacrifice." The table nodded in appreciation and then quickly scampered away once the Rear Admiral dismissed them.

"Alright kiddo, time for me to go and smoke a cigar outside while you enjoy yourself in here. And remember, anything that happens tonight..."

"...We don't tell Aunt Kelly, I remember." She smiled as her uncle headed towards the doors with some admiral whom she could never remember his name. She quickly walked to the bar and ordered her usual: gin and tonic. After a large gulp, she felt her nerves start to settle. What she hadn't noticed was the figure standing next to her looking at her expectantly.

"Hey there, sweetheart, I've never seen a Vice Admiral's niece before...." The Texan drawl was painfully thick and Billie turned quickly to see her culprit. The blond who had also been staring at her during their introductions tipped his fake cowboy hat and sidled up closer to her.

"What you mean," she retorted, "is you've never slept with a Vice Admiral's niece."

The man stepped back, a hand over his heart. "You wound me, m'lady. I made no such suggestion," he took two steps closer, she could feel his breath hot on her neck and ear as he brushed back part of her hair, "I've been with a few Vice Admiral's daughters, but I want to see where a niece stands in that lineup."

As he (Hangman? something dumb, she thought) continued to try and defend himself, she caught him from across the room. Bradley had locked onto her like a missle and he was pissed. She raised an eyebrow at him and then, while keeping eye contact, patted Hangman's arm and then his cheek in the most chastising way she could manage before she stepped away, heading to a nearby balcony, leaving two men stunned in her wake.

It didn't take long for Bradley to find the woman he had been hunting for. Honestly, he would've run after her after Hangman had pulled his stunt, but he wanted to here the dejected pilot's recounting of the story. Hangman downplayed it, but it was clear he was not used to being turned down by any one, especially one that came with such a high rank in the family.

"It's for the best, Bagman," Phoenix teased and reasoned, "You mess with her, the VA is gonna be up your ass and in all your business. There is no way this works out well, right, Fanboy?"

"Why'd you pick on me?! I didn't do anything and I had no idea that her brother was a Green Beret!" The group broke into peals of laughter as they headed for the bar. It was only Bob who noticed that one member of their party had quickly slipped away and was heading in the direction of a certain off-limits Vice Admiral's niece.

--------

Bradley stood in front of her completely frozen. She was facing out towards the balcony and had surely heard him come out, but he couldn't seem to find any words to explain what had happened that evening. Bradley realized he had no idea what love at first sight was or, honestly, what finding love meant, but he knew when he looked at her, his world stopped.

"I don't bite, Bradshaw," her voice was lilting and startled the pilot. "I'm glad you found me out here," she paused and Bradley thought he would fall over as he waited on her every last word, "though honestly, I'm not really sure what happened in there." He was grateful for her honesty and was relieved that she was just as confused as he was. Before he realized it he had stepped next to her at the balcony, completely oblivious to the view. She smiled at him and then dropped her eyes to his uniform.

"These things must be awful to dry clean," he hedged, eyes looked back up at him through her lashes. Bradley let out a honest-to-god laugh and she couldn't help the bubbling feeling she felt in her chest or the blush that tinged her cheeks. She noted every freckle, every scar, every wrinkle on his face. The way his lips were just the slightest bit crooked and the way his eyes glistened when he laughed.

"They are the absolute worst, but I can't imagine that emerald silk is much easier," he gestured to her gown and she felt the blush grow.

"I'll let you in on a secret- I stole this from my aunt, so I have no idea on the care and washing instructions."

Bradley chuckled and stepped infinitesimally closer to her, his calloused hands barely touching the fabric ruched ust below her hip. "I can't see Mrs. Vice Admiral wearing this, so thank god for you." He smiled at her and it was difficult to decipher between the dig at her aunt and the charmingness he was oozing. She decided it was clearly nerves and laughed with him.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you, Rooster, was it?"

"Ma'am, you may call me whatever you'd like, I'll always respond." The earnestness of his response caught her off guard, but made her melt just a bit more. She nodded curtly, dropping her gaze to her shoes, trying to hide the giggle and blush combination that was happening. Bradley smiled, meaning every word and pleased with the effect that it had on the woman in front of him. He took in as deep of a breath as his blues allowed him and held out his hand.

"While you think of a new nickname for me, may I have this dance, ma'am?" Before she realized it, her eyes shot up and looked at him concerned. If her uncle saw her dancing with someone, especially with someone who was in the Top Gun program and had been working with Maverick- she liked Bradley too much to let her uncle eat him alive.

Bradley was quick to note her hesitation, "Out here, I mean. The music is loud enough, we don't need to let you back into that room to wander into the immoral clutches of some godawful Navy pilot, right?" She smiled in relief and nodded, quickly taking Bradley's hand and swaying immediately to the music. His hand was placed on her lower back and she sighed, taking in the smell of him.

Bradley wanted to jump out of his skin. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened but he was damn glad that Payback and Harvard had dragged him to the dinner tonight. He made a mental note to gift them some nice whisky the next time he was out.

With every step, he took in another one of her features. Her smooth skin, her hair and they way it fluttered in the light breeze, her smell, the way her hand fit in his- he was completely enraptured.

"Bradley?" He let out a small 'mhmm?' his eyes still closed as he swayed with her. "I have to get back. I know my uncle is going to be looking for me and-"

"and you don't want a sacrificial death on your hands. I completely understand." Bradley looked down at her and pressed a hesitant kiss to her forehead. She blushed, but reached her arms around his neck pulling her lips flush against his. He was shocked but immediately melded into her, the touch electric to both parties.

The kiss was over as soon as it had started and she started to pull away, the slightest flush to her cheeks when Bradley grabbed her arm. "Your number. I have to see you again," she smiled and spotted a pen and paper on a nearby tray with a waiters book just inside the doorway of the balcony. She stepped out quickly and ripped out one of the pages and quickly scribbled down her name and number. He kissed the paper as she handed it to him and then leaned in again, kissing her quickly as the two exited the small balcony.

"There you are!" Her uncle's booming voice was off to her right as she waltzed back into the ballroom. "I'd like you to meet Rear Admiral Cain, he's one that worked with your dad way back." She smiled politely and all but jogged to be over by her uncle. It was almost imperceptible, but just the tiniest bit of her lipstick was smudged. Maverick happened to be in the next conversation over and looked at the Admiral's niece and then towards Rooster, all but laughing out loud when he noticed the smear of lipstick on his adopted nephews lips.

As the Vice Admiral started to make his exit, niece in tow, he turned to her.

"Thank you for coming tonight. I think your Aunt Kelly had a bit of a plan for both of us here," he smiled and put his arm around her shoulders. She laughed and nodded- she was there to relax her Uncle a bit and he was there to get her out amongst people again. As she opened her mouth to agree, it shut quickly-there was suddenly some commotion as they reached the doors.

"What the hell are they doing?" Her uncle groaned and then she saw it- the team she had met earlier (save for a sourpussed Texan) was cheering and a few had even lifted Rooster up on their shoulders as the pilot waved a piece of paper around. She turned bright red as Bradley caught her eye and waved the paper around. "Idiot must have gotten lucky on a bet..." she giggled and nodded with her uncle's assessment of the situation. She sent one last glance over her shoulder and it caused even more whooping and hollering from the group. Though he pretended not to notice it, Vice Admiral Beau Simpson could not have been more pleased.

"C'mon Billie, let's get you back home, it's movie night. Maybe some Kill Bill?"

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#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster x you #tgm

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nobody7102 · 11 months

Text

The 4th

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, Fireworks, Loud sounds

A/N: I told you I was running off of a big bong hit and lavender ices coffee, lol

Master-list

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As Beau stands in the kitchen, his hands hard at work covering ribs in marinade and dry rub for later on in the day, Y/N opens the front door, waddling her way into the kitchen with grocery backs and a package.

Looking over his shoulder Beau smiles as Y/N enter’s the kitchen with her left arm carrying the package and her right holding the groceries. Hoisting the package and groceries onto the counter Beau starts to clean off his hands.

“Did the store have everything?”

Y/N nods and her hands move to start to take the groceries out of the bags. “We should have decided to have a baby sooner” she jokes “When I walked in, as soon as anyone saw the bump they let me grab whatever I needed” as soon as everything’s unpacking she turns to Beau placing a hand over her bump. “They had everything for the potatoes and the steaks”

“Well thank you for going all the way to the store for me Baby… you really didn’t have to” Walking over to Y/N he leans down and places a kiss upon her lips as his hands rest over her bump as well. “I after I get the ribs on the grill I should be able to get started on the steaks”

Y/N smiles as Beau runs his hands along her bump “Then I’ll probably do the potatoes when you start on the steaks” her hands rise up to push some of Beau’s hair out of his face “Ohh… by the way…” the corner of her mouth turns upward into a slight smirk “I got you a present… but you have to open it later”

Beau raises his brow with a slightly surprised smirk upon his face “A present?... Baby you know you always scare me a little bit when you say that right?” He jokes.

Shaking her head, Y/N chuckles “No no no, I promise… its not a bad present like the paint color for the nursery” Her smile grows wider as she remember’s Beau’s surprise to see they were painting the nursery a sage green color. But to be fair Beau said that she could do whatever she wanted with it and he would be there to help.

__________________________

As the morning passes into the afternoon, Beau stands at the grill. Cooking away as Y/N relaxes in a chair on the patio watching Beau grill, every once and a while getting up to check on the potatoes as they cook inside the kitchen.

As Y/N watches Beau, she can’t help but frown a bit at every firework people in their neighborhood decide to set off early, hating how Beau subtly jumps and gets startled every time a firework goes off. Acting as if it doesn't bother him in the slightest, but Y/N sees how he goes far off for a few seconds every time.

Not long after the food is done and Beau and Y/N set the patio table for themselves, laying out paper plates and the food. Ribs, steaks, mashed potatoes, grilled veggies and garlic bread (as per Baby Simpsons request).

They take their time as they eat, enjoying the weather, the food, and each other’s company and after a while Y/N notices how the sun starts to set and gets up.

Taking her and Beau’s plates as she stands. Beau starts to get up to help her, Y/N raises her finger. “Tsk Tsk Tsk, sit down” she hums and points to his chair.

Letting out a chuckle, Beau listens’ knowing better than to argue.

Waddling her way back into the house, Y/N disposes of the paper plates and puts their utensils in the sink before grabbing a pair of scissors and the package from earlier and bringing them back outside with her.

She sets the box and scissors down in front of Beau before taking a seat back in her chair. “Tada!” she hums.

Beau raises his brow at the box before taking the scissors and opening it. Taking out the packaging on the inside, his brow furrows in slight confusion as he pulls out a box for wireless headphones. “Baby… what is this?” Letting out a sigh, Y/N’s eye’s soften as she gazes at Beau. “Do you remember how we were talking last year… about how you wanna watch the fireworks but you know you shouldn’t” she reaches her hands out and pushes back some of Beau’s hair.

“When you were talking earlier this month about how you can’t wait for Peanut to be here and how you think Peanut would love to watch the fireworks… it got me thinking about how you said you used to love watching fireworks before you enlisted… and so I went online… and I got you some soundproof wireless headphones” she gives a soft smile “You can download this app that pairs with the headphones and you can control how noise canceling they are… and since they’re wireless you could play music if you wanted to or watch something…. But i figured… now you could just watch the fireworks again and now worry”

As Y/N explains how the headphones work and why she got them, tears start to form in Beau’s eyes at how Y/N thought about him

“And if they don’t work then that’s totally fine but I figured you could try it out and if it works then great and if no-” Before Y/N has the chance to finish her sentence Beau gets up from his chair and leans down to Y/N as she sits and presses a kiss to her hips before pulling her into a hug, burying his face into her neck.

“Thank you baby…. Thank you so much..” he mumbles against her skin.

_____________

As the sun finally sets. Y/N and Beau sit in their driveway, looking out on the water.

When they were looking at houses, the real estate agent talked about how you could see the city beach fireworks perfectly from the house and they were right. Every year they could watch the city fireworks from their living room window as Beau and Y/N snuggled on the couch with the music cranked loud enough to drown out the echoing booms from outside.

Holding Beau’s phone in her hand, Y/N connects the headphones and adjusts the soundproof to fully drown out any noise. Looking at the time Y/N looks over to Beau as he holds the headphones. “Two minutes till they start… Do you wanna put them on now?”

Beau nods and places the headphones on, before reaching out and taking Y/N’s hand in his, looking out at the water in the area where the fireworks will be. As they wait for the fireworks to start, Beau squeezes Y/N’s hand every few seconds. Anxious to see if the headphones will actually work.

And after a minute, Beau squeezes Y/N’s hand tightly as the first firework of the night goes up into the air, and Y/N’s attention focuses on Beau’s face. Ready to take him into the house and resume their usual Fourth of July night activities if her plan fails.

And just like that the loud BOOM of the fireworks goes off and Beau watches in awe as the green and blue fills the sky before he turns to Y/N with the most giddy smile on his face ever as it dawns on him that he can’t hear a thing.

Y/N smile grows as she leans over to Beau and plants a kiss on his cheek before both of them turn their attention back to the fireworks.

----------

Tagging: @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @bobfloyds @auroralightsthesky @fanboygarcia @beachbabey @sarahsmi13s @writercole @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @lewmagoo @sailorscuttle @shawnsthighs @ohtobeleah @sweetlittlegingy @t-nd-rfoot @mothdruid

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #beau simpson #beau cyclone simpson #cyclone #cyclone simpson #jon hamm #beau cyclone simpson x reader #cyclone x reader #cyclone simpson x reader #jon hamm x reader #admiral beau cyclone simpson #admiral cyclone #admiral beau simpson #admiral cyclone simpson

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nykie-love-anime · 4 months

Text

Put Your Hand Down

Y/N: Come on Mav, nobody believes that Beau is in love with me Pete: - to the squad - Pete: Raise your hand if you think that Mr Beau Cyclone Simpson here is helplessly in love with Y/N The Squad: - everyone raises their hand - Y/N: Beau, put your hand down

Masterlist

#y/n #incorrect quotes #y/n imagines #top gun #top gun incorrect quotes #incorrect top gun quotes #beau cyclone simpson x reader #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson x y/n #cyclone x reader

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zablife · 1 year

Text

Valentine's Day with Cyclone

💗 Cyclone is a workaholic who doesn't think about Valentine's Day at all as a single man. The day passes like any other and he's oblivious to anyone around him who might be celebrating the holiday.

💗 On the evening of February 14th, he acted as he might any other day of the week. Strolling into his neighborhood diner for a burger, he barely noticed the paper hearts taped to the windows or the vase on his table holding a single rose.

💗 The waitress greeted him brightly, asking if anyone would be joining him. "No, it'll just be me," he replied with a tight smile.

💗 He was nearly finished with his food when the quiet calm of the nearly empty cafe was interrupted by the jingle of the bell above the door and the sound of your heels clicking across the checkered floor.

💗 When he looked up, Beau was met with the sight of a stunningly beautiful woman in a red dress and heels. He tried not to stare at you, wondering what lucky man would be meeting you.

💗 As you passed by his table, your right heel snapped and you began to wobble precariously. Springing into action, Beau dove out of the booth and caught you just before you fell to the ground.

💗 Too stunned to speak, you stayed there in his strong arms, looking up into his mesmerizing green eyes. They held a look of genuine concern and his show of kindness made you cry.

💗 "Are you hurt?" he asked. You shook your head as you allowed him to guide you to sit in the booth. Between sobs, you managed to tell him your boyfriend had broken up with you earlier and you had taken refuge in the diner, too upset to make it home.

💗 Beau listened attentively as you talked, offering napkins from the chrome dispenser to dry your tears. He didn't interrupt with questions like your mother (who disapproved of your boyfriend) or offer advice like your girlfriends (who hated your boyfriend). Somehow you didn't feel judged by Beau and you were no longer embarrassed by your fall.

💗 Slowly you began to feel better. You even found yourself laughing at your pathetic, broken shoe you twirled on your finger. It was a bit funny how your life had turned into a ridiculous rom com.

💗 "You know, it's actually very lucky you picked this diner," Beau teased. You eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he was trying to flirt. You were going to be disappointed if he made a move on you while you still had mascara running down your face.

💗 "Because they have the best pie in town. Do you like ice cream on top?" he asked with a grin. You couldn't help but beam back at him as you nodded in agreement. His suggestion was a pleasant surprise.

💗 You spent hours getting to know Beau after eating pie and drinking coffee. You'd barely noticed the time passing until a yawn escaped your mouth.

💗 As Beau walked you out to your Uber, the sky was beginning to lighten. Before saying goodbye, you made the decision to give him your number, eager to see him again.

💗 Every year after that, you and Beau could be found sitting in the same booth in the same little diner. It had become your Valentine's Day tradition to stop in for pie and reminisce about the night you met.

💗 As you walked to your booth on your fourth Valentine's Day together, Beau was the one who tripped. As you turned back to check on him, you gasped at the sight of your boyfriend on one knee with the most beautiful diamond ring you'd ever seen.

💗 As he searched your eyes, he asked, "I've loved you from the moment you fell into my arms four years ago. I can't think of anyone I'd rather share pie with and talk to until the sun comes up for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"

💗 Too emotional for words, you nodded and blinked back happy tears.

💗 Everyone around you clapped in celebration as you threw your arms around Beau's neck and kissed him passionately.

💗 "Do you still want pie?" he whispered in your ear. "Let's get takeaway tonight," you replied with a giggle. You had a more private celebration in mind with your amazing fiance.

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

Tag list:

@floraroselaughter

@rikki-b-lake

@alanadetigy

@writeroutoftime

@callsign-fangirl

@justalonelyslytherin

@lovemissyhoneybee

@wandawiccan60

@l1-l4

@luckyladycreator2

@kmhappybunny240

@shanimallina87

@hey-its-kayla-claire

@can-this-be-a-fanfic

@amysteryspot

@dreamlandcreations

@barbiegirlbaby

@cycbaby

@paola-carter

#Top Gun Maverick headcanons #Top Gun Maverick imagine #Beau Cyclone Simpson #Beau Simpson x you #Beau Simpson x y/n #Beau Simpson x reader #Cyclone x you #Cyclone x y/n #Cyclone x reader

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callsign-dexter · 5 months

Text

Surprise!

Request: Okay okay, you got me with protective Jake !! 😱This makes me think of an idea where the reader is his childhood friend but they haven't seen each other in a while due to his job. So you decide to surprise him at the base when he doesn't expect it, to tell him as well you're moving back to San Diego and he's more than speechless and unbelievable happy. So you catch up on the lost time and he gets always into protective mode when the other guys come near you but you become friends with all the daggers and Jake's mood lightened up 100% since you're here and it's all perfect ? 🫣

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Best Friend!Reader

Warnings: fluff

Masterlist

San Diego, the sunniest and probably the warmest place on earth. You had just arrived and stepped out of your car in sunny San Diego. You loved it already and would continue to love it for the whole time you would be living there. The reason you were here was because you wanted to see your childhood friend, Jake Seresin, and you would be moving here after a wonderful job opportunity at none other than Top Gun. No, you weren’t a pilot but you were going to be the new maintenance supervisor for the F-18s. You were excited to say the least. You didn’t have a lot of stuff due to moving around. You needed a place to stay and quickly since you started tomorrow. First you needed to get to base and say hi to your bosses, which is where you were now. It was easy to get onto base considering you had your military ID. You knew that Jake was here and you were excited to see him.

As you walked into the building you passed many people in their military uniforms. You weren’t in yours considering you had just arrived. When you were halfway to Beau “Cyclone” Simpson’s office you heard a voice that you hadn’t heard in forever and a smile popped onto your face and you followed it. You walked over to the voices and saw the tall, blonde, and green-eyed man he was going on about something nobody had seemed to notice you besides a blonde haired and blue-eyed man with glasses and he smiled and waved and you waved back. As Jake took a break in his little back and forth, he was having with a darked haired woman you decided to speak up. “Don’t believe anything he says. He tends to over exaggerate on stories.” You said and you could see him tense up and started to turn around.

“How the hell-” He began and then he saw you and the tension melted away and had the biggest smile on his face “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked, bringing you into a hug that you missed so much.

“Well, I decided to surprise you! So, surprise! Also, I’m moving here.” You said and hugged him back and closed your eyes.

“Wow, I don’t know what to say.” He said as he pulled away.

“Bagman, not knowing what to say? That’s a first.” A man with a mustache said and everyone laughed as Jake flipped him off. “You gonna introduce us?” He asked but Jake couldn’t stop looking at you smiling and you shook your head.

“I’m Y/N “Galaxy” Y/L/N, the new F-18 Maintenance Supervisor.” You said

“I heard we were getting a new one but that was about it. Hi, I’m Natasha Trace callsign Phoenix.” Natasha said “Let me just add, thank you for finally getting Bagman here to shut up and it’s going to be so nice having another female around here.” She said and then pulled you into a hug and you laughed.

“I’m Javy Machado callsign Coyote. Jake here has told me a lot about you.” He said and you chuckled.

“All good things I hope.” You said with a chuckle and elbowed Jake you had rolled his eyes at you but the smile never left his face.

“I’m Robert Floyd callsign Bob.” Bob said and you smiled at him.

“I love the callsign. It is so simple and I love it. Plus, your glasses make you look cute.” You said and he blushed and ducked his head. There was one thing about you that Jake loved and that is that you said what you thought and took crap from anyone.

“I’m Bradley Bradshaw callsign Rooster.” Bradley walked over and took your hand and kissed it and you smiled and Jake did not like that one bit.

“Back off, Chicken.” Jake said, taking your hand out of his and pushing him away and you just shook your head.

“Mickey Gracia callsign Fanboy. Maybe that you're around Jake will lighten up and stop being well Jake.” Mickey said and you turned to look at Jake.

“Have you been a jerk to them?” You asked and he shook his head.

“It’s called tough love.” He said

“Tough love my ass. I’m Ruben Fitz callsign Payback.” He said and shook your hand.

“Galaxy? How did you get that name?” Natasha asked and you smiled.

“Jake gave it to me first then my old squad gave it to me despite not being an aviator. I loved looking at the stars and knew everything about the galaxy and space. I geeked out once and the name just stuck.” You said with a smile and so did Jake he remembered when it happened.

“I love it.” Natasha said

“Why thank you.” You said and then looked at your watch “I need to go and meet Cyclone. Jake, do you want me to show me the way to his office?” You asked and he nodded his head and put a hand on your back as you both turned and started to head off. “It was nice meeting you all. I look forward to working with you and hanging out with you.” You called over your shoulder as you got a chorus of ‘you too’ and ‘goodbye’.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Jake asked as you walked.

“I literally got the call about it yesterday.” You said and leaned into him briefly.

“I just can’t believe you’re here and staying.” He said and you smiled. Jake was like a brother to you. He was there through every breakup and every emergency trip. The thought of you two dating didn’t sit well with either of you so it was never pursued. You both were happy being friends. “Have you found a place yet?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Nope.” You said popping the p.

“Well, you’re in luck. I need a roommate.” He said

“Jake.” You started

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” He said and you sighed.

“Fine. I’ll meet you at my Jeep after I’m done here.” You said as you both arrived at the office.

“Deal.” He said as you knocked on the door and heard a faint ‘come in’ and you turned the handle and walked in giving Jake a smile.

——————————————————————

The meeting went great and as you said your goodbyes to Cyclone, Warlock, and Maverick you walked to your Jeep where Jake was standing and he smiled when he saw you. “How was it?” He asked and you smiled.

“Went really well! I'm excited to be working with y'all.” You said as your southern accent came out just a tiny bit like it always dies when you were around Jake.

“Great! Now I know my jet is in great hands under a person that I trust.” He said and gave you a little nudge. “Now let's get to my place where you'll be staying.” He said.

“I'll stay until I find myself a place.” You said as you opened the driver's side door and he shook his head.

“Not a chance.” Jake said and you chuckled.

“We'll see about that. I'll follow you.” You told him and he nodded as you got into your Jeep and him into his truck that was right beside yours. It didn't take long to get to his place and he lived close to the base and a bar called The Hard Deck which you think you'd really like. He pulled into the driveway and you pulled in right next to him. You were just about to get out when he opened the door for you.

“Now we can catch up and then meet everyone at The Hard Deck.” He said as you got out “We can unpack you later.” He added when he saw you looking at your stuff about to grab it. You huffed he always knew what you were thinking.

“Fine.” You said and followed him into the cozy little house and when you walked in you were surprised by how warm it felt.

“Beer?” He asked and you nodded.

“Please.” You said as he walked to the fridge as he set his keys down and you did the same. He grabbed two and then pointed towards the living room where you followed and sat on the couch. He opened the beer and gave it to you.

“So, what have you been up to? It’s been forever and I missed you.” Jake said as he took a drink of his beer and then looked at you as you took a drink of your beer.

“Well, let’s see I was last stationed at Naval Air Station Fallon in Fallon, Nevada and then we got deployed to South Korea for 6 months and then we came back and I got stationed at Top Gun. My mother died 2 months ago due to an incurable illness and then dad died a month after. My brother and sister never talk to me and they only showed up for the funeral and then left. My boyfriend of 5 months broke up with me because he cheated on me while I was deployed.” You told him and he looked at you with an unrecognizable look on his face, one that almost was of pity. “Don’t look at me like that.” You said and turned to look away from him as you took a drink of your beer.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Jake said not knowing what to say.

“It’s alright. I’ve always had a rough life so this is nothing new.” You said and looked at him and he shook his head.

“You don’t deserve this. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve been down there in an instant.” Jake asked you set your beer on the coffee table and turned to look at him fully.

“Because we hadn’t talked in years. We saw each other at graduation and then you were heading off to basic training.” You said “I went two years after you. I was taking care of mom. I didn’t want to go but she didn’t want to hold me back and told me to go and so I did.” You said with a shrug and he sat his beer down on the coffee table next to yours and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m here for you now, Galaxy. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, I promise.” He said and hugged him back and sunk into his embrace you truly did miss his hugs and his smell. You closed your eyes taking in the warmth and felt him drop a kiss onto your head. After a few moments of being in each other's arms you both released each other. You two stayed up and talked about your lives and just catching up in general and then you both ending up falling asleep.

——————————————————————

The next morning you both got up early and had breakfast together and then you both were heading off the base. Neither you, Jake, or any of The Daggers saw each other throughout the day, due to you being busy getting into a routine and meeting your teammates that you really liked and everyone got along unlike your last squad. Before you knew it, it was time to leave while packing up getting ready to leave Jake and The Daggers showed up and you smiled when you heard Jake calling out your name. “Hey, Galaxy! We’re heading off to The Hard Deck. Wanna join?” He asked and you smiled.

“Of course! Let me finish up here and I’ll be there.” You said and went back to finishing up what you needed. He turned to the others.

“You guys go on. We’ll meet you there.” Jake said

“Woah! Jake waiting up for someone? That’s new.” Mickey said and Jake rolled his eyes.

“I can be nice when people deserve it. Now go on. We’ll meet you there.” He said and they left. You smiled and shook your head and in no time you were done and you both were heading off to The Hard Deck.

When you reached your destination he opened the door for you and the both of you walked in and straight to the bar. You saw a nice blonde haired woman working and she smiled at Jake. “Jake, I see you finally decided to join! Who is this you have with you?” She asked.

“Penny meet Y/N. Y/N meet Penny. She is the owner of the bar.” Jake said and you and Penny smiled at each other.

“Hi Penny! Nice to meet you! You have such a lovely place.” You said and she smiled.

“Oh don’t flatter me. What can I get you?” She asked

“Let me see if I still remember it.” Jake cut in and you tipped your head in a motion like ‘go on’ with a smirk “She’ll take a Long Island Iced Tea with lemon and put it on my tab.” He said, looking at you as you nodded.

“You got it.” Penny said

“You actually remembered.” You said

“Of course. How could I forget?” Jake said as Penny came back with your drink and what you were assuming was his original.

“Thank you, Penny.” You said and smiled and nodded and you both headed over to the group where you all greeted each other.

“Where have you been all this time?” Natasha asked and you looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” You asked her.

“Ever since you have come here, Jake has been so much happier and so much more friendly and he hasn’t been leaving anybody hanging.” Natasha said and everyone agreed.

“She makes me happy. I would do anything for her.” He said and you nodded and it was left at that. As the night went on you had been hit on more times than you could count or liked but you didn’t have to worry about it for long because Jake was always there to scare them off and you were grateful and you weren’t looking for a relationship right now. You were quick to make friends with everyone especially Bob, he was quiet and reserved and you really liked that and he didn’t try to hit on you.

As you mingled about with the squad Jake stood back watching and smiling. He was definitely glad to have you close and it was true you did make him happy. He was a little protective when the guys tried to hit on you and he was there ready to step in but you handled and they quickly backed down. Everyone quickly became protective of you especially when it came to strangers coming up to you and trying to get with you and let Jake back down on his protectiveness some but not all the way. Jake was just happy to have his true friend that he had known for years back in his life and he was not letting go this time.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader imagines #jake seresin x reader imagine #jake seresin x reader fandom #jake seresin x reader fanfic #jake seresin x reader fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick

148 notes · View notes

peacefxlmyko · 3 months

Text

Family business

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x mom!Reader, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw x wife!Reader, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x platonic!Reader

Ask: "I had an idea for Top Gun, the reader was “Goose”'s wife and Bradley's mother, she is in the Navy and trains the squadron for the mission with Maverick. When Maverick and his son's plane are about to be shot down instead of Jake saving them, she is the one who saves them. Cute ending if possible" by @motherofdragons1998

Tags: Fluff, Angst, obviously Top Gun Maverick spoilers, hints to Hangster 👀, Reader is a widow, Use of Y/N, Reader's callsign is Shadow

Notes: I am SO nervous to post this omfg. This is the first thing I ever wrote based off an ask and I hope I did everything right with it lmao. This is also the longest piece I have ever written. I am not 100% happy with it, but I did my best and I hope ya'll like it! Apologies for any Grammar or in general writing mistakes, English isn't my first language. I am also open for more requests/asks!

Words: 2500+

Story under the cut! ✂️

Getting the call to return to Top Gun after years definitely wasn't something you expected. And finding out that you had to train the best pilots in the world for a suicide mission didn't make your anxiety any better.

After you arrived at the Academy, you were met with Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and Solomon “Warlock” Bates and they introduced you to the Mission.

“Captain Y/N “Shadow” Bradshaw." Cyclone began. “I'm Admiral Beau Simpson and this is Admiral Solomon Bates.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” You replied.

“I hope it's no problem we will be introducing you to the Mission without the other instructor.”

“Other.. instructor, sir?”, your eyes narrowed a little in confusion.

"Yes, you will be teaching the class with another instructor.” Your curiosity was sparked, but you didn't get to ask anything else as they started explaining the Mission.

“The target is an unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant built in violation of a multilateral NATO treaty. The uranium produced there represents a direct threat to our allies in the region.” Warlock started to explain.

After the explanation it as your turn to explain your view on the mission. Then, they revealed who the pilots tasked with the mission were. “We've recalled 12 TOPGUN graduates from their squadrons. We want you to narrow-”

As soon as you turned to the monitor your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat. Bradley.

“Is there a problem, Captain?”

“I just.. didn't expect to see my son there, sir.” You muttered, still a bit in disbelief.

“Bradley Bradshaw, aka Rooster. I understand his father was also a pilot? What was his callsign again?”

Ouch. “It was Goose, sir.”

“Tragic what happened.”

Daggers. With every word daggers were being stabbed in your heart. Not one day went by without you missing Nick. Your husband. The father of your son. The love of your life.

After the briefing, you headed to a nearby bar to try and gather your thoughts. As you walked into the bar, you suddenly saw a familiar figure sitting there. No, two. Two familiar faces.

“Pete?”

The man turned around with a stunned look on his face.

“Y/N?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You walked closer to him, a smile forming on my face.

“I could ask you the same.”

“He pissed off another admiral.” Penny commented and you cracked a smile. “It's nice to see you again, Penny” You smiled and sat down next to Pete.

“Don't tell me you're going to-”

“Teach a mission here?” You completed his sentence.

“So you are the other instructor! They wouldn't even tell me!” Mav chuckled at your complaint and shook his head a little.

You heard some noises at the other side of the bar and glanced over at the pool tables. There were pilots gathered and you recognised them as the graduates that had been recalled for the mission.

A few more people joined the bar. It didn't even take you two seconds to recognise your son. Hawaii shirt, sunglasses on his nose, that damn mustache like Nick had. Bradley was the spitting image of his father. You also heard someone call out “Bradshaw! Is that you?”

You didn't want to admit it, but sometimes it hurt a little. The way Nick would have been so proud of him hurt. And knowing that you were the reason his papers were held back because you didn't want him to have the same fate as Goose.

As soon as Pete recognised Bradley he quickly turned away, as if to hide from him. “Mav, you don't have to hi-”

“I cost him years of his career.”

“I know, but that was because I wanted it that way. You did it for me, because of Goose. Don't you think it's time he finds out it was me?”

“No, god no. It'll be fine, just.. let it be.”

You sighed and turned back to your drink, taking a few sips.

“How about ringing me up before the evening rush?” Maverick suddenly said to Penny and stood up. You glanced over at Bradley, watching him with his fellow aviators. Hasn't even noticed his own mother yet. You chuckled a little to yourself.

“It's been declined.”

You snapped out of your thoughts when Penny said that to Pete and laid his credit card on the table in front of him. You curiously watched and tried to hide your amused grin.

“You're kidding.”

Soon enough, Pete was getting carried out by three pilots and you watched, not even hiding your amusement.

Then, you heard a few tones coming from the piano and your heart dropped.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane.”

Rooster was playing and singing “Great balls of fire”. The same song Nick loved performing, a little out of key but it was still always the most perfect thing to you. You stared at him in disbelief, his back turned to you. Other pilots were standing next to him, singing along. The whole Bar was watching him. Your little boy.

After he was finished you watched him perform a little funny dance as the bar kept chanting “Rooster! Rooster!”. God, when did he grow up so much?

You stood up and slowly made your way towards him.

“I assumed you would at least let your Mother know when you're on a new Mission?”

You could see the way his heart dropped and he looked like a toddler being caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Mom?” He slowly turned around to you, you had an amused grin on your face.

“This is how I find out you're back at TOPGUN?” You grinned. You could hear his friends letting out laughs and a few comments in the background. “I- uh—”

“Oh, shut up and give your mother a hug.”

________________________________________

The next day, all the pilots sat together in a hanger, ready to be taught about the mission. Admiral Bates was standing in front of them all, ready to explain.

“Your instructors are TOPGUN graduates with real world experience in every mission aspect you'll be expected to master and they are considered some of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick and Captain Y/N Bradshaw, callsign Shadow.”

Maverick and you walked in together, walking up to the lectern where Warlock stood at first. The pilots turned to look at you both and you could see their faces drop as some of them realized they kicked out their instructor last night.

You shot Bradley a quick small smile, meanwhile he gave Maverick a look that could kill.

You both started to talk to the class, Mav doing the most talking. After some briefing, you all got your Jets ready and then took off into the sky for some training and to show what they are able to do.

The next few days were spent preparing and training, trying to get them ready.

But once during some briefing in a classroom, a fight broke out. Hangman had made a comment about Goose and it set Rooster off, almost going for his throat but you all managed to keep them apart. Maverick dismissed them all for the day.

Bradley went back to the base to calm down, Maverick went to meet Iceman and you.. Well, you drove to the Hard Deck and sat down at the Beach there. The whole time you were lost in thoughts. Was he ready for this? Was I ready for this? Was anybody ready for this mission?

“Oh Nick..” You started to tear up. “I don't want to send Bradley out there. He's not ready. No one is! I-I can't risk losing him too! I.. I just can't lose my son too… He's my little boy.. Our little boy.. When did he grow up so much…? I need you here.. god.. I wish you were here..”

Even though he wasn't here anymore, you knew Goose was still watching over you and listening whenever he could.

________________________________________

It felt like the time until the mission flew by. It almost felt like a blur, as if it wasn't real. And burying one of your life-long friends made it even worse. Iceman could finally rest, but it was still incredibly painful. Seeing Maverick grief him made it even worse.

But in a blink of an eye, you were all on a ship in the middle of the Ocean, about to choose which Daggers would fly. You were going to stay back as Backup and Mav was going to fly with them.

You knew he was going to choose him as his wingman, but you secretly begged it wasn't true. You wished it would be Hangman, but it was going to be your son.

“Choose your two Foxtrot teams.” Cyclone said.

“Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.” You both had decided these teams together, but the Wingman was Mav's own choice.

“And your Wingman?”

After a moment of anticipation, he finally said…

“Rooster.”

There it was. Your son was flying the suicide mission. And all you could do was listen through the comms and pray.

Everyone went on Deck and walked to their Jets. As you stood by your Jet, you looked over at Rooster and noticed him talking to Hangman. You had noticed throughout the whole preparation there seemed to be some tension and.. closeness between them. There was at least something.

You turned back to your Jet, climbing inside in case they needed Backup during the mission.

As the mission began and the teams flew away, your heart was pounding. With every minute you felt your anxiety increasing, scared for the safety of your son and also your friend.

You listened closely through the comms, listening to everything…..

“Bull's-eye! Bull's-eye! Bull's-eye!"

Yes! God, yes! They did it!

But now it was time to get back alive…

The rest of the mission was a pure air fight, raw dogfighting. They just needed to make it out alive. Please.

But to your worst fear the enemy planes were focused on Rooster.

“Dagger Two defending. Shit, I'm out of flares!”

“Rooster, evade, evade!” You heard his uncle shout.

“I can't shake ‘em! They're on me! They're on me!”

You didn't know what was happening., you weren't there. You didn't see it. All You could do was listen. Listen and wait. It felt awful not being able to do anything.

There was a moment of silence, only the heavy breathing from the pilots.

“Mav! No!”

“Dagger One is hit! I repeat, Dagger One is hit! Maverick is down!”

Your breath caught in your throat. Mav was hit.

“Dagger One, Status. Status! Anyone see him? Did anyone see him?! Dagger One, come in!” You heard the panic in Rooster's voice.

“I didn't see a parachute.”

Shit.

“We have to circle back!”

You felt your heart pumping, this was all so much. You knew this was a difficult mission, hell, a suicide mission but you still hoped this wouldn't happen!

“All Daggers flow to ECP. You have bandits headed for you.”

“What about Maverick?!” There was a strain in Bradley's voice.

“Dagger Square request permission to launch and fly air cover.” You suddenly spoke up. You had to help. You needed to help.

“Negative, spare.”

Shit!

“Dagger, you are not to engage. Repeat, do not engage.”

“Dagger Two, return to carrier. Acknowledge.”

Bradley, please. Come home safe.

You also wanted to save Maverick, but not with Bandits in the air.

The silence was killing you.

“Rooster, those bandits are closing. We can't go back.” You heard Phoenix say. “Rooster, he's gone.”

It hurt, but Bob was probably right. He was gone. He was with Goose. “Maverick's gone.”

Maverick had sacrificed himself for Rooster. Your best friend had sacrificed himself for your son….

Your heart began to pound as you realized Bradley was flying back. He wanted to save Mav. You wanted to scream at him to get his ass back to the ship, but you couldn't. He wouldn't even listen.

The not knowing was killing you. Not being able to do anything. Being stuck on the ship while your son was out there fighting for his life.

After minutes that felt like hours you heard the words you only wished to hear in your darkest nightmares.

“Dagger Two is hit.”

Rooster was hit.

You could barely hold it together anymore. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, but you had to hold it in.

“Dagger Two, come in. Dagger Two, do you copy? Dagger Two, come in.”

You were horrified. You might have just lost your only child and your best friend. Now you were alone.

One Minute turned into two. Two into five. Five into ten. Nothing. No reply, no sign of life.

You had no idea what the hell was going on in the tower, they weren't talking to you. Not one word. Was there a trace of the two? Were they still alive? You didn't know and it was one of the worst things you've ever felt.

After what felt like an eternity, you were finally given permission to launch and fly to their rescue after they had detected Rooster's ESAT.

Soon you saw them, they were involved in an air fight and obviously losing. You managed to bring your jet behind the enemy's plane without bringing any attention to yourself. That was the way you got your callsign. You were a Shadow, you could easily follow any planes without being noticed.

Just as they were about to shoot down Maverick and Rooster, you fired a shot and hit the bandit. The bandit was down and they were save. They were finally save and back with you.

You flew right through the smoke towards the F-14, you had never been happier to see a jet.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking.”

There was a grin on your face, you had never been so glad.

“Hey, mom, you look good.”

“I am good, Bradley. I'm very good.”

“I'll see you back on Deck.” You flew back and were the first to land. You got out of the Jet and watched everybody put up a net to catch the F-14.

Once they were back on deck you didn't hesitate one second to run towards them. “Bradley!” You shouted.

Everybody came running towards them, cheering and congratulating them.

Maverick got out and first went to Hondo, while Bradley came running towards you.

“Oh, my boy, I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone.” You sobbed and took him into your arms.

“You're not getting rid of me easily, Mom.” He laughed and hugged you tightly, not letting you go for a while. “You're a hero, Bradley. I'm so so proud of you. Your- your dad would be so proud, god-” You teared up.

“I know Mom, I know.”

You parted from him so he could celebrate with the others. The other Daggers immediately came to him.

Once again you could swear there were looks between Jake and Rooster, but you didn't mention anything.

“Captain Mitchell! Captain Mitchell!” You then saw Bradley approach Pete. Without hesitating, Maverick pulled him into a hug. A hug that meant the World.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“It's what my dad would've done.”

________________________________________

Days after the mission the whole Dagger Squad was sitting in the Hard Deck together, having drinks and cracking jokes. Bradley, of course, sat down at the piano and sang once again. The whole Bar chimed in and sang “Great balls of fire” with him.

“Oh! You're fine, so kindGot to tell this world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine!”

You could have sworn he took a glance towards Jake during that line.

#top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #pete maverick mitchell #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x hangman #nick goose bradshaw #nick bradshaw #pete mitchell #maverick x reader #Im so nervous to post this #Requests open

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thecitysgraveyard · 11 months

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okay well I'm also writing for top gun/top gun maverick so you can request for bradley bradshaw, nick bradshaw, beau simpson, jake seresin and robert floyd

and you can request angst, fluff or smut, you can also give prompts if you want :)

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lieutenantfloyd · 4 months

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When Duty Calls Part 2 | Cyclone x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You arrive at The Hard Deck, a place that was once like a second home to you.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, and Hangman being... Hangman.

Authors note: Life with a neurodivergent brain means I haven't updated this series since September but I managed to write this chapter in less than a day. Writers block be damned lol.

Read on AO3

It only took you twenty minutes to arrive at The Hard Deck, but another twenty minutes elapsed before you were able to convince yourself to open the car door.

You savor one last minute of air conditioning before willing yourself out of the car. Each crunch of sand under your shoes feels almost deafening but you push yourself forward, instead letting your eyes examine the scene in front of you. It’s early evening and a decent size crowd is occupying the parking lot while a slow moving but steady stream of people flow through the front door.

You join the back of the pack and slip your phone out from your back pocket. As luck would have it, your phone—unused since before you’d gotten in the shower—opens directly onto the text-that-shall-not-be-named. The panic inducing text bubbles have vanished and your initial message remains the last one sent between you both. Half of you is flooded with relief by the lack of response while the other half is more bothered by it than you’d ever care to admit.

You peer around the man in front of you, hoping to find a spot to slip through, but to no avail. From where you’re standing, you’re granted a perfectly framed view of The Hard Deck’s sun washed coastal siding against the blazing blue sky. It is a view that fills you with both comfort and nostalgia.

The nights you’d spent at this bar were among the few memories you let yourself get lost in. Quarters in the jukebox, the feeling of salt and sun making itself home on your skin, Clinking bottles and cans together after a job well done, the biting taste of whiskey on your tongue while venting frustrations. All things that drove you away, yet they kept you going when you needed it most.

Your spiraling thoughts barely register when you remember the phone still in your hands. You hurriedly lock the screen and slide the device back into your pocket. You far from expect anyone peering over your shoulder to piece together exactly who had left you on read, but your instincts tell you that you can’t be too careful. You’ve seen first hand how people here ensure that even the most baseless rumors spread quicker than wildfire. The last thing you need is to be pulled into an office and reprimanded before this mission even begins.

You were now second place from the entrance, so you capture the remaining moments and stomp out the last bit of anxiety left in your gut.

You cross the threshold in one quick step, your eyes already scanning the room and taking note of how many of the faces in this bar were completely unfamiliar. Whoever had sent the summoning text you’d received roughly two hours earlier chose to leave out who or what you should be looking for, so you instinctively set off towards the bar. ~ There wasn’t an empty barstool in sight, so you stay on your feet and shoulder your way through the rowdy servicemen until you can lean your elbows against bar top. Your chosen attire of light wash jeans and a brown tank top is nothing special, but your actions have earned more than a few glances, and you felt myself wanting to shrink under their eyes. You push your insecurities aside just in time to spot the woman you’re looking for.

“Penny!” you call out, raising your arm above your head in a lazy wave. She pivots instantly at the sound of her name and freezes briefly as her eyes land on you. A wave of memories—both wanted and not—wash over you in the time it takes her to abandon the towel and glass she’d been drying and pace over to you.

In a past life, you’d spent the majority of your free time helping out behind the bar or escorting Amelia and her friends around town. Penny was like a sister to you then, and both her and Amelia had been two of the hardest people to leave behind.

“Now that’s a face I didn’t expected to see at my bar again.” Penny says bluntly, but you can see the tell tale signs of a smile threatening to shine through.

“It’s good to see you too, pen.” You say with an easy smile.

“I assume you got called back too?” she asks. You give her a curt nod in response.

“Well then it seems like your friends got the party started without you.” She says while signaling towards the pool table on the far side of the bar.

“Friends is a strong word.” You say dryly.

“Well, in that case,“ She starts, only to pause and crouch down behind the bar. “Go easy on them.”

She finishes her sentence with a soft laugh and slides a can across the bar towards you. You wipe the ice and condensation off the rim and crack open the soda. The action is so familiar you don’t even give the can’s label a glance. You make sure to take a long, dramatic swig in the process.

“Thanks.” You say, tilting the can towards her while simultaneously breezing past her comment.

“I mean what I said. I obviously don’t know what’s ahead, but I get the sense that they don’t either. Hold your cards close to your chest around them.” She warns.

“Yes ma’am.” You affirm.

The area around you has cleared a bit which gives you some much appreciated breathing room. Over Penny’s shoulder you watch yet another man approach the bar, only this time it’s a face you’re anything but excited to recognize.

Of course Hangman would be back too.

You fight back the urge to grimace as he calls out to Penny, who quickly acknowledges him before turning back to you.

“Do you still have my number?” She asks.

“Always.” You answer, which earns me a soft smile from Penny.

“Good. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“That we do.” you agree, trying your best to mask any lingering unease about what the following weeks had in store.

You take your time circling the bar, and keep your eyes on Hangman as Penny serves him another beer. You have half a mind to ask him if he has any idea why we were all called back, but the thought dies the minute he makes an painful show of checking you out.

"Hangman." You say with the fakest smile you can manage.

“Just when I’d thought you were gone for good…” he says while dragging his gaze slowly up your body until he reaches your eyes.

“I knew you’d be bored without me.”

Jake laughs while you take a sip of soda and swallow down the anger building inside you.

“Aw, how considerate.”

“We can’t all be complete assholes, so…” You respond pointedly.

Hangman gears up in rebuttal just as Penny calls out your name and waves you back over. He turns to make his leave—and you’re almost shocked he’s accepting defeat—but the shock instantly becomes irritation when you both back away while throwing each other equally unkind hand gestures.

Turning towards Penny, you let her take your free hand in hers and give it a sisterly squeeze. An uncomfortable silence lies between you, and you can practically see the wheels of contemplation turning in her head.

“Have you… talked to him?” She queries in a low voice.

You don’t know what your face betrays, but hers instantly fills with a look of regret. You change your grip on the soda can, the chilled aluminum suddenly searing against your fingertips. You open your mouth to answer but can’t find the right words. Thankfully, she seems to take the silence as a hint.

“Well, I hope to see you both around more often.” She says quietly. Her words are simple and pleasant, but you can’t help but feel the urge to read deeper into them.

“Yeah, me too.” You breathe.

She squeezes your hand once more, and you all but cringe as the vulnerability in your words and voice rings loudly in your ears. After the unfortunate events of the last ten minutes, you’re quick to follow Hangman’s path towards the pool table. ~ You can feel eyes on you as you drop into one of the surrounding barstools, but make no effort of acknowledging them. The game plan you’d written earlier in the day flashes through your mind, and you know you don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself than necessary. You chose to sit and observe for a while before briefly catching up with old friends from your first time at Top Gun over a few rounds of pool. Soon after, you use the uncomfortably tense exchange between Hangman and Rooster as cover and slink onto the stool next to Phoenix’s new backseater.

You quickly learn that as quiet as he may be, the WSO—who’s stationed out in Lemoore and has the name and callsign Bob, according to your former wingman Natasha—Is more than happy to engage in a bit of gossip. Something which you’re happy to do as you watch the last several aviators file through the door.

It is only when you rise from your seat to refill Bob’s bucket of peanuts that you notice the awkward hush falling over the group. It wasn’t hard to decide that if the already heavy dose of tension was anything to go by, this mission—and the complete lack of details as to why any of you had been called back here in the first place—has everyone feeling shook up.

Bucket in hand, you skim the outskirts of the group. And quickly share a collective double take with Harvard, Yale, Omaha, and Fritz. You know the same question weighing heavy on your mind is doing the same to theirs. Yet before you can ask, the sound of Phoenix’s voice commands everyone’s attention and breathes life into one of the many questions you are all dying to ask.

“Everyone here is the best there is. So who the hell are they going to get to teach us?”

Taglist: @katesmadness @natasharomanoffisbaebby @nobody7102 @idiomaticpunk @thebeckyjolene @paintballkid711 @barbiewritesstuff @bbooks-and-teas @starshipfantasy @saramaple @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @katesmadness @shakira-sasha @xoxabs88xox @nyx2021 @qardasngan @fanboyluvr @bellamy1998 @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @autumnleaves1991-reads @dozcan123 @noxytopy @accio-boys @the-winter-marvel33 @justameresimp @abaker74 @starlightmoon2020 @comfortzonequeen, @flrboyd @heyitskay-21 @kmc1989 @kkrenae

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saltsicklover · 7 months

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Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 2 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 1 HERE, and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 14k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

---

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. The weekend before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A cellphone is tucked between Monsoon's cheek and shoulder, the line trilling. She carries her duffle bags and kit, feeling like a battering ram as she makes her way through the crowd of people. The airport is packed and she can feel just how humid it is form how sticky she feels.

The hallways of the airport wind as she follows the crowd out of the baggage claim. The people around her move just a bit too slowly as they wheel their bags behind them, just begging for someone to trip over them if they dare pass. If there is one thing Monsoon did not miss about being at Top Gun, it's the trip in.

Fuck flying coach.

Fuck PSC Season and all of the families taking all the seats on the military flights.

Fuck the crying lady sitting next to her, who wouldn't stop sobbing at the shitty romcom she was watching, and fuck when she decided to start it over, just to watch it all over again.

But the best thing about coming back has to be seeing her surrogate father, Beau Simpson. Their relationship has only grown stronger since that night at the bar. They have spent countless meals together, drinking at bars when they are in the same place and always sending 'check in' emails. Phone calls have always been a bit dodgy between time zones and deployments.

Neither one knew exactly what they were getting into when the bond between them grew, neither really sure exactly what a parent/child relationship looks like, especially when the child is really an unrelated adult. But as the days went on, and the email chain got longer and longer, things seemed to just make sense.

The pair talked about everything, from work to dating, friendships and recipes. Cyclone opened up about June and their baby, sharing his favorite stories of their marriage. From how they started dating, to the day that June passed, Monsoon heard it all.

Calla lilies were June's favorite, the only flowers that Beau believes should ever be given to a woman, and Monsoon smiles at the memory of her graduation from Top Gun, and the way Cyclone smiled at her with the bouquet of lilies in his lap.

When Monsoon found herself in Vermont she carved out time to visit June and Baby Boy Simpson at the cemetery. She showed up with two bouquets of calla lilies and a speech to give them. Monsoon cleaned their headstones and laid the flowers delicately across their plots, speaking to them the whole time about herself, and Cyclone, and the world they live in.

Cyclone's phone buzzed in his pocket while in a meeting. When he snuck a peak, he was met with a photo of Monsoon, a light smile adorning her face as she sits just in front of the burial plots. The message read "With Mama June and Bubba, thinking of you, Pops". Cyclone had to excuse himself from the table with tears in his eyes.

As the years went on, the surfaces in Cyclone's office slowly began to fill with more photos of the two of them. The collection of frames started out sophisticated, it really did, but as time went on, the frames became more eclectic, more fun.

It's juxtaposes the rest of Cyclones office in a way that is almost comical. As he is shouting at someone for their latest fuck up, there are shelves full of silly frames just a few feet away. Cyclone's favorite just so happens to read "Clown College Class President" while Monsoon's favorite is one of those irregular shaped ones, with an oval opening for the photograph.

There is a photo of the two of them tucked in the cockpit of Monsoon's jet. It catches the mechanics off guard every time, but no one dare says a word about it- mostly out of fear that word would get back to Admiral. The photo depicts the two of them at one of those giant truck stops, posing with the large dinosaur sitting out front. She is sat atop of it, like a cowboy, with Cyclone leaning up against it, his shoulder near her thigh. They both wear larger than life smiles as the sun beats down on them. It was a silly thing, really. Both stuck in at little forgotten Air Base in middle America for a flight test, but the pair managed to make the best of it, remembering to take photographs as they went.

There is a postcard folded up in Cyclone's wallet. Once upon a time, it read the catchy saying "Why Not Minot?" printed across the front of it, with a cute little photo of a town square, a little forgotten town in North Dakota. It's one of those bases that people dread being stationed at, that much has always been true, but the little photo on the front of the post card sold a different tale. It wasn't the cutesy saying or the photo that made him keep it, the edges now worn and fibrous. On the back, written in neat blue ink, underneath a little blurb about how there is absolutely nothing to do in North Dakota, the sentence "I love you, Pops" sits next to a scribbly little heart.

The staticky, tolling, phoneline picks up after a few rings as Monsoon pushes around a family with one too many screaming toddlers. They have on those little backpack leashes and Monsoon almost gets close lined as a little dark haired child bursts in front of her without warning. She dodged, but she catches one of those damn rolling bags with her toe. Monsoon barely notices the glare the lady sent her way, but the lack luster wrath of a stranger isn't going to stop her.

"Hey, Kid," Cyclone greets over the line, the smile on his face evident through the sound of his voice. There is no need for an official "hello" to begin the conversation, both knowing full well that Cyclone had been watching the flight itinerary like a hawk to make sure Monsoon wasn't going to be delayed. The call upon landing is just expected at this point, though neither of them have mastered the cool,casual, its good to see you.

"I just landed," A woman walks right into one of the duffle bags hanging off of Monsoon's shoulders, throwing her completely off balance. She hikes the bag higher up on her shoulder, trying to rebalance the hefty weight she is carrying. Monsoon sways like she is at sea, attempting to get her balance back. There is something so familiar about the way she sways a bit, just like the jet carriers do as the waves bash against the metal of the hull.

"Fuck" she curses under her breath, steadying herself once again. For a Seaman, one might think Monsoon would have better balance. Cyclone rolls his eyes on the other side of the phone. "I'll be over for dinner tonight, if that's still the plan,"

"Sure is, I'm making your favorite,"

"Steak and potatoes are your favorite," Monsoon corrects.

"You can correct me without the side of guilt, you know," Cyclone is chuckling through the phone, earning him a roll of the eyes.

"I only meant to tease," There is a nonchalance to her voice, though she is the furthest thing from cool. Cyclone isn't either. His kid is coming home and they get to sit down for a meal for the first time in months and he is beyond excited.

"I'm going to drop my stuff off at my rental, then I'll be headed your way, you better be ready for me to eat enough for a small village," Monsoon heads right for the exit, ready to look for a taxi. "And Pops, maybe think about adding a-" The word "vegetable" fails to make it's way out of her mouth as Monsoon looks up as the double doors in front of her slide open. Cyclone is standing on the other side, a large sign reading "WELCOME HOME KIDDO" sits loosely in his hand, the other holds his phone up to his ear.

It's like one of those cheesy scenes from a movie, both wearing matching grins and laughing. Cyclone knew the whole thing would be a surprise; he took a leave day to make sure he would bet there to pick her up.

"Pops!" The name still makes Cyclone's heart swell, even if he had been responding to that very name for the past few years. It's funny, really, how easy it was for the pair to adjust to the name, though Monsoon waited for him to acknowledge it first before she actually said it.

The acknowledgement came from a recorded phone message, shortly after her first move after her Top Gun Graduation. Cyclone got stuck in on the highway with a dead car and no cellphone. The call came in from a payphone, an unknown number. Cyclone left a message, "Hey, kid, it's Pops, my car died and I am stranded. I could use an assist. Do you know anyone in Missouri?". That message is still saved on Monsoon's phone to this day.

"Hey, Kiddo!" And then Monsoon is stumbling closer, her bags swinging her center of gravity all over the place. He reaches a hand out to take one, ready to throw it over his shoulder, but instead, each one hits the pavement with a hard thud. Monsoon is quickly wrapping her arms around his body, one over his shoulder, one under his arm, meeting around his back and squeezing him hard.

The hug is returned in kind, both damn near trying to squeeze each other to death. It's playful, as they share "good to see you's" and "I've missed you's" .

"I hope you don't mind, Kid, but I invited another one of the recruits to dinner tonight," He speaks the words into her hair. Monsoon pulls back to look up at her Pops with furrowed brows. She doesn't have to say a thing, he already knows exactly what is going through her mind.

"I know it's unorthodox, but, Kazansky said it might be a good idea, and when the good Admiral says something like that, you set another place at the table,"

"Yeah, unorthodox is definitely a word for it," Monsoon is pulling out of Cyclone's embrace, dipping to grab her discarded bags from the pavement. Cyclone grabs one before she can, which earns him a roll of her eyes.

"Be nice, would you?"

"To you or the mystery guest?" Her words are dripping with sarcasm.

"Preferably both," Cyclone chides, poking her in the side with the welcome home sign. She swats it away with a quick hand, both laughing.

"I'll see what I can do,"

---

The sun is setting over the horizon, painting the sky orange with wisps of pink the lower it sinks behind the curve of the Earth. Monsoon is spread out on one of the lawn chairs, relaxing, well, more like waiting out her Pops' little outburst. She had opened the grill to check on the steak, making sure the edges wouldn't be too crispy, and Cyclone all but snapped the lid shut in the middle of her investigation. He banished her to the other side of the patio to wait for the food to finish cooking. Then, and only then, would she be allowed to touch the grill again.

If there is one thing to be true, Cyclone has a method when it comes to grilling. Monsoon had it all explained to her the first time he grilled for the pair of them. He has it down to a science, all from the temperature and the kind of charcoal to use, to the length of marinating time and spices to make even the worst cut of meat from the Commissary the most perfect dinner.

And Monsoon couldn't exactly tell him he was wrong. After all, every single thing Beau had ever placed in front of her tasted delicious, delectable even. Not only that, but Monsoon really couldn't have done it better if she tried. Her Pops wouldn't let her try, either, but that is beside the point.

Soon, everything is pulled off the grill and the pair are inside, Monsoon tasked with setting the table. All of the windows are open, the evening breeze cooling the inside of the house. As she places another fork down, Monsoon takes in the way the breeze dances across her skin. Goosebumps threaten to crest over her exposed arms at the chill the air carries. In that moment, she is thankful for the California air, the smell of the freshly made sides sitting in the center of the table, and the fact that she is setting the table in her Pops' house.

It has been too long since the pair got to sit together and share a meal. Cups of coffee over video chat were no where near as nice and Monsoon couldn't lie, she missed Cyclone's cooking. As she sets down the last knife, Cyclone is bounding down the stairs. His causal jeans and t-shirt have been replaced by a nice pair of brown slacks and a cream polo shirt, tucked in with a belt. He's even sporting loafers.

"Hey Pops, there is something I want to talk to you about tonight," Monsoon shouts down the hall. She tries to shake the bit of nerves rumbling through her chest like a handful of loan bees.

"Okay, kiddo," Cyclone calls back as he is rounding the corner into the kitchen, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, promise,"

"Okay," It's a simple response as he walks further into the kitchen. He pats her on the shoulder as he passes, a loving gesture.

"Got a hot date?" Monsoon chides as she looks him up and down. She sets the bundle of flatware down on the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," Cyclone is shaking his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her words. "We are having company tonight, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, but I didn't think some random Lieutenant, that is only coming over because the good Admiral all but ordered him to, was someone worth dressing up for."

There is a shrug of her shoulders as her head sways down nonchalantly. Cyclone crosses his arms, mirroring his kid, with a stern look on his face. It's a look that Monsoon isn't used to seeing out of uniform. Maybe it should worry her, but the vein that would usually protrude from his forehead is nowhere to be seen.

"Remember, kid, you too are just 'some random Lieutenant'" Those words stir a bit of anger within Monsoon, but it dissipates as fast as it came.

"Well then, Admiral Simpson, sir," Monsoon stands up a bit straighter, dropping her hands to her sides, "Let me find something more presentable to wear for the strange man who's crashing out family dinner," She grimaces a bit, but they both laugh. Beau is just laughing, in that way that make's his whole body shake, his eyes scrunched closed while whole hearted giggles escape his lips.

"Go on, kid," He waves in the general direction of the hallway, towards the front of the house where she dropped her bags by the front door.

The zipper of her duffle bag slide open easily, the separation of the teeth vibrating her fingertips. Monsoon fishes out a sun dress and a cropped sweater, something to keep her warmer as the sun sets below the horizon. It's a nice enough combination, something that will surly look like she gives a fuck about her appearance without looking like she planned too much. Monsoon changes out of her sweat shorts and t-shirt in the half bath, emerging looking like a brand new woman, though the feeling of the plane still lingers on her skin.

Just as she is stuffing her travel clothing back into her bag, the doorbell sounds throughout the house, the bells tolling just a bit too loud.

"Jeez, Pops, could that doorbell be any louder?" Monsoon is yelling just as she reaches for the door. She pulls it open with a swift movement, a smile on her face. Then it falls as soon as she sees who is standing on the other side of the threshold.

Clad in a button down shirt, one with a pattern that would rival any rodeo clown, with one too many buttons undone stands Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw; a man she hasn't seen since a deployment five years ago, about six months after she graduated from Top Gun.

There is a gold chain hanging around his neck. It's just long enough to graze over the tops of his collar bones. His shirt is untucked, the bottom a bit wrinkly, like he has tucked and untucked it a couple of times trying to decide which looked better. He made the wrong choice, by Monsoon's calculation, the patterned shirt covering the top of his dark khakis. He looks a bit silly, really, from the chain down to his boat shoes. The thing that catches her the most off guard though, is the fucking mustache he has decorating, no, vandalizing his upper lip.

Her own mouth hangs open just a bit, her hand tightening it's grip on the door handle. Bradley shoots her that mega wat smile, that million dollar, dentist office poster smile- the one that made her swoon all those years ago. But now, now it makes her fucking angry. Or maybe it's resentment that she feels boiling up inside of her, steaming her insides with a sort of sick feeling that she hasn't felt in years.

The last time this strange, queasy feeling flowed through her she was wrapped up in the white sheets of her mattress on an aircraft carrier, somewhere out in the pacific. Her naked body feeding off of the warmth of spot that Rooster once occupied. When she awoke, there was a feeling of contentment that spread over her skin, until she reached over to find the spot next to her cold.

Their deployment relationship ended with a fucking post it note, "Duty Calls" is all it read, scribbled down in a mess of black ink, the pen itself skipping. Hell, the pen couldn't even bother to work long enough to get a complete message through- their relationship simmered down to nothing more than steamy nights together in a twin size bunk while the ocean waves rocked against the carrier.

The contentment drained from Monsoon faster than than the anger could take over, and for a moment there was nothingness in the spaces between her ribs.

And now, Bradley fucking Bradshaw is standing on her Pops' front porch, smiling at her like nothing has ever happened between them, holding a bottle of wine, and somehow she is just supposed to let him in!

"Hello," He scratches at the back of his neck, his brows pinched together just the slightest bit. "Is this Admiral Simpson's house?"

Words are caught in the back of Monsoon's throat, each individual letter sticking her in the esophagus. Monsoon stands there looking at Bradley, each growing a bit more uncomfortable as the seconds go by. But, she is on the inside of the doorjamb, she has the upper hand. Just as she goes to slam the door in his fucking ugly mustache, Cyclone catches the door.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Beau booms, his tone friendly as he sends Monsoon a what the fuck look. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, though it does nothing to relieve the rapidly growing headache that's taking over her skull.

"Come in, come in!" Cyclone practically ushers Bradley into the house. "This is my daughter, Y/N Mitchell, she is in the new Top Gun class as well!"

Beau is doing his best to defuse the tension in the room, between Monsoon's anger, and Bradley's overall discomfort from being in an Admiral's house, the vibes are askew. Bradley crinkles his brows at the information and Beau quickly jumps in with a chuckle, "No relation, but I claim her anyway. Introduce yourself, Son,"

"Brad-"

"We already know each other,"

The pair speak at the same time. Monsoon's tone is full of distain, like the words taste bitter and unforgiving on her tongue. She pushes past Bradley's outstretched hand and past Cyclone. Bradley can't help the fact that his face twists up in confusion as he wracks his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew her.

The woman's definitely too upset to be a recent fling- hell, Bradley hasn't even managed to bring a girl back to his place in such a long time. Deployment really limited his prospects and she sure wasn't on the mission he just finished.

"Please, this way," Cyclone guides Bradley back to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine from the younger man. They follow the path Monsoon took, down the hall and back to the large kitchen. She is standing at the sink, her hands braced on the counter top.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Bradshaw. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak with my daughter for a second." Cyclone is moving before Bradley can acknowledge him. So, Bradley pretends to be very interested in the view just outside the kitchen window.

"What the hell, kid?" Cyclone carefully grabs Monsoon's elbow, leaning in just a little bit closer to fake some sort of privacy. He sets the bottle of wine on the counter. With all the tension blooming in the air around them, Cyclone decides alcohol is the last thing they need.

"It's complicated, Pops, just leave it be, okay?" Monsoon is running a hand through her hair, a shallow attempt to ground herself. "I can play nice for one dinner,"

"What the hell happened between you two? And it's not just one dinner, it's the next few weeks."

That fact is met with a grumble from Monsoon. It took her only a few seconds to convince herself that she would be able to make it though a dinner, but the idea of having to see Bradley fucking Bradshaw every day for the foreseeable future had a mixture of nausea and frustration swirling through her.

"Pops, trust me, this really isn't something you are going to want to hear about, nor do I feel like discussing it in your kitchen, at a whisper, while the man who doesn't even seem to fucking remember me is only a few feet away! No thank you," Monsoon pushes past Cyclone once more, picking up the bowl of salad from the kitchen island and bringing it over to the table. Cyclone is hot on her tail, speaking lowly after her.

"Y/N" That gets her to stop, Beau never uses her first name, "We are not finished discussing this,"

"After supper then," The words leave her tongue sharp, but they are met with a nod of approval. Then Cyclone is moving, ready for the night to move on as planned.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Cyclone is turning his attention back to their guest, a makeshift smile plastered to his face, "Please, take a seat, I am just going to grab the food off the grill,"

And then Cyclone is disappearing out the back door, leaving Monsoon and Rooster alone, the room already threatening to burst from the rapidly accumulating tension. Monsoon chances a look at Bradley as she finished setting out the flatware that had been left abandoned earlier, suddenly a little bit glad that her Pops hinted at her to change clothes. She looks good, that much she knows, if only it mattered at this point.

Maybe, if it mattered, Bradley would look at her and realize just how much he walked out on. Maybe he would see the way Cyclone cares for her, and their little family that they've created and know that he threw away his chance to be apart of it. If only he could see just how happy she is now- yet he doesn't even fucking recognize her, and that makes her heart burn like cheap kerosene. It's like gulping down saltwater, the feeling of being forgotten, drowning right out in the open for everyone to see.

As Monsoon is drowning in thoughts of Bradley, he is just trying to remember her.

Bradley takes in the slope of her nose and the freckles that are smattered across her legs. His eyes wander over the frizzy bits of her hair, down the line of her shoulder and ending at the tips of her fingers. The way that she glances at him, her face still turned down as she adjusts the table settings, strikes him as familiar- but in a far off sense of the word. Familiar in the way his own face is reminiscent of his father's.

His father, Goose, and Maverick... Pete Mitchell... Mitchell!

"Mitchell?" Bradley breaks the silence, his gaze a bit wider, still locked on her downturned face. Monsoon's eyes shoot up at the name, locking with his dark brown eyes. They bore into her the same way they always had and a part of her aches.

"Are you-" The breath he sucks into his lungs burns a bit with hazy memory, "Are you Pete Michell's kid?"

An audible, pained groan leaves Monsoon's throat at the question.

"Not anymore," Are the only words she can manage, the flames of anger licking at her legs.

"But you were, once?" There is almost a ribbon of hope laces somewhere in his tone, but Monsoon pays it no mind. She walks away from the table, keeping her back to Bradley as she attempts to calm the heat of rage that's licking at her legs.

Why couldn't Bradley just ask her about normal things? Why aren't they talking about work, their partners, their friends. Hell, he could hit on her at this point and it would go over better.

If he wanted to talk about Maverick- Pete Michell, there were countless times when they were tangled up together in blankets, in the dark save for the crack of light breaking into the room from under the doorway.

He could have asked as they scurried up the stairs of the carrier, their gear smacking against their chests as they ran. Bradley could have asked then, as they bounded out into the early morning, salt soaked air.

Hell, Bradley could have asked over coms, high in the air as the wind whistled past their wings. They were just test flights after all, no enemy to contend with. He could have asked her then.

But he didn't.

"That was a very long time ago," She's turning to the fridge, pulling a pitcher of lemonade out. The sigh that leaves her lips is nothing but tension attempting to escape from the confines of her chest. It doesn't work, and Bradley doesn't catch the hint to just shut the fuck up and leave it be.

"We knew each other, right? When we were kids?" The question catches Monsoon off guard, almost as much as his initial presence did. She wants to laugh, really she does, at the ridiculousness of the situation.

He didn't remember that fact when they met on the carrier five years ago, and Monsoon tried not to let that bother her, especially when he was buried inside of her, moaning filthy things into her ear. But now? Now he remembers. But somewhere, the memory of their torrid love affair escapes the great mind of Bradley Bradshaw.

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

Though the whole thing is laughable; Bradley isn't laughing. He's holding his breath, too caught up in the scene in front of him, in the soreness of his chest and the way his heart thrums against the backside of his ribcage.

Fuck how his chest aches.

There is this part of his past, this piece that he once knew like the back of his hand, that's just in reach now- again, and Monsoon is laughing at him. The memory of her was erased with the sounding of artillery, the three volley's fired into the air. And now, he craves this memory like he craves the memory of his father, the pieces of his innocence having crumbling into his hands like ash.

It still stains his hands that sickly blackish gray, gritty against his skin, though he is the only one that can see it.

The sliding door opens once more and Cyclone is slipping though, holding a large platter of steak in his hand, the meat is grilled to perfection and he looks proud. Bradley looks at Monsoon with furrowed brows, questioning the words that she let slip past her lips. Cyclone steps between them, setting the plate of meat down on to the dinner table, more than enough food to go around.

"Please, Y/N, come and join us," Cyclone is pulling out a seat right next to Bradley, offering it to her. Reluctantly, she pads over, taking a seat next to Bradley who can't seem to take his eyes off of her face. He runs his hands up and down his pant legs, more out of anxiety than anything else. Cyclone takes a seat across from the pair, a tight smile on his face.

In any other world, it may look like a child introducing their significant other to their father, the way the tension hangs in the air between the trio. Cyclone awkwardly dishes himself servings of the food before passing it to Monsoon, who does the same before placing it down next to her, leaving Bradley to fend for himself. It's petty, that's true, but to Monsoon, it's a small act of defiance. A small fuck you for not remembering her, or the nights they spent together.

The Admiral knows something is going on right under his nose, just out of his understanding. He can see it in the way Monsoon shifts awkwardly in her seat while Bradley's gaze gets overly friendly with the plate in front of him. There's a question on the tip of his tongue, "kid, is Bradley your boyfriend?" but he knows better than to ask it. As he observes longer, he takes in the way his daughter tilts her shoulders just a little further away from Bradley, the arm closest to him resting elbow down on the table. The moment Cyclone notices the unpassed dishes sitting between the pair, he just knows.

"So," Cyclone clears his throat, "Are you two excited to be back at Top Gun?"

It's a reasonable question, very middle of the road. Monsoon opens her mouth to answer, but Bradley beats her to it.

"Yes, sir. It's good to be back stateside. Hell, it's good to be back on solid ground. I've been stuck on a carrier for the past nine months and I was beginning to lose my mind!" He's chuckling now, and Beau joins in right along side him, the deep chuckles of the men filling the air. "But you know how it can get on the carriers. It's hard to pass the time, no going to the bar with friends, no dating,"

Then, Monsoon's fork hits her plate with a metallic clank against the glass. No dating, yeah, right. Out of all of the things Monsoon pegged Bradley to be, a liar was not one of them, but then again not much could surprise her after the way he left.

"How about you, kid?"

"To be determined, Pops," The answer is genuine, spoken through grit teeth.

Maybe she shouldn't be so upset with Bradley's lack of remembrance for her. After all, it's not always the wrong time with the right person. Or the wrong place. Sometimes it's wrong, maybe he just didn't like her that much- more a deployment fling to get him through the lonely nights than a future.

"Well, I am excited you're back," Cyclone returns her direction, but Monsoon just shoves a fork full of salad into her mouth.

"Sir, can I ask what exactly they called us back for? And are there more of us?" Bradley asks between bites, his fork and knife busy against his plate.

"I am not obliged to share much, but I can tell you that fifteen of you have been called back, from varying Top Gun classes." The explanation leaves something to be desired, but both recruits are nodding on the other side of the table. Bradley eats another bite of steak, complimenting Cyclone on his grilling; Monsoon is just pushing the food around on her plate with the tines of her fork. It's easier than finding the appetite that was lost somewhere between the front door and the kitchen after Bradley's arrival.

"Are you teaching us this go around, Pops?" Monsoon's question is spoken quietly, in the middle of Bradley's sentence about his own grilling technique- there is no remorse for the interruption.

At her words, Cyclone visibly stiffens, his fork stilling on his plate. Then he's setting it down, eyes still locked with his plate. With a huff and a lick of his lips he looks across the table, met with two pairs of curious eyes. He knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't expect it to be quite like this.

"No, I'm not teaching," Cyclone takes another breathe, unsure who to make eye contact with, knowing the words he's about to say are not going to be received well, by either one of them. "We- Top Gun has decided to bring in-"

The doorbell is ringing loudly through the house, startling Cyclone in his seat. It breaks though the tension like a fucking bullet, the whole thing blasting apart on impact. The trio trade glances that last milliseconds, like someone just knows whos going to be standing on the other side of that door.

"I'll get it, Pops," Monsoon is already pushing out of her seat, placing her napkin next to her plate. She is a bit too eager to get away from the tension surrounding that table, not only from her question but from the way Bradley is basically staring out of the corner of his eye. Though she can't exactly see it happening, she can feel it- the way his eyes are boring into the side of her head, almost burning. She will take anyone being on the other side of that door if it means she doesn't have to sit in Bradley's swimming gaze any longer.

"No, you stay, I'll get it," Cyclone corrects, "You stay and chat,"

Then, Cyclone is pushing away from the table, heading right for the front door. He gives his daughter no time to protest. Cyclone leaves the slowly rebuilding tension behind him, and Monsoon is stuck having to sit back down, next to Bradley, left to simmer in it.

"We did know each other, right?" Bradley is quick to ask the moment Cyclone rounds the corner. It's a speed he's not used to- too used to sitting and waiting for the perfect timing that just doesn't come. But this isn't something he's willing to wait on, it's just something he has to know.

"Yes, Bradley, we knew each other. But that was a long time ago," Monsoon is shrugging, avoiding his eyes. The words should have hit him harder, from the way they all but flew from her lips, but the impact is almost gentle, like the comfort of them bore the brunt of it all.

"Do you remember my father?" The question is so innocent that it almost hurts; and Monsoon knows just how much throbbing pain there is inside Bradley. After one drunken night while on the carrier, he poured his heart out about his father, about how much he missed him and how he wished- hoped that Goose would have been proud of him. Monsoon sat and listened the to the whole thing, through the tears and drunken hiccups, reassuring Bradley that Goose would be proud of him.

After all, she knewhim, even if that was a million years ago- even if Bradley didn't know it.

She knows he would have been, because Goose was a good man.

A trait that seemed to have skipped over Bradley.

Good men remember their lovers. They remember their old friends. They remember the people who showed up to their mother's funeral- and have the decency to show up to their friends' mother's funeral.

Good men don't leave women in the dead of night, a break up message scrawled on a sticky note. They don't leave their friends to grieve alone. They don't forget.

"Yes, I remember him," Monsoon chances a glance at Bradley, unintentionally meeting his eyes. God, he's looking at her like she holds the fucking secrets to the universe and all she can feel is a sort of twisted up sickness, like her sternum is bound together with poisoned ropes. Bradley can see the stars that cling to her fingertips, the secrets to the cosmos, but can't seem to find the words to beg for their translation.

Cyclone is walking back into the room a second later, accompanied by another set of footsteps. Neither Monsoon nor Bradley look up when they walk in, both too busy staring at each other. Bradley looks curious, Monsoon looks hurt.

She looks away first.

A tall blond walks in behind Cyclone, his gaze focused on a set of files in his hand. He's reading over the top file carefully, running his free hand through his cropped hair. There is a toothpick in his mouth, resting between his teeth. Dressed in his tan uniform, his biceps are straining against the cuffs.

He's a Stetson model type, clean cut and masculine. The line of his jaw accentuated by the clean lines of his uniform. His jaw ticks with frustration as his brows furrow at the paperwork. There appears to be a word on the tip of his tongue by the way the toothpick bobs between his plump lips.

"Hey, guys, sorry for that, this is-" Cyclone swings his hand, introduction interrupted by twin gasps.

"Jake?!"

"Hangman?"

Hangman isn't sure who to look at first, but his eyes meet Bradley's form first, his eyebrows knitting together at the familiar face before shooting to his hairline when his eyes land on Monsoon sitting next to Bradley.

"Y/N, Doll! What are you doing here?"

Cyclone is whipping his head around in the way he might flip a jet. And Monsoon is pushing out of her chair again, ready to round the table and throw herself into the arms of the strong, blond man who just walked in, but her eyes meet the bewildered look on Cyclone's face, causing her to halt her movements. Hangman sets the paperwork down on the kitchen island, his eyes still locked on Monsoon, that damn smirk of his playing on his lips. Monsoon can tell he is holding himself back, fully aware of exactly who's house he is standing in, and the relationship between Monsoon and the Admiral.

It's been months since they've seen each other. Their goodbyes were said on the front porch of his little rental outside of Lake Hurst. Neither of them relished being in New Jersey, but they had each other and that's all that had mattered. They fostered a brand new relationship over a year, neither of them brave enough to label the nights spent together in that house.

Then new orders came down the pipeline, on a TS Need-To-Know. The pair were being separated with the flick of a pen. So, they labelled their year long relationship through tears standing on his stoop, the night the orders came down the channel.

They packed Jake's small house, and Monsoon's apartment, neither one knowing just what was to come. In the name of a temporary duty station, they got storage units next to each other, the closest thing to living together they'd be able to swing.

That was six months ago.

Monsoon did a little time in Pensacola while Jake got sent to Oak Harbor. Thousands of miles apart, their dates turned from late night dinners to quick conversations over the phone just to hear the other's voice.

Neither of them expected their reunion to be here, in Admiral Simpson's kitchen, with Bradley Bradshaw and the Admiral watching the whole thing, confused expressions written into their features.

"I got recalled to Top Gun!" Monsoon giggles a bit, her gaze still trapped with Hangman's.

"Me too!" The words leave Jake's lips and the pair are smiling. It's taking everything for them to hold themselves back from embracing each other, after months apart. Then, Cyclone is clearing his throat.

"Pops," Monsoon begins, clasping her hands in front of her, "God, this is weird. Remember earlier this evening when I said I wanted to talk to you about something?"

She had fully been intending on telling her Cyclone about her relationship with Hangman, in fact, she had been working up the courage for the past few weeks. But, Jake comes with a record, a reputation, and a respect problem, things Monsoon knows her Pops won't approve of.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" The words are leaving Cyclone's lips almost too quick, but Monsoon is quick to reassure him that it is.

"Well, this isn't exactly how I saw this going, but, Pops, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jake Seresin," Monsoon is gesturing to Jake now, a worried smile on her face. The pair know each other, of course they do. They had met the first time Hangman went through Top Gun. Cyclone was on instructor duty and Hangman didn't take overly well to being instructed; though he did finish top of his class.

Monsoon bobs up and down on the balls of her feet, the nervous energy flowing through her body. If she could push all the energy out of her and into the floor she would. Her soles grounding the electric current flowing through her, unapologetic and lightning hot. Monsoon would stand there in front of the three men who have played such a large roll in her life, back straight and eyes forward like the Navy trained her to do, if only she could coral that fucking energy and send it straight through the floor.

Monsoon bounces instead.

If she had the time, she could have prevented the look that crosses Cyclone's face. That look of you're not good enough for my kid that is so evident on his features. She knows that Jake saw it, clear as day from the way he almost winces. Everyone in that room knows the reputation that Hangman wears like a neon sign. The "voted biggest player" social life with the stellar callsign, the pilot known for leaving his wingman hanging, acting alone- selfish.

So much for putting off telling Cyclone; so much for easing him into the news.

Bradley is watching the whole exchange from his seat with his eyebrows raised, like a fucking soap opera but the whole spectacle's happening in real time. He lets his eyes shift from person to person, taking it all in. Monsoon looks hopeful, though she is waiting with baited breath for her Pops to blow a fucking gasket. Jake, on the other hand, looks absolutely cool. Though he is the reason for the interruption, and for the impromptu introduction, he is impossibly collected. Then, Bradley's eyes shift to Cyclone, who has backed up a few steps. He keeps looking between Monsoon and Hangman, like he is playing some sort of invisible game of connect the dots.

Hangman and his fucking reputation are courting his daughter, and Cyclone really isn't thrilled about the news.

Though Bradley isn't exactly thrilled to see Hangman here either, he's taking the whole thing in stride, as opposed to Cyclone, but the younger man can't exactly blame him. If it were Bradley getting this major bomb dropped on him, he wouldn't be sitting pretty, either. Bradley is bringing his glass up to his lips, his eyes still flashing between the trio.

"Monsoon-" Cyclone starts, but the sound of coughing interrupts. Bradley is coughing, choking on his water. He attempts to wave a hand, letting everyone know he's okay, but in reality, he's far from it.

Monsoon. The woman he left asleep in her bunk five years ago stands next to him now, and not only that, they fucking grew up together, at least for a little while. And she remembers his Dad, and she's Maverick's kid. And fuck, she's dating Hangman!

Things are moving just a bit too fast, and Bradley can't quite catch his breath between coughing fits.

The glass is quickly set back onto the kitchen table, but is sent over the edge as Bradley reaches for a napkin. The glass falls in faux slow motion, the liquid flowing from the cup as it hits the hardwood, shattering like a pinprick galaxy upon the floor. Bradley, still coughing, searches the new formation of cosmos on the floor for the answer to all the mixed up bullshit he has found himself in.

"Rooster?" Monsoon pats him harshly on the back, right between his shoulder blades. Then, she is rubbing his back, her hand full of warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin burns under her touch as he struggles to return his breathing to normal. There's still a knot in the back of his throat made of unsaid words and new revelations that he can't seem to swallow down.

"Rooster, are you okay?"

Hangman and Cyclone are quick to circle around the table, Hangman taking a knee next to Monsoon, his hand quickly finding her lower back. Cyclone is on the other side of Bradley, the glass crunching under his expensive leather loafers. Bradley is red from all the coughing, but an embarrassed blush still floods his skin from all the attention.

"Mons?" The nickname comes out all scratchy as Rooster wipes a newly formed tears from his eyes. The concerned expression morphs to hold a bit of shock before settling on some sort of mix of frustration and downright sadness. Monsoon tries to school her expression but her eyes still swim with emotion as they are locked with Bradley's.

"Yeah, Roos," Monsoon shoots his nickname right back, a confirmation that all but shakes the world around Bradley. She brings a tender hand up to squeeze his shoulder before pulling back, subconsciously leaning closer to Hangman, into the warmth of his hand on her back. She finds safety in her boyfriend's touch, the warmth of his skin pooling against her through the fabric of her dress.

The lack of contact makes Rooster feel cold, but the feeling is short lived as Cyclone is grasping at his other shoulder. A swivel of his head and Bradley is met with the furrowed brows of the Admiral.

"Are you okay, Mr. Bradshaw?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley responds, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "I'm so sorry about the glass, please, let me clean it up,"

As Rooster stands, he is pushed back down gently by Cyclone, his hand still on the younger man's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, please," And so Bradley is sitting again, in the center of the standing trio, feeling completely out of place. "As for the two of you, take a seat, we have some things to discuss,"

The sound of chairs being pulled out against the hard wood floor is accompanied by the intense ringing of the doorbell once again. The group look from person to person, once again looking for any clue as to who could be at the front door this time. Cyclone is padding over to the door, the crunching of glass less evident the further away her gets.

Bradley attempts to clear the lump in his throat, now without the luxury of his glass of water. Monsoon takes her untouched glass and slides it closer to Bradley, a barely there smile on her face. Her expression holds more sympathy than anything. Bradley takes the glass with both hands, a little too careful as he brings it up to his lips.

"Let me get you a plate, okay?" Monsoon speaks to Hangman, her smile clearly wider, brighter, more full of life when it's directed his way. "Pops will give me so much grief if he comes back and that spot isn't set,"

So, Monsoon excuses herself from the table, leaving the men sitting in apprehensive silence.

With a strong tug from Cyclone, door swings open and there is no time for a 'hello' as the man on the other side is pushing in, a wild look in his eye, a vein on his forehead bulging with frustration.

"We need to talk Simpson," The tone holds misplaced authority. Beau runs cold at the sight of Pete "Maverick" fucking Michell standing in his entryway, looking pissed off enough to catch a charge.

"That's Admiral Simpson to you Captain," Cyclone's teeth are grit so hard they might crack under the pressure of his jaw. "You cannot be here right now,"

The raised hand does nothing to stop Maverick from pushing further into the house. There's a folder in his hand, wrinkling under the closing of his fist. Sweat clings to the Admiral's brow, a vision of the crown of thorns, droplets running down the side of his face. It might as well have been blood from the way his stomach twists as Maverick steps closer to him, pushing the paperwork, right against the center of his chest.

"Do you know who got recruited for this mission, huh?" The words are dripping with venom, "Do you realize who you've chosen for this fucking death wish of a goddamn mission?"

Captain Michell's tone is all accusatory and full fury. He's pushing into Cyclone's chest harder, his knuckles white under the pressure. Cyclone grabs at the older man's wrist, his own knuckles paling as he squeezes.

"Captain, I will not repeat myself, you cannot be here,"

"Who is it, Pops?" Monsoon is calling from around the corner, her voice full of curiosity. Cyclone isn't a praying man, especially after what happened with June and their sweet baby boy, but now Cyclone is praying to every god, every deity that crosses his mind, even those who's names he cannot recall, that his daughter will not walk around the corner to see Pete Mitchell standing in his entry way.

"Nobody, kid, I'll be there in just a moment," He calls before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. He tightens his grip on Pete's wrist before he's wrenching it away from his chest. He pushes it back into Pete's own chest, leaning in close, "My daughter is not to see you here, leave. Now."

One might think Maverick would get the hint, since he pulls his hand from Cyclones grip. But then, Maverick is throwing open the file, pointing at the first page's photo. There is so much frustration in the action, it bounces between the two men like they're sounding boards, building and building.

"See this? Jake "Hangman" Seresin? You really want to send somebody in the sky who has a pension for leaving their wingman? You want to send someone into the air with a guy like him when the mission is already guaranteeing a loss of life?"

That catches the attention of the trio in the other room. All motion stills as they strain to hear more.

Wide mouthed, pointed tongue, Maverick is yelling without a care in the world. It doesn't matter who hears as long as Cyclone is hearing it too.

"And how about this," The paper tears as Maverick turns the page, "Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. You know about his father. You damn well know about Goose and you want to send his son to an early grave too?"

Jaws tick, fists tighten. Cyclone breathes deeply, thinking- choosing his words carefully as the older man continues to scream. It's not beautiful or noble like books would describe. There is no gift from God, no blessing, no one anointed with the ability to see into the future, to see just how this is going to play out. Instead, it's just words exchanged between mortal men, both too damn stubborn to back down with knives to each other's throats.

"And check out these two," Maverick is laughing now, leaning in closer to Cyclone, his breathe reeking of whiskey. Cyclone can see the way Maverick's eyes are bloodshot and weepy as he pushes him back. Sweat coats his skin leaving him clammy to the touch.

"Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Robert "Bob" Floyd," Another strangled laugh escapes Captain Mitchell, "You really think this scrawny kid and a woman are up to the task at hand? Really? I can think of at least five better pilots and Wizzos who are better qualified than these two. And look! She's the pilot! Hell, I don't even know how they made it through Top Gun the first time around! The fucking Navy is getting soft."

"It's time for you to go, Captain Mitchell. Sober up. We will discuss this on Monday," Cyclone puts a hand to the older man's shoulder, attempting to usher him out without too much force. Cyclone can't risk Maverick being in his house any longer. He has already been gone too long and his guests are likely getting curious. "Time to go, Pete,"

"But, Cyclone, you haven't even heard the best part," Maverick can barely get the words out through drunken laughter. He's turning the page with clumsy fingers, the paper tearing under his touch.

The trio, Rooster, Monsoon, and Hangman round the corner as Cyclone is attempting to usher Maverick out the front door. They watch as the Maverick stumbles out of Cyclone's grip and further into the house.

"Pops?" Monsoon speaks as the strange man hits the floor, laughing as he does. The file has fallen open, scattering pictures of the newest Top Gun brain child called The Dagger Squad. They sit scattered all over the entry way like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes go to the paper that falls near her feet.

"Well if it isn't the prodigal child," Maverick speaks, pushing himself further off the floor. "How many strings did you have to pull to get your own daughter onto the squad? Are you trying to send this kid to an early grave like the last one?"

The three Daggers stand speechless. Monsoon is quickly folded under Hangman's arm, her face pressed into his chest. Rooster stands just off to the side of them, his eyes flashing to Monsoon.

The arguing doesn't stop.

"Shut your mouth," Cyclone spits, "You don't know a goddamn thing,"

Maverick stumbles to his feet, standing up at straight as possible to get into Cyclone's face, just to taunt the younger man.

"See, Admiral, that's not true, now is it? You and I both know that she isn't actually yours and this would be an easy way to get rid of her, right? Send her back to-"

His words are met with a swift punch to the face, the cartilage of his nose crunching under Cyclone's knuckles. The punch feels good, like it had been coming for a long, long time. Like it had been building within Beau Simpson for years, every single time Maverick missed out on a celebration of the amazing life Monsoon is leading. For every birthday, every graduation, every reenlistment and promotion ceremony, Maverick missed it all, and the rage built inside Cyclone. Now, it finally came out, popped like a Champaign cork, blood instead of the fizzy alcohol dotting itself over Cyclone's entryway.

A warm hand slips into Monsoon's; Bradley stepped closer, clutching onto her. He recognized Pete Mitchell the moment he got a clear view, both his anger and anxiety flaring. Bradley squeezed her hand once, nice and strong, before dropping it once more, stepping in front of her and Hangman.

"Captain Mitchell," Bradley begins, his voice firm, full of hurt.

The words make Monsoon's head spin. She leans away from her boyfriend's chest to get a better look at the bloody faced man and it sends a chill down her spine. Her Dad who she hasn't seen in years is now standing in a room full of people who can't fucking stand his existence. It's a fucking miracle that all he has is a bloody nose.

"Bradley," Pete spits a little bit of blood as he speaks, looking up at the younger man. He reaches a hand out, but it's dodged. "It's good to see you, son,"

"I'm not your son. It's time for you to go," Bradley is ready to grab Pete Mitchell by the collar and haul him out of the house. He's ready to throw him onto the lawn and leave him there to spit blood and sober up enough until he can walk himself home. Bradley has his own selfish reasons, his own grudge against the Captain, and now would be as good a time as any to feed into that frustration that he's been stewing in for years.

"I'm calling Admiral Kazansky," Cyclone declares to the room, then he's spinning on his heel the moment Bradley takes a step closer, clearly putting himself between Maverick and Monsoon.

The Admiral is ordering Hangman to move, to take his daughter anywhere else so that she doesn't have to see any more of the disaster that the night has turned out to be. He doesn't want her to see him throw Maverick out- hell, he didn't want her to see him punch the older man, but there's no going back in time.

As much as Cyclone wishes he could have protected her from this, he couldn't. One can't stop a speeding bullet, as they say, and the shot had already been fired the moment he pulled open the front door. And as much as he doesn't want to, Cyclone has to trust Hangman with his daughter, he just has to, now.

So, Hangman is all but carrying Monsoon away as she fights to stay put. She misses the order from her Pops, her blood thrumming too loudly through her ears. Hangman takes her through the house, dodging the pile of glass still glittering on the hardwood in the kitchen, hauling her out the backdoor and right to his truck. Monsoon flights the whole time, though it's unclear as to her reason to want to say behind.

The pair are pulling away from the house as Bradley and Beau are hauling Maverick out to the front lawn, his nose still pouring blood.

Jake drives in the direction of his apartment, holding onto her hand the whole time. He squeezes it reassuringly though there isn't much he can assure her of at the moment. Neither of them know what's going to come of Maverick, or of Cyclone's heated action against him. They don't know if Bradley is going to get caught in the crossfire, or if they are going to get called into the MP's office sometime in the middle of the night.

There is no clear answer, so, Hangman squeezes her hand and drives.

And drives.

As far away as he can get from that house, that situation, the feeling in his chest spurred on by the broken look in Monsoon's eyes.

He drives until the sun crests over the horizon. Pulling off onto the side of the highway, Hangman kills the headlights, the world around them just beginning to come to life. That's when the tears come, falling fast and hard from the pools of Monsoon's eyes. Hangman just holds her there, inside of the truck.

The world around them awakens as Monsoon's falls apart, crumbling like unquenched Earth between her fingers. Maybe that's what the whole situation is, after all, how many times have the great authors related relationships to gardens, to plants, to life. Without nurture, without care and tending, the soil dries out, the plants die. The whole garden becoming a wasteland for the decaying plant matter; the soil turning to clay as the days roll on.

But isn't decay an unescapable fact of life?

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Two weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Hangman had completely expected to pretend like the whole fight at the Admiral's house didn't happen when he met up with the other recruits at the bar, save for Monsoon. He took a little too much joy ordering drinks for the team on Maverick's tab- the older man not seeming to remember him from the incident, even after Hangman sent him a wink and a "thanks, Pops,".

When Bradley strutted in like the world was full of golden promise, Hangman took it upon himself to act like it was the first time they had seen each other in years. Bradshaw was quick to get the memo: last week didn't happen.

There's no surprise that Maverick got thrown out of the Hard Deck that night, either. Hangman sure as hell wasn't expecting to be the one to throw Maverick out of the bar, but that part gave him a sense of pride that he can't quite put words to.

The feeling bloomed in his chest as he watched Maverick hit the sand. A wide smile spread across his face as he yelled for him to "come back anytime," if that meant getting more free alcohol and the chance to throw him out again. Then, as Hangman closed the doors behind him while Rooster began one hell of a rendition of "Great Balls of Fire", everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

Tensions are high now, Hangman and Rooster's rivalry is back and stronger than ever. They have been at each other's throats since that night at the Hard Deck, though the reason wasn't the mission or the usual dick measuring contest, even if the other recruits would say that it is.

They have been battling it out over a woman. Monsoon, specifically. The team doesn't know about her involvement with Hangman, and the pair try and keep it that way. So, she sits in the back of the classroom, right behind Yale and does her best to pay attention. The mission seems more impossible by the minute, the deadline has been moved up, and nobody has been successful.

Rooster and Maverick argue about the plane vs the pilot and how he had been the only one to make it to the target, though it was a minute late.

Then, Hangman opens his fucking mouth, living up to that reputation of his. "It's no time to be thinking about the past,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rooster's expression is unreadable, though his brows twitch.

"I can't be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man!" Hangman continues through Maverick's pleas, "Or that he was the one flying when-"

Rooster is out of his seat in a matter of seconds, launching himself at his fellow Lieutenant. Hangman took it too far this time. Rooster gets one good push in before the rest of the squad are separating the two hot headed men from each other, everyone yelling for the fighting to stop.

Everyone but Monsoon, who sits in the back staring at the fight in front of her and can't seem to make herself move.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, hey, I'm cool, I'm cool," Hangman reassures, pulling out of the arms of his teammates.

"He's not cut out for this mission, you know it... You know I'm right." He gets up into Bradley's face, a fucking smirk on his lips. The others are still holding Bradley back as he calms down, but it's that fucking smirk that spurs him on.

Bob's hands slip from Rooster's shoulders as he gets into Hangman's face. "You think you can talk shit about my family when it's your girl that's got the most fucked up situation of all," Bradley keeps his eyes trained on Hangman, but the blonde's eyes tick to the side, in the direction of Monsoon, who is still in her seat. It's Bob who notices the way Hangman's eyes shift, and he's the first person to look in Monsoon's direction. Then, Bob's nudging Phoenix.

They watch as Monsoon tenses in her seat, her jaw ticking. Her hands grip the arms of her chair, knuckles white. Then, Bob and Phoenix turn their attention back to the men as the screaming match continues.

"I'm not the one who broke up with her on a goddamn post-it note, Rooster," Hangman points out with a raise of his brows, that stupid little smirk still evident on his lips. Rooster is bringing his hands up to his temples, his expression scrunched.

"You son of a bitch," Rooster is cursing at him through grit teeth, his voice low.

The crowd of Aviators are still gathered around the two men watching them fight, Maverick's eyes flicking between them as words are exchanged. His mind flashes back to two weeks ago, when he broke down the Admiral's door and saw them standing there with Cyclone. He suddenly flashes his eyes back to Monsoon, only to be met with her piercing glare.

"What? Was taking her father for yourself not good enough for you? Did you have to break her heart too?" Hangman questions, watching as Bradley's face contorts, "You're just pissed because not only could you not keep your shit Rio of a father around, you couldn't keep the girl, either,"

"That's enough!" Monsoon shouts, her eyes finally leaving Maverick. The Daggers' eyes are locked on Monsoon at the back of the makeshift classroom, anger evident on her features. Then, with her hands firmly planted on the table in front of her, she is pushing up from her seat.

"Seresin," Monsoon begins, turning her eyes to him, "First, you will not speak about my uncle that way. Goose was a good man and a damn good Rio. Uncle Nicky would have moved the fucking Earth for Bradley, or for Maverick, or for me and my Mama, don't you dare think anything different."

Monsoon is moving closer to the group now, taking each step slowly, methodical as her words. There is a large, yellow envelope tucked under her arm as she approaches. She had been sitting with that envelope since their first class, no one having even the slightest idea what's tucked inside.

"Secondly, Rooster, my relationship with Jake is not your business, not now, not ever. What we had was over the moment you wrote that post-it and walked out the door. You didn't even remember the fact that we grew up together, for fucks sake. I get it, I was your little deployment fling, and that's all. Now, you get to live with the fact that's all I'll ever be. Hangman put you in your place, now say in it."

The crowd is too stunned to speak, but there is a rumble of laughter that escapes Maverick. He doesn't even try to hide it, thinking the tension in the air would be enough to cover it. But then, Monsoon is turning her pointed gaze to him.

"Finally, Captain Mitchell," There is a sick little smirk on her lips as she says his name, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After all, Bradley had to get his pension for forgetting women from somebody."

Monsoon is standing toe to toe with Maverick now, eyes locked in on his, "After all, I've been in this class for what, two weeks, and I know you have had the roster for longer than that, considering that little stunt you pulled at my Pop's house. You think it's funny to forget someone when your own flesh and blood is standing right in front of you?"

Maverick furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. Monsoon can practically see the gears turning in his head with the way his eyes move across her features. She breathes deeply a couple of times, letting his mind piece the puzzle together.

"I asked you a question, but go ahead, take your time," Monsoon leans in just a fraction further, "After all, I'm told I look more like my mother, anyway," Wide eyes from the man in front of her stir out a strangled giggle from her chest.

"Wha- bu-" Maverick flounders, his mouth opening and closing, no words forming on his lips.

"Hi, Dad," The name is said with so much venom as she pushes the envelope against his chest with enough force to make him stumble. Monsoon doesn't wait for him to recover before she is turning to walk down the aisle of the makeshift classroom, paying no attention to the stares, the eyes burning holes into the back of her head. Instead she focuses on the momentary feeling of lightness that washes over her as she leaves the hanger.

It isn't until Monsoon rounds the corner that the tears begin pricking at her eyes. She takes off running as soon as the first one hits her cheek, the only thing she can hear over the rushing of blood in her ears is the thunking of her heavy boots on the pavement.

The Daggers stand looking at Maverick. He's holding the envelope to his chest, unsure of the emotions wracking though his body. Then, with a quick hand, he's crudely tearing at the envelope. The contents pour out over the floor of the hanger, looking just like that night at Admiral Simpson's house. Maverick tries to push that thought from his mind as his eyes focus in on the papers covering the floor.

Birthday Cards. Children's birthday cards.

The same ones he wrote to her for her first ten birthdays. He can't even get himself to bend down to pick one up, his neck aching from the way he stares down at them. He notices the little circles of wrinkled paper from long dried tears and his heart fucking breaks.

The image of Monsoon at four, at seven, that he can see clearly in his mind, but there's a gap missing. Still, Maverick imagines her sitting and rereading the cards at seventeen, at twenty-two, crying over them and the father she could barely remember. Tears prick at Mavericks eyes and he lets them, making no attempt to wipe them away.

It doesn't take long for the Daggers to figure out that the pile of cards is noticeably small, no more than nine or ten cards on the ground, though no one is near brave enough to say anything.

Moments like this remind Maverick he's still just a mere man. No matter how many records he breaks, aircrafts he tests, or brushes with death he encounters, Maverick is nothing more than a man with a skill set. He has flaws. He makes mistakes.

That fact is almost too much for him to take.

The memory of Goose flashes through his mind, the moments leading up to the failed ejection birth the feeling of ocean water weighing down his flight suit, soaking into the padding of his helmet as the water washes over them. So much blood where there should be none. And then Maverick is thinking about cleaning the scraped knees of his daughter, the blood bubbling up through the road rash. The tears, then, were hers as she begged, "Daddy, not the ouch-y cleaner, I don't like it,". But Maverick cleaned her wounds with the alcohol anyway, only to end up holding her against his chest in the same way he would hold Goose in less than a year.

Maverick's mind is a patchwork quilt of shit memories; stuck reliving them all, fragment by fragment.

"Class dismissed," Maverick manages, his eyes still glued to the floor. The sounds of fourteen pairs of boots, first loud then quieter as they go, leave the hanger, leaving him standing there, looking at the past he threw away illustrated simply in faded and forgotten birthday cards.

The hands of the clock circle once before Maverick moves. He walks right over the pile, his boots leaving angry, dark tread marks across the colorful paper. He doesn't look back once, not at the pile of cards, not at the hanger, not at the base.

He drives straight for the Hard Deck. It's the only thing he can think to do, and after all, maybe Penny has some sort of advice. She's the only person he actually knows with a kid- a daughter.

Maverick only makes it half way before he has to pull over. Quickly, he throws himself off his bike, his knees hitting the dirt as he empties the contents of his stomach. As a pilot, he should have a stronger stomach than this, but a choice he made almost eighteen years ago is coming back to haunt him.

He can still see Monsoon's eyes in the forefront of his mind. They haven't changed a bit from when she was a kid, Maverick realizes, as he's sat back on his haunches trying not to puke again. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the feeling of his swirling stomach.

Maybe he should have stuck around, or at least circled back when he wasn't on deployment. After all, Maria left messages on his machine for almost two years after he up and left. It started with her begging to call which slowly turned into begging him to at least send a fucking birthday card. So he did.

Then, she stopped calling, and he stopped writing. Monsoon grew up.

It would be so easy to blame Maria. When she stopped calling, he stopped remembering. Between deployments and missions, flight tests and ceremonies, Maverick could pretend that it all got lost in the shuffle. But then, he remembers Maria and the way she always seemed to flawlessly manage her Naval carrier with raising their daughter, how she could juggle it all without his help when he was deployed and it was all okay. At least that's what he told himself.

So, he thought if she could do it alone already, no harm could come from putting in for extra duty. That turned into extra deployments, more time away from home. He knew it was all a lie, but he had to tell himself something to justify it.

It did get easier after a while, as his daughter slowly slipped to the back of his mind. It wasn't until one day, six years after he left that the realization hit him. Maverick hadn't thought of his daughter in months. He should have felt more guilty; he drank himself sick at the thought.

Two years later Maverick didn't even realize he missed her eighteenth birthday.

Or her twenty-first.

Over the years he convinced himself he did the right thing. That part of his past became a distant memory that he told himself he didn't miss. Maverick would be lying to himself if he still believed that to be true in this moment, sat on the side of the road after having been faced with the consequences of his long forgotten actions.

Maverick kept one constant reminder playing on repeat in his mind all those years, You can't be a bad father if you aren't there to be one at all.

And for the first time since he walked out, Maverick thinks he may have been wrong.

He sits on the side of the road until the sun sets, stewing in his misery. When he manages to pull himself back up onto his bike, he heads for home, knowing that if Penny knew the whole story he would be on the outs with her, too. And so, he drives slowly, back to an empty house, wishing for the first time in years that it wouldn't be empty when he got there.

---

When Monsoon finally reached Cyclone's office, eight blocks from the hanger, she almost collapsed in the entryway of the building. But, she pushed through the crowd, ignoring the calls of his assistant who insisted that Cyclone could not be interrupted while he was in a meeting. Monsoon couldn't find it in herself to care.

When she pushes the door to his office open, she is met with three pairs of eyes. Iceman, Warlock, and Cyclone's eyes meet her frame. She is breathing heavy from the mix of running and sobbing, though it's unclear as to which is causing the redness in her cheeks.

"Excuse me, recruit, but you can't-" Warlock starts, closing the file sitting in his lap. There is an edge to his tone, not taking too kindly to being interrupted.

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Cyclone is cutting off Warlock without a second thought. The moment he moves out from behind his desk, Monsoon is throwing herself into his arms, her barely contained tears now overflowing. Without a second thought, Cyclone is folding her into his arms, doing his best to hold her shaking form.

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her," Cyclone's assistant huffs, running a hand through his hair. Cyclone waves the younger man off, the door closing behind him with a click. Then, Cyclone is wrapping his daughter tighter in his arms, one hand coming up to rub between her shoulders while the other is wrapped securely around her waist.

"I'm sorry, gentleman, but the meeting will have to be continued another time," Cyclone speaks, his tone clear, unwavering. Warlock shakes his head but gets up to leave anyway. Iceman follows after him, nodding a sort of good luck to his fellow Admiral before closing the door behind him.

"Tell me what's wrong, kid," Cyclone is pulling back, his hands squeezing at her shoulders. Monsoon is rubbing at her cheeks, smearing her tears over the expanse of her face. It's the same ugly cry she had when they first met, and the connection make's Cyclone's heart twist.

"I-" She starts, sentence interrupted by a hiccupping gasp, "Everything is falling apart,"

Monsoon tries to wipe at her face again with her hands, but Cyclone plunges a hand into his pocket only to offer her a green pocket hanky a second later. She takes it with unsteady fingers, her heart still thrumming a mile a minute.

"Hangman and Rooster got in a fight in class. Jake said a shitty thing about my uncle Nicky, Goose, you know?"

"Bradley shoved Jake, which isn't exactly a surprise, but then he told everyone that my family situation is all kinds of fucked up, which it is, but it's nobody else's business. God, Pops, I know now that I made a mistake when I started seeing Rooster while we were on deployment together, but God, that was five years ago! It's in the past!"

Cyclone nods at her, listening intently while trying to keep calm. So much new information is being thrown at him with each sentence that leaves her lips and it makes him angry.

"Worst of all, though," Monsoon wipes at her nose with the hanky, "Maverick knows,"

"He knows?"

"I told him," She confirms with a whimper and a nod, not daring to meet Cyclone's eyes. If she managed to meet them, she would have been met with nothing but rage boiling behind his irises, red hot flames behind the dark brown of his eyes.

"I had to, everything was already coming out anyway," She laments.

"What did he have to say for himself?" The question is asked through grit teeth as he pulls her body tighter against his, a move meant to feel protective but does nothing to quell the flames burning Cyclone from the inside out. All Monsoon can do is shake her head "no" as she sobs against the denseness of his chest.

"I'm gonna kill him" is all Cyclone can think as he rests his chin against her hair. His jaw ticks as the flaming feeling overtakes his body. If he could, he would strip Maverick of every single one of his achievements, his medals, his rank. He would cut the older man down so far that he was nothing more than a civilian with a dishonorable discharge.

But he can't.

So instead, he holds his daughter as she cries. He lets her tears soak the tan fabric of his uniform top, the buttons scraping against her skin. He rubs her back and whispers into her hair, promises that everything will be okay.

---

Somewhere in the Pacific. The Uranium Mission. Three weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Moments after the Uranium mission is completed, the team piled on the aircraft carrier, all grateful to be alive. Monsoon and Hangman got sent up to shoot down the enemy aircraft, saving Maverick and Rooster. The whole thing left nothing but swirls of confusion and gratitude in Monsoon's heart.

On one hand, she is so thankful that everyone made it back home. There will be no funerals, no folded flags and no Taps to be played. Instead there will be celebrations, beer and cheering and one too many speeches for a job well done. The whole thing should be liberating as their impending doom has been starved off for the time being, however there is still a feeling of anxiety sitting heaving in her chest.

Now, Monsoon is stuck watching the pair climb out of the museum piece that they managed to land on the carrier. The wind is whipping past them as she watches the team embrace the two men. Her strangled feelings clog her chest as she makes her way into the fray, first approaching Bradley.

"Glad to have you back on the ground," Monsoon shouts over the crowd.

"It's good to be back, even if it's not quite the ground," Bradley attempts to joke, "But seriously, we owe everything to you and Hangman,"

"Nobody left behind," Monsoon holds her hand out to Bradley, a gesture of good will.

"Nobody left behind," Rooster echoes, taking her hand in his own.

As they shake hands, a sort of understanding forms between them. They share a look, one that reads no hard feelings and Bradley almost tears up. Then, they are pulling back from each other, sharing one last smile.

Monsoon watches Bradley disappear into the crowd, his tall frame quickly swallowed up by the sea of uniforms. She catches him shake hands with Hangman a moment later, the scene bringing a small smile to her lips.

Then, Maverick catches her eye, standing a few yards away. There are tears shining in his eyes, but he makes no effort to move forward. They share eye contact for a moment as people move between them. Monsoon offers him a half smile, her brows lifted just slightly. Before Maverick can return it, she nods at him. He nods back, then it's his turn to watch her disappear into the crowd.

It's not quite an understanding, but maybe it's a truce.

At the risk of breaking her own heart, Monsoon chances a look over her shoulder. She watches as Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug, or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to tell with the swarming of bodies. Either way, the pair wear bright smiles as they embrace and Monsoon doesn't even try to fight off the tears that make their way to her eyes. They aren't tears of anger, no, they are tears of gratitude. Grateful that they all get to live another day, grateful that Maverick and Bradley are giving each other a second chance, and grateful that there isn't a looming cloud hanging over her head anymore.

She no longer has to wonder about her father, because now she knows he's exactly where he is supposed to be, and both of their lives are better for it. Instead, she has Cyclone, the best father she could have ever asked for, and that is more than enough.

Cyclone breaks through the crowd, pulling his daughter into his arms, more than thankful for her safe return. He shouts at her, over the crowd, about how well she did and how happy he is that she made it back. The pair hold each other tight for another few moments, neither ready to let go.

Maverick takes one more look at Monsoon, who's now folded into Cyclone's arms. It's an unfamiliar sight but not an unwelcomed one, for Maverick. One thing's for sure, she is exactly like her Pops- disciplined and talented in the cockpit of a jet. Even more, though, beyond being a good aviator, she is a good person and that's something that Maverick can't regret.

---

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. One year after the completion of the Uranium Mission and the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A year later, Cyclone and Monsoon find themselves sitting in The Flight Line Bar, her hand thrust out in front of her, ring glittering under the amber lights.

"You're going to give me away at my wedding, right?" There is a sort of apprehension to her voice as she sips on her beer.

"It would be my honor, kid," Cyclone slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her sideways into him. He holds her there for a second before letting her sit back upright, a large smile on her lips.

"Y/N Seresin has a good ring to it," Cyclone adds, bringing his beer up to his lips.

"About that," Monsoon starts, causing the Admiral to set his beer down, "Jake and I had a conversation, and we thought that having two Aviators in the same squad with the same last name would get confusing, so it's going to be Y/N Simpson, if that's okay with you,"

The Admiral's eyes flood with tears before he can say a single word. They quickly spill down his cheeks and all he can do is look at his daughter, tears of her own overtaking her eyes.

"I take that as a "yes"?" Monsoon chuckles, wiping her eyes with a shitty bar napkin.

"Of course it's a yes, kid," Cyclone grabs her hand, holding it on top of the bar.

The pair sit, hand in hand , tears still wet on their faces and all Cyclone can think about is how fucking lucky he got, how blessed his life is. He finally has a daughter who is happy and in love, a daughter that he will get to walk down the aisle on the most important day of her life.

When he chances a glance over to her, Cyclone can see the frizz of her hair highlighted by the neon sign buzzing behind her, her cheeks bright red. For a moment, he can see June in the roundness of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Cyclone thinks back to all those years ago, when he and Monsoon first met sitting in this same bar, but he doesn't entertain the memory very long, after all, he has so much to look forward to. So instead, he squeezed her hand.

"I love you, kid," Beau tells her earnestly, smiling though a few stray tears.

"I love you too, Pops," Monsoon returns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Now and always,"

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thewulf · 1 year

Text

My Girl || Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Summary: Request! Hello!! I saw that your requests are open, and was wondering if you could do a beau "cyclone" Simpson or a tom "iceman" Kazansky one shot, where cyclone/iceman are in an established relationship w a doctor and dagger squad/1986 top gun squad find out about the reader?

A/N: This one was so fun to write, although a bit shorter than my normal one shots. It just came so easily. I went with Tom in the Original 1986 version! There’s lots of flipping back and forth between names and callsigns, just a warning!

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x Y/N

Word Count: 3,200+

Once you parked your car in the driveway you took a moment to collect your thoughts. The residency was tough, kicking your ass even. You had opted to go into pediatric surgery which wasn’t for the faint of heart. More often than not things did go your way but today was one of those days where you lost a baby right at the end of the surgery, shattering you. These cases always felt worse than the best cases made you feel happy.

Tom was home you noted. His truck sitting in the driveway next to your much smaller car. He had moved into your condo after three years of dating. Things between the two of you were great. More than great. The both of you understood how demanding each other’s careers were so when you did get time together you loved to just relax with each other. You were rather looking forward to falling asleep on Tom’s shoulder or lap in a few hours.

Walking through the front door you found him sitting on the couch reading through what looked like a manual. Tom had just gotten into Top Gun with his RIO Slider, or as you knew him, Ron. Luckily, Top Gun wasn’t far from where you he was already stationed in San Diego so selfishly you got to have him home for a little while longer. That was the hardest of it all when Tom was deployed on a mission. You knew just how good he was in the air but there was that fear that always sat in the back of your mind when he left. You always just prayed he’d make it home safe. He hadn’t let you down yet.

“Hi baby,” Leaning down you kissed his cheek. Breaking him right of the trance he was in, “Everything okay?”

“Y/N.” He smiled pulling your neck down for an actual kiss, “I’m great sweetheart. Just making sure I’ve got everything before our practical tomorrow. Viper wasn’t happy we shot him down today, so I think he wants to prove a point.”

“Pete giving you any trouble today?” You asked while plopping yourself down next to him. Cuddling into him you took a deep breath finding immense comfort in his scent.

He grinned pulling you right on top of him, throwing the manual off to the side, “Mav’s always giving me trouble. But I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about you. How was your day?”

You sighed placing your head onto his chest, “Not good T. Lost an infant. Another five-year-old isn’t doing great either.” You didn’t feel like elaborating. Tom already knew how you felt. Completely and utterly defeated.

Rubbing your head he squeezed you with his other hand, “I’m sorry baby.”

“It’s okay,” You whispered, “Occupational hazard I suppose.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” He placed his chin on top of your head, “It’s okay to be sad.”

“I know, you make it easier though.” Mumbling you closed your eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of your boyfriend’s heart. Always finding comfort in him.

“You can’t fall asleep yet sweetheart.” His vibrations of the laughing coming from his chest only soothing you further.

“And why not?” You pouted while still keeping your eyes closed.

He paused, not sure if he wanted to bring up his plan anymore. See, the guys at Top Gun didn’t believe Ice the last time they were all at the Hard Deck. They didn’t believe he had a doctor girlfriend. Ice refused to even look at another woman knowing you were working late that night. Really the only reason he ever went out was if you were stuck at the hospital. He’d much rather spend his nights in with you on the couch watching some dumb show neither of you paid attention to.

Mav and Goose teased that he had no game. Not accepting that he had a girlfriend. Nonetheless one that was literally smarter than all of them combined. Claiming that Ice was far too cold of a person to ever get a girlfriend like that. Let alone keep one for four years. But your Tom was a whole lot different than the Iceman that all the aviators knew.

They really didn’t believe him when he described you. Even a few other aviators had to agree with the pair. Not believing Iceman was emotionally capable of obtaining somebody like you for that amount of time. You sounded way too grounded, smart, and beautiful to be wrapped up in the life of an aviator’s girlfriend. But the two of you made it work. You always made it a point to communicate as much as you could, even when things were tough.

The whole group all about lost it when Ice showed off the engagement ring he carried around with him. He didn’t know when he was going to propose to you, but he wanted to have the ring ready to go for when it felt right. He’d bought it a few months ago, the longer he lived with you the more it reinforced that he knew you were it for him. He saw himself starting a family with you. Being forever happy with you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to babe.” He kissed the top of your head, “I was thinking we go to the Hard Deck tonight?”

You looked up at him turning your head in confusion. He never invited you to the Hard Deck. Not that you minded, at all. That was his place with the guys. You trusted Tom with your life. Of course, you’d let him have his place, “The Hard Deck?”

“Mhmm,” He rubbed circles on your back, “Maybe you could grab a few drinks, not think about the day?”

“Did you say the Hard Deck?” You asked again, making sure you heard him right.

“Yes.” He smiled, “There something wrong with it?”

You shook your head quickly, “No! I just haven’t been with you before.”

He frowned almost instantly, “Really?”

“Yeah, but it never bothered me. I promise. I know it’s your place.” You gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“No wonder they don’t believe me.” Tom sighed leaning back into the couch, pulling you right along with him.

Over time you found that Tom’s love language was physical touch and quality time. He always pulled you into him or onto him. He found solace in your touch, loving every single second of it.

“What are you talking about?” You laughed, “You’re confusing me tonight, T.”

He smiled at his favorite nickname, “The guys don’t believe that you exist. That I’m making you up.”

“Ahh, now you’re making some more sense my love.” You giggled, “You want to show them that I exist then?”

He smirked pinching your side, “I want to show you off baby.”

“I’ve got a lot of work to do if you want to show me off.” You sighed feeling the ugliness of the day consuming the way you felt as well.

“Hardly. You’re so beautiful.”

Blushing lightly, you never got tired of the shower of compliments he always gave you, “Shush you cheese.”

“Only for you.” He bopped your nose.

“Let me shower really quick and then we can go.”

“Yeah?” He smiled knowing you would do anything for him, “We don’t have to go if you’re tired and just want to relax.”

You shook your head, “And miss my chance to meet Maverick? The only human whose ever made you angry. Never.” You giggled hopping right off him and running upstairs before he could protest.

You opted for a nice floral sundress. One because it was over a hundred damn degrees in San Diego during the summer and two you had to dress to impress. Tom wanted to show you off and you wanted to try your best. Hopefully you weren’t as awkward as you normally felt you were.

“Baby, you look amazing. As always.” Tom winked pulled you into his side, “I’m so lucky.”

“Always such a mush.” You cooed wrapping an arm around his side.

“What? I can’t fawn over my beautiful girl.”

Blushing you rolled your eyes, “Shush, you know what you’re doing.”

He shrugged, “I love seeing you blush.” Chucking he gave you a squeeze before going to open the door for you. The ride to the Hard Deck was short, you lived close to the base. You didn’t work at the Naval hospital but the civilian one down the road.

Before he let you hop out, he stopped you, “I might act a little different than normal.”

“Like what?” You smiled seeing him so nervous.

“A bit of an asshole.”

Your turn to laugh, “I expected that, Tom. I do pay attention to your stories you know.”

He returned your smile with one of his own, “God, I love you. You know that?”

Nodding your head, you leaned in for a kiss, “I do. I love you to pieces too.”

Breaking the kiss, he quickly got out to open the door for you. Four years later and you never grew tired of his gestures. He always thought of you in everything that he did. How could you not be madly in love with a man like that?

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you close into him as you both entered the bar. Whether he was staking his claim on you or what you didn’t care, you loved being close to him. You loved it even more when he wasn’t afraid to show it. Who knew a bunch of Naval aviators would push him to do something so wildly out of his comfort zone. Tom at home was lovey and mushy always. Tom in public was sweet but never got too affectionate. Nothing like what he was doing right now.

Tom quickly spotted Slider pulling you along with him. He let you take the seat next to him white he stood behind you.

“I’ll be damned. Is this Y/N really out at the Hard Deck.” Ron put his aviators on top of his head eyeing the pair curiously. You adored Tom’s RIO. You guys often had him over for dinner once you moved in. He was good company and saw the rare soft side that Tom really only reserved for you on occasion.

“Your eyes don’t deceive you, Ronny.” You grinned using your favorite nickname for him. It still felt odd calling him Slider even though that’s exclusively how Tom referred to him as.

Ron looked up towards Ice waiting for his response, “What?” Ice questioned his RIO.

“Mav and Goose get under your skin that bad?”

Tom scoffed, “Hardly. I just wanted to go out with my girl. Is that such a crime?”

Ron smirked up at his friend knowing he was bullshitting him hard. Ever since Ice heard what happened to Cougar with the MIG’s and dropping out of the Navy as a whole pissed him off. Mav took Cougar’s spot. His rightful spot that he worked years for. Of course, he held resentment. Then he met the guy. He had to admit that you were right. There weren’t many people who could agitate Tom, Mav ended up being one.

Tom spotted him just as he was thinking of him sitting across the bar. Smirking Tom decided to lean down and give you a long kiss on the cheek hoping Mav would see before whispering, “Mav, 2 o’clock.” To you.

You looked over in that general direction and had to have spotted the man that seemed to torture your Tom. He looked a little shocked before replacing it was a cocky façade you were sure most aviators wore.

It wasn’t a moment later the man made his way over to where the three of you were.

“Your girl actually exists Ice?” Pete asked Tom but looked at you. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you.

Taking a long sip of your cocktail you eyed him up and down, “That’s it?” You looked back up at Tom curiously.

“What hon?” He asked you quizzically. Not having a clue what you were getting at.

“I was just expecting more that’s all.” You smiled sweetly at the man. Ron up and started laughing. Tom’s mouth almost completely dropped, and Pete looked a little pissed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pete questioned you with a confused expression garnering his face.

You shrugged, “For such a dominant callsign of Maverick I was just expecting more. That’s all.”

“What are you doing?” Tom whispered in your ear albeit with a small smile forming on his face.

“Pissing him off baby.” You kissed his cheek slowly.

“Why?”

“Because he pisses you off. Fair is fair.” You giggled before grabbing for your cocktail again. You weren’t sure what was coming over you. You weren’t overly attention seeking but when somebody wound up your boyfriend like that you just had to do the same back. Tom protected you fiercely it was your turn to do the same. Even if it was all just in good fun.

Pete stood there confused. You decided to rub salt on the wound, “Would you like a drink or?”

“Are you paying?” He smirked getting his confidence back.

“Ha!” You let out an obnoxious laugh earning the attention of a few more aviators unbeknownst to you, “You wish hot shot. Your boyfriend down there is paying.” You pointed straight to the blonde who was avidly watching what was going down between the group.

You looked up at Tom who looked pleasantly surprised. His girlfriend more than holding her own against the arrogant asshole that drove him mad.

“Goose.” Mav sighed rolling his eyes before darting off to go find him.

You smiled up to your boyfriend feeling the buzz start to take over as you downed your first drink a little too quickly.

“Ice! That’s your girl?” A group of aviators in uniform came over. Turning towards the group you smiled kindly to the trio that made their way over.

“No shit, you actually exist. How do you stand him?”

“Hollywood shut it.” Tom nearly growled stepping closer to your barstool.

“Easily.” You continued after Tom interjected.

“Really?” The one standing next to Hollywood spoke up.

Tom looked like he was going to explode on them if they didn’t back off soon, “Really Wolfman?”

“Just surprising.” He muttered looking away from the gaze that could kill.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You attempted to break the tension between all the men that happened out of nowhere, “Tom says great things about you all.”

“You too!” Hollywood clapped walking over to you, “Now I need to pick your brain on Iceman over here.”

“No way Hollywood.” Tom laughed blocking him from taking a seat next to you. He had his mask for work for a reason. He had to build up his reputation to be called Iceman, he didn’t want that to be ruined. He was cool calm collected Iceman who never broke in the air. Flew cold as ice. There is no way in hell he’d ever let one of them learn about the other side of himself. The soft side of him. The truer side where he felt his best when he was with you. He knew he was weak for you, but he always knew you were just as weak for him.

Tom never really believed in soul mates before he met you. But when he accidentally ran into you, literally, at the hospital you worked at his heart nearly stopped right then and there. He knocked you flat on your ass, but you were nothing but gracious. You started laughing, likely in embarrassment but it was a better reaction than anger. Tom insisted he buy you a coffee for the trouble and you accepted. You were on hour fourteen of a hell shift and a coffee sounded more than wonderful. From that moment on Tom believed. He was so thankful he literally ran you over.

Little did the two of you know that would kick off the world wind romance you found yourself in, but you couldn’t be more grateful. Tom was everything to you. You quickly fell in love with him, and it terrified you. You were so useed to shitty men and shitty relationships this relationship made you constantly on edge. Waiting on the other shoe to drop. But it never did. Tom just kept treating you better and better the longer you two dated. It was month four that you knew you loved him deeply. Luckily, he told you first which negated any fear you had in the relationship.

“Come on Ice!” Hollywood attempted to pout earning a laugh from Slider and Wolfman.

“Like I said. No fucking way.”

Smiling you loved watching the interaction between all of the aviators. He was different but he was still your Tom. He just threw that mask up to protect himself. You understood. You had to do the same thing at work. Feeling like you had to be a stone-cold bitch many times to prove yourself to your attending because you were a woman. There weren’t many woman surgeons let alone ones that specialized in pediatrics in the 80’s. You were sure that Tom would hardly recognize you at work, an almost heartless version of yourself.

A few more aviators came over seeing a crowd forming around you. Tom viscerally groaned knowing this was likely going to happen. He brought it upon himself but now the guys were picking on him by giving you so much attention. Tom wanted nothing more than to throw you over his shoulder and take you home away from all of them.

“Ice! She’s pretty. How in the hell did you manage that?”

Tom rolled his eyes knowing you heard the comment, “Shut up Merlin.”

Slider started cracking up seeing the irritation grow on his pilot’s face, “Hey Merlin, ever thought it was because he’s amazing in the sack?”

Your face grew bright red at the comment. He surely wasn’t wrong, but you certainly weren’t going to admit it to the now group of pilots that surrounded you and Ron at the bar.

Ice slapped the back of his head, “The hell is wrong with you?”

“Her face is bright red! It must be true!”

You shrugged grabbing your refreshed cocktail instead of answering.

“Oh, shut the hell up Goose!” Tom groaned flipping him off earning a roar of laughter from the Top Gun group.

“I always knew you were a legend man.” Slider commented while winking over at him making sure to dig his hole deeper.

“You’re on my shit list.” Tom tried to keep a straight face before joining in the group laughing at the situation.

For the next few hours, you chatted with random pilots finding the best conversation with Nick Bradshaw. He reminded you of your brother finding an easy casual conversation with him. You still made sure to give Pete a hard time, for the sake of Tom.

Tom pulled you aside when he had enough, “Ready to go home? I want some time with you sweetheart.”

You nodded finding it so attractive he wanted you to himself, “Let’s go.”

He helped you up from your stool waving the crowd of aviators off. The two of you blaming your work for your early departure. One perk of being a doctor is being able to use that as an excuse to leave anything you didn’t want to be at.

“For the record, I’m not only with you because you’re good in bed. But it’s a perk.”

He smirked, “Let’s utilize that perk when we get home, yeah?”

You looped your arm in his, “Hell yeah.”

“That’s my girl.”

@wildellaa I hope you enjoy!

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